Aftermath (23 page)

‘Well she’d enjoyed everything else.’

Move on, Banks told himself, before you hit him. ‘Any other incidents like that?’

‘No. It was the only time. Believe it or not, Superintendent, but after that night, I was a bit ashamed, even though I did nothing wrong, and I would’ve been uncomfortable getting into a situation like that with Terry again. He was too much for me. So I just avoided the possibility.’

‘So Payne was faithful to his wife from then on?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that the two of us didn’t pick up any more girls together. Sometimes he told me, you know, about picking up prostitutes and all.’

‘What did he do with them?’

‘What do you think?’

‘He didn’t go into detail?’

‘No.’

‘Did he ever talk about his wife in a sexual way?’

‘No. Never. He was very possessive about her, and very guarded. He hardly mentioned her at all when we were together. It was as if she were part of a different life altogether. Terry’s got a remarkable ability to compartmentalize things.’

‘So it would seem. Did he ever suggest abducting young girls?’

‘Do you seriously believe that I’d have anything to do with that sort of thing?’

‘I don’t know, Geoff. You tell me. He talked to you about tying them up and fucking their brains out, and he certainly raped that teacher in Blackpool, no matter how willing she might have been to have regular sex with the two of you earlier. I don’t know what to think of your part in all this, Geoff, to be quite honest.’

Brighouse had lost all his colour now, and he was trembling. ‘But you can’t think that I . . .? I mean . . .’

‘Why not? There’s no reason you couldn’t have been in it with him. More convenient if there were two of you. Easier to abduct your victims. Any chloroform in the lab?’

‘Chloroform? Yes. Why?’

‘Under lock and key, is it?’

‘Of course.’

‘Who has a key?’

‘I do. Terry. Keith Miller, the department head, Mr Knight. I don’t know who else. Probably the caretaker and the cleaners, for all I know.’

‘Whose prints do you think we’d find on the bottle?’

‘I don’t know. I certainly can’t remember the last time
I
used the stuff.’

‘What did you do last weekend?’

‘Not much. Stayed home. Marked some projects. Went shopping in town.’

‘Got a girlfriend at the moment, Geoff?’

‘No.’

‘See anyone else over the weekend?’

‘Just neighbours, you know, people from the other flats, in the hall, on the stairs. Oh, and I went to the pictures Saturday night.’

‘On your own?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you go to see?’

‘New James Bond, in the city centre. And then I dropped in at my local.’

‘Anyone see you?’

‘A few of the regulars, yes. We had a game of darts.’

‘How late were you there?’

‘Closing time.’

Banks scratched his cheek. ‘I don’t know, Geoff. When you get right down to it, it’s not much of an alibi, is it?’

‘I wasn’t aware I’d be needing one.’

The lab door opened and two boys poked their heads in. Geoff Brighouse seemed relieved. He looked at his watch, then at Banks, and gave a weak smile. ‘Time for class, I’m afraid.’

Banks stood up. ‘That’s all right, Geoff. I wouldn’t want to interfere in the education of the young.’

Brighouse beckoned the boys in, and more followed, swarming around the stools at the benches. He walked with Banks over to the door.

‘I’d like you to come down to Millgarth and make a statement,’ Banks said before leaving.

‘A statement? Me? But why?’

‘Just a formality. Tell the detective exactly what you just told me. And we’ll also need to know exactly where you were and what you were doing at the times those five girls were abducted. Details, witnesses, the lot. We’ll also need a fingerprint scan and a sample of DNA. It won’t be painful, just like brushing your teeth. This evening after school will do fine. Say five o’clock? Go to the front desk and ask for DC Younis. He’ll be expecting you.’ Banks gave him a card and wrote down the name of the bright, if rather judgemental, young DC he had that very second chosen for the task of taking Brighouse’s formal statement. DC Younis was active in his local Methodist Chapel and a bit conservative, morally. ‘Cheers,’ said Banks leaving a stunned and worried-looking Geoff Brighouse to teach his class the joys of unstable sodium.

Pat Mitchell
took a break when Jenny turned up at the bank, and they walked to the café in the shopping centre over the road, where they sipped rather weak milky
tea as they talked. Pat was a vivacious brunette with damp brown eyes and a big engagement ring. All she could do at first was shake her head and repeat, ‘I still can’t believe this. I
just can’t believe this is happening.’

