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    Gallows View
    Gallows View
    Gallows View
    Ebook367 pages5 hours

    Gallows View

    By Peter Robinson

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The first “devilishly good” (The New York Times Book Review) book in the thrilling bestselling crime series featuring British inspector Alan Banks as he seeks to catch a Jack the Ripper-like killer who is prowling the countryside.

    Chief Inspector Alan Banks moved away from London to the quaint village of Eastvale to find some peace, but trouble can be found in a village as well as in the city. Soon Banks must contend with a Peeping Tom, a group of thieving young thugs, and the brutal murder of an elderly woman in her home. A growing friendship with psychologist Jenny Fuller and tension with wife Sandra complicate matters, particularly when Jenny and Banks’s family are threatened. Ultimately, as the story builds to a surprising and terrifying climax, Banks must make some hard decisions.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherScribner
    Release dateNov 19, 2013
    ISBN9781476745220
    Author

    Peter Robinson

    Peter Robinson's DCI Banks became a major ITV1 drama starring Stephen Tompkinson as Inspector Banks and Andrea Lowe as DI Annie Cabbot. Peter's standalone novel Before the Poison won the IMBA's 2013 Dilys Award as well as the 2012 Arthur Ellis Award for Best Novel by the Crime Writers of Canada. This was Peter's sixth Arthur Ellis award. His critically acclaimed DCI Banks novels have won numerous awards in Britain, the United States, Canada and Europe, and are published in translation all over the world. In 2020 Peter was made a Grand Master by the Crime Writers of Canada. Peter grew up in Yorkshire, and divided his time between Richmond, UK, and Canada until his death in 2022.

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    Reviews for Gallows View

    3.5/5

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    • 4/5
      Well done contemporary British mystery. Very similar to Midsummer Murders or Inspector Lewis.
    • 4/5
      Seeking a calmer existence than their residence in London, England, Inspector Alan Banks relocates with his wife and two children to Eastvale, a quaint town in Yorkshire County. While some aspects of their life in Eastvale are peaceful, Inspector Alan Banks continues to be faced with the same depravity and crime that he experienced in London. A Peeping Tom, random violence and murder are what Alan must tackle, along with personal issues that could clutter his mind and heart.While I am happy to have met Alan Banks, I'm not so sure that I know him very well. The lack of background information left me uncertain as to who Alan Banks really is. I know what he does, I know who he lives with, I know his hobby, but I don't feel like I got to know what drives him, what makes him tick. I'm thinking that's a good strategy in setting up a series - can't divulge too much in the first book, right? Other than that, I really liked Gallows View. The mystery kept me curious in its complexity, and learning about the town and its surroundings was pleasant. I'm not sure where I first discovered this author, but I'm glad I did. The only daunting aspect is that this year he published his 18th book in this series. Yikes! I have 17 more to catch up! That's okay though, I'm up for the challenge. :) (4/5)Originally posted on: "Thoughts of Joy..."
    • 4/5
      This very first Inspector Banks novel fills in a few bits of back history for the Inspector that I didn’t know. For instance he was in the Metropolitan Police Force before he moved to Eastvale in Yorkshire. I had always thought he was a native Yorkshireman. Banks is happily married and living with his wife and two children in this book but in later books he is a solitary man so I am curious as to when that happens.This book starts out with Banks and his team involved with two different cases. One is of a Peeping Tom who has been looking in women’s windows as they undress at night. The other is a series of thefts on elderly people by two young men. And then the body of an elderly women is found in her home that has been burglarized so the heat is on for the police force. The title of the book is from the name of the street that the dead woman lived on. She lived very close to the latest victim of the Peeping Tom and appears to have died the night the woman saw the Peeper. Does that mean the Peeping Tom has turned to murder? Or might the Peeping Tom have seen the actual murderer? In any case solving one case might lead to solving the other. The police force is under some heat from the women’s rights organizations to solve the Peeping Tom case so a psychologist who teaches at the University is called in to advise as to the profile of the yoyeur. This is the first time that Jenny Fuller appears in the Inspector Banks novels but not the last. I am currently listening to the third in the series and Dr. Fuller has a role in that book as well. Banks is attracted to Fuller but in this outing he resists her charms. Will that always be the case?I like going back to the beginnings of a long running series to see how the characters develop. This is an excellent introduction to this series. If you are a fan of the Robinson books and haven’t read this one I recommend picking it up. I read this book while we were staying in Yorkshire so it was doubly interesting to me to read names of places that we had travelled through.
    • 5/5
      "Gallows "View" is Peter Robinson's 1987 debut of the now famous Inspector Banks series that is still going strong today. Robinson is not only debuting Banks here, but is also introducing the fictional Yorkshire town of Eastvale, a place that the Chief Inspector hoped would offer him a slower pace than he had known in the past. Thankfully for fans of the genre, that was not to happen, and before he knew it, Banks was simultaneously trying to solve three serious crimes."Gallows View" is remarkable in several ways: Robinson is talented enough to make it relatively easy for the reader to juggle several plot lines at once until they finally intersect near the end of the book; Banks, his wife Sandra, and various members of the Eastvale police all ring true and feel like real people; and the city of Eastvale soon becomes familiar in the reader's mind. This is a very well executed introductory novel, and likely had readers of the time eagerly anticipating the second book in the series.Bottom Line: I have now read the first and latest novels in the series, and I'm looking forward to filling in with all the ones in between.
    • 4/5
      A good introduction to the series, giving good background and information about Inspector Banks.
    • 3/5
      Readable, I've read better and I've read worse. First one of series, so I'm hoping it gets better. Insp. Banks really doesn't have much of a personality,mhopefully it will be expanded upon in further books
    • 3/5
      Inspector Alan Banks has moved from London to nmore rural Yorkshire, hoping to reduce the stress produced by his job. In this first of numerous volumes, he works on cases involving a peeping Tom, the death of an old lady, and several break-ins. He is tempted by an attractive psychologist who is brought in to help on the voyeur case. The novel is a police procedural, that is, we see a lot of how the force tackles the cases and works toward solutions. We learn that he likes opera and traditional folk music. Some additional interest is added by Banks's relationships with his wife and underlings. Overall not a great start to a series, but I'll try at least one more.
    • 5/5
      This is the first in the Chief Inspector Banks series by Peter Robinson. It follows a Metropolitan inspector in what at first seems a minor crime but as he and his team delves into it the web gets thicker. This review is for the audiobook version of the story.

