Toby poured five mugs, and followed Bill up the stairs carrying two of them.
Bill’s study was tiny, and extremely tidy. A sign of someone who had spent several years living and working in cramped enclosed spaces. A desk bearing a computer screen was wedged under a window looking out at the blackness of the marsh and night sky. A bookshelf took up one wall, and two wooden filing cabinets another. There were at least four photographs of Donna at various stages of her life: one their wedding photograph, and one with the four grown sisters by the pear tree outside the Barnholt house. Five good-looking women.
A kind of wooden trolley contained yarn and tapestry designs, and a half-completed piece of needlepoint lay neatly folded on top of one of the cabinets. Toby could see it was the view of Barnholt, and Bill had made quite a lot of progress on it since Thanksgiving.
He sat down and faced his father-in-law, sipping his cup of tea. He felt he should be scared of him, but he couldn’t quite accept that this man had tried to shoot him only twenty-four hours before.
‘How’s Beachwallet going, Toby?’
‘So far so good,’ said Toby, surprised at the question. ‘The VC is lined up to give us two million. They seem happy with the due diligence.’
‘Because if you need any help from me?’
Toby summoned a smile. ‘Thanks, Bill. We’re going to be fine. We did appreciate your advice at the start.’ There was no way in hell Bill was coming anywhere near Toby’s company now.
Bill smiled weakly. ‘Good. Give my regards to Piet, won’t you?’
‘I will.’
Toby was pretty sure this conversation about Beachwallet was just a ploy to get Toby into Bill’s study.
He was right.
‘Toby?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s going on down there?’
‘They’re upset.’
‘I can see that,’ said Bill. ‘And I can see they are upset with me. Why?’
‘It’s been a lot to take in,’ said Toby. He was determined not to give Bill reason to think they were suspicious of him.
‘Do they think I’m a traitor?’
‘No,’ said Toby. ‘No, they don’t. We don’t. They know why you spoke to the Russians. And they are proud of what you did on the submarine.’
‘Because I think I’m a traitor.’ Bill sighed. ‘Sure I spoke to Pat and Irena from the best of intentions. But I was naïve and so was Donna. We didn’t believe they were KGB and they obviously were. I betrayed my country, and I feel guilty about that. I always will.’
‘No harm came of it,’ said Toby.
Bill grunted. ‘I wish Donna was still around. She had a lot of common sense, that woman. I could use her with me now.’
‘I wish I had known her,’ said Toby. It was true, but Toby was mostly thinking that maybe Donna would have stopped Bill from murdering people.
‘So if that’s not what’s upsetting them, did you tell Alice that I thought she killed Sam?’
Toby hesitated. As he thought it through, it seemed the perfect explanation for the hostility downstairs.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Bill seemed to accept it. ‘It’s OK. I can’t expect you to keep something from your wife.’ He ran a hand through his thick grey hair in frustration. ‘No wonder she’s upset. Brooke is no doubt still cross about Craig. And it’s no surprise Megan is grumpy.’
‘Yup,’ said Toby. That was pretty well explained then.
‘Does Alice know I won’t tell the cops my suspicions?’
‘I think so,’ said Toby.
‘What about you, Toby?’
‘Me?’
‘Do you think she killed Sam Bowen?’
‘No,’ said Toby.
‘Did you ask her?’
‘No. No, I trust her.’
Bill paused. ‘All right. I get that you trust your wife. I’d really like to trust her too. I guess what I’m asking is, can you give me a reason to?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you have proof she didn’t do it?’
Did he? Not really.
‘No,’ Toby said. ‘But we do know she didn’t kill Lars, obviously.’
‘All right,’ said Bill. ‘But if it wasn’t her, who the hell was it?’
Bill’s brown eyes were brimming with distress. Or they seemed to be.
‘I don’t know, Bill. I just don’t know.’
Bill’s mobile phone rang. ‘Hello?’ he said.
Toby was close enough to identify the voice, if not the words. Admiral Robinson.
Bill glanced at Toby. ‘Yeah, hi. I can’t talk right now… OK, I’ll meet you. Do you want to come here?… I know the place. Just above Old Hunstanton… OK, I’ll see you at nine.’
He disconnected. ‘That was Admiral Robinson,’ he said. ‘He wants to see me this evening. I don’t know what he wants to say.’
Toby did.
FIFTY-FOUR
Bill shut himself in his study, only coming down to the kitchen to wolf down the fish and chips Toby brought from a shop in the next village. To say the silence around the kitchen table was awkward would be an understatement.
Toby had told the three sisters about Bill’s arrangement with the admiral to meet him above Old Hunstanton later that evening. Brooke decided to stay at Barnholt to see what, if anything, happened.
Megan had suggested that they all watch a repeat or two of Friends in the living room. It was a good call, bringing back memories of the girls crowded around the TV when they were children, and distracting them from the destruction of their family in front of them.
Bill put his head around the door at about twenty to nine, announcing he had to go out. Only Toby acknowledged him.
‘You know, despite what the admiral says, I still can’t believe Dad killed anyone,’ said Megan, as they heard him drive off in his Range Rover.
‘I’m sorry, Megan,’ said Alice. ‘I know it’s unbelievable, but it happened.’
‘Maybe he’ll be able to prove to the admiral that he’s innocent?’
‘Perhaps someone at the plumbing place will remember him,’ said Toby. ‘Did anyone see the tap he was talking about buying?’
No one had.
‘His best theory is that I did it,’ said Alice with contempt. ‘And I know I didn’t.’
‘What do we do?’ said Brooke. ‘When Dad comes back?’
‘Depends what he does,’ said Alice. ‘He may want to talk to us. Confess. Or he may have confessed to Admiral Robinson. Maybe he’ll hand himself in to the police.’
‘But what if Dad just comes back and says nothing?’ said Brooke. ‘Goes to bed?’
‘Then we go to bed,’ said Alice.
‘But we can’t just pretend none of this happened!’
‘We’ll have to,’ said Alice.
Toby was with Brooke on this. Alice glanced quickly at him. A warning shot.
Bill being a murderer was bad enough. So was Lars being killed. And Sam Bowen. But Toby could see the decision he had put off re-emerging. Whether to tell the cops about Bill, and lose his wife. Or keep quiet. And what? Live for ever with a father-in-law who he knew was a murderer.
It wouldn’t work.
Toby would need courage to do what he had to do; he wasn’t sure he had it. There had to be some way of avoiding the decision, of finessing it somehow.
Pray for a miracle. Maybe Megan was right; maybe Bill would be able to convince the admiral of his innocence.
He was finding the waiting difficult, and Friends was irritating the hell out of him.
Brooke’s phone rang. ‘It’s Justin,’ she explained. She withdrew to the kitchen, and reappeared a minute or so later. ‘I’m just going to pick him up from the hotel. I told him about Bill. He wants to be here, and I’ve got the car.’
‘I’ll go and get him, if you like,’ said Toby. He wanted to be doing something. And he wanted to talk to Justin alone. Reluctantly, he could see that Bill must have killed Sam. But it was harder to believe he had shot his old friend Lars. Whereas Justin?