by Helen Cox
Halloran’s jaw tightened. ‘I don’t want to believe she did it. She’s never shown any sign that she would.’
‘So, why doubt her?’ Evie asked.
Halloran glanced at Kitt and then turned his attention back to Evie. ‘Let’s just say I’ve had some . . . experience with people who haven’t seemed capable of anything like that and proved me wrong.’
Kitt gave a deep, sympathetic sigh and stroked the inspector’s arm. It was then Evie remembered what Kitt had told her in confidence a few weeks back: that one of Halloran’s ex-colleagues had murdered his wife. It was understandable that he had a hard time trusting anyone after that.
‘But you will try and help her, won’t you?’ Evie said, with some doubt given the expression on the inspector’s face.
‘I’ll do what I can to help those investigating it get to the truth,’ Halloran replied.
Evie felt a knot forming in her stomach. That wasn’t very reassuring. Didn’t Halloran care that his partner had been wrongfully accused? Didn’t he want to prove her innocence?
‘Her case won’t be helped,’ he continued, ‘by the new superintendent who is soon to take over from Detective Chief Superintendent Percival.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Kitt. ‘You did mention her, what’s her name? Ricci, right?’
‘That’s her. She’s only been with us three weeks but I got the impression from the off that she and Banks didn’t really get along, and she hasn’t leapt to Banks’s defence. She was straight on the phone to the Independent Office of Police Conduct.’
‘I thought coppers were supposed to stick together, present a united front,’ said Evie.
‘Matters like these have to be thoroughly investigated either by the IOPC or the Professional Standards Department,’ said Halloran. ‘I thought her pristine track record might have won Banks a little faith with Ricci, but apparently not.’
‘Put yourself in Ricci’s shoes though,’ said Kitt. ‘She doesn’t know Banks. She’s only just started at the station and the first thing she has to deal with is one of her officers being accused of assault.’
‘Poor Charley,’ said Evie, hugging her arms around herself. Perhaps she could engender some sympathy for the officer, persuade Halloran to fight her corner. ‘Surely her statement counts for something? A police officer’s word against the word of someone suspected of burglary?’
‘That’s part of the trouble,’ said Halloran. ‘If it was just the suspect’s word against Banks it probably would have been quicker to get to the bottom of it all. But there’s hard evidence that Banks was the culprit.’
‘Hard as in forensic?’ asked Kitt.
The nod Halloran made was almost imperceptible.
‘What evidence?’ asked Evie, remembering all the evidence that had been stacked against her just a few weeks ago. That experience had taught her just how deceiving evidence could be.
‘Her fingerprints were found on the weapon used in the attack,’ said Halloran.
‘What was the weapon?’ Evie could tell by the inspector’s slow responses that he wasn’t comfortable giving away this much information but all she could think about was how gentle Charley had been with her when she was pulled out of the river after the incident. She had even sent her the occasional encouraging text message since, wishing her back to health and suggesting the pair go for a drink when she was feeling better. That sort of kindness was surely above and beyond her duties as a police officer.
‘It was a hammer. Banks has identified it as belonging to her. Said she kept it in the tool box in her garage and when she checked it was missing. Obviously, her fingerprints were on it but the attacker was wearing gloves and smudged some of them, which offers us some hope. It puts a question mark over whether Charley was the last person to handle it. But it’s not conclusive. The partials belong to her. The weapon belongs to her, and it’s covered in the victim’s blood.’
‘What about the victim? Are they all right?’ asked Kitt.
‘He’s in hospital,’ Halloran said. ‘Looking very black and blue in the face, but still just about conscious.’
‘Crikey, this is brutal!’ said Evie. ‘But can’t he clear this up? He must have seen the attacker.’
Halloran shook his head in a way that indicated at least some remorse. Perhaps he cared about Banks more than he was letting on.
‘The attacker was wearing a balaclava. But the height, build, accent and gender description is a match to Banks and he says the attacker was shouting at him about the case. About how he’d better confess to the crime or else they’d come back to finish him off.’
