Bad Boy (36 page)

“Then you fled the scene.”

“Then I returned to Western Area Headquarters. I handed over my weapon to Detective Superintendent Gervaise, told her what happened, and you know the rest.”

“Why didn’t you remain at the scene?” Gervaise asked.

“There seemed no point. McCready was dead. DCI Banks and his daughter were safe. The services would be swarming with police in no time at all.”

“And you might have found it rather difficult to explain yourself?” suggested Chambers.

“Yes. I’ll admit that crossed my mind, too. And if other armed officers arrived on the scene, my presence could have caused a serious danger to the public.”

“How public-spirited of you,” said Chambers. “Do you know how long those officers spent questioning people, looking for clues to the identity of the shooter?”

“Do you want to add leaving the scene of the crime to the list of charges against me?” Nerys said.

Trethowan just shook his head. Chambers spluttered and tossed his pencil down. “I told you this would be a waste of time, Catherine,” he said to Gervaise. “She needs to be suspended from duty right now, without pay, and we need to bring in an outside team.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said McLaughlin.

“I don’t think it was a waste of time, Reg,” said Trethowan. “Officer Powell’s cheap repartee aside. Not when one of my officers is involved in a serious incident such as this. And not if we can contain the fallout.”

“Nor do I, for what it’s worth,” said Banks, speaking up with a contemptuous glance toward Chambers. “I don’t think it was a waste of time at all. One thing you all seem to be forgetting in all this mud-slinging is that Officer Powell here saved my life. And my daughter’s.”

“
IT’S A
long time since I’ve been here,” said Tracy the following lunchtime in the Queen’s Arms.

Banks studied the drab decor. The red plush on the benches was worn, the stuffing coming out here and there, the dimpled copper tables were wobbly, and the wallpaper was peeling in places where it reached the ceiling. The whole place could do with a lick of paint, too. Still, it was familiar, and it was comfortable, and those were qualities, Banks felt, that both he and Tracy needed right now. It was also still hanging on, when so many pubs were closing down for good. And the food wasn’t bad.

Tracy picked at her chicken and chips in a basket, and Banks tucked into his giant Yorkshire pudding stuffed with roast beef and smothered in onion gravy. He had slept on his living room couch at the rented flat the previous night and let Tracy have the bed, but he hadn’t slept well. The jet lag was still with him, and he kept experiencing waves of tiredness and dizziness at the oddest of times. But he could live with that. It wasn’t so much different from when he’d had to work shifts.

“It’s a while since I’ve been here, too,” said Banks between mouthfuls. He sipped his Black Sheep bitter. The Queen’s Arms wasn’t overly busy for the time of day, and their table by the window was a little island unto itself. Sunshine filtered through the red and blue diamonds of stained glass. A couple of young lads were playing the noisy machines in the passage to the gents’, and the usual oldies played on the radio, or whatever it was Cyril had rigged up as his source of music instead of the old jukebox. “Substitute” by The Who, was playing at the moment. “I understand you called yourself Francesca,” Banks said.

Tracy blushed and stared down at her plate. “That was silly. I’m sorry.”

“We never gave you a middle name. I’m sorry for that.” Banks smiled. “We couldn’t afford one for you at the time.”

Tracy laughed, and he saw an image of the daughter he knew and loved behind the attitude and the new look. Not that he cared how she did her hair or dressed, as long as she was happy. But she hadn’t been happy; that was becoming apparent enough. “I don’t have one, either,” he went on. “When I was young I called myself Davy, after Davy Crockett. I must have seen
The Alamo
a hundred times.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. You know,” Banks went on, glancing at her sideways as he cut off some more beef and Yorkshire pudding, “it doesn’t really matter about your exams. I mean, I know you’re disappointed, and I can’t do anything about that, but you don’t have to feel you let me or your mother down. You worked so hard. We’re proud of you. I honestly didn’t know you were beating yourself up so much about the results.”

“But you expected so much more,” Tracy said. “Me, too. And I do feel as if I’ve let everybody down. I mean, look at me now, telling people where they can find the latest Katie Price or Dan Brown, while Brian is playing to sell-out crowds in Nagasaki or wherever. He’s the big success in the family.”

