Peter Robinson - A Necessary End

He says he might be able to get the charge reduced to giving false information and wasting police time. I'd only get six months max, then. But the other bloke tells me I'm looking at ten years. Who do you believe?"

"If you're lucky," Mara said, "Burgess might be gone by then and Banks'll take it easy on you."

"What's wrong with him? He soft or something?"

Seth shook his head. "Somehow I don't think so, no. He just has a different technique."

"They're all bastards when you get right down to it," Rick added.

Paul agreed. "So what's been happening here?" he asked. Seth filled him in on the police visits. "Apart from that, not much really. We've all been worrying about you most of the time." He ruffled Paul's hair. "Glad you're back, kid. Nice new haircut, too."

Paul blushed. "Fuck off. Anyway, nothing's changed, has it?"

"What do you mean?" Mara asked.

"Well, they still don't have their killer and they're not going to stop till they do. And if they don't get someone else, I'm still their best bet. That Burgess bastard made that quite clear."

"Don't worry about it," Seth said. "We won't let them blame it on you."

Paul looked at his watch. "Nearly opening time," he said. "I could do with a pint and some nosh."

"We'll have to eat at the pub today, anyway," Mara said. "I've not made any dinner. What with that meeting and all…."

"What meeting?" Paul asked.

"We're getting together to talk about the demo this afternoon," Rick said.

"Dennis is bringing Tim and Abha up about three. We want to look over statements and stuff to prove police brutality."

"Well you can count me out," Paul said. "I've had enough of that bleeding demo, and those fucking do — gooders. Sod 'em all."

"You don't have to stick around," Mara told him. "Not if you don't want."

"I think I'll go for a walk," Paul said, calming down. "Being cooped up in that cell hasn't done my head much good."

"And I've got work to do," Seth said. "I've got to finish that bureau today. It's already overdue."

"What's this?" Rick said. "Is everybody copping out on us?"

"I'll put my two penn'orth in, first, don't worry," Seth said. "Then I'll get some work done. As for now, I think Paul's right. They do a nice Sunday lunch at the Black Sheep and I'm starving."

Seth put his arm around Paul. The others stood up and went for their coats. In the fresh spring air, the seven of them walked down the track to Relton, happy together for the last time. Except for Mara. The others might realize it, too, she thought, but nobody's saying anything. If Paul isn't guilty, then someone else here is.

Jenny was already waiting when Banks came into the Queen's Arms at lunch-time. Hungry, he arranged with Cyril for a few slices of roast leg of lamb. Glenys wasn't around, and Cyril, though he said nothing, seemed distracted.

"So," Jenny said, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands, "what's new? Dennis told me you dropped by. Thanks for going."

"He didn't thank me."

Jenny smiled. "Well, he wouldn't, would he?"

"You didn't tell me it was you who persuaded him to talk to me in the first place."

The lines around her eyes crinkled. "Didn't I? Sorry. But did you find anything out?"

"Not really."

"What does that mean?"

"It means no, I suppose. Have you ever noticed a blue Escort with two burly men in it hanging around Osmond's place?"

"No. Haven't you got any ideas, Alan?"

"Maybe one. It seems a bit far-fetched, but if I'm right… "

"Right about what?"

"Just an idea, that's all."

"Can you tell me?"

"I'd rather not. Best wait and see. Richmond's working on it."

"When will you know?"

"Tomorrow, I hope."

The food arrived. "I'm starving," Jenny said, and the two ate in silence.

When he'd finished, Banks bought another round of drinks and lit a cigarette. Then he explained his doubts about Paul Boyd's guilt.

"Are you any closer to catching the real killer?" Jenny asked.

"It doesn't look like it. Boyd's still the closest we've got."

"I can't believe that Dennis is a murderer, you know."

"Are you speaking as a psychologist?"

"No. As a woman."

"I think I'd trust that opinion more if it came from a professional."

Jenny arched her eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't bristle, it doesn't suit you. I mean that people — men and women — tend to be very protective about whoever they get involved with. It's only natural — you know that as well as I do. And not only that, but they deliberately blinker themselves sometimes, even lie. Look what Boyd did. If he really is innocent of murder, then he sure as hell risked a lot. And think about how Mara behaved. Whichever way you look at it now, it comes down to Seth, Rick or Zoe — with Mara, Tim and Abha, and your Dennis running close behind."

"All right. As a professional, I don't think Dennis did it."

"Just how much do you know about him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

"What? Come on. Out with it. If there's something I should know, tell me."

Banks took a deep breath. "Would you say Osmond is the kind of person to hit women?"

"What?"

Haltingly, Banks told her about Ellen Ventner. The more he said, the paler she became. Even as he told her, Banks wasn't sure of his motives. Was he doing it because he was worried about her association with Osmond, or was it out of pure vindictive jealousy?

"I don't believe it," she whispered.

"Believe it. It's true."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I didn't want to tell you. You pushed me into it."

"It was you who made me push you. You must have known how bloody humiliated it would make me feel."

Banks shrugged. He could feel her starting to turn her anger against him. "I'm sorry, that's not what I intended. He could be dangerous, Jenny. And I don't know about you, but I have problems understanding a person who rescues defenceless women from police brutality in public and beats them up in private."

"You said it only happened once. There's no need to go making him into a monster. What do you expect me to do? Chuck him over just because he made a mistake?"

"I expect you to be careful, that's all. Osmond hit a woman once, put her in hospital, and he's also a suspect in a murder investigation. In addition, he seems to think the CIA, the KGB and MI5 are all after him. I'd say that merits a little caution, wouldn't you?"

Jenny's eyes glittered. "You've never liked Dennis right from the start, have you? You've never even given him a chance. And now as soon as you find a bit of dirt on him, you sling it at me. Just what the bloody hell do you hope to achieve, Alan? You're not my keeper. I can take care of myself. I don't need a big brother to look out for me."

She picked up her coat and swept out of the pub, knocking over her glass as she went. Faces turned to stare and Banks felt himself flush. Good one, Alan, he said to himself, you handled that really well.

He followed her outside, but she was nowhere in sight. Cursing, he went back to his office and tried to occupy his mind with work.

After a couple of false starts, he finally got through to Rick's wife's sister at her home in Camden Town. She sounded cagey and Banks first had to assure her that his call had nothing at all to do with the custody battle. Even then, she didn't sound as if she believed him.

"I just need some information about Rick's wife, that's all," he said. "Were you always good friends?"

"Yes," the sister answered. "Our ages are close, so we always supported one another, even after she married Rick. I don't want you to think I've anything against him, by the way. He's selfish and egotistical, but then most men are. Artists even more so. And I'm sure he's a good father. Pam certainly wasn't capable of taking care of Julian when they split up."