      I am always on the lookout for a new series that take place in foreign places. I like the Yorkshire backdrop and the interesting cultural differences. The English have a certain mentality that is very different from American POV. Granted that mysteries, by nature, are less action packed than thrillers it is even more pronounced foreign books. I liked the pace of the story. It wasn't rushed or lagging in any area. The character development is good and but I felt that the secondary characters were more developed than the protagonist. Mostly I think this is because we are seeing it through his eyes. I can't say much more without giving spoilers.

      The quality of the audiobook is very good. The reader Mark Honan seemed slow in the beginning but as new characters were introduced he did an amazing job of creating unique voices and accents for each.

      I highly recommend this story to anyone who is looking for a new series to start and I look forward to reading the next book
    • 4/5
      In the first Alan Banks mystery we're introduced to our main character, an intelligent, thoughtful inspector who has moved from London to Yorkshire in hopes of finding a less hectic work atmosphere. No such luck.The plots involve a peeping Tom, some burglars, and a murder. Are they related or separate crimes? Will Banks find the killer? And just what's going to happen between our happily-married leading man and the wildly attractive psychologist called in to assist on the cases? Above the average for series mysteries, this is worth reading.
    • 4/5
      Women are being terrorized in the small English town of Eastvale by a peeping tom who likes to stare at women while they undress. There has also been a series of robberies affecting this small town but the police start taking notice when they find the body of Alice Matlock. The police cannot help themselves to wander if this was the work of outsiders or if the peeping tom passion has gotten to be deadly. Inspector Banks is in charge of the case and is working together with Dr. Jennifer Fuller to try to help him understand the mind of the voyeur and to see if there is possibility that he could be dangerous.

      This book is a police procedural that does not carry a lot of surprises or revelations. What makes this book great is how the author takes what could be considered an ordinary day in the life of a police officer and make it interesting. Inspector Banks has some personal problems and he is attracted to the doctor. He wants to yield towards temptation and he knows it would not be right. The author does a good job also in showing life in a small town by showing the townspeople and involving them in the story. He adds everything from a camera club meeting all the way towards two teens heading into a life of trouble.

      As a first novel, it is a very good book and will help in the understanding of Inspector Banks. There are quite a few of the author's work that follow this novel and it will be a pleasure to continue reading them in the future.
    • 3/5
      I just reread this book, and am amazed at all the sex and foul language. I enjoyed the characters and Robinson's presentation of the characters. I felt that many events remained unresolved at the end of the novel. The story presents a dismal view of British teens and healthcare system at that time. The allusion to Jimmy Carter's comment on adultery bought a smile to this reader. Is a sin committed just by the thought or by the resulting action? Peter Robinson utilizes setting to portray the story and the characters. The story begins with Inspector Alan Banks faced with a peeping Tom, the murder of an elderly woman, and series of breaking and entering situations. Are the cases related? Will Banks discover the culprits? The story moves along like the operas that Alan Banks must hear throughout the day, with the criminal asking for forgiveness and mercy in the end.
    • 4/5
      Peter Robinson's first Inspector Alan Banks mystery, Gallows View, was published in 1987 and has been on my TBR almost as long. We are introduced to Banks who is the Chief Inspector in Yorkshire. He's investigating a number of crimes, including a Peeping Tom. In an effort to convince the local women that the police are taking the crime seriously, Banks's boss brings in Jenny Fuller, a female psychologist who is working on a profile of the suspect.

      There have also been several home robberies that appear to have been the work of teenage boys. Before long elderly resident, Alice Matlock, is killed. Banks assumes that it's the work of the teenagers, but further investigation makes him wonder if it was done by someone else.

      The English setting for this novel is very atmospheric. As a first in the series the characters are still in development, but the books are very suspenseful and well written. I can see why this is such a popular series and I'm looking forward to reading the next one, A Dedicated Man. I definitely recommend this to anyone who enjoys well-written police procedural thrillers.

    • 1/5
      I'm nearly halfway through the book and I'm just not connecting with any of the characters.
    • 5/5
      For a book that was written before my birth, I found Gallows View entertaining and enthralling from start to finish. Inspector Banks is an incredibly likeable character, and the traditional focus on police procedure rather than complex forensic practice makes this novel reminiscent of classic British mysteries. Simple, engaging, timeless... a novel for anyone with a longing for crime novels of the past, with a modern concept and a creepy list of crimes.