“I love both of you. It’s not a competition. I tried not to favor either of you.”

“But you did, didn’t you? I mean, I’m not blaming you. It’s only human nature. Parents can’t help it. People can’t help it.”

“If I did, it was always you I favored.”

“Until Brian made it big.”

“That’s not true,” Banks said. “I spent half my time trying to keep Brian in university. I wanted him to finish his degree, get a real job. If anything, I discouraged him from making music a career. If he succeeded, it’s despite me, not because of me.”

“But you had so much in common. You bought him his first guitar.”

“You can’t blame a man for loving music. With you I…I tried. I just couldn’t communicate so easily with you. I didn’t know how to reach you. How to talk to you about boyfriends and girly stuff. Even the thought of you with a boy made my blood boil. And the music…I mean, you liked Take That and the Spice Girls, while Brian was into Led Zeppelin and Bob Dylan. I’m sorry, but it was no contest musically.”

Tracy stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then she burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dad. You do say the strangest things. Anyway, I like the Unthanks, Smoke Fairies, Regina Spektor and Noah and the Whale these days. And the Kings of Leon.”

“That’s an improvement. Anyway, I felt awkward with you when you were growing up, not Daddy’s little girl anymore. Not having your mother around didn’t help, either.”

“But that was years ago. Maybe you just didn’t try hard enough?”

“Maybe I didn’t.” Banks scratched his scar. “I’d be the first to admit that I put my job first too much of the time. And I suppose I had a few personal problems of my own, too.”

“Have you got a girlfriend at the moment?”

“No,” Banks said. “No one.” He thought about Teresa, but she wasn’t his girlfriend. He probably wouldn’t even see her again. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell his daughter about a one-night stand in San Francisco. He thought of the e-mail with the attached JPEG he had received from Teresa that morning: the two of them standing in Burritt Street looking at the plaque that read,
ON APPROXIMATELY THIS SPOT MILES ARCHER, PARTNER OF SAM SPADE, WAS DONE IN BY BRIGID O’SHAUGHNESSY
.

“What about Annie?”

“Annie? It’s…complicated.”

“Why? She’s in love with you.”

“Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not as easy as that.”

“She is. A woman can tell these things.”

“But you’re just a girl.”

“Really? I’m twenty-four. And still waiting for my latest birthday card, by the way. Anyway, let’s just put it all behind us, shall we? Start afresh.”

“That’s okay with me,” said Banks. “But we do need to talk.”

“I know. I know. And I’ve been dreading it. I’ve had enough of that.” She pushed her basket aside.

“You used to like it.”

“When I was ‘just a girl,’” Tracy sipped her white wine. “Around the same time I used to like McDonald’s and Take That.”

It was true, Banks realized. His daughter was a young woman now, and it was about time he accepted that and learned how to deal with it. “Do you want to tell me what happened? From the start.”

Tracy rested her elbows on the table. “I knew this was coming,” she said. “I’ve been dreading it.” She wasn’t wearing any makeup today, and Banks thought she looked quite beautiful. Even the piercings beside her eyebrow and below her lip couldn’t detract from it. Her skin was naturally pale, her pink lips well defined and shapely, and she had her mother’s eyes. The short hairstyle suited her, too. But then he was biased.

“Take a deep breath and plunge right in.”

“Okay,” Tracy said, and inhaled. “But you already know most of it.”

“Humor me. How did you meet Jaff?”

“Through Erin. They met at that restaurant she worked in, down The Calls. I didn’t know him well at all, but he sort of hung out with us sometimes at the clubs and whatever.”

“And you found him attractive?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But at one time I suppose I did.”

“Oh, it’s not so hard to believe. He was handsome, and I’m sure he was charming enough,” said Banks. “And he was a bad boy. It’s quite a heady combination.”

“That’s Erin’s thing, not mine. He was
her
boyfriend.”

“Did you know he was a criminal, a drug dealer?”

“No way!” said Tracy. “If I’d known any of that I would have stayed well away. Like I said, it was just a superficial relationship at first. We danced sometimes, chatted about music and stuff. It was just fun…you know…a laugh.”

