Martin Edwards: Suspicious Minds

The rituals over, the Redpaths’ guests began to disperse. Harry headed for the bar and over a glass of lager he recalled his conversation the previous evening with Trevor Morgan. They had bumped into each other at the Dock Brief, but the memory of the violent end to their last encounter seemed to have been wiped from the Welshman’s mind.

After a couple of pints Harry had asked Trevor what he knew about the death of Margaret Stirrup. Her name seemed to have a sobering effect.

“What makes you ask?”

“You were in your cups last time we met. You called Jack a bloody murderer. At the time I assumed if you meant anything, you thought he’d killed Alison. Later I changed my mind.”

Trevor Morgan brushed flecks of beer foam from his mouth.

“Maybe Jack said a bit too much late one night over a jar.” He contrived the mischievous lopsided grin which had charmed so many women — except for Catherine. “We all shout how smart we are when we’re pissed, it’s human nature.”

“But is it true that he murdered Margaret?” Harry persisted. “Cold-bloodedly, not in a fit of the famous temper?”

In a parody of bad acting, Trevor raised a finger to his lips.

“Mind your mouth, mate. Walls have ears, to say nothing of public bars. Best forget it.”

“Forget it?” Through the noise and the smoke and the smell of The Dock Brief, enlightenment dawned. “I see. Jack’s paid you off, so everything’s okay now.”

Trevor grinned. “Good lawyer, that bloke Fowler. The settlement cheque arrived yesterday.”

Hush money? Harry sighed. At least Trevor hadn’t tried blackmail. But after all he had been through, Jack Stirrup wasn’t going to risk a drunken ex-sidekick shooting his mouth off before the Bermuda flight was called.

Trevor smacked his lips. “Twelve months’ money, no tax. Not bad, eh? Have another. This one’s on me.”

For once Harry had found it no hardship to decline.

“Your belly won’t get any flatter if you keep drinking that stuff,” said a soft voice in his ear.

He twisted round, spilling some of his pint in the process.

“Brenda.” He considered her with care. “You look so gorgeous I’ll forgive you for trying to turn me against man’s best friend. His booze, I mean. And the best of it is, you’re happy.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Yes, it’s been a good day. And everyone’s been so kind. They are nice people here, Harry, our friends from the Fellowship.”

“I’m sure they are. I won’t pretend I’ve been converted. Seeing the error of your ways is one thing. Actually becoming a reformed character is quite another. But anything which has been so good for you must have something going for it.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward and straightened the flower in his buttonhole. “That’s better. Yes, I have something to believe in now. As well as someone. I can recommend it. But how about you? I’m sorry your girlfriend couldn’t come.”

“Me too.”

Her blue eyes regarded him. “Not a permanent rift, I hope?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“I’m sorry. She was a beautiful girl.”

“Easy come, easy go.”

“You’re a funny man, Harry. You always like to fear the worst. You ought to have faith, even if you think of yourself as an unbeliever. Things aren’t always as bleak as they seem.” She paused, scanning his face for any trace of comprehension. “Well, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I’m not much good with words, ‘specially after so much champagne.”

“You’re as good with words as you are to me. And that’s saying something.”

She coloured faintly under the make-up and he realised she was thinking back to their affair. He hated himself for the clumsiness of his compliment. He hadn’t meant to remind her of the past, not today of all days.

“I don’t suppose we’ll see each other much in the future,” she said. “Now I’ve got a buyer for the flat and Colin has this job lined up in Manchester.”

“I’ll be sorry to see you leave.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh dear. Colin’s pointing to his watch. I have to change, put on my going-away outfit. We have a tight schedule if we’re to catch the plane at Ringway.”

She proffered a hand, a gesture oddly formal and yet one which Harry found touching.

“Goodbye,” she said. “Look after yourself. And — thank you for the time we had together.”

She hurried away without giving him a chance to say anything more. He watched her slim figure become swallowed up in the group of well-wishers around her husband.

“Same again,” he said to the barmaid.

As she served him she said chattily, “Daft, isn’t it? Weddings are such happy times. And yet they always make me want to cry.”

As he drank he thought about Valerie and how bitter and betrayed she had sounded on the one occasion when, made brave by an evening at the Dock Brief, he had telephoned her flat to make a stumbling apology for his behaviour towards Julian Hamer at the Law Courts.

“Someone told me he was giving up the Bar,” he had said.

“That’s right. Now everyone knows about his state of health, he’s not getting any more briefs. The fact his brain is as sharp as ever is neither here nor there to most of the gutless members of your profession. Thank God the University has more sense. They’ve offered him a teaching post to start next term. He’ll be able to cope, even when he has to get around in a wheelchair.”

“It might not…”

“It might not come to that? Let’s not kid ourselves any more, Harry. Let’s be realistic.”

“And how are you?” he’d asked desperately, after a long pause.

“I was just getting ready for bed when you rang. I have a big trial tomorrow.”

“What sort of…”

“Look, I’m tired and I need sleep. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for aimless chit-chat. I’ll see you around some time, all right? Goodnight.”

Even now he could hear the click of the receiver as she’d hung up. He cursed his curiosity. When would the demon inside him which craved an answer for everything learn that sometimes the happiest of endings lay in mysteries lacking a solution? How comforting it would be to have the confidence to start taking things on trust. Looking around at the people who surrounded him, their eyes shining with their calm certainties, to his dismay he felt his stomach churn with jealousy.

He became aware of someone standing by his side.

“What can I get you?” asked the well-scrubbed young man who had sat next to him during the meal.

“An unsuspicious mind,” said Harry.

He didn’t wait for a reply, but slipped off through the city towards the rear exit door that led to the car park, knowing that no one would notice him leave.