      For all its positive attributes, the novel itself is slightly confusing. Well, confusing for some. I thoroughly enjoyed the pace, and the variety of crimes that Gallows View presents us with. Inspector Banks has recently moved to a small English town with his wife, Sandra, and two children. He expects the pace to be somewhat slower in his new position, but within weeks he finds himself dealing with a peeping tom, a string of non-violent burglaries, and the murder of an old woman in her home. With no clues and no leads to follow, and under incredible pressure from local womens activist Dorothy Wycombe, Banks' department enlists the help of Dr Jenny Fuller, a local psychologist. Dr Fully, an intelligent and attractive young woman, provides the department with a deeper insight into the motives behind peepers, but she also provides a distraction for Banks as he finds himself more attracted to her.

      This complicated web of events plays out in spectacular fashion and it's not long before some of the culprits start to escalate their activities. A personal attack on Banks' family makes him question the thin line between his work and private life, and the investigations heat up when an unfortunate incident brings about a lucky break in the case. Robinson sets up his characters masterfully, with a great amount of detail. It's hard to say if he knew when writing Gallows View that he would still be writing Inspector Banks novels some 24 years later, and I look forward to watching his characters grow and change over the years.

      The climax to the novel, where all the loose ends tie up, is brilliant! While we follow a couple of culprits throughout the novel, the killer responsible for murdering the old woman does not reveal themselves to the final pages, and what a revelation it is! A fantastic novel. It's effortless charm and intriguing characters have persuaded me to carry on with the series, and I will await the arrival of book #2 eagerly!
    • 4/5
      One could almost call this one a cozy-- set in England where Detective Inspector Banks has moved from London to York in search of a less hectic workload and lifestyle. There are lots of things to like about this book: there is a wide range of characters, from the peeping Tom to an attractive police psychologist who is called in the help solve some of the crimes. Banks gets along well with his boss, who seems a nice enough chap, he adores his wife, he's committed to solving crimes, and all around we see people and relationships that work.The plot revolves around two different crimes - the peeping Tom and a murder (or is it a series of crimes?) At times, Robinson leads us to believe that they might be connected. And when Bank's wife becomes a victim, the action really picks up. The York setting is pleasant, but very much in the background. All in all, this series looks like one that has potential to catch and hold a reader's attention for at least 2 or 3 more books, without causing lack of sleep or great anxiety. The series currently has over 20 volumes
    • 4/5
      Former London policeman Alan Banks relocated to quiet Yorkshire seeking some small measure of peace. But as he soon learns, evil and violence are not unique to large cities.When an elderly woman is found brutally slain in her home in the quaint village of Eastvale, Chief Inspector Banks wonders if a local voyeur has crossed the line from menace to murderer. And before long, Banks finds himself caught in a web of increasingly deadly crimes—a net of danger that threatens his suddenly vulnerable personal life, forcing this dedicated law officer to make hard choices he'd dearly hoped would never be necessary.
    • 3/5
      Read. Liked. Can't remember great detail, because my brain is slightly fried of late.
    • 3/5

      This is one of the early novels in Robinson's Alan Banks series of detective novels, and lacks the psychological depth and sense of dark claustrophobia that make the more recent entries worthy of their place on the shelf alongside books by the likes of Ian Rankin and Ruth Rendell. Still and all, it's a rattlingly readable yarn: I gobbled it down in little more than a day.