Banks sensed that Tracy might be avoiding the whole issue of drugs, and he didn’t want to push her on it. He didn’t imagine for a moment that she was a total saint. He assumed that, like a lot of kids who go clubbing, she probably took E now and then, the way people smoked pot or dropped acid in his day. Maybe she did that, too. He just hoped she was careful about what she did, and didn’t use anything harder, like coke or heroin. But there was no gain in opening that route right now. “What changed things?” he asked.

“One night he kissed me on the dance floor. I know it sounds like a cue for a tacky old song, ‘And Then He Kissed Me’ or something, but it’s true. And it
was
a bit romantic.” Tracy blushed. “Pity the romance didn’t last,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Well, him and Erin had a blazing row right there in the club. It was so embarrassing, even if the music was so loud nobody could hear. She called me some names, then stormed off. Fast-forward to me coming home from work a few days later, and Rose telling me the police had searched the house, then all the stuff on the news later, about Mr. Doyle, the gun…police all over our old street…”

“Slow down. Why did you dash over to Jaff McCready’s flat immediately?”

“To tell him what had happened. He was still Erin’s boyfriend. Something had happened to her. Something was dreadfully wrong. I mean, I know there’d been a misunderstanding, a row, but it was just a kiss. Honest. I mean, we didn’t sleep together or anything.” Her lower lip trembled. “Not…not then.”

“One thing at a time,” Banks said, putting his hand on her forearm. “Take it easy.”

Tracy held her glass up and tried to smile. “I could do with another one of these. Dutch courage.”

Banks went to the bar and got them both refills. “Daughter?” said Cyril, the landlord, nodding over in Tracy’s direction.

“Yes.”

“That the same young lass you used to bring in here for a Coke and a burger years back, when you lived just down the road?”

“One and the same.”

“Haven’t seen her for a long time. She’s grown up into a fine-looking young lass.”

Banks looked over at her. “Indeed she has. Thanks, Cyril.” He paid for the drinks and went back to the table. Paul Jones came on singing “I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Boy.” These oldies were making him feel sad. He had almost forgotten that one.

“What happened when you went to Jaff’s flat?” Banks asked when Tracy had sipped some wine.

“He went berserk,” she said. “He scared me. First, he went in his bedroom and came out just raving, calling her a stupid bitch and God knows what. I didn’t know at the time, but he’d been looking for the gun she took.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“I was frightened,” said Tracy. “I mean, I thought he was nice, but suddenly he seemed so angry, so unpredictable. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was only the messenger.”

“What happened next?”

“He grabbed me and said we had to get out of there.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“So you were already a hostage, right from the start?”

“I suppose so. I don’t know what he was thinking. All I know is that he needed a place to go and he was taking me with him.”

“How did you end up at my cottage?”

Tracy turned away. “He…he made me take him there. He said he’d got nowhere to go, and he needed to be somewhere nobody could find him for a while, till things got sorted out. He asked me if I knew anywhere. I was really scared. It was all I could think of. I thought he might hurt me if I said I didn’t know anywhere.”

“Did you feel that you were free to leave him at this time?”

“No. I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I mean, I wasn’t tied up or anything, but he had hold of my arm, and he was hurting me. I thought of your cottage. I knew you were on holiday. I’m so sorry. I…Look, I’m confused. You’re interrogating me just like one of your suspects. I don’t know why it all happened the way it did. I look back and it all seems like a blur, a terrible nightmare. All I know is that I’m the victim here.”

“Calm down, Tracy,” Banks said. “I know this is difficult for you.” Tracy wiped her eyes and sipped more wine. One or two people were looking over, but Banks ignored them. The machines were still making enough noise to drown out their conversation, and “Be My Baby” was playing. Banks kept his voice down, all the same. “I’m not interrogating you,” he said, “but I have to ask these questions. Okay?”

Tracy nodded. “Okay.”

“On the way out of Leeds, Jaff stopped at Victor Mallory’s house. Why?”

“To change cars. Jaff was worried that the police might be looking for him in his own car.”

“So you knew about the gun by then, right?”

“No. He didn’t tell me about that until we got to your cottage, otherwise I might have been more concerned about getting away. He just seemed in a desperate hurry to leave Leeds. I thought maybe…you know…he was worried about getting busted for drugs.”