Suttle nodded. He was thinking about the crossing, what it must have taken to make the initial commitment.
‘Did you like Pendrick?’
‘What sort of question is that?’
‘Well? Did you?’
‘I liked what he’d done, what they’d both done. Rowing the Atlantic? You had to give the guy a bit of respect.’
‘Sure but. . you know. .’ Suttle smiled. ‘Did you get through to him?’
‘No, I don’t think I did. From where I was sitting the man was on another planet.’
‘Because of his wife?’
‘You couldn’t tell. Did he miss her? Yes, I think he did. Was that the end of the story? No way.’
‘There was other stuff?’
‘There had to be. He wasn’t difficult or uncooperative, don’t get me wrong. He just didn’t say a lot.’
‘Meaning he had something to hide?’
‘Meaning there were limits, places you didn’t go. I can’t remember meeting anyone so private.’
‘Fuck-off private? Or private private?’
‘Private private. We’re not talking aggression. Far from it. I had the impression he’d be a good guy to have a drink with.’
‘Because?’
‘Because, deep down, he probably had lots to say. And most of it would be worth listening to.’
Suttle smiled. Nicely phrased, he thought.
‘What about other evidence? Did SOC bosh the boat?’
‘Of course.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing material. They found traces of blood on a runner beneath one of the seats but it turned out to be mackerel. Our man was home safe.’
‘What was the gap between his wife disappearing and Pendrick making it back?’
Hamilton frowned, doing the calculations.
‘Over a week. He was single-handed. That boat must have weighed a ton.’
‘So he had plenty of time to give the thing a proper seeing-to?’
‘Of course.’
‘When he could have been picked up? Gone for early doors?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you think that was dodgy at all? Carrying on the way he did?’
‘Not really. I put it to him that it was a strange thing to do, rowing single-handed when most people would have been in bits about what had happened, but he just shook his head. The word he used was tribute.’
‘Tribute?’
‘To his dead wife. To Kate. Finishing was the least he owed her. It’s in the transcript. I remember him saying exactly that.’
Suttle scribbled himself a note. Finishing was the least I owed her. It was an arresting phrase.
‘What about passive evidence?’
‘She had a camera which she apparently took with her when she went over the side.’
‘Stills? Video?’
‘Both.’
‘And you’re saying it disappeared?’
‘Yeah.’
Suttle bent to his pad. Made another note. Then his head came up again.
‘Did she keep a diary? Some kind of journal?’
‘Yeah. Plus an audio account.’
‘You seized them?’
‘Of course.’
‘And?’
‘Evidentially it took us nowhere. I got the impression she was quite a literal-minded woman. From time to time the wild life would do it for her — the birds, dolphins, a couple of whales — and sunsets and sunrises always got a mention, but most of the stuff was pretty dull. Distance covered. Weather details. How much water they were making every day. Worries about the food stocks. Housekeeping really. One thing was interesting, though.’
‘What?’
‘I remember thinking the deeper they got into this thing, the less she wrote. It was the same with the audio. You could sense it in her voice. There was a weariness there. You could hear it.’
‘She was probably knackered.’
‘Sure. Of course she was. But there was something else. It was as if she couldn’t be bothered any more.’
‘Right.’ Another note. ‘And what about Pendrick? Was he keeping any kind of diary?’
‘He said he wasn’t.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he was so thoughtful, so deep. Pendrick was exactly the kind of guy to write stuff down. But no way would you ever get to read it.’
‘Because he was hiding something?’
‘Because he was so private.’
‘What about the state of the relationship? What impression did you get about that?’
‘They’d been married for a while. Five, six years, something like that.’
‘Kids?’
‘No.’
‘But they were tight? Made it work?’
‘I imagine so. You’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Why do something like that with someone you don’t much like?’
Suttle said he didn’t know. Relationships were complicated enough on dry land. Just imagine what a couple of months alone at sea would do to most marriages.
Hamilton said nothing. Just shot him a look. Suttle asked her about the couple’s life insurance.
‘They’d both taken out policies. They were raising money for some charity and the people in charge insisted on proper cover. That was interesting.’
‘How come?’
‘The insurance thing was a bit of an issue for a couple of the media guys. One of the reporters did a bit of digging and discovered that Pendrick stood to gain half a million dollars from his wife’s death. Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. The insurance company wanted proof of death and it was months before they accepted the claim, but when I put it to Pendrick he just shrugged, said he wasn’t interested, told me the money had never crossed his mind.’
‘Did you check with the insurance people? Later?’
‘Yeah. We had a wash-up at the back end of last year.’
‘Performance review?’
‘Very funny.’ She had the grace to laugh. ‘I put a call through and after the usual dramas they confirmed they’d paid out.’
‘To Pendrick?’
‘To the charity. It turned out that’s what Pendrick and his wife had wanted all along. That was their decision. That’s what they’d stipulated. And I’m guessing that’s why Pendrick was never bothered about the money.’
‘OK.’ Suttle was impressed. ‘So which charity are we talking about?’
‘I knew you’d ask.’ She opened a drawer and produced a file. Lovely hands, Suttle thought. No rings. Hamilton looked up, one finger anchored in the file. ‘It’s called Phra Mae Khongka. She’s a Thai water goddess. I gather it’s something to do with the tsunami.’
‘How come?’
‘You want the truth?’
‘Please.’
‘I haven’t a clue.’
Lizzie got Gill on her mobile shortly after lunch. She was speeding through the New Forest with the top down and Muse full blast on the audio. She’d borrowed the CD from Lizzie and would bring it back next time round.
Lizzie wanted to know whether she’d had anything to do with a football programme that had appeared on the kitchen table.
‘A what?’
‘A football programme. Portsmouth versus Preston. Last weekend.’
Lizzie heard the music level dip. Then Gill was back on the phone.
‘Nothing to do with me,’ she said. She wanted to know how come it had got there.
‘Good question.’ Lizzie was watching Dexter stalking something in the long grass.
She rang off as the signal began to fade and went back into the kitchen. The programme was still on the table. When she’d found it she’d done nothing but stare at the front cover. Blue shirts in front of a sea of faces. A white blur might have been a football. Now she went through the programme page by page. She found the phone number at the end, a line of carefully transcribed figures beneath an advert for a demolition company. The number was underlined and there was a question mark at the end. She studied the number a moment and wondered what would happen if she phoned it. Then something else claimed her attention.
The last time she’d checked the dodgy window in the living room, it had been loosely secured. There was no way it would ever keep anyone out but this way it at least minimised the draught. Now, though, it was completely unlatched. Someone had been at it. She knew they had. There was no other explanation. Someone had reached in, opened the window and climbed inside.