      The Yorkshire town of Eastvale is being plagued by a peeping tom and by a spate of house invasion-style thefts, in which a couple of thugs push their way into the homes of old dears and petrify their victims into silence as they strip the place of cash and valuables. Then one of the old dears is killed in the course of such a robbery . . . or is that really what went down? In trying to solve any one of the crimes, Banks and his colleagues manage to solve all of them, while Banks solves also the problem of his adulterous yearnings for consultant psychologist Jenny Fuller. Some of the tying off of ends seems a bit contrived, as indeed does some of the rest of the plotting and characterization; I'm not sure that, had I read this back in 1987, I'd have guessed how good Robinson was going to become, but I'd certainly have felt myself entertained agreeably enough to have tried another.
    • 4/5
      This is my first reading of an 'Inspector Banks' book and I think I am going to enjoy reading the rest. John Banks is a combination of sensitive, tough, romantic and brave.He is called on to solve the case of a peeping tom, robberies from old peoples' houses, break-ins at properties in owners' absencies and the murder of an old woman. No leads seem to be forming and the frustrated police force bring in a female psychologist for profile purposes who adds to Johns problems when he finds himself with a growing attraction to her.In the end, all the cases come neatly together but not before endagering his wife and the psychologist at the same time which leaves John with a dilemma. The solution to the problem has already been carved out by his training, ethics and sheer common sense.An all-round excellent story, easy-read and holds the attention.
    • 3/5
      Continuing to read this enjoyable series out of order. Fun to come across the first one with Banks still married but beginning to feel conflicted when he needs to come to the rescue of his wife and also an attractive work colleague. Various story lines - a Peeping Tom, burglaries, a murder, neatly become connected.
    • 4/5
      Gallows View is an okay introduction to the British mystery series featuring Inspector Alan Banks, who lives and works in Eastvale, Yorkshire. As the novel begins, the local police are trying to find a peeper who is frightening some of the town's women. As if that's not enough, an elderly woman living alone has been killed, and there are a series of unsolved break-ins. Banks, who has moved to Yorkshire to get away from the high-stress levels of police work and of life in general in London, takes the lead on all of these cases -- which may or may not be linked together. As with most first novels in a mystery series, Banks' character isn't as well developed right away as it will hopefully be in the next ones. I expect this, though; it's very rare that a character comes fully fleshed out in a series opener. However, the crime plotting is solid, and the way Robinson writes his story leaves readers guessing until the end. I can recommend Gallows View. If you like British mystery, or if you're looking for a solid police procedural (with some personal touches) and you haven't tried this series yet, it would be worth your while to do so. It's not on the cozy end of mystery novels, but it's not really hardcore either. Overall -- a good read, and I'll definitely be coming back to this author.
    • 5/5
      Banks has recently moved from the city to the town of Eastvale and he's found that town life is no less work for the police. Eastvale is having a rash of burglaries which are increasingly becoming more destructive. When an elderly woman is found murdered the police wonder whether the burglars have moved up to the next level. At the same time, Eastvale women are being plagued by a peeping tom and the police call in a psychologist to help them with a profile hoping the tom won't escalate into violence. This was a wonderful read. I really enjoyed it. There were so many levels and side stories fabulous intermingled here and not only the crimes but relationships with the characters as well. Robinson definitely ranks up there with best such as Dexter and Rendell.
    • 3/5
      In the first novel in the Inspector Alan Banks series, our chief inspector learns life is not always as quiet outside of London as he expected when he removed to the town of Eastvale in Yorkshire. The murder of a woman most people liked may or may not be related to a rash of robberies in the area. A "Peeping Tom" is invading the privacy of women. Frankly, the author took the scenes of sexual nature a bit further than they needed to go for this genre. Fortunately the most graphic ones were limited to a few isolated places. The book suffered from some of the usual problems of first installments in series. I did not really enjoy the story line about Banks' interest in the female psychologist called in on the case. I felt it was a totally unnecessary element in the story. The mystery itself showed promise. I think Sgt. Hatchley may be my favorite character. I listened to this on the audio book from Tantor Media. I was not impressed with the narrator who seemed to lack enthusiasm.
    • 4/5
      I have seen Peter Robinson's work recommended highly on LT and when looking at his list of novels was never that intrigued. But as I realized I had inadvertently picked up some of his later works at sales I decided that I should pick up the first Inspector Banks and at least give it a try. I fell in love on page five as Banks declares to his wife Sandra 'For someone who appreciates artistic representations of the naked human form, you're a proper philistine when it comes to music, you know.'. I was hooked:) This moves along nicely with several crimes of varying degrees intertwined among the characters. Robinson doesn't give too much of Banks away in this first installment, but enough to show what a fascinating character he must be.
    • 3/5
      I'm a great fan of the Banks series, but can see that Robinson took some time to hit his stride from this shaky start. I'm not sure I would have remained a fan if this had been the first I'd read; shaky character development and reliance on titillating imagery aren't enough to shore up a thin plot. Not horrible by most standards, but not what I've come to expect from this talented storyteller.
    • 4/5
      Wanted to read this book because the local PBS station is going to run the Inspector Banks mysteries. Banks left London to work in York for a less stressful life only crime is everywhere. There's two storylines -- a peeping Tom spying on women watching them undress and robberies in homes in a well to do suburb. An old woman is murdered and another is raped during the robberies. Meanwhile Inspector Banks' wife becomes the object of the Peeper.
    • 4/5
      In this, the first of Peter Robinson’s Inspector Banks series, we are introduced to Banks who has left London for the Yorkshire Dales where he finds things aren’t as quiet as he anticipated and he must investigate a series of robberies, a peeping tom preying on local women and the death of an elderly lady.

      Having just finished one of the early Jack Frost novels I did find myself comparing these two English police procedurals from around the same time (late 80’s, early 90’s) and I like this one a lot more primarily because the Banks character is far more likeable. He’s less of a caricature and, thankfully, not the misogynist that Frost appears to be. Banks is intelligent (although I do wonder if there are there really a plethora of opera loving coppers in the world), shows his frustration when things move slowly and worries about the consequences of his decisions.

      The crimes here are not particularly grizzly or noteworthy by today’s standards but by delving into the psychology of criminals and their victims the story sets itself a cut above the run-of-the-mill crime novel. In particular it looks at the way women can be intensely affected by relatively innocuous crimes such as being ‘peeped on’ in a way that men might never be able to understand.

