In a Dry Season (60 page)

“My father used to tell me how she always wanted to be one of those Hollywood actresses. Used to spend hours in front of the mirror practising her make-up and the way they talked. Even before I was born it was no-go for them. She was too young, he said. Made just the one mistake, that's all.
Me
. It was enough.”

“She was very young, Frank. When she got pregnant, she was frightened. She didn't know what to do.”

“So she had to run away and leave us?”

“For some people it seems like the only solution. She obviously wanted the child,
you
, to live. She didn't have an abortion. She must have told your father where she was going? Did she keep in touch?”

He sniffed. “A postcard every now and then, telling him she was doing fine and not to worry. When my dad came home on leave once, he took me up to Hobb's End to see her. It was the only time I . . . the only time I really remember seeing her, being with her, hearing her voice. She told me I was a fine-looking boy. I loved her then. She was a magical creature to me. Dazzling. Like someone from a dream. She seemed to move in a haze of light. So beautiful and so tender. But they argued. He couldn't help asking her to come back when he saw her, but she wouldn't. She told him she was married now and had a new life and we should leave her alone if we wanted her to be happy.”

“What did your father do?”

“What she asked. He was devastated. I think he'd always hoped that one day, perhaps, she would come back. We tried once more, when it was all over.” He turned so he was speaking into Vivian's ear. “But this lying bitch here told us she had run away and she didn't know where. All my life I believed that, believed my mother had run away and abandoned us forever. I tried to find her. I'm good at finding people, but I got nowhere. Now I find out she was dead all the time. Murdered and buried right here.”

“Let her go, Frank!” Banks shouted over a peal of thunder. “She didn't know.”

“What do you mean, she didn't know? She lied to us. She must have known.” Frank tore his attention away from Vivian and glared at Banks. His eyes were wild, his lank hair was plastered to his skull and rain dripped from his eyes like tears. “I want to hear it all. I want to hear her admit it to you. I want the truth.”

“You've got it all wrong, Frank. Vivian didn't kill Gloria. Listen to me.”

“Even if she didn't do the actual killing, she was involved. She covered for somebody. Who was it?”

“Nobody.”

“What do you take me for?”

“Vivian had nothing to do with your mother's death.”

As he spoke, Banks noticed Vivian's eyes fill with curiosity, despite the gun at her neck. Annie stood beside him now, and Frank didn't seem to care about her presence. Banks was aware of the activity in the background, but he didn't think anyone would make a move yet. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. His raincoat and trousers stuck to his skin and rain stung his eyes.

“What do you mean she had nothing to do with it?” Frank said. “She told my father that my mother had gone away, when all the while she was buried up here. She lied. Why would she do that unless she'd killed her, or knew who had?”

“As far as she was concerned,” Banks said, “your mother
had
gone away. She had spoken about running away often since Matthew got back from the war. He'd been badly hurt by the Japanese. He wasn't the man she had married. Life was miserable for her. It seemed only natural to everyone who knew her that she'd go, just like she left you and your father in the first place.”

“No!”

Frank's grip tightened on Vivian's throat and she gasped. Banks felt his heart lurch. He held his hands out, palms towards Frank.

“Okay, Frank,” he went on. “Calm down. Please. Calm down and listen to me.”

They waited a moment, the four of them, all silent but for the pattering of the rain and the storm disappearing into the distance, the occasional crackle of a police radio from the rim.

Then Banks felt things relax, the same way as when you undo a tight button. “Matthew drove her away,” he went on. “It was only natural for Gwen to assume that was what happened. Your mother's suitcase was gone. Her things were gone.”

Frank didn't say anything for at least a minute. Banks could see him processing information, trying to shore up his defences. The storm passed into the distance now and the rain eased off, leaving the four of them soaked to the skin.

“If it wasn't her, who was it?” Frank said eventually. “I'll bet you can't tell me that, can you?”

“I can, Frank.” Annie stepped forward and spoke. Frank turned to her and blinked the rain out of his eyes.

“Who?” Frank asked. “And don't you lie to me.”