‘What kind of case was it?’ asked Kitt.
‘Relatively low-key,’ said Halloran. ‘Some rare books were stolen from Bootham Bar Books two weeks ago.’
‘Oh yes,’ Kitt said, her blue eyes lighting up in the way they only ever did when she was talking about books. ‘The second I read about that I paid a visit to the shop to check in on Donald and Shereen.’
‘Why am I not surprised that you know bookshop owners by first name?’ Halloran teased. ‘And I’m sure your concern for the staff was your only reason for paying a visit to the bookshop.’
‘I might have purchased one or two volumes while I was in there. It only seemed right to put my hand in my pocket. The books that were stolen were worth no small amount of money, you know.’
‘How much?’ asked Evie.
‘Fifty grand,’ Halloran replied.
‘Crumbs!’
‘So Banks has been working on this case?’ Kitt asked.
Halloran nodded. ‘With the cuts and all that, we don’t investigate all burglaries now but because the items were worth so much, it suggested something bigger might be going on there.’
‘Didn’t know books could be worth that much,’ said Evie.
‘They were no ordinary books,’ said Kitt. ‘They were all first editions. The Big Sleep, Endymion, Jamaica Inn. Not to mention a first edition copy of Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood. I’d given that one many a wistful glance through the glass cabinet. It was beautiful. Donald let me touch it once.’
‘I hope his wife doesn’t find out,’ Evie said before she could stop herself. Her eyes darted at once towards the inspector. She wasn’t used to Kitt having a boyfriend. As far as Evie was concerned Kitt had spent the last ten years being married to Edward Rochester, of Jane Eyre fame, in her head. Halloran, however, only let out a rich, deep laugh that filled the whole room, a laugh Evie had never heard from him before.
‘Can’t you let even one opportunity for innuendo go by?’ Kitt said, sighing in her friend’s direction.
‘Seems like such a waste,’ said Evie.
‘In fact, those weren’t the only things stolen from the bookshop,’ said Halloran. ‘But the other things weren’t of high value so we didn’t release them to the press. Thought they might be a means of catching out the burglar in interview.’
‘What else was taken?’ asked Kitt.
‘An Enid Blyton book and one of the soft toys that are sold at the counter.’
‘Which Enid Blyton book?’ Kitt pushed – when it came to books she wanted no detail spared.
‘Secret Seven Mystery.’
‘Another first edition?’
Halloran shook his head. ‘That book wasn’t worth anything.’
‘Clearly it was to the thief,’ said Kitt.
‘What about the soft toy?’ said Evie, ignoring Kitt’s knowing look. Evie had told her how much reluctance she had shown to giving up her childhood soft toys. Her dad had said adults didn’t have teddy bears, but she had secretly always missed the comfort of them. Consequently, every now and then she would try and convince Kitt to visit the Teddy Bear Tea Rooms in town, and every now and then Kitt obliged even though she always made out she didn’t think it was a fitting place for two women in their mid-thirties to have t
ea. Despite her protestations, however, the pair always had a lot of fun there.
‘It was a large Peter Rabbit toy sitting in a display by the counter,’ said Halloran.
‘Yes, I’ve seen those. What a rum thing for a thief to take though,’ said Evie before pausing and thinking for a moment. ‘This beating. The hammer and all that, wouldn’t Banks have known that all this evidence pointed to her? She would never do anything that stupid, surely?’
‘On the surface it doesn’t add up, no,’ said Halloran. ‘Don’t get me wrong, she is strong and physically capable of doing something like this – she can hold her own. But intellectually and professionally Banks has always relied on the letter of the law. She’s ambitious. Her goal is to work her way to the top of the policing ladder. It seems unlikely she’d jeopardize that for anything, let alone a small case like this.’
‘So, you think someone is setting Banks up?’ Kitt said.
