“Did they do that often?”

“Not often, no.”

“When was the last time he was left alone here?”

“Last month. They both went down to London for some fancy gala charity do.”

“What did Luke do when he was left alone in the house?”

“We didn’t spy on him,” said Calvin, “if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Not at all,” said Banks. “But did you ever hear anything? TV? Stereo? Did he ever have his friends over? That sort of thing.”

“Music were loud enough, but he didn’t have no friends to ask over, did he?” said Calvin.

“You know that’s not true,” said his wife.

“So he did entertain friends?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Did he, Mrs. Batty?”

“Not here.”

Banks took a deep breath. “Where, then?”

She hugged her gray cardie closer to her. “I shouldn’t be telling tales out of school.”

Annie leaned forward and spoke for the first time. “Mrs. Batty, this is a murder investigation. We need your help. We’re in the dark here. If you can help throw any light at all on what happened to Luke, please do so. This is way beyond telling tales or keeping promises.”

Josie looked at Banks, uncertain.

“DI Cabbot’s right,” he said. “All bets are off when it’s murder. Who was this friend?”

“Just someone I saw him with, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“In Eastvale. Swainsdale Centre.”

“When?”

“Recently.”

“Past week or two?”

“A bit longer.”

“A month?”

“Aye, about that.”

“How old? His age? Older? Younger?”

“Older. She wasn’t no fifteen-year-old, I can tell you that.”

“How old?”

“Hard to say when they’re that age.”

“What age?”

“Young woman.”

“How young? Late teens, early twenties?”

“Aye, around that.”

“Taller or shorter than him?”

“Shorter. Luke were a big lad for his age. Tall and skinny.”

“What did she look like?”

“Dark.”

“You mean she was black?”

“No, her skin was pale. She just dressed dark, like him.

And her hair was dyed black. She had red lipstick on and them studs and chains all over t’place. And she had a tattoo,” she added in a hushed tone, as if saving the greatest sin for last.

Banks glanced at Annie who, he happened to know from experience, had a butterfly tattoo just above her right breast. Annie gave him a look. “Where?” she asked Josie.

Josie touched her upper left arm, just below the shoulder. “There,” she said. “She was wearing one of them leather waistcoats over a T-shirt.”

“What was the tattoo?” Annie asked her.

“Couldn’t tell,” said Josie. “Too far away. I could just see there was a mark, like.”

This woman shouldn’t be too difficult to find if she lived in or near Eastvale, Banks thought. It was hardly Leeds or Manchester when it came to girls in black with studs, chains and tattoos. There was only one club, The Bar None, which catered to such a crowd, and then only two nights a week, the rest of the time being reserved for the techno-dance set. It was possible she was a student at the college, too, he thought. “Would you mind if we sent a sketch artist over to work on an impression with you this afternoon?” he asked.