“A few clothes, personal items. She didn’t have much.”

“But she took her clothes?”

“Yes. A few.”

“That’s interesting. What did she carry them in?”

“An old cardboard suitcase. The same one she arrived with.”

“Did she leave a note?”

“Not that I saw. If Matthew found one, he never indicated it to me.”

“Would he have?”

“Possibly not. He wasn’t very communicative. In his condition, it’s impossible to predict what he would have done.”

“Murder?”

“No. Not Matthew. I’ve already told you, he had a gentle nature. Even his dreadful war experiences and his illness didn’t change that about him, though they changed everything else.”

“But Gloria’s belongings were definitely missing?”

“Yes.”

“And you and Matthew were in Leeds during the time she made her exit?”

“Yes.”

“So she never even said good-bye?”

“Sometimes it’s easier that way.”

“So it is.” Banks remembered that Sandra, once she had made her mind up, had given him little time for protracted good-byes. He paused for a moment. “Ms. Elmsley,” he asked, “knowing what you know now, why do you think her clothes and suitcase were missing? Where do you think they got to?”

“I have no idea. I’m only telling you what I witnessed at the time, what I thought must have happened. Perhaps someone stole them? Perhaps she interrupted a burglar and he killed her?”

“Were they particularly fine clothes? Minks, a few diamond necklaces perhaps? A tiara or two?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“It’s not me who’s being absurd. You see, it’s not often people get murdered for their clothes, especially if they’re ordinary clothes.”

“Perhaps they were taken for some other reason.”

“Like what?”

“To make it look as if she had gone away.”

“Ah. Now that would be clever, wouldn’t it? Who do you think would feel the need to risk taking time burying her body under the outbuilding floor?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not a casual burglar, I don’t think.”

“As I suggested, perhaps someone wanted to make it appear as if she had gone away.”

“But who would want to do that? And, perhaps more important: Why?”

“To avoid suspicion.”

“Exactly. Which brings us back very close to home, doesn’t it? Why try to avoid suspicion unless you have some reason to believe suspicion will fall on you?”

“Your rhetoric is too much for me, Chief Inspector.”

“But you write detective novels. I’ve read one of them. Don’t play the fool with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m very flattered that you have read my books, Chief Inspector, but I’m afraid you attribute to me a far more logical mind than I actually possess.”

Banks sighed. “If someone took great pains to make it look as if Gloria had run away, I’d say that someone wasn’t likely to be a stranger just passing through, or a burglar. It had to be someone who felt suspicion was likely to fall on him or her: Matthew, Brad Szikorski or you.”

“Well, it wasn’t me. And I told you, Matthew never raised a finger to her.”

“Which leaves Brad Szikorski.”

“Perhaps. Though I doubt it. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Why not?”

She allowed him a thin smile. “Because Brad Szikorski was killed in a flying stunt in the desert outside Los Angeles in 1952. Ironic, isn’t it? During the war, Brad flew on bombing raids over Europe and survived, only to be killed in a stunt for a war film seven or eight years later.”

“What about Charles Markleson?”

“Charlie. He would have had no reason at all to harm Gloria. Besides, he was killed in the war.”

“Edgar Konig? Billy Joe Farrell?”

“I don’t know what happened to them, Chief Inspector. It’s all so long ago. I only know about Brad because it was in the newspapers at the time. I suppose you’ll have to ask them yourself, won’t you? That is, if you can find them.”

“Oh, I’ll find them, if they’re still alive. Had either of them reason to kill Gloria?”

“Not that I know of. They were simply part of a group we went around with. Though Billy Joe, I remember, did have a violent temper, and PX was rather smitten with Gloria.”

“Did she go out with him?”

“Not to my knowledge. You couldn’t… he wasn’t… I mean, he just seemed so young and so shy.”

“Did you notice any blood in Bridge Cottage after Gloria’s disappearance?”

“No. Obviously, if I had done, I would have been suspicious and called the police. But then I can’t say I was actually looking for blood.”

“Not one little spot? Nothing that might, in retrospect, have been blood?”

“Nothing. Anyway, what makes you think she was killed in Bridge Cottage?”

“It’s a logical assumption.”

“She could have been killed outside, in the backyard, or even in the outbuilding where you found her remains.”

“Possibly,” Banks allowed. “Even so, whoever did it was very thorough. What happened next?”

“Nothing. We just carried on. Actually, we only stayed on in the village a few weeks longer, then we got a council house in Leeds.”

“I know. I’ve seen it.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to do that.”

“So you’re saying you have absolutely no idea what happened to Gloria?”

“None at all. As I said, I simply thought she couldn’t face life with Matthew anymore – in his condition – so she ran off and started up elsewhere.”

“Did you think she might have run off with Brad Szikorski, arranged to meet him over in America or something? After all, the Four Hundred Forty-Eighth Bomber Group moved out around the same time, didn’t they?”

“I suppose it crossed my mind. It was always possible that she had ended up in America.”

“Did it not surprise you that she never got in touch?”

“It did. But there was nothing I could do about it if she wanted to disappear, sever all ties. As I said, she’d done it before.”

“Did you ever try to find her?”

“No.”

“Did anyone?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about Matthew?”

“What about him?”

“Did you kill him?”

“I did not. He committed suicide.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t related to Gloria’s disappearance. He was ill, confused, depressed, in pain. I did my best for him, but it was ultimately no use.”

“He shot himself, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“With a Colt forty-five automatic.”

“Was it? I’m afraid I know nothing about guns.”

“Where did he get the gun?”

“The gun? I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“Simple question, Ms. Elmsley. Where did Matthew get the gun he shot himself with?”

“He always had it.”

“Always? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since he came back from the war, I suppose. I can’t remember when I first saw it.”

“From the Japanese POW camp?”

“Yes.”

Banks got to his feet, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong, Chief Inspector?” Vivian asked, hand plucking at the turkey flap at the base of her throat.

“Everything,” said Banks. “None of it makes any sense. Think over what you’ve just told us, will you? You’re telling us you believed that Gloria simply upped sticks and left without leaving a note, taking her clothes and a few personal belongings with her in a cardboard suitcase. If you’re telling the truth, then whoever killed Gloria must have packed the suitcase and either taken it away with him or buried it somewhere to make it look as if she had run off. Then, five years later, your brother Matthew shot himself with an American service revolver he just happened to bring back from a Japanese POW camp. You write detective novels. Ask yourself if your Inspector Niven would believe it. Ask yourself if your readers would believe it.” He reached in his pocket. “Here’s my card. I want you to think seriously about our little talk. We’ll be back. Soon. Don’t bother yourself, we’ll see ourselves out.”

Once they were out in the hot street again, Annie turned to Banks, whistled and said, “What was all that about?”