‘Possible, I suppose. It’s hard to say when we don’t know who he is or what Lenka wanted to say to him.’
‘It’s odd that in the week Alex’s death resurfaces Lenka should be killed.’
‘Yes,’ said Chris. ‘It is.’ They walked on in silence together, both thinking. ‘Let’s say that you were right and Lenka was telling this man Marcus what really happened. Why would he want to know?’
‘Perhaps he’s a cop?’
‘Doesn’t sound like one,’ said Chris. ‘If he was, you’d expect him to be waving a badge around. And he wouldn’t use his Christian name. If it is his Christian name.’
‘Private investigator? Maybe he was hired by Bloomfield Weiss?’
‘Possible. Or perhaps he’s a journalist?’
Megan winced. ‘That would be bad. The last thing we need is all that dredged up in the papers.’
‘It would make a good story though. “Investment Bankers Cover Up Ten-Year-Old Murder on Boat.” ’
‘It wasn’t a murder.’
‘It would be after the newspapers got at it.’
‘I think what Lenka’s neighbour said about Duncan sounds pretty creepy,’ Megan said.
‘That’s nothing,’ Chris said. That’s just Duncan.’
‘Hanging around women’s apartments isn’t nothing,’ Megan replied fiercely.
‘But Duncan has always had a thing about Lenka.’
‘Yeah. And now she’s dead.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘I’m just saying. It sounds pretty creepy.’
Chris had to admit she had a point. ‘OK. Let’s say it does. But I know Duncan. He might follow Lenka, he might even pester her, but she would be the last person in the world he would kill. When I told him about her he was devastated.’
Megan sighed. ‘I’m not accusing him of killing her. But someone did.’
‘Yes, someone did.’
‘Do you think we should tell the police about this?’ Megan said.
‘About Duncan?’
‘Maybe.’
‘No. He’s a friend of mine and I don’t want to get him into trouble needlessly.’
‘What about the mysterious Marcus?’
‘Hmm.’ Chris thought it over. ‘The problem is, if we tell them about Marcus, we have to tell them about the e-mail, and about Alex. And I don’t think that’s a good idea. We could still get into a lot of trouble about it all. Besides, perhaps the Czech police have some good leads in Prague. Who knows, maybe they’ve arrested someone.’
‘I doubt it, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Chris. ‘I do. I was planning to call Lenka’s parents this afternoon. I’ll ask if they’ve heard anything from the police. But I think if anyone is going to find out why Lenka died, it has to be us.’
‘But what can we do?’ asked Megan.
‘Try to find out who this Marcus is. Talk to him. Find out what Ian knows.’
‘And check up on Duncan.’
‘And check up on Duncan,’ Chris repeated. ‘I can also ask Eric whether he has any ideas when I see him tomorrow evening. He usually has a good take on things.’
‘He does,’ said Megan.
They walked on.
‘What happened between you and him?’ Chris asked.
Megan glanced at Chris, as though she were trying to decide whether to tell him. In the end, she seemed to make up her mind. ‘We split up. A year after your training programme.’
‘Why?’
‘I still don’t know,’ Megan replied. ‘Or at least, I probably do know, but I don’t want to believe it. At first he said it just wasn’t practical living so far apart, which was why I arranged to move to New York. Then he said we were becoming different people: he had his life, and I had mine. I didn’t understand that. I was devastated. I tried to change his mind, but I knew there was no point. If Eric decides he wants to do something, he does it, and there’s not much you can do about it.’
‘A bit like Lenka,’ Chris said.
‘I suppose. The thing is, two months later he met another woman. Cassie.’
‘She’s some high-society type, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. She’s also beautiful and intelligent, and very charming. I was as jealous as hell of her. They got married a year later, as you probably know.’
‘I heard.’
‘I think I just wasn’t good enough for Eric’
That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’
Megan shot Chris an angry glance. This was clearly something she had been thinking about a lot over the years. ‘My father ran the five-and-dime in Oneonta, upstate New York. This town is small. Fourteen thousand people and fifty-four churches. You have to drive seventy miles to Albany for your thrills. I have no money, no influence. I’d be no use to Eric. But Cassie... Cassie’s different.’
‘I’m sure Eric wouldn’t be bothered by someone’s background,’ said Chris. Eric had always struck him as too sensible to spend the rest of his life with someone just because of how rich they were. Besides, Eric was quite capable of making his own money.
‘Oh, no?’ said Megan. ‘It’s not just that Cassie knows everyone. Nor that she’s the perfect successful banker’s wife. Do you know who her father is?’
‘No,’ said Chris, regretting now that he had contradicted Megan on such a sensitive subject.
‘He’s a Republican Senator. As was her grandfather. And her uncle was in the Reagan Administration.’
‘Ah.’
‘So, when Eric makes his move into politics, the whole family will be there to smooth the way for him.’
‘I see. But do you think Eric will do that? I mean, he’s doing so well at Bloomfield Weiss, why would he want to pack it in?’
‘Oh, I’m sure Eric wants to do that. He’s wanted to all his life. It’s the kind of ambition that doesn’t go away. I’d bet on it. He’ll make his move one day, probably one day soon.’
‘Do you still see him?’
‘I tried for a few months. You know, we were “just good friends”. He did a good job of it too, which infuriated me. But I couldn’t stand it. I hated him. And I hated her. She was always so damned nice all the time. Every time I saw him for a normal social occasion I’d come back mad, and it would take me a week to recover. So I stopped. I was invited to the wedding, but I didn’t go. I haven’t seen him for eight years now.’
They walked on. They were in a quiet part of the Heath now, amongst gnarled old oak trees, whose bare branches intertwined like old women’s fingers over their heads.
‘He was a fool, you know,’ said Chris. ‘To let you go.’
Megan glanced at him. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Chris waited in the bar of the Lanesborough, drinking a gin and tonic. It didn’t quite seem the place for a pint of bitter. Book-lined walls, dark wood, leather chairs and sofas, crystal glasses, a fire: the place oozed wealth and comfort. It was heaving with aged American tourists, cigar-smoking businessmen, and a group of men in black tie there for some function or other. Chris was glad he had changed out of his jeans into trousers and a sports jacket. But he still felt underdressed.
He had taken Megan to King’s Cross the day before and said goodbye to her. He also called Lenka’s parents, and in a slow stilted conversation, he suggested that they should get a solicitor to sort out Lenka’s affairs in London since her estate could certainly afford one. He asked them how the police investigation was going. They said that the police had questioned a local criminal with ties to the Ukrainian mafia, but that they had had to let him go again. Or at least that’s what Chris thought Lenka’s father had said; it was difficult to be sure. One thing he was sure of was that Lenka’s funeral would be on Wednesday. Chris planned to go, and so did Megan. He called Duncan, who said he would come. A Czech funeral in February promised to be a grim affair. But at least Megan would be there.