Watching the Dark (Inspector Banks Mystery) Read Online Free Page A

said Banks, who used to smoke back in the days when it was possible to light up almost anywhere. He could hardly imagine the hassle these days, standing out in the cold in winter. Another reason to be grateful he had stopped. ‘So what you’re saying is that there isn’t much in the way of security?’
    ‘I suppose that’s true.’
    ‘And no CCTV?’
    ‘Afraid not. St Peter’s is a charity-run establishment, and the board decided that CCTV was too expensive to be worth it. Also, people don’t like being spied on. Especially police officers.’
    Banks smiled and thanked her for her time. Mary blushed. As he walked away, Banks figured he’d made a conquest there. His charm seemed to work especially well on the over-sixties these days.
     
    Banks turned right at the top of the second flight of stairs, following the sign on the wall to rooms 20 to 30B. The door to Bill Quinn’s room was open, and Winsome was still systematically searching through the drawers and cupboards.
    Banks stood in the doorway. ‘Anything for us?’
    ‘Nothing yet,’ said Winsome. She dangled a ring of house keys. ‘Just these. They were on the desk. A few clothes in the wardrobe. Toiletries. No mobile. No wallet. No room key.’
    The room was a mirror image of Lorraine Jenson’s. Banks noticed a fishing rod and tackle in one corner and a stack of Angling Times, Trout & Salmon, Gardeners’ World and Garden News magazines on the coffee table. An outdoorsman, then, Bill Quinn. Banks hadn’t known that. Still, he hadn’t known much about the man at all, a situation that would have to be rectified as quickly as possible. The solution to the crime, he had come to believe over the years, more often than not lies in the victim’s character. ‘I think we’d better send a couple of officers over to search his house. Where does he live?’
    ‘It’s already taken care of, guv,’ said Winsome. ‘He lives alone in a semi in Rawdon, Leeds, up near the airport.’
    ‘Alone? For some reason, I thought he was married with kids.’
    ‘He was. His wife’s dead, and the kids have flown the coop. They’re both at university, one in Hull, the other at Keele. The local police are trying to track them down. His parents, too. They live in Featherstone.’
    ‘I didn’t know that,’ Banks said. ‘About his wife, I mean.’
    ‘I found out from his boss, sir. It was very recent. Only a month. Massive stroke.’
    ‘Is that what he was in here for? Depression? Grief counselling?’
    ‘No. Neck problems. Physio and massage therapy.’
    ‘OK, carry on,’ said Banks. He stood in the doorway watching Winsome work her way through Bill Quinn’s room.
    When she had finished, neither of them was any the wiser.
    ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything of a personal nature here,’ said Winsome. ‘No diary, journal, notebook. Nothing.’
    ‘And no note signed by the killer saying, “Meet me by the lake at eleven o’clock tonight”?’
    Winsome sighed. ‘I wish.’
    ‘Did it seem disturbed at all when you first came in? I suppose if someone could get into the woods to kill him and take his key, they could also get in his room.’
    ‘No signs of it,’ said Winsome. ‘Anyway, it might be a bit riskier, actually entering the building.’
    ‘Not according to what I’ve just heard from Mary,’ said Banks. ‘There’s about as much security here as a kid’s piggy bank. Do we know if he had a mobile?’
    ‘I’d be surprised if he didn’t,’ said Winsome. ‘I mean, these days . . .’
    ‘Well, he doesn’t appear to have one now,’ said Banks. ‘And that’s very peculiar, wouldn’t you say?’
    ‘Yes, I would. I always take mine with me when I go out.’
    ‘Better make sure we ask his fellow patients, or guests, or whatever they are, and the staff. Someone should remember if he had one. Same with a laptop or a notepad.’ Banks slipped on the protective gloves he always carried with him to crime scenes and picked up a heavy book Winsome had