“Not exactly.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. But it’s the oldest story in the book.”
“You’re certain of this?”
“Oh yeh. I’m certain.”
“And Bledlow? Why should he have testified against you?”
Naylor shrugged. “Christ knows. He hated my guts, but… maybe he’d have done some deal even if he hadn’t. He got a light sentence, y’know. Must have thought he’d played it real sweet. Funny how it goes, ain’t it? If he’d kept his mouth shut and copped the usual, he wouldn’t have been out in time to get his head blown off in that bullion raid. I have a laugh about that sometimes.”
The trail ended here, I suddenly realized. The mystery of Vincent Cassidy’s motive-and his foreknowledge-dissolved into the sordid normality of adultery and deceit. And the enigma of Louise Paxton vanished with it. I hadn’t found what Bella wanted. Instead, at every turn, I’d been met by something much less palatable: the truth; the whole unquenchable insistent truth.
“What you going to do now?”
“Alter my statement. As promised. I’ll have to tell the police about Cassidy and your wife, of course.”
“Be my guest. They probably already know. Probably just said they blamed you. To frighten you off. Sounds like their style.”
“You may be right.”
“What about this digging around Sarwate said you been doing? Going on with that?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nowhere left to dig.”
“Meaning you’ll have to admit Bryant did the murders?”
“Oh, I’ll leave that to the proper authorities. Time I dropped out of the picture, I think.”
“You’re lucky you can,” he said, apparently without rancour.
“Quite.” I pushed my chair back and stood up. “Well, I must be going. Thank you… for seeing me.”
He made no move, merely raised his eyes fractionally to meet mine. “No problem.”
“I’m sorry… about your wife.”
“Not half as sorry as you are I didn’t do it, I bet. Galling, ain’t it?”
He was smiling now, already savouring the foretaste of his ultimate victory, already planning the humiliation he’d heap on those who’d wronged him. I should have counted myself lucky to face mine behind closed doors, with ample warning; to be baited by this loathsome man to the point where I could tell myself he didn’t deserve to hear the apology he was owed. But I didn’t feel lucky at all. Only eager beyond reason to be out of his sight.
“This guy Bryant…” he began, his smile fading into a thoughtful frown.
“What about him?”
Several silent seconds passed as Naylor looked up at me. Then he said: “Nothing. It don’t matter.”
“Very well. I-”
“Best be on your way, eh?” The smile returned as he raised the cigarette to his lips.
“Goodbye, Mr. Naylor,” I said through gritted teeth. I waited for him to respond, but all I got was a cool stare through a veil of smoke. Then I turned and walked slowly towards the exit, catching the eye of one of the prison officers as I passed their desk.
“Leaving so soon, sir?”
“Yes.”
But it didn’t seem soon to me. Steeling myself not to glance back at Naylor as I waited for the door to be unlocked, it seemed, in fact, all too late.
Sitting in the passenger lounge on the car ferry back to Portsmouth an hour later, I confronted and took the decisions I could no longer delay. Whatever Bella might say, this was the end. She’d be outraged as soon as she heard I’d changed my statement, so I might as well cut my losses and tell her I wouldn’t be doing her bidding from now on. She’d probably retaliate by giving her vote to Adrian, unless I could persuade her I really had done all she could expect of me. And even then… But it couldn’t be helped. I’d plead my case as forcefully as I was able. In the end, though, it wasn’t up to me. My visit to Naylor had made me almost glad of that. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be involved any more, whatever the cost.
Determined to act on my decision at once, I telephoned Bella that evening. She seemed irritated I’d made contact and insisted on calling me back later, “when it’ll be easier to talk.” This turned out to be near midnight, one of her most alert and active hours. On other occasions, she might have found me sluggish and slow-thinking. But on this occasion I was ready for her.
“I have to see you straightaway, Bella. There’s been a development.”
“What sort of development?”
“I can’t discuss it over the phone. We have to meet.”
“Well, I can’t come to England at the moment.”
“Then I’ll come to you.”
“No. Things are fraught enough here without you turning up out of the blue. Keith’s in no mood to entertain unexpected guests.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Let me think,” she snapped. A few moments passed. Then she said: “We could meet in Bordeaux.”
“All right. But how does that-”
“Get a flight out on Tuesday. I’ll drive up the same day. A shopping trip with an overnight stay won’t sound suspicious to Keith. I’ve done it before. I’ll stay at the Burdigala, as usual. You’d better stay somewhere else. Meet me in the hotel bar at six o’clock.”
“OK. I’ll be there.”
“And, Robin-”
“Yes?”
“This had better be worth it.”
My absences from the office had become so conspicuous and commented on that I gave no warning of the next one. Monday elapsed with merciful swiftness, Adrian proving as reticent about his trip to Sydney as I was forced to be about my tour of East Anglian willow plantations. The board meeting was ten days away, its imminence spreading apprehensiveness and suspicion among the entire staff, let alone my siblings. Our futures are always in the balance, of course. But usually we manage to ignore the fact. At Timariot & Small, during the last week of October, that simply wasn’t possible. As for the consternation my phone call to Liz from Gatwick on Tuesday morning was likely to cause, I’d ceased by then to give a damn.
The Hotel Burdigala was a stylish grand luxe establishment close to the fashionable stores and restaurants in the centre of Bordeaux. Bella always insisted on the best, which the soulless low-rise joint I’d booked into out at the airport certainly wasn’t. But her standards had slipped in one respect at least. This time, she didn’t keep me waiting. Or guessing long about her response when I told her what I meant to do-and why.
“So, you’re giving up on me, Robin.”
“I don’t have any choice.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t accept we’ve exhausted all the possibilities yet.”
“I’ve exhausted them. And myself in the process. Naylor was set up. Deservedly so, you could say. But that’s supposed to be the acid test of justice, isn’t it? Doing right by the innocent, even when you can’t stand the sight of them.”
“And Paul?”
“Is facing up to what he did. I suggest you find the decency to do the same.”
She might have bristled at that. Instead, she treated me to a soulful stare. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Robin. This business is tearing Keith apart. And our marriage with it.”
“I’m sorry, Bella. That’s not my problem. You have my sympathy, but…”
“Not your help?”
“I’ve done all I can.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Meaning you’ll break your promise and vote with Adrian?”
“I didn’t say so.” She lit a cigarette, her hand shaking faintly as she did so. Was she really upset? I wondered. Or just seeking another route round my defences? “Won’t you reconsider? I genuinely believe Paul’s made all this up. There has to be some way of-”
“For God’s sake!” I’d spoken loudly enough to turn heads elsewhere in the bar. Now I leant forward across the table and softened my tone. “I’ve spoken to everyone who knew him three years ago. I’ve been everywhere he went. And some places he never went. I’ve tried everything. And ended up where I knew I would all along. I don’t want him to have done it. I wish he hadn’t done it. But he did. And you have to accept it.”