“His name was Edgar Konig,” Annie said. “He ran the
PX
at Rowan Woods
USAAF
base, about a mile from here.”

“
PX
?” Vivian gasped.

“I don't believe you,” said Frank.

“It's true,” said Banks, picking up the thread. He realized that Annie didn't have the full story yet. “Konig killed your mother. He also killed at least one other woman over
here the same way, down in East Anglia. There were others, too, in Europe and America.”

Frank shook his head slowly.

“Listen to me, Frank. Edgar Konig knew your mother and her friends from the dances they went to. He was attracted to her from the start, but he had serious problems with women. He was always tongue-tied around them. He brought her presents, but even then she didn't offer herself to him, she wouldn't help him overcome his shyness. She went out with other men. He watched and waited. All the time the pressure was building up in him.”

“You say he killed other women?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know it was him?”

“We found a collar button from an American airman's uniform. We think your mother must have torn it off as they struggled. Then we looked into an unsolved murder in Suffolk and found he had been questioned in connection with that, too. Are you listening, Frank?”

“I'm listening.”

Frank's grip around Vivian's throat had loosened a little, and Banks could tell that he had relaxed the hand holding the gun. “Edgar Konig went to Bridge Cottage that night to collect what he thought your mother owed him, while her husband, Matthew, was at the pub as usual. The bomber group was due to move out in a couple of days and that had pushed him to the brink. He didn't have much time. He'd been torturing himself for over a year. He'd been drinking that night, getting more and more lustful, and he thought he had plucked up the courage, thought he could overcome his inadequacies. Something short-circuited, though. She must have rejected him, maybe laughed at him, and the
next thing he knew he'd killed her in a rage. Do you understand what I'm saying Frank? There was something wrong with him.”

“A psycho?”

“No. Not technically. Not at first, anyway. He became a sex murderer. The two things—sex and murder—became tangled up in his mind. The one demanded the other.”

“If that's how it happened, why did no one know about it?”

Slowly, Banks reached for his cigarettes and offered Frank one. “Gave them up years back,” he said. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Banks lit up. Definite progress. Frank seemed less tightly wound, more willing to listen to reason. And he didn't appear to be drunk or on drugs. Better not cock it up now.

“No one knew about it,” Banks went on, “because Edgar Konig realized what he'd done. That sobered him up fast. He covered his tracks well.” Banks looked at Vivian Elmsley as he spoke. She averted her eyes. “He cleaned up the mess and he buried the body in the outbuilding. Then he packed a few of her clothes and belongings in a suitcase to make it look as though she had run off. He even faked a note. It was wartime. People went missing all the time. Everyone in the village knew Gloria wasn't happy with Matthew, what a burden she had to bear. Why should they question that she'd just done a moonlight?”

Frank spoke in Vivian's ear. “Is that right, what he's saying?”

Banks couldn't hear her, but he saw her mouth form the word, “Yes.”

“Frank,” Banks pressed on, playing his advantage.

“The gun. I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but it's dangerous. It's easy to make a wrong move. Nobody's been hurt yet. No harm's been done.”

Frank looked at the gun as if seeing it for the first time. Banks stepped onto the fairy bridge and moved forward slowly, holding his hand out. He knew there were probably two or three trained marksmen aiming in his direction, and the thought made his stomach churn. “Give the gun to me, Frank. It's all over. Vivian didn't kill your mother. She had nothing to do with it. She loved Gloria as a sister. It was Edgar Konig.”

Frank let his gun hand drop and released his grip on Vivian Elmsley's throat. She staggered aside and slipped down one of the muddy holes the
SOCOS
had dug in the Bridge Cottage floor. Annie ran to help her. Frank handed the gun to Banks. It weighed heavy in his hand. “What happened to him?” Frank asked. “This Konig. Did he ever get caught?”

“I'll tell you all about that later, Frank,” said Banks, taking Frank by the elbow. “Just for now, though, we're all a bit tired and wet. Okay? I think we should leave here, go somewhere to dry off and get some clean clothes, don't you?”

