There wasn’t a seat left in the entire lounge. Banks could feel the sweat prickling on his temples and at the back of his neck. He leaned against the bar and let Penny’s voice transport him as she launched into “Blackwater Side.” She had two accompanists, one on guitar and the other on stand-up bass, and they wove a dense tapestry of sound against which her lyric lines soared.

The next round of applause marked the end of the set, and Penny walked through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea for her, smiling and nodding hello as she went, and stood next to Banks at the bar. She lit a cigarette, inhaled, made a circle of her mouth and blew out a smoke ring toward the optics.

“That was an excellent set,” Banks said.

“Thanks.” She didn’t turn to face him. “Gin and tonic, please, Kath,” she said to the barmaid. “Make it a large one.”

Banks could tell by her clipped tone that she thought he was just another fan, maybe even a weirdo, or a stalker, and she’d move away as soon as she got her drink. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.

She sighed and turned to look at him, ready to deliver the final put-down. Then he saw recognition slowly dawn on her. She seemed flustered, embarrassed and unsure what to say. “Oh… Yes. It’s Detective Chief Inspector Burke, isn’t it?” she managed finally. “Or have you been promoted?”

“Afraid not,” he said. “And it’s Banks, but Alan will do. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes.” Penny got her gin and tonic and raised it to Banks, who clinked it gently with his pint glass. “Sláinte.”

“Sláinte,” said Banks. “I didn’t know you were back in Helmthorpe.”

“Well, nobody put on a major advertising campaign.”

Banks looked around the dim lounge. “I don’t know. You seem to have a devoted following.”

“Word of mouth, mostly. Anyway, yes, I’m back in the old cottage. What brought you here?”

“I heard the music as I was passing,” Banks said. “Recognized your voice. What have you been up to lately?”