‘And what were you and Lars talking about on your walk?’
Here we go, thought Toby. ‘The murder of Sam Bowen. And what happened on the Alexander Hamilton in 1983.’
‘And what was that?’ asked Atkinson.
‘I can’t tell you.’
Atkinson glanced at his boss, who leaned forward. ‘Toby,’ she said in a quiet, reasonable voice. ‘A man has just been murdered. You were nearly shot as well. We need you to help us.’
‘You are quite right,’ said Toby. ‘I really want to help you, but I did sign that piece of paper. I want to talk to that guy from MI5 who came up here yesterday – Prestwitch his name was. You probably spoke to him?’
‘We did,’ said Creswell.
‘Well get him up here,’ said Toby. ‘I’ll tell him what I know, and he should tell you. I certainly hope he will.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ muttered Atkinson. Creswell looked at him sharply.
‘OK. We will arrange that. Was their anything in your conversation that you think wasn’t an official secret?’
Toby thought back to the discussion. It had pretty much all been related to the Alexander Hamilton. He told them what Lars had said about going for a drive along the coast earlier that day.
‘I asked him directly whether he had killed Sam Bowen himself.’
‘And what did Lars say?’
‘He said he hadn’t. And, for what it’s worth, I believe him. Especially since he is dead now himself.’
‘All right,’ said Creswell. ‘Can you tell me why you thought he might have killed Sam Bowen?’
‘I had a strong feeling that there was something Lars wasn’t telling me,’ said Toby. ‘I thought it was maybe that. But it wasn’t. It must have been something else. So I asked him whether he knew who had killed Sam.’
‘Did he?’
‘That’s when he was shot.’
Creswell stared at Toby hard, assessing whether to believe him. He genuinely wanted to help her.
He had an idea.
‘There is one thing I can tell you,’ he said. ‘Lars told Justin that it was him who killed Craig on the submarine.’
Creswell raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘You’re probably wondering why I can tell you that when I said I wouldn’t divulge any secrets about what happened on the Hamilton?’
Creswell nodded slowly. ‘But don’t let us stop you.’
Toby considered his next statement carefully before he spoke. ‘Lars’s claim doesn’t fall under that.’
‘How can that be?’ said Atkinson.
Inspector Creswell gave Toby a small smile of understanding. ‘Because it didn’t happen. Lars didn’t actually kill Lieutenant Naylor, so it’s not Classified information.’
Toby kept his face expressionless. She was on the right track.
‘Sorry I can’t say more,’ he said. ‘But I would like to help. Once I can talk to MI5.’
‘OK,’ said Creswell. She terminated the interview. ‘We’ll get you back to Barnholt now. We’ll leave an armed police guard there overnight, but I hope we’ll catch this guy before too long. I’m sure we will want to speak to you again tomorrow, and we will get Mr Prestwitch or one of his colleagues here as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you,’ said Toby. ‘Have you released Alice?’
‘Not yet,’ said the inspector, friendliness replaced by caution.
‘Why not? She can’t possibly have shot Lars.’
‘That doesn’t mean she didn’t murder Sam Bowen. We still have a few more hours to decide whether to charge her.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Toby said, anger rising.
Something close to sympathy crept into the inspector’s expression. ‘Look at it from our point of view. She was the last person to see Sam Bowen alive, either just before or when he was killed. She has given us no explanation of what she discussed with him, or even where she was beyond her initial lie about going to the supermarket in Lynn. Neither she, nor you, nor Bill Guth have told us what it is about events on the Alexander Hamilton that might have caused her to meet Sam Bowen or possibly kill him. Alice has to be our top suspect. I know she’s your wife, but you must see that.’
‘But she didn’t kill him!’ Toby protested.
‘We don’t know that,’ said Creswell kindly. ‘You go back to Barnholt now, and leave it to us and Alice and her lawyer to sort out, eh? You’ve had a rough afternoon.’
Anger flared, but was soon doused by a wave of exhaustion. The inspector was right; Toby should leave it to Lisa Beckwith to look after Alice. Maybe when he spoke to MI5 things would be clearer. He was tired. He needed to get back to Pear Tree Cottage.
Bill was waiting for him at the police station, looking anxious, as well he might.
‘How are you doing, Toby?’
‘In the car,’ said Toby between gritted teeth.
It was dark outside as they made their way to the nearby car park where Bill had left his Range Rover.
‘Bill. What the hell is going on?’ Toby said, once he was inside.
‘I don’t know any more than you,’ said Bill. ‘My friend has been killed and my daughter is a murder suspect.’
‘Yeah,’ said Toby. ‘And some poor historian has been murdered as well. And don’t try to pretend that it doesn’t have something to do with that missile launch and Craig’s death, because obviously it must do. Just tell me what.’
‘Hey, I told you all I knew this afternoon,’ said Bill, as he guided the Range Rover through the streets of King’s Lynn. ‘You didn’t give any of that to the police, did you?’
‘No,’ said Toby. ‘But why do you care? Isn’t it more important that we get Alice out of jail and find the maniac who shot Lars? And, by the way, tried to shoot me and will probably shoot you.’
‘I’m telling you, Toby, I have no idea why any of this is happening!’
‘Well, I don’t believe you.’
They drove back to Barnholt in silence, Toby letting his fury boil. He wasn’t sure how much of his anger was justified and how much was a reaction to almost getting killed, but, frankly, he didn’t care.
Megan was waiting for them, her eyes red behind her glasses. Toby was surprised, as was Bill, when she threw her arms around him as he walked in the door. She held him tight for a few seconds. Then she pulled away.
‘Poor Lars,’ she said.
Yes. Poor Lars.
‘Are you going to tell his family?’ Toby asked Bill.
‘Yes. His mother has dementia and is in a home in Wisconsin, but I know he had a brother. I’d better see if I can track him down.’
‘Glass of wine?’ said Megan, once her father had left the kitchen.
‘Go on,’ said Toby. Sweet tea could only achieve so much.
Megan poured two glasses of red and they sat down at the kitchen table opposite each other.
‘It was terrible to hear about Lars,’ said Megan. She hesitated and looked Toby in the eye. ‘But I was so scared that you had nearly been killed.’
She held out her hand. He gave her his and she squeezed it. She didn’t let it go.
Toby found her touch comforting. There was something strangely solid and reliable about his scatty sister-in-law.
‘Are they releasing Alice?’ Megan asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Toby. ‘They are going to decide whether to charge her tonight.’
‘But how can they think she killed Sam Bowen after what happened to Lars this afternoon?’
Toby shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I told them to get MI5 up here so I can talk to them. About what your father told us.’