teachers—I’m sure they’ll all bear that out—and there wasn’t really anyone else in her life aside from family.”
“I heard that she had a tendency to show off at times. Would you say that’s fair?”
Sir Geoffrey smiled. “Yes, Deborah can be a show-off, and a bit of a devil at times. But what child can’t be?”
Banks smiled, thinking of Tracy. “And Deborah was still a child in some ways,” he said. “She might not always have realized the effects of her actions on others. Do you see what I mean?”
Sir Geoffrey nodded. “But I can’t see us getting anywhere with this,” he said. “Unless you’re implying that someone at the school had something to do with her death. Or that bloody minister at St Mary’s.”
“Daniel Charters?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why do you dislike him so?”
“The man’s a pervert. He abused his power.”
Banks shook his head. “But nothing’s been proved against him. Isn’t he entitled to be presumed innocent until proven guilty?”
“In theory, perhaps. But a man in his position should be above suspicion.”
“The man who accused Father Charters is called Ive Jela č i ć . Would it surprise you to know that he made lewd gestures towards your daughter, and that she complained to Dr Green, the head of St Mary’s?”
“She never told me that. If she had, I’d have broke his bloody neck.”
Banks turned to Clayton. “Did Deborah ever confide in you about anything?”
Clayton raised his eyebrows. “Me? Good heavens, no. I suppose I was just as uncool as her parents as far as she was concerned.”
“Uncool?”
“You know teenagers, Chief Inspector. We’re ancient and decrepit creatures to them.”
“I suppose we are.” Banks took a deep breath and turned back to Sir Geoffrey. “This is a little delicate, I’m afraid, but I have to ask where you went after the Royal Hotel reception ended at four o’clock yesterday.”
“Good God, man! You can’t poss—”
“Geoff, he has to ask. He’s just doing his job,” said Michael Clayton, putting his hand on Sir Geoffrey’s arm. “Offensive though it may be.”
Sir Geoffrey ran his hand over his hair. “I suppose so. I had a private meeting with a client, if you must know. A man from the government called Oliver Jackson. It’s a very confidential matter, and I don’t want anyone else to know about the meeting. Things like this can have an effect on share prices and any number of market factors. Not to mention international affairs. Do you understand?”
Banks nodded. “There is just one more thing …”
Sir Geoffrey sighed. “Go ahead, if you must.”
“I was wondering about any boyfriends Deborah might have had.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Yes. It would be perfectly natural for a girl of sixteen to have an interest in the opposite sex. Perfectly innocent things, like going to the pictures with a boy, maybe. She did have a ticket stub from the Regal in her blazer pocket.”
Sir Geoffrey shook his head. “She used to go to the pictures with her mother a lot. The two of them … Deborah didn’t have any boyfriends, Chief Inspector. You’re barking up quite the wrong tree there. She didn’t have time for boys.”
“Had she never had a boyfriend?”
“Only Pierre, if that counts at all.”
“Pierre?”
“In Bordeaux, or rather at Montclair. My wife’s family owns a chateau in the country near Bordeaux. We often spend holidays there. Pierre is a neighbour’s son. All quite innocent, of course.”
“Of course,” Banks agreed. “And a long way away.”
“Yes … well. Look, about this Jela č i ć character. That’s a disturbing piece of news. Are you going to bring him in?”
“We’re pursuing enquiries in a number of directions,” Banks said as he and Susan walked to the door, annoyed at himself for sounding as if he were talking to the press.
Outside, they ducked through the reporters beyond the gate and got back into Banks’s car out of the
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