“DS Templeton dug up the paperwork, and it looks to have been a rather cursory investigation,” Banks said. “After all, a major rock star and a peer of the realm were involved.”

“Meaning?”

Christ, Banks thought, do I have to spell it out for you? “Ma’am, I should imagine nobody wanted a scandal that might in any way touch the establishment and make it to the House,” he said. “There’d been enough of that sort of thing over the previous few years with Profumo, Kim Philby and the rest. As it was, the tabloids no doubt had a field day. Sex and drug orgies at Lord Jessop’s country manor. A deeper investigation might have unearthed things nobody wanted brought to the surface.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Banks, this is paranoid conspiracy rubbish,” said Superintendent Gervaise. “Honestly, I’d have thought better of you.”

“Well,” Banks went on, unfazed, “the victim’s personal belongings are all missing, including his laptop and mobile, and he was definitely silenced for good.”

“We do know that he had a laptop and mobile?”

“The girl, Kelly Soames, says she saw them when she visited him, ma’am,” said Annie.

Gervaise frowned as if she had a bad taste in her mouth and tapped her pen on the blank pad in front of her. “People have been killed or beaten up for a mobile phone or less. I’m still not convinced about this girl, DI Cabbot. She could be lying. Talk to her again, see if her story’s consistent.”

“Surely you don’t really believe that she might have killed him?” Annie asked.

“All I’m saying is that it’s possible.”

“But she was working in the pub at the time. There are plenty of witnesses to vouch for her.”

“Except when she was supposed to be going to the dentist’s on Friday afternoon, but was in actuality in bed with a man she’d only just met, a man who was found dead not long after. The girl can obviously lie with the best of them. All I’m saying is it’s suspicious, DI Cabbot. And the MO fits. Crime of passion. Maybe he slighted her, asked her to do something she found repugnant? Perhaps she found out he had another girlfriend. Maybe she left the pub for a few moments later on, in the dark. It wouldn’t have taken long.”

“That would involve some premeditation, not a crime of passion, ma’am,” said Annie, “and the odds are that she would have also got some blood on her.”

“Perhaps this sense of being wronged built up in her until she snapped when the lights went out, and seized her opportunity before they got organized with candles? I don’t know. All I’m saying is that it’s possible, and that it makes a good deal more sense than any conspiracy rooted deep in the past. Either way, push her a bit harder, DI Cabbot. Do I make myself clear? And, DS Nowak?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Have a word with the pathologist, Dr. Glendenning. See if you can push him a bit on time of death, find out if there’s any possibility that the victim could have been killed around four rather than between six and eight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stefan gave Annie a quick glance. They both knew Dr. Glendenning could not be pushed on anything.

“And let’s have the girl’s father in,” Superintendent Gervaise went on. “He disappeared for long enough around the time of the murder. If he found out that this Barber character was having casual sex with his daughter, he might have taken the law into his own hands.”

“Ma’am?” said Annie.

“What, DI Cabbot?”

“It’s just that I sort of promised. I mean, I indicated to the girl, to Kelly, that is, that we had no need to tell her father about what happened. Apparently he’s a bit of a disciplinarian, and it could go badly for her.”

“All the more reason to have a close look at him. It might already have gone badly for Nicholas Barber. Have you thought of that?”

“No, ma’am, you don’t understand. It’s her I’m worried about. Kelly. He’ll hit the roof.”

Superintendent Gervaise regarded Annie coldly. “I understand perfectly well what you’re saying, DI Cabbot. It serves her right for jumping into the bed with every man she sees, then, doesn’t it?”

“With all due respect, there’s no evidence to suggest that she does anything of the kind. She just happened to like Nick Barber.”

Superintendent Gervaise glared at Annie. “I’m not going to argue sexual mores, especially with you, DI Cabbot. Ask around. Find out. The girl must have had other partners. Find them. And find out if anyone’s ever paid her for it.”

“But, ma’am,” Annie protested. “That’s an insult. Kelly Soames isn’t a prostitute, and this case isn’t about her sex life.”

“It is if I say it is.”

“I talked to Calvin Soames,” Banks cut in.

Superintendent Gervaise looked over at him. “And?”

“In my opinion, he didn’t know what was going on between the victim and his daughter.”

“In your opinion?”

“Yes,” said Banks.

“He couldn’t have been hiding it?”

“He could, I suppose,” Banks admitted, “but if we’re assuming that he did it out of anger or righteous indignation, I think he would have been far more likely to be wearing his heart on his sleeve. He would have been angry when I was questioning his daughter about Barber, but he wasn’t.”

“Did you suggest they had slept together?”

“No,” said Banks. “I merely asked her about her dealings with Barber as a customer in the Cross Keys. While her father was watching us, I was watching him, and I believe that if he’d known there was more to it than that, it would have shown in his expression, his behavior, or in something he said. In my opinion, he’s not the sort of man accustomed to being sly.”

“And it didn’t?”

“No.”

“Very well. I’d be more convinced, however, if I could witness his reaction to being told what his daughter had been up to.”

“But, ma’am-”

“That’s enough, DI Cabbot. I want you to pursue this line of inquiry until I’m satisfied there either is or isn’t something to it.”

“It’ll be too late for Kelly Soames then,” Annie muttered under her breath.

“DS Templeton?” said Banks.

Templeton sat up. “Sir?”

“Did you manage to locate Detective Sergeant Enderby?”

Templeton shifted uneasily in his chair. “Er… yes, sir, I did.” He looked at Superintendent Gervaise while he was speaking.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Well, ma’am,” Templeton said, “DCI Banks asked me to track down the detective who investigated the Robin Merchant drowning.”

“This is the drug addict who fell into the swimming pool thirty-five years ago?”

“Yes, ma’am, though I’m not certain that he was actually an addict. Not technically speaking.”

Superintendent Gervaise sighed theatrically, ran her hand over her layered blond hair, then looked at Banks. “Very well, DCI Banks. I see you’re hell-bent and determined on following this up, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I’ll bear with you for the moment and assume there might be something in it. But DI Cabbot sticks with the Soameses. Okay?”

“Fine,” said Banks. He turned to Templeton. “Well, then, Kev. Where is he?”

Templeton glanced at Superintendent Gervaise again before answering. “Er… he’s in Whitby, sir.”

“That’s nice and handy, then, isn’t it?” Banks said. “I quite fancy a day at the seaside.”

The sun was out again when Banks began his descent from the North York Moors down into Whitby. It was a sight that always stirred him, even in the most gloomy weather, but today the sky was milky blue, and the sun shone on the ruined abbey high on the hill and sparkled like diamonds on the North Sea beyond the dark pincers of the harbor walls.

Retired Detective Inspector Keith Enderby lived in West Cliff, where the houses straggled off the A174 toward Sandsend. At least his fifties pebbledash semi had a sea view, even if it was only a few square feet between the houses opposite. Other than that, it was an unremarkable house on an unremarkable estate, Banks thought, as he pulled up behind the gray Mondeo parked at the front. “Mondeo Man.” A journalistically contrived representative of a certain kind of middle-class Briton. Was that what Enderby had become?