‘That’s what I’d like to believe, yes. After all . . .’ The inspector tailed off and glanced between Evie and Kitt. ‘Recent events have made me think twice about the places evidence can point to.’
Evie gave the inspector a grudging smile. In his own way, he was saying that he trusted both her and Kitt, or at the very least wanted to.
Her thoughts slid back to Charley. She knew what it meant to be accused of something unforgivably brutal. She knew how alone that could make a person feel.
‘What’s going to happen to Charley? Will she really lose her job?’
‘I’m sorry to say, at this point that’s looking like a best-case scenario.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Evie.
‘The role of a police officer is to protect the public, and any breach of that is rightly taken very seriously. It’s likely the Professional Standards Department will task an anti-corruption unit to investigate and if they find Banks at fault, she’ll stand trial for her actions.’
Evie swallowed hard. When she’d been accused of murdering her ex that had been one of the things she had feared most. Standing in a courtroom, surrounded by people who were staring at her and judging her for something she hadn’t done. Everyone believing her to be a criminal.
‘So, Banks could actually go to prison for this?’ said Kitt, her eyes widening.
‘If they gather enough evidence to take this to trial that’s almost a certainty,’ said Halloran.
‘A police officer in prison . . .’ said Kitt. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about . . . what they’d do to her.’
‘Banks is a survivor,’ said Halloran. ‘But she’d have to be to get through it.’
‘Where is she?’ Evie asked, glancing briefly at her watch.
‘I don’t know, she was dismissed from the station earlier this afternoon.’
‘Well I’ve got to go and see her, now,’ Evie blurted out.
Kitt raised her eyebrows and Evie admitted to herself that she wasn’t so sure why she had to go and comfort a person she had only met on a few, albeit somewhat momentous, occasions. Perhaps because Charley had been so kind to her in the hospital after her near-death experience. She wanted to return the kindness and be there for her.
‘You and Banks have kept in touch?’ said Halloran.
‘Here and there,’ said Evie. ‘She’s been very kind to me since, well, since what happened. I hate to think of her going through this alone.’
‘I see,’ Halloran said. ‘I did call at her house before making my way here, to check in on her, but she wasn’t there.’
‘I’ll find her,’ said Evie.
‘How?’ asked Kitt.
‘I don’t know, York isn’t that big. I’ll drop her a text message or call her or something.’
‘She hasn’t been picking up her phone to me,’ said Halloran, thinking for a moment before speaking again. ‘Perhaps she will respond to you though . . . someone who has nothing to do with the job. Maybe that’s what she needs right now.’
Evie rose from the armchair and began putting her coat back on.
‘But what about . . .’ Kitt began and then paused, looking at Halloran. She wasn’t going to say anything outright about Evie’s wobbly moment earlier on, but a concerned frown lined her forehead. ‘What about your tea?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ said Evie, with only a slight note of regret. That lasagne did look delicious but there were more pressing issues. She looked into the blue eyes of her friend and squeezed her arm. ‘Halloran can have mine.’
‘Well, text me if you need to,’ said Kitt.
‘I will.’
‘And tomorrow’s my late shift at the library, promise to swing by and see me?’
‘It’s a date,’ said Evie. She tugged at the door. It budged an inch but no further.
‘Allow me,’ Halloran said, gripping the handle and pulling the door open in one swift movement.
‘Show-off,’ Kitt said to him, and then quickly followed it up with, ‘Evie, stay safe.’
‘I will,’ Evie called back. She and Kitt knew there was no real danger in walking the streets of York, especially this early in the evening, but after recent events the pair had, perhaps understandably, become even more protective over each other’s safety.
Evie scuttled along the path and pulled up her hood, smiling at the sensation of once again being sheltered in the deepening, masking darkness.