Jenny was no stranger to denial, either as a psychologist or as a woman, so she made sympathetic noises and gave Pat the time to compose herself. Once in a while, someone from one of the other
tables would give them a puzzled look, as if he or she recognized them but couldn’t quite place them, but for the most part the café was empty and they were able to talk
undisturbed.

‘How well do you know Lucy?’ Jenny asked when Pat had stopped crying.

‘We’re pretty close. I mean, I’ve known her for about four years, ever since she started here at the bank. She had a little flat then, just off Tong Road. We’re about the
same age. How is she? Have you seen her?’ All the time she talked, Pat’s big brown eyes continued to glisten on the brink of tears.

‘I saw her this morning,’ Jenny answered. ‘She’s doing well. Healing nicely.’
Physically
, anyway. ‘What was she like when you first met?’

Pat smiled at the memory. ‘She was fun, a laugh. She liked a lark.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know. She just wanted to enjoy herself, have a good time.’

‘What was her idea of a good time?’

‘Clubbing, going to pubs, parties, dancing, chatting up lads.’

‘Just chatting them up?’

‘Lucy was . . . well, she was just
funny
when it came to lads back then. I mean, most of them seemed to bore her. She’d go out with them a couple of times and then she’d
chuck them.’

‘Why do you think that was?’

Pat swirled the greyish tea in her cup and looked into it as if she were seeking her fortune in the leaves. ‘I don’t know. It was as if she was
waiting
for someone.’

‘Mr Right?’

Pat laughed. ‘Something like that.’ Jenny got the impression that her laugh would have been a lot more ready and frequent had it not been for the circumstances.

‘Did she ever tell you what her idea of Mr Right was?’

‘No. Just that none of the lads around here seemed to satisfy her in any way. She thought they were all stupid and all they had on their minds was football and sex. In that
order.’

Jenny had met plenty of lads like that. ‘What was she after? A rich man? An exciting one? A dangerous one?’

‘She wasn’t interested in money particularly. Dangerous? I don’t know. Maybe. She liked to live on the edge. Back then, like. She could be quite over the top.’

Jenny made some notes. ‘How? In what way?’

‘It’s nothing, really. I shouldn’t have spoken.’

‘Go on. Tell me.’

Pat lowered her voice. ‘Look, you’re a psychiatrist, right?’

‘Psychologist.’

‘Whatever. Does that mean if I tell you something it goes no further? It stays between you and me and nobody can make you name your source? I mean, I wouldn’t want Lucy to think
I’d been talking out of turn.’

While Jenny might have some valid defences for not turning over her patients’ files without a court order, in this instance she was working for the police and couldn’t promise
privacy. On the other hand, she needed to hear Pat’s story, and Lucy would probably never find out about it. Without resorting to an outright lie, she said, ‘I’ll do my best. I
promise.’

Pat chewed on her lower lip and thought for a moment, then she leaned forward and gripped her teacup in both hands. ‘Well, once she wanted to go to some of those clubs in
Chapeltown.’

‘West Indian clubs?’

‘Yes. I mean, most nice white girls wouldn’t go near places like that, but Lucy thought it would be exciting.’

‘Did she go?’

‘Yes, she went with Jasmine, a Jamaican girl from the Boar Lane branch. Of course, nothing happened. I think she might have tried some drugs, though.’

‘Why? What did she say?’

‘She just hinted and did that, you know, that
knowing
sort of thing with her eyes, like she’d
been
there and the rest of us had only seen it on television. She can be
quite unnerving like that, can Lucy.’

‘Was there anything else?’

‘Yes.’ Once Pat was in full flow, it seemed, there was no stopping her. ‘She once told me she’d acted as a prostitute.’

‘She’d
what
?’

‘It’s true.’ Pat looked around her to make sure no one was interested and lowered her voice even more. ‘It was over a couple of years ago, before Terry came on the scene.
We’d talked about it in a pub one night when we saw one – you know, a prostitute – wondering what it would be like and all, doing it for money, just as a bit of a laugh, really.
Lucy said she’d like to try it and find out and she’d let us know.’

