‘We had a private service,’ he murmurs.
‘Where?’
‘In Greece.’
‘Why Greece?’
‘That’s where we lost them. It’s where they were happy. We built a memorial on a rocky headland overlooking a bay where Chloe used to go swimming.’
‘A memorial,’ says Ruiz. ‘Where are their graves?’
‘Their bodies were never recovered. The currents are so strong in that part of the Aegean. One of the navy divers found Chloe. Her life vest had snagged on the metal rungs of a ladder near the stern of the ferry. He cut the vest from her but the current ripped her away. He didn’t have enough air left in his tanks to swim after her.’
‘And he was sure?’
‘She still had a cast on her arm. It was Chloe.’
The phone rings. The old lawyer glances at his watch. Time is measured in fifteen minute intervals- billable hours. I wonder how much he’s going to charge his ‘old friend’ for this consultation.
I thank Mr Chambers for his time and rise slowly from my chair. The depressions left behind in the leather slowly begin to fill.
‘You know I’ve thought about killing him,’ says Bryan Chambers. Julian Spencer tries to stop him talking but is waved away. ‘I asked Skipper what it would take. Who would I have to pay? I mean, you read about stuff like that all the time.’
‘I’m sure Skipper has friends,’ says Ruiz.
‘Yes,’ nods Chambers. ‘I don’t know whether I’d trust any of them. They’d probably wipe out half a building.’
He looks at Julian Spencer. ‘Don’t worry. It’s just talk. Claudia would never let me do it. She has a God she has to answer to.’ He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them, hoping the world might have changed.
‘Do you have children, Professor?’
‘Two of them.’
He looks at Ruiz, who holds up two fingers.
‘You never stop worrying,’ says Chambers. ‘You worry through the pregnancy, the birth, the first year and every year that follows. You worry about them catching the bus, crossing the road, riding a bike, climbing a tree… You read stories in newspapers about terrible things happening to children. It makes you frightened. It never goes away.’
‘I know.’
‘And then you think how they grow up so quickly and suddenly you don’t have a say any more. You want them to find the perfect boyfriend and the perfect husband. You want them to get their dream job. You want to save them from every disappointment, every broken heart, but you can’t. You never stop being a parent. You never stop worrying. If you’re lucky, you’re going to be around to pick up the pieces.’
He turns away but I can see his misery reflected in the window.
‘Do you have a photograph of Tyler?’ I ask.
‘Maybe at home. He didn’t like cameras- even at the wedding.’
‘How about a photograph of Helen? I haven’t seen a proper one. The newspapers had a snapshot of her in Greece taken before the sinking.’
‘It’s the most recent one we had,’ he explains.
‘Do you have any others?’
He hesitates and glances at Julian Spencer. Then he opens his wallet and pulls out a passport-sized print.
‘When was it taken?’ I ask.
‘A few months ago. Helen sent it from Greece. We had to organise a new passport for her- in her maiden name.’
‘Would you mind if I borrowed this?’
‘Why?’
‘Sometimes it helps me to understand a crime if I have a photograph of the victim.’
‘Is that what you think she is?’
‘Yes. She was the first.’
Ruiz hasn’t said anything since we left the lawyer’s office. I’m sure he has an opinion but he won’t share it until he’s ready. Maybe it’s a legacy of his former career but there’s an aura of no-place and no-time about him that releases him from the normal rules of conversation. Saying that, he’s noticeably mellowed since he retired. The forces within him have found equilibrium and he’s made peace with whatever patron saint looks after atheists. There’s a patron saint for everything else, so why not for non-believers?
Everything about this case has shimmered and shifted with emotion and grief. It’s been hard to focus on particular details because I’ve spent so much time dealing with immediate concerns such as Darcy, worrying what’s going to happen to her. Now I want to take a step back in the hope I can see things in some sort of context, but it’s not easy to let go from the face of a mountain.
I can understand why Bryan and Claudia Chambers were so angry and inhospitable when we visited their estate. Gideon Tyler has stalked them. He has followed their cars, opened their mail and left obscene souvenirs.
The police couldn’t stop the harassment, so the Chambers gave up co-operating and took their own security measures, organising round-the-clock protection with alarms, motion sensors, intercepts and bodyguards. I can understand their reasoning, but not Gideon’s. Why is he still looking for Helen and Chloe, if that’s what he’s doing?
There is nothing artless and spur-of-the-moment about Gideon. He is a bully, a sadist and the control freak who has carefully and systematically set out to destroy his wife’s family and to kill each of her friends.
It wasn’t purely for pleasure- not in the beginning. He was looking for Helen and Chloe. Now it’s different. My mind goes back to Christine Wheeler’s mobile phone. Why did Gideon keep it? Why not dispose of her mobile or leave it in Christine’s car? Instead he took it back to Patrick Fuller’s flat, where Patrick’s sister unwittingly used the mobile to order a pizza. It almost brought his plans unstuck.
Gideon bought a charger. Police found the receipt. He charged the battery so he could look at the phone’s memory. He thought it might lead him to Helen and Chloe. It’s the same reason he broke into Christine Wheeler’s house during her funeral and opened the condolence cards. He must have hoped that Helen would turn up to the funeral or at the very least send a card.
What does Gideon know that we don’t? Is he delusional or in denial or does he have some insight or information that has escaped everyone else? What good is a secret if no one else knows of its existence?
Ruiz has parked the Merc in a multi-storey behind the law courts. He unlocks the door and sits behind the wheel, staring over the rooftops where gulls wheel in spirals like sheets of newspaper caught in an updraft.
‘Tyler thinks his wife is still alive. Any chance he’s right?’
‘Next to none,’ he answers. ‘There was a coronial inquest and a maritime board of inquiry.’
‘You got any contacts in the Greek police?’
‘None.’
Ruiz is still motionless behind the wheel, his eyes closed as if listening to the slow beat of his own blood. We both know what has to be done. We need to look at the ferry sinking. There must be witness statements, a passenger manifest and photographs… Someone must have talked to Helen and Chloe.
‘You don’t believe Chambers.’
‘It was one half of a sad story.’
‘Who has the other half?’
‘Gideon Tyler.’
49
Emma is awake, mewling and snuffling in the grip of a dream. I slip out of bed half-asleep and go to her bed, cursing the coldness of the floor and stiffness of my legs.
Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut and her head rocks from side to side. Reaching down, I put my hand on her chest. It seems to cover her entire ribcage. Her eyes open. I pick her up and hold her against me. Her heart is racing.
‘It’s OK, sweetheart. It was only a dream.’
‘I saw a monster.’
‘There are no monsters.’
‘It was trying to eat you. It eated your arm and it eated one of your legs.’
‘I’m fine. Look. Two arms. Two legs. Remember what I told you? There are no monsters.’
‘They’re just make believe.’
‘Yes.’
‘What if he comes back?’
‘You have to dream about something else. How about this- you dream about your birthday parties, fairy bread and jelly beans.’
‘Marshmallows.’