Three
In less than an hour, Evie was scanning small friendship groups lolling on the wooden benches set up in Parliament Street as part of the St Nicholas Fair – an annual Christmas market that dominated the city centre throughout the winter months. At this time of day, the fountain at the centre of the square twinkled in the glow of red and green fairy lights and the scent of roast chestnuts hung in the air. Most of the stallholders were busy packing away plum-scented candles and star-shaped Christmas decorations woven in wicker, sprayed silver and gold. Though the market was winding down, the food trucks were still very much open for business, selling mulled wine and sloe gin to shoppers wanting to rest their feet and take the edge off the cold. It took her a moment, but Evie soon spotted Charley, right where she said she’d be: perched on one of the benches on the periphery of the seating area. The multicoloured Christmas lights dazzled around her while she bowed her head towards a polystyrene cup.
Walking towards her, Evie thought back to the first time she had come into contact with the officer. Then, it had seemed as though her hair had never been unwound from that tight knot at the back of her head. But here was evidence to the contrary as it hung loose in dark waves across her shoulders. On their first meeting, Evie remembered too how Charley’s work suit had somehow been pressed in a manner that gave it distinct, angular lines. Now, there was nothing outright scruffy about the black leather jacket she had thrown on over a dark grey hoodie and jeans but somehow she looked more vulnerable in civilian attire.
‘Now then. Want some company, young lady?’ Evie said, and at once regretted it. Where did that idiotic comment come from? Nervousness, she supposed. She had never had to talk to someone who had been suspended from their place of work before, and it was difficult to know what to say.
Charley turned her mouth up at the edges, just a fraction, perhaps to suggest she appreciated the attempt at cheering her up. Either that or it was a smile of sympathy just wide enough to imply she understood how awkward this was and was willing to overlook any goonish behaviour.
Evie sat on the bench opposite Charley, brushing her hair over her face so it might cover the edges of her scars.
‘I didn’t know if you’d reply to my text,’ she said, shuffling about on the bench to try to get more comfortable. It didn’t seem to have been built with the human form in mind. ‘Halloran said he hadn’t been able to get hold of you since this afternoon.’
‘I know he means well, checking in on me,’ Charley said in her sharp Glaswegian accent. ‘But I couldn’t
face talking to him just now. Even over the phone. It’s just too embarrassing.’
‘I can understand that. But I’m grateful you didn’t brush off my messages too.’
Charley’s charcoal eyes stared into Evie’s. ‘You’re quite a hard person to ignore.’
Evie permitted herself a short, edgy laugh. ‘You make that sound like much more of a compliment than Kitt ever does when she says it.’
‘That works out well, because I meant it as a compliment.’ A soft smile appeared on Charley’s lips but was at once eclipsed as she took a sip of her drink.
Evie toyed with one of the curls nearest her face while wondering if it was possible for a person to physically feel a heavy heart growing lighter. ‘I’m so sorry for what’s happened,’ she said, remembering why she’d come.
Charley sighed and covered her face with her hand. ‘I don’t know what the hell to do.’
‘We’ll figure something out.’
‘I’m not talking about the bigger picture, I can’t even start thinking about that,’ Charley said, bringing her hand down on the wooden picnic table between her and Evie. ‘I mean, I literally don’t know what to do, from one moment to the next. This afternoon I went to the pictures and watched the latest Transformers film. On my own. Because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. Do you know how depressing that is?’
‘That does sound pretty dire; there are better films out at the moment.’
‘Probably some subconscious form of self-inflicted masochism,’ said Charley.
‘You shouldn’t be punishing yourself, even subconsciously. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘I know.’
‘But it’s natural to feel disorientated. You’ve had an outrageous shock. Trust me, I know what that feels like.’
Charley looked at her. ‘Yes, you do, don’t you? This is what you went through when we accused you of murdering Owen.’
‘Well, that’s all water under the bridge,’ said Evie. ‘Quite literally.’
Charley bit her lower lip and Evie told herself it was to hold back a smile. That her little joke had made a difference to the way Charley was feeling, just as Kitt’s little jokes did whenever she was in a jam or feeling down.
