Gallows View by Peter Robinson Page A

would the peeper know to do that?” Banks asked.
    “Surely he must read the papers?” Gristhorpe suggested.
    “It doesn’t fit, though. It’s all too deliberate. If it happened as yousay, then it was probably an accident. He probably just panicked and ran.”
    “People have been known to cover their tracks after crimes of passion, Alan.”
    “I know, sir. It just doesn’t seem to fit the profile we have so far.”
    “Go on.”
    “Dr Fuller”—there it was again, so formal. Why couldn’t he call her Jenny in front of others?—“Dr Fuller said we’re dealing with a very frustrated man who’s probably going about as far as he dares in peeping through windows. No one can be certain, but she said it’s unlikely that a voyeur would progress to more serious sex crimes. On the other hand, as the pressure builds in him, he might feel the need to break out. It’s a trap he’s in, a treadmill, and there’s no predicting what he’d do to escape it.”
    “But this wasn’t a sex crime, Alan. Alice Matlock, thank the Lord, hadn’t been interfered with in any way.”
    “I know, sir, but it still doesn’t fit. The peeper does what he does when pressure or tension builds up and he can only find one way of releasing it, watching women undress. It wouldn’t even really work for him in a strip-club—the women would have to be unaware of him, he would have to get that feeling of power, of dominance. When he’s done it, though, the pressure’s released. A personality like that is hardly likely to go running to an old woman and confess, let alone murder her just after he’s satisfied himself.”
    “I see your point, Alan,” Gristhorpe agreed. His bushy eyebrows joined in the middle and drew a thick grey line over his child-like blue eyes. “Perhaps the best thing to do would be to rule it out by checking into who Alice Matlock knew.”
    “She seemed to be a bit of a loner, sir,” Richmond chipped in. “Most of the neighbours didn’t know much about her, not much more than to say hello if they met in the street.”
    “I knew Alice Matlock,” Gristhorpe told them. “She was a friend of my mother’s. Used to come to the farm for fresh eggs when I was a kid. She always brought me some boiled sweets. But you’re right, lad, she was a bit of a recluse. More so as she got older. Lost her young man in the first war, as I recall. Never did marry. Anyway, look into it. See if she’s been at all friendly with a likely young peeper.”
    “There is one other thing.”
    “Yes, Alan?”
    “Even if it wasn’t the same person, if it was the usual lot did the break-in and the peeper just looked and ran, they might have seen each other.”
    “You mean, if we get one we might get a lead on the other?”
    “Yes.”
    “But right now we’ve very little on either?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Where do you think our best chance lies?”
    “The break-ins,” Banks answered without hesitation. “I’ll be getting an artist’s impression of the man who fenced the stuff in Leeds any time now. I’ve already got a fairly good description but it doesn’t check with any of the local villains I know. Sergeant Hatchley and Constable Richmond don’t recognize him either.”
    “So maybe he’s not local. New in town?”
    “Or been away,” Richmond suggested. “Only here every now and then.”
    “Possible. Know anyone who fits that profile?”
    Richmond shook his head. “Only Andrea Rigby’s husband. He’s a computer whizz and he spends a lot of time away. But I saw a photo of him on the mantelpiece and he doesn’t fit the description. He wouldn’t be the type, anyway. From what I could see, he gets plenty of money from fiddling about with computers.”
    “Ask around, then,” Gristhorpe advised. “See if you can come up with anything. You mentioned Wooller in your report, Richmond. He seemed suspicious. Anything in particular?”
    “Well, no, sir.” Richmond felt flustered, caught out on a hunch. “There was the