A Necessary End by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

into retaliation by throwing bottles and stones. In the more moderate newspapers, nobody seemed to know exactlywhat had happened, but the whole affair was said to be extremely unfortunate and regrettable.
    At eight-thirty, Superintendent Gristhorpe, who had been up most of the night interviewing demonstrators and supervising the search, called Banks in. Banks stubbed out his cigarette—the super didn’t approve of smoking—and wandered into the book-lined office. The shaded table-lamp on Gristhorpe’s huge teak desk cast its warm glow on a foot-thick pile of statements.
    â€œI’ve been talking to the Assistant Chief Constable,” Gristhorpe said. “He’s been on the phone to London and they’re sending a man up this morning. I’m to cover the preliminary inquiry into the demo for the Police Complaints Authority.” He rubbed his eyes. “Of course, someone’ll no doubt accuse me of being biased and scrap the whole thing, but they want to be seen to be acting quickly.”
    â€œThis man they’re sending,” Banks asked, “what’s he going to do?”
    â€œHandle the murder investigation. You’ll be working with him, along with Hatchley and Richmond.”
    â€œDo you know who he is?”
    Gristhorpe searched for the scrap of paper on his desk. “Yes . . . let me see. . . . It’s a Superintendent Burgess. He’s attached to a squad dealing with politically sensitive crimes. Not exactly Special Branch, but not quite your regular CID, either. I’m not even sure we’re allowed to know what he is. Some sort of political trouble-shooter, I suppose.”
    â€œIs that Superintendent Richard Burgess?” Banks asked.
    â€œYes. Why? Know him?”
    â€œBloody hell.”
    â€œAlan, you’ve gone pale. What’s up?”
    â€œYes, I know him,” Banks said. “Not well, but I worked with him a couple of times in London. He’s about my age, but he’s always been a step ahead.”
    â€œAmbitious?”
    â€œVery. But it’s not his ambition I mind so much,” Banks went on. “He’s slightly to the right of . . . Well, you name him and Burgess is to the right.”
    â€œIs he good, though?”
    â€œHe gets results.”
    â€œIsn’t that what we need?”
    â€œI suppose so. But he’s a real bastard to work with.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œOh, he plays his cards close to his chest. Doesn’t let the right hand know what the left hand’s doing. He takes short cuts. People get hurt.”
    â€œYou make him sound like he doesn’t even have a left hand,” Gristhorpe said.
    Banks smiled. “We used to call him Dirty Dick Burgess.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou’ll find out. It’s nothing to do with his sexual activities, I can tell you that. Though he did have a reputation as a fairly active stud-about-town.”
    â€œAnyway,” Gristhorpe said, “he should be here around midday. He’s taking the early Intercity to York. There’s too long a wait between connections, so I’m sending Craig to meet him at the station there.”
    â€œLucky Craig.”
    Gristhorpe frowned. Banks noticed the bags under his eyes. “Yes, well, make the best of it, Alan. If Superintendent Burgess steps out of line, I won’t be far away. It’s still our patch. By the way, Honoria Winstanley called before she left—at least one of her escorts did. Said all’s well, apologized for his brusqueness last night and thanked you for handling things so smoothly.”
    â€œWonders never cease.”
    â€œI’ve booked Burgess into the Castle Hotel on York Road. It’s not quite as fancy or expensive as the Riverview, but then Burgess isn’t an MP, is he?”
    Banks nodded. “What about office space?”
    â€œWe’re putting him in an interview room for the time being. At least there’s a desk and a