      All in all this was a surprisingly entertaining read.
    • 3/5
      “Gallows View” is the first book in the Inspector Alan Banks series by Peter Robinson. I own most of the books in the series, but never got round to reading any of them. I think I’m going to embark on a mini project of reading them all (almost) in one go. See how much detective fiction a human body can take before rebelling…Banks, for those not familiar with the series, is a detective who moved from London to peaceful Yorkshire, hoping for a more peaceful job. In this book he tries to track down a Peeping Tom as well as solving the murder of a old lady. Are the two related? Well, that’s for you to guess and for Inspector Banks to find out.There is also the inevitable attraction of our hero to a member of the female species who is not his wife. In this case it is Jenny Fuller, a psychologist who helps the police put together a profile of the Peeping Tom. No worries though. This being an English novel, the attraction does not mature into any physical contact between the cop and the shrink. He remains faithful to his wife, Sandra, who (surprise!) becomes friends with Dr. Jenny. Perhaps Yorkshire has a dampening effect on people…
    • 3/5
      Chief Inspector Alan Banks has left London for the calm and quiet of a small town in Yorkshire, but he still has to deal with crimes like an elusive Peeping Tom, a series of burglaries, and a murder, as well as his attraction to the psychologist who is assisting with profiling. This is a fledgling start to a series that has gotten lots of accolades - the dialogue is slightly clunky and there are extremely long passages of psychological explanation, most of which will have very little to do with the solution to the mystery. I do like the characters - Banks' strong moral convictions get questioned quite thoroughly, and, although I can't explain why his wife is so lackadaisical about his potential infidelity (unless relationship issues are part of future installments), it does make him a nicely rounded character in that he doesn't automatically pick one side or the other. I can't recommend the audio version, unfortunately, since the reader manages to make some of the characters sound like caricatures rather than real people - Banks himself has received such a lowbrow voice that he sounds downright dense. The next installments have a different reader, and I'm looking forward to getting to hear my hero talk like the sharp guy he really is.
    • 5/5
      An Inspector Alan Banks novel and well up to the standard we've come to expect from this talented ex-pat crime writer now living in Canada. As usual, the setting, in fictional Eastvale, in Yorkshire, is finely drawn with a cast of believable characters, especially the hero. Events include a peeping tom, glue-sniffing youths and Banks attraction to a young psychologist working for the police.

    Book preview

    Gallows View - Peter Robinson

    I

    The woman stepped into the circle of light and began to undress. Above her black, calf-length skirt she wore a silver blouse with dozens of little pearl buttons up the front. She tugged it free of the waistband and started undoing the buttons from the bottom very slowly, gazing into space as if she were recalling a distant memory. With a shrug, she slid the blouse off, pulling at the left sleeve, which stuck to her wrist with static, then lowered her head and stretched her arms behind her back like wings to unclasp her bra, raising one shoulder and then the other as she slipped off the thin straps. Her breasts were large and heavy, with dark, upturned nipples.

    She unzipped her skirt down the left side and let it slide to the floor. Stepping out of it and bending from the waist, she picked it up and laid it neatly over the back of a chair. Next she rolled her tights down over her hips, buttocks and thighs, then sat down on the edge of the bed to extricate herself from each leg, one at a time, careful not to make runs. As she bent over, the taut skin folded in a dark crease across her stomach and her breasts hung so that each nipple touched each knee in turn.

    Standing again, she hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her black panties and bent forward as she eased them down. As she stepped out of them, she caught the waistband with her left foot and flicked them into the corner by the wardrobe.

    At last, completely naked, she tossed back her wavy blonde hair and walked towards the dresser.

    It was then that she looked towards the chink in the curtains. His whole body tingled as he watched the shock register in her eyes. He couldn’t move. She gasped and instinctively tried to cover her breasts with her hands, and he thought how funny and vulnerable she looked with the triangle of hair between her legs exposed. . . .

    As she grabbed for her dressing-gown and dashed towards the window, he managed to drag himself away and run off, scraping his shin and almost falling as he jumped the low wall. He had disappeared into the night by the time she picked up the telephone.

    II

    Where on earth did I put that sugar bowl? Alice Matlock muttered to herself as she searched the cluttered room. It was a birthday present from Ethel Carstairs — a present for her eighty-seventh birthday three days ago. Now it had disappeared.

    Alice was having trouble remembering little things like that these days. They said it happened when you got older. But why, then, should the past seem so vivid? Why, particularly, should that day in 1916, when Arnold marched off proudly to the trenches, seem so much clearer than yesterday. What happened yesterday? Alice asked herself, as a test, and she did remember little details like visiting the shop, polishing her silverware and listening to a play on the radio. But had she really done those things yesterday, the day before, or even last week? The memories were there, but the string of time that linked them like a pearl necklace was broken. All those years ago — that beautiful summer when the meadows were full of buttercups (none of those nasty new bungalows, then), the hedgerows bright with cow-parsley (gypsy she always called it, because her mother had told her that if she picked it the gypsies would take her) and her garden full of roses, chrysanthemums, clematis and lupins — Arnold had stood there, ready to go, his buttons reflecting the sunlight in dancing sparks on the whitewashed walls. He leaned against the doorway, that very same doorway, with his kitbag and that lopsided grin on his face — such a young face, one that had never even seen a razor — and off he marched, erect, graceful, to the station.

    He never came back. Like so many others, he was destined to lie in a foreign grave. Alice knew this. She knew that he was dead. But hadn’t she also been waiting for him all these years? Wasn’t that why she had never married, even when that handsome shopkeeper Jack Wormald had proposed? Down on his knees, he was, by the falls at Rawley Force; got his knees wet, too, and that didn’t half vex him. But she said no, kept the house on after her parents died, changed things as little as possible.

    There had been another war, too, she vaguely remembered: ration books; urgent voices and martial anthems on the radio; faraway rumblings that could have been bombs. Arnold hadn’t come back from that war either, though she could imagine him fighting in it like a Greek god, lithe and strong, with a stern face, a face that had never seen a razor.

