Innocent Graves Read Online Free PDF Page B

vicar yet? That pervert?”
    “Daniel Charters?”
    “That’s him. You know what he’s been accused of, don’t you?”
    “Making a homosexual advance.”
    Sir Geoffrey nodded. “Exactly. If I were you, I’d—”
    “Please, Geoffrey,” Sylvie said, plucking at his sleeve. “Calm down. Let the chief inspector talk.”
    Sir Geoffrey ran his hand through his hair. “Yes, of course. I apologize.”
    Why such animosity towards Charters? Banks wondered. But that was best left for later. Sir Geoffrey was distraught; it wouldn’t be a good idea to press him any further just now.
    “May I have a look at Deborah’s room?” he asked.
    Sylvie nodded and stood up. “I’ll show you.”
    Banks followed her up a broad, white-carpeted staircase. What a hell of a job it would be to keep the place clean, he found himself thinking. Sandra would never put up with white carpets or upholstery. Still, he didn’t suppose the Harrisons did the cleaning themselves.
    Sylvie opened the door to Deborah’s room, then excused herself and went back downstairs. Banks turned on the light. It was bigger, but in much the same state of disarray as Tracy’s. Clothes lay tossed all over the floor, the bed was unmade, a mound of rumpled sheets, and the closet door stood open on a long rail of dresses, blouses, jackets and jeans. Expensive stuff, too, Banks saw as he looked at some of the designer labels.
    Deborah’s computer, complete with CD-ROM, sat on the desk under the window. Beside that stood a bookcase filled mostly with science and computer textbooks and a few bodice-rippers. Banks searched through all the drawers but found nothing of interest. Of course, it would have helped if he had known what he was looking for.
    Arranged in custom shelving on a table by the foot of the bed were a mini-hi-fi system, a small colour television and a video— all with remote controls. Banks glanced through some of the CDs. Unlike Tracy, Deborah seemed to favour the rough, grungystyle of popular music: Hole, Pearl Jam, Nirvana. A large poster of Kurt Cobain was tacked to the wall next to a smaller poster of River Phoenix.
    Banks closed the door behind him and walked back down the stairs. He could hear Sylvie crying in the white room and Sir Geoffrey and Michael Clayton in muffled conversation. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, and when he moved close, they saw him through the open door and asked him back in.
    “I have just one more question, Sir Geoffrey, if I may?” he said.
    “Go ahead.”
    “Did your daughter keep a diary? I know mine does. They seem to be very popular among teenage girls.”
    Sir Geoffrey thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said, “I think so. Michael bought her one last Christmas.”
    Clayton nodded. “Yes. One of the leather-bound kind, a page per day.”
    Banks turned back to Sir Geoffrey. “Do you know where she kept it?”
    He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t. Sylvie?”
    Sylvie shook her head. “She told me she lost it.”
    “When was this?”
    “About the beginning of term. I hadn’t seen it for a while, so I asked her if she’d stopped writing it. Why? Is it important?”
    “Probably not,” said Banks. “It’s just that sometimes what we don’t find is as important as what we do. Trouble is, we never really know until later. Anyway, I won’t bother you any further tonight.”
    “Inspector Stott said I’d have to identify the body,” Sir Geoffrey said. “You’ll make the arrangements?”
    “Of course. Again, sir, my condolences.”
    Sir Geoffrey nodded, then he turned back to his wife. Like a butler, Banks was dismissed.
    VI
    What with one thing and another, it was after two in the morning when Banks parked the dark-blue Cavalier he had finally bought toreplace his clapped-out Cortina in front of his house. After Hawthorn Close, it was good to be back in the normal world of semis with postage-stamp gardens, Fiestas and Astras parked in the street.
    The first thing he did was tiptoe upstairs to