‘Did she?’

‘Uh-huh. That’s what she told me. About a week later, she said the night before she’d put on some slutty clothes – fishnet tights, high heels, a black leather miniskirt
and a low-cut blouse and she sat at the bar of one of those business hotels near the motorway. It didn’t take long, she said, before a man approached her.’

‘Did she tell you what happened?’

‘Not all the details. She knows when to hold back, does Lucy. For effect, like. But she said they talked, very businesslike and polite and all that, and they came to some financial
arrangement, then they went up to his room and . . . and they
did
it.’

‘Did you believe her?’

‘Not at first. I mean, it’s
outrageous
, isn’t it? But . . .’

‘Eventually you did?’

‘Well, like I said, Lucy’s always capable of surprising you, and she likes danger, excitement. I suppose it was when she showed me the money that tipped the balance.’

‘She showed you?’

‘Yes. Two hundred pounds.’

‘She could have got it out of the bank.’

‘She could, but . . . Anyway, that’s all I know about it.’

Jenny made some more notes. Pat tilted her head to see what she was writing. ‘It must be a fascinating job, yours,’ she said.

‘It has its moments.’

‘Just like that woman who used to be on television.
Prime Suspect
.’

‘I’m not a policewoman, Pat. Just a consultant psychologist.’

Pat wrinkled her nose. ‘Still, it’s an exciting life, isn’t it? Catching criminals and all that.’

Excitement wasn’t the first word that came to Jenny’s mind, but she decided to leave Pat to her illusions. Like most people’s, they wouldn’t do her any real harm.
‘What about after Lucy met Terry?’

‘She changed. But then you do, don’t you? Otherwise what’s the point of getting married? If it doesn’t change you, I mean.’

‘I see your point. How did she change?’

‘She became a lot more reserved. Stopped home more. Terry’s a bit of a homebody, so there was no more clubbing. He’s the jealous type, too, is Terry, if you know what I mean,
so she had to watch herself chatting up the lads. Not that she did that after they were married. It was Terry, Terry, Terry all the way then.’

‘Were they in love?’

‘I’d say. Dotty about each other. At least that’s what she said, and she seemed happy. Mostly.’

‘Let’s back up a bit. Were you there when they met?’

‘She says so, but I can’t for the life of me remember them meeting.’

‘When was it?’

‘Nearly two years ago. July. A warm, muggy night. We were on a girls’ night out at a pub in Seacroft. One of those really big places with lots of rooms and dancing.’

‘How do you remember it?’

‘I remember Lucy leaving alone. She said she hadn’t enough money for a taxi and she didn’t want to miss her bus. They don’t run late. I’d had a few drinks, but I
remember because I said something about her being careful. The Seacroft Rapist was active around then.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She just gave me that look and left.’

‘Did you see Terry there that night? Did you see him chatting her up?’

‘I think I saw him there, by himself at the bar, but I don’t remember seeing them talking.’

‘What did Lucy say later?’

‘That she’d talked to him when she went to the bar for drinks once and quite liked the look of him, then they met again on her way out and went to some other pub together. I
can’t remember. I was definitely a bit squiffy. Anyway, whatever happened, that was it. From then on it was a different Lucy. She didn’t have anywhere near enough time for her old
friends.’

‘Did you ever visit them? Go for dinner?’

‘A couple of times, with my fiancé, Steve. We got engaged a year ago.’ She held up her ring. The diamond caught the light and flashed. ‘We’re getting married in
August. We’ve already booked the honeymoon. We’re going to Rhodes.’

‘Did you get along with Terry okay?’

Pat gave a little shudder. ‘No. I don’t like him. Never did. Steve thought he was all right, but . . . That’s why we stopped going over, really. There’s just something
about him . . . And Lucy, she was sort of like a zombie when he was around. Either that or she acted like she was on drugs.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s just a figure of speech. I mean, I know she wasn’t
really
on drugs, but just, you know, overexcited, talking too much, mind jumping all over the
place.’

‘Did you ever see any signs of abuse?’

‘You mean did he hit her and stuff?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. Nothing. I never saw any bruises or anything like that.’

‘Did Lucy seem to change in any way?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Recently. Did she become more withdrawn, seem afraid of anything?’