    Other wars followed, or so Alice had heard. Distant ones. Little wars. And he had fought in them all, an eternal soldier. She knew, deep down, that he would never come home, but she couldn’t lose hope. Without hope, there would be nothing left.

    Where on earth did I put it? she muttered to herself, down on her knees rummaging through the cupboard under the sink. It must be somewhere. I’d forget my head if it was loose.

    Then she heard someone running outside. Her eyes were not as good as they used to be, but she was proud of her hearing and often ticked off the shop-girls and bus conductors who assumed that they had to shout to make her hear them. After the sound of running came a gentle knock at her door. Puzzled, she stood up slowly, grasped the draining-board to keep her balance, and shuffled through to the living-room. There was always a chance. She had to hope. And so she opened the door.

    III

    Perverts, the lot of them, Detective Chief Inspector Alan Banks said, adjusting the treble on the stereo.

    Including me? asked Sandra.

    For all I know.

    Since when has making artistic representations of the naked human form been a mark of perversion?

    Since half of them don’t even have films in their cameras.

    But I always have film in my camera.

    Yes, Banks said enthusiastically, I’ve seen the results. Where on earth do you find those girls?

    They’re mostly students from the art college.

    Anyway, Banks went on, returning to his scotch, I’m damn sure Jack Tatum doesn’t have a film in his camera. And Fred Barton wouldn’t know a wide-angle lens from a putting iron. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they imagined you posing — a nice willowy blonde.

    Sandra laughed. Me? Nonsense. And stop playing the yahoo, Alan. It doesn’t suit you. You don’t have a leg to stand on, acting the idiot over photography while you’re inflicting this bloody opera on me.

    For someone who appreciates artistic representations of the naked human form, you’re a proper philistine when it comes to music, you know.

    Music I can take. It’s all this screeching gives me a headache.

    "Screeching! Good lord, woman, this is the sound of the human spirit soaring: ‘Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore.’" Banks’s soprano imitation made up in volume what it lacked in melody.

    Oh, put a sock in it, Sandra sighed, reaching for her drink.

    It was always like this when he found a new interest. He would pursue it with a passion for anywhere between one and six months, then he would have a restless period, lose interest and move on to something else. Of course, the detritus would remain, and he would always profess to be still deeply interested — just too pushed for time. That was how the house had come to be so cluttered up with the novels of Charles Dickens, wine-making equipment, twenties jazz records, barely used jogging shoes, a collection of birds’ eggs, and books on almost every subject under the sun — from Tudor history to how to fix your own plumbing.

    He had become interested in opera after seeing, quite by chance, a version of Mozart’s Magic Flute on television. It was always like that. Something piqued his curiosity and he wanted to know more. There was no order to it, neither in his mind nor in his filing system. He would plunge into a subject with cavalier disregard for its chronological development. And so it was with the opera craze: Orfeo rubbed shoulders with Lulu; Peter Grimes was Tosca’s strange bedfellow; and Madama Butterfly shared shelf-space with The Rake’s Progress. Much as she loved music, opera was driving Sandra crazy. Already, complaints from Brian and Tracy had resulted in the removal of the television to the spare room upstairs. And Sandra was forever tripping over the book-sized cassette boxes, which Banks preferred to records, as he liked to walk to work and listen to Purcell or Monteverdi on his Walkman; in the car, it was generally Puccini or Guiseppe Verdi, good old Joe Green.

    They were both alike in their thirst for knowledge, Sandra reflected. Neither was an academic or intellectual, but both pursued self-education with an urgency often found in bright working-class people who hadn’t had culture thrust down their throats from the cradle onwards. If only, she wished, he would take up something quiet and peaceful, like beekeeping or stamp collecting.

    The soprano reached a crescendo which sent involuntary shivers up Sandra’s spine.

    You’re surely not serious about some people in the Camera Club being perverts, are you? she asked.

    I shouldn’t be surprised if one or two of them got more than an artistic kick out of it, that’s all.

    You could be right, you know, Sandra agreed. They’re not only women, the models. We had a very nice Rastafarian the other week. Lovely pector —

    The phone rang.

    Damn and blast it. Banks cursed and hurried over to pick up the offending instrument. Sandra took the opportunity to turn down the volume on Tosca surreptitiously.

    Seems that someone’s been taking unasked-for peeks at the naked human form again, said Banks when he sat down again a few minutes later.

    Another of those Peeping Tom incidents?

    Yes.

    You don’t have to go in, do you?

    No. It’ll wait till morning. Nobody’s been hurt. She’s more angry than anything else. Young Richmond is taking her statement.

    What happened?

    Woman by the name of Carol Ellis. Know her?

    No.

    Seems she came back from a quiet evening at the pub, got undressed for bed and noticed someone watching her through a gap in the curtains. He took off as soon as he realized he’d been spotted. It was on that new estate, Leaview, those ugly bungalows down by the Gallows View cottages. Great places for voyeurs, bungalows. They don’t even need to shin up the drainpipe. Banks paused and lit a Benson and Hedges Special Mild. This one’s taken a few risks in the past, though. Last time it was a second-floor maisonette.

    It makes my skin crawl, Sandra said, hugging herself. The thought of someone watching when you think you’re alone.

