‘No sudden traumas?’

‘None.’ She leaned forward and rested her hands on the desk. ‘Look, Chief Inspector, you might not think I’ve been very forthcoming. That is your prerogative. In my business you soon become privy to the innermost fears and secrets of the people you deal with, and you get into the habit of keeping them to yourself. You’re looking for facts. I don’t have any. Even if I did tell you what happened during my sessions with Caroline and Veronica, it wouldn’t help you. I deal with a world of shadows, of dreams and nightmares, signs and symbols. What my patients feel is the only reality we have to work with. And I have already told you, in all honesty, that as far as I know neither Caroline nor Veronica was in any way especially disturbed of late. If you need to know more, try talking to Veronica herself.’

‘I already have.’

‘And?’

‘I think she’s holding back.’

‘Well, that is your problem.’

Banks pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I think you’re holding back, too,’ he said. ‘Believe me, if I find out that you are and that it’s relevant to Caroline’s murder, I’ll make sure you know about it. You’ll need twenty years in analysis to rid yourself of the guilt.’

Her jaw muscles clenched and her eyes hardened. ‘Should that occur, it will be my burden.’

Banks walked out and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t feel good about his anger and his pathetic threat, but people like Ursula Kelly, with her smug generalizations and pompous, self-righteous air, brought out the worst in him. He took a couple of deep breaths and looked at his watch. Five thirty. Time to catch the end of rehearsal.

Richmond parked his car outside a pub on the main street, got out and sniffed the air. There was no reason, he thought, why it should smell so different up here, but it did have a damper, more acrid quality. Barnard Castle was only twenty or so miles from Eastvale, but it was over the Durham border in Teesdale.

According to his map, the shop should be on his right about halfway down the hill just in front of him. It seemed to be the main tourist street, with an Indian restaurant, coffeehouse, bookshop and antique shop all rubbing shoulders with places that sold souvenirs along with walking and camping gear.

The toy shop was indeed about halfway down the hill. First, Richmond looked in the window at the array of goods. Hardly any of them seemed familiar, nothing at all like the toys he had played with as a child. In fact, mostly he had had to use his imagination and pretend that a stick was a sword. It wasn’t that his parents had been exceptionally poor, but they had strict priorities, and toys had come very low on the list.

The bell pinged as he entered and a young woman behind the counter looked up from behind a ledger. He guessed her to be in her mid-twenties, and she had a fine head of tangled auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders and framed an attractive, freckled, oval face. She wore a long, loose cardigan, grey with a maroon pattern, and from what Richmond could see of her above the counter, she seemed to have a slim, shapely figure. A pair of glasses dangled on a chain around her neck, but she didn’t put them on as he walked towards her.

‘What can I do for you, sir?’ she said with a lilting, Geordie accent in a slightly husky voice. ‘Would it be something for your boy, or your little girl, perhaps?’

Richmond noticed the glint of humour in her eyes. ‘I’m not married,’ he said, mentally kicking himself even before he had got the words out. ‘I mean, I’m not here to buy anything.’

She looked at him steadily, fingering the spectacles chain as she did so.

‘CID,’ he said, fumbling for his identification. ‘I spoke with the manager a couple of days ago, when you were on holiday.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Ah, yes. Mr Holbrook told me about you. Tell me, do all policemen dress as well as you do?’

Richmond wondered if she were being sarcastic. He took pride in his dress, certainly. He had the kind of tall, trim, athletic body that clothes looked good on, and he always favoured a suit, white shirt and tie, unlike Banks, who went in for the more casual, rumpled look.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ he said finally. ‘Look, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. I’m afraid he didn’t tell me your name.’

She smiled. ‘It’s Rachel, Rachel Pierce. Pleased to meet you.’ She held out her hand. Richmond shook it. He noticed there was no sign of either a wedding ring or an engagement ring.

She seemed to be laughing at him, and it made him feel foolish and disconcerted. How could he question her seriously when she looked at him like that? He remembered his training and aimed for the correct tone.

‘Well, Miss Pierce,’ he began, ‘as you may be aware, we are investigating-’

She burst out laughing. Richmond felt himself flush to the tips of his moustache. ‘What the…?’

She put her hand to her mouth and quietened down. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, seeming more than a little embarrassed herself. ‘I don’t usually giggle. It’s just that you seem so stuffy and formal.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if-’

She waved her hand. ‘No, no. Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I know you have a job to do. It’s just that it gets a bit lonely in here after Christmas and I’m afraid that seems to affect my manners. Look,’ she went on, ‘it would make this a lot easier for me if you’d let me lock up and make you a cup of tea before we talk. It’s near enough closing time already and the only customer I’ve had all day was a young lad wanting to exchange his Christmas present.’

Richmond, encouraged by her friendliness, smiled. ‘If you’re closing anyway,’ he said, ‘maybe we could go for a drink and a bit to eat?’

She chewed on her lower lip and looked at him. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just give me a minute to make sure everything’s secure.’

In ten minutes, they were sitting in a cosy pub, Richmond nursing a pint and Rachel sipping rum and coke.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, sitting back and folding her arms. Grill away, Mr CID.’

Richmond smiled. ‘There’s not much to ask, really. You know Charles Cooper?’

‘Yes. He’s the general manager.’

‘I understand he’s been very busy lately making sure everything was in order for Christmas.’

Rachel nodded.

‘Do you remember December the twenty-second?’

She wrinkled her brow and thought, then said, ‘Yes. He was here that day sorting out some stock problems. You see, Mr Curtis, the manager, had forgotten to reorder some… But you don’t want to hear about that, do you?’

Richmond wasn’t too sure. He felt like pinching himself to see if he could escape the way just listening to her voice and watching her animated face made him feel. He tried it – just a little nip at the back of his thigh – but it did no good. He took a deep breath. ‘How long was he at the shop?’ he asked.

‘Oh, a couple of hours, perhaps.’

‘Between what times?’

‘He got here about four, or thereabouts, and left at six.’

‘He left at six o’clock?’

‘Yes. You sound surprised. Why?’

‘It’s nothing.’ It was, though. Unless he had gone to another branch – and neither Cooper nor his wife had mentioned anything about that – then he had left the shop at six and not got home until eleven. Where the hell had he been, and why had he lied?

‘Are you sure he left at six o’clock?’ he asked.

‘Well, it can’t have been much after,’ Rachel answered. ‘We closed at seven – extra hours for the holiday period – and he was gone a while before then. He said he’d try to shift some stock over from the Skipton shop before Christmas Eve.’

‘Did you get the impression he was going to go to Skipton right then?’

‘No. They’d be closed, too. Wouldn’t be any point, would there?’

‘Presumably, if he’s the general manager, he’s got a key?’