Frank hung his head. Banks draped an arm across his shoulder. As he did so, he noticed something on the ground, partially covered by mud. He bent and picked it up. It was a photograph of a sixteen-year-old Gloria Shackleton, her beautiful, determined, defiant face staring out at the camera. It was damaged by the water, but still salvageable.

Several police officers had already come dashing and sliding down the embankment. Two went to help Annie get
Vivian out of the pit, and two of them grabbed Frank roughly and started handcuffing him.

“There's no need to be so rough with him,” said Banks. “Leave this to us, sir,” said one of the officers.

Bank sighed and handed over the gun, then he held up the photograph of Gloria. “I'll get this cleaned up for you, if you want, Frank,” he said.

Frank nodded. “Please,” he said. “And don't worry about me. I'll be all right. It's not the first time I've had the cuffs on.”

Banks nodded. “I know.”

They hustled Frank Stringer away, practically dragging him up the muddy slope, and Banks turned to see Annie and the other policemen helping Vivian Elmsley stumble over the fairy bridge.

Vivian stopped in front of him, covered in mud, while the others went on ahead. “Thank you,” she said. “You saved my life.”

“I lied for you,” said Banks. “I also sullied Gloria's loyalty to Matthew.”

She paled and whispered, “I know. I appreciate what you did. I'm sorry.”

“There was a chance, you know. Maybe just a small chance, but a chance. If you'd come forward after you found Gloria dead, if you hadn't destroyed all the evidence, if you'd gone to the police . . . ” Banks held his anger in check; this was neither the time nor the place for it. “Ah, to hell with it. Too late now.”

Vivian bowed her head. “Believe me, I know what I've done.”

Banks turned and slogged on alone through the mud. It was difficult, but he made it up the edge without falling
down. At the top, he was aware of Annie standing beside him. Before he could say anything, Jimmy Riddle came running over and grabbed his arm. “I'm glad you've salvaged at least something out of this situation, Banks,” he hissed, “but you're bloody incompetent. I don't want incompetent officers under my command. I'll be talking to you first thing Monday morning.” Then he turned to Annie. “As for you,
DS
Cabbot, you disobeyed a direct order. I don't like insubordinate officers, either. I'll be talking to you, too.”

Banks shook his arm free, turned on his heel and walked back towards his car. All he wanted was a long hot bath, a large Laphroaig and a change of clothes.

And Annie.

She was already leaning against her car, arms folded. “Are you all right?” Banks asked.

“I'm fine. Fine as anyone can be who's spent the last half-hour standing in the rain wondering if someone was going to get her head blown off.”

“Frank Stringer wasn't going to hurt anyone.”

“Easy for you to say. I respect what you did out there, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You lied to protect Frank Stringer's feelings. I told you, my mother died when I was six. I like to remember her as a beautiful, dazzling creature moving in a haze of light, the same way he remembers Gloria. And I wouldn't want anyone to spoil that illusion for me, no matter what the truth.”

“I lied to get us all out of there alive.”

Annie smiled. “Whatever. It worked both ways.”

“What next?”
Annie stretched, arching her back and reaching her arms towards the sky. “Onwards to St Ives. After I've stopped home for some dry clothes. I was already on my way when I heard. I couldn't just leave it.”

“Of course not. Thanks for being there.”

“You?”

“Home, I suppose.” Banks remembered dinner with Jenny. Too late now, especially the state his clothes were in, but he could at least borrow a mobile from someone and phone her, apologize.

Annie nodded. “Look, I'll be gone for two weeks. Right now I'm still a bit mixed up about my feelings. Why don't you phone me when I get back? Maybe we can have that talk?”

“Okay.”

She grinned at him crookedly. “If there weren't so many policemen about I'd kiss you goodbye.”

“Not a good idea.”

“No. See you, then.”

And with that she opened the car door and got in.

Banks ignored his cutting-down programme and lit another cigarette, aware that his hands were shaking. Without looking back, Annie started her car. Banks watched the red tail-lights disappear down the muddy track.