    I suppose it would, Banks agreed. But what worries me now is that we’ll have that bloody feminist group down on us again. They really seem to think we haven’t bothered trying to catch him because we secretly approve. They believe all men are closet rapists. According to them, our secret hero is Jack the Ripper. They think we’ve got pin-ups on the station walls.

    You do. I’ve seen them. Not in your office, maybe, but downstairs.

    I mean pin-ups of Jack the Ripper.

    Sandra laughed. That’s going a bit far, I agree.

    Do you know how difficult it is to catch a peeper? Banks asked. All the bugger does is look and run away into the night. No fingerprints, no sightings, nothing. The best we can hope for is to catch him in the act, and we’ve had extra men and women walking the beat in the most likely areas for weeks now. Still nothing. Anyway, Banks said, reaching out for her, all this talk about naked bodies is exciting me. Time for bed?

    Sorry, answered Sandra, turning off the stereo. Not tonight, dear, I’ve got a headache.

    I

    And where the bloody hell do you think you were till all hours last night? Graham Sharp roared at his son over the breakfast table.

    Trevor glowered into his cornflakes. Out.

    I know you were bloody out. Out with that good-for-nothing Mick Webster, I’ll bet?

    What if I was? It’s my business who I hang out with.

    He’s a bad ’un, Trevor. Like his brother and his father before him. A rotten apple.

    Mick’s all right.

    I didn’t raise you all these years with my own hands just so you could hang about with hooligans and get into trouble.

    Well, if you weren’t such a bleeding little Hitler my mum might not have run off.

    Never mind that, Graham said quietly. You don’t know nothing about it, you was only a kid. I just want you to do well for yourself, he pleaded. Look, I’ve not done much. Never had the opportunity. But you’re a bright lad. If you work hard you can go to university, get yourself a good education.

    What’s the point? There’s no jobs anyway.

    It’s not always going to be like this, Trevor. I know the country’s going through a bad time right now. You don’t need to tell me that. But look to the future, lad. It’ll be five or six years by the time you’ve done your ‘A’ Levels and your degree. Things can change a lot in that time. All you need to do is stay in a bit more and do your homework. You never found it hard, you know you can do it.

    It’s boring.

    Look what happened to Mick, then, Graham went on, his voice rising with anger again. Left school a year ago and still on the bloody dole. Sharing a hovel with that layabout brother of his, father run off God knows where and his mother never home to take care of him.

    Lenny’s not a layabout. He had a job in London. Just got made redundant, that’s all. It wasn’t his fault.

    I’m not going to argue with you, Trevor. I want you to stay in more and spend some time on your schoolwork. I might not have made much out of my life, but you can — and you’re bloody well going to, even if it kills me.

    Trevor stood up and reached for his satchel. Better be off, he said. Wouldn’t want to be late for school, would I?

    After the door slammed, Graham Sharp put his head in his hands and sighed. He knew that Trevor was at a difficult age — he’d been a bit of a lad himself at fifteen — but if only he could persuade him that he had so much to lose. Life was hard enough these days without making it worse for yourself. Since Maureen had walked out ten years ago, Graham had devoted himself to their only child. He would have sent Trevor to a public school if he’d had enough money, but had to settle for the local comprehensive. Even there, despite all the drawbacks, the boy had always done well — top of the class, prizes every Speech Day — until last year, when he took up with Mick Webster.

    Graham’s hands shook as he picked up the breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. Soon it would be opening time. At least since he’d stopped doing morning papers he got a bit of a lie-in. In the old days, when Maureen was around, he’d had to get up at six o’clock, and he’d kept it going as long as he could. Now he couldn’t afford to employ a flock of paper-carriers, nor could he manage to pay the assistant he would need to deal with other business. As things were, he could just about handle it all himself — orders, accounts, stock checks, shelf arrangements — and usually still manage to come up with a smile and a hello for the customers.

    His real worry was Trevor, and he didn’t know if he was going about things the right way or not. He knew he had a bit of a temper and went on at the lad too much. Maybe it was better to leave him alone, wait till he passed through the phase himself. But perhaps then it would be too late.

    Graham stacked the dishes in the drainer, checked his watch, and walked through to the shop. Five minutes late. He turned the sign to read OPEN and unlocked the door. Grouchy old Ted Croft was already counting out his pennies, shuffling his feet as he waited for his week’s supply of baccy. Not a good start to the day.

    II

    Banks reluctantly snapped off his Walkman in the middle of Dido’s lament and walked into the station, a Tudor-fronted building in the town centre, where Market Street ran into the cobbled square. He said Good morning to Sergeant Rowe at the desk and climbed upstairs to his office.

    The whitewashed walls and black-painted beams of the building’s exterior belied its modern, functional innards. Banks’s office, for example, featured a venetian blind that was almost impossible to work and a grey metal desk with drawers that rattled. The only human touch was the calendar on the wall, with its series of local scenes. The illustration for October showed a stretch of the River Wharfe, near Grassington, with trees lining the waterside in full autumn colour. It was quite a contrast to the real October: nothing but grey skies, rain and cold winds so far.

    On his desk was a message from Superintendent Gristhorpe: Alan, Come see me in my office soon as you get in. G.

    Remembering first to unhook the Walkman and put it in his desk drawer, Banks walked along the corridor and knocked on the superintendent’s door.

    Come in, Gristhorpe called, and Banks entered.

    Inside was luxury — teak desk, bookcases, shaded table lamps — most of which had been supplied by Gristhorpe himself over the years.

    Ah, good morning Alan, the superintendent greeted him, I’d like you to meet Dr Fuller. He gestured towards the woman sitting opposite him, and she stood up to shake Banks’s hand. She had a shock of curly red hair, bright green eyes with crinkly laugh-lines around the edges, and a luscious mouth. The turquoise top she was wearing looked like a cross between a straight-jacket and a dentist’s smock. Below that she wore rust-coloured cords that tapered to a halt just above her shapely ankles. All in all, Banks thought, the doctor was a knock-out.

    Please, Inspector Banks, Dr Fuller said as she gently let go of his hand, call me Jenny.

    Jenny it is, then, Banks smiled and dug for a cigarette. I suppose that makes me Alan.

    Not if you don’t want to be. Her sparkling eyes seemed to challenge him.

    Not at all, it’s a pleasure, he said, meeting her gaze. Then he remembered Gristhorpe’s recent ban against smoking in his office, and put the pack away.

    Dr Fuller is a professor at York University, Gristhorpe explained, but she lives here in Eastvale. Psychology’s her field, and I brought her in to help with the Peeping Tom case. Actually, he turned a charming smile in Jenny’s direction, Dr Fuller — Jenny — was recommended by an old and valued friend of mine in the department. We were hoping she might be able to work with us on a profile.

    Banks nodded. It would certainly give us more than we’ve got already. How can I help?

    I’d just like to talk to you about the details of the incidents, Jenny said, looking up from a notepad that rested on her lap. There’s been three so far, is that right?

    Four now, counting last night’s. All blondes.

    Jenny nodded and made the change in her notes.

    Perhaps the two of you can arrange to meet sometime, Gristhorpe suggested.

    Is now no good? Banks asked.

    Afraid not, Jenny said. This might take a bit of time, and I’ve got a class in just over an hour. Look, what about tonight, if it’s not too much of an imposition on your time?

    Banks thought quickly. It was Tuesday; Sandra would be at the Camera Club, and the kids, now trusted in the house without a sitter, would be overjoyed to spend an opera-free evening. All right, he agreed. Make it seven in the Queen’s Arms across the street, if that’s okay with you.

    When Jenny smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkled with pleasure and humour. Why not? It’s an informal kind of procedure anyway. I just want to build up a picture of the psychological type.

    I’ll look forward to it, then, Banks said.

    Jenny picked up her briefcase and he held the door open for her. Gristhorpe caught his eye and beckoned him to stay behind. When Jenny had gone, Banks settled back into his chair, and the superintendent rang for coffee.

    Good woman, Gristhorpe said, rubbing a hairy hand over his red, pock-marked face. I asked Ted Simpson to recommend a bright lass for the job, and I think he did his homework all right, don’t you?

    It remains to be seen, replied Banks. But I’ll agree she bodes well. You said a woman. Why? Has Mrs Hawkins stopped cooking and cleaning for you?

    Gristhorpe laughed. No, no. Still brings me fresh scones and keeps the place neat and tidy. No, I’m not after another wife. I just thought it would be politic, that’s all.

    Banks had a good idea what Gristhorpe meant, but he chose to carry on playing dumb. Politic?

    Aye, politic. Diplomatic. Tactful. You know what it means. It’s the biggest part of my job. The biggest pain in the arse, too. We’ve got the local feminists on our backs, haven’t we? Aren’t they saying we’re not doing our job because it’s women who are involved? Well, if we can be seen to be working with an obviously capable, successful woman, then there’s not a lot they can say, is there?

    Banks smiled to himself. I see what you mean. But how are we going to be seen to be working with Jenny Fuller? It’s hardly headline material.

    Gristhorpe put a finger to the side of his hooked nose. Jenny Fuller’s attached to the local feminists. She’ll report back everything that’s going on.

    Is that right? Banks grinned. And I’m going to be working with her? I’d better be on my toes, then, hadn’t I?

    It shouldn’t be any problem, should it? Gristhorpe asked, his guileless blue eyes as disconcerting as a newborn baby’s. We’ve got nothing to hide, have we? We know we’re doing our best on this one. I just want others to know, that’s all. Besides, those profiles can be damn useful in a case like this. Help us predict patterns, know where to look. And she won’t be hard on the eyes, will she? A right bobby-dazzler, don’t you think?

    She certainly is.

    Well, then. Gristhorpe smiled and slapped both his hands on the desk. No problem, is there? Now, how’s that break-in business going?

    It’s very odd, but we’ve had three of those in a month, too, all involving old women alone in their homes — one even got a broken arm — and we’ve got about as far with that as we have with the Tom business. The thing is, though, there are no pensioners’ groups giving us a lot of stick, telling us we’re not doing anything because only old people are getting hurt.

    It’s the way of the times, Alan, Gristhorpe said. And you have to admit that the feminists do have a point, even if it doesn’t apply in this particular case.

    I know that. It just irritates me, being criticized publicly when I’m doing the best I can.

    Well, now’s your chance to put that right. What about this fence in Leeds? Think it’ll lead anywhere with the break-ins?

    Banks shrugged. "Might do. Depends

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