Robert Goddard - Borrowed Time

“Will you tell the Portuguese police any of this?”

“Certainly not,” she replied, arching her eyebrows at me. “There’d be no point. I don’t know who Smith is. Or Brown, come to that. I haven’t a shred of evidence. And now Keith’s dead, I’m unlikely to get any. I shan’t be looking anyway. These people are dangerous, Robin. They stick at nothing. I won’t be making any waves. It wouldn’t be wise-or healthy. And you’d do well to follow my example. Just tell Sarah her father’s dead, make sure she’s all right and leave it at that. As for Paul, he’s made his bed-of-nails and must lie on it. What he does now is up to him. What I shall do is my duty as Keith’s widow. That and nothing more.”

Bella had always possessed the ability to disarm me with her breathtaking combination of frankness and duplicity. Somehow, despite admitting to deceit and downright callousness, she’d almost managed to convince me she deserved my pity for becoming caught up in all this. She might even have succeeded, but for one awkward fact. I knew-and she knew I knew-that she’d willingly have colluded in her husband’s evasion of justice if I’d been able to pick a hole in Paul’s mesh of lies for her.

But for the moment there were more important things to consider. There was the stinging realization that Naylor had been guilty all along. And there was the bewildering discovery that Paul’s confession had been false in every detail.

“I left several messages on Sarah’s answering machine,” said Bella. “But she hasn’t phoned back. So, either she’s too sick to pick the damn thing up, which I doubt, or she’s off playing hooky somewhere. Maybe Rodney knows where she is. Or a neighbour. Either way, I can’t hang around to find out. You do see that, don’t you?”

“Oh yes. I see it.”

“I even tried phoning Paul, but he wasn’t answering either. I suppose he’ll have to be told eventually. How do you think he’ll react? I mean, if he really did suspect Keith, he’ll also suspect his death wasn’t an accident, won’t he?”

“Perhaps you want me to break the news to him as well.”

“No, no.” Bella frowned at me, immune in her current mood to sarcasm. “The police would think it very odd if we contacted him before they did. As far as they’re concerned we still believe he murdered Louise. It’s best if they think we’re not even on speaking terms with him. Surely you can appreciate that.”

“Of course. Stupid of me.”

Her frown darkened, but she decided not to pursue the point. “I happen to have a set of keys to Sarah’s flat. They belonged to Rowena originally. Keith left them at The Hurdles. Use them if all else fails.” She fished two keys on a ring from her handbag and plonked them on the table in front of me. “One’s for the street door. The other’s for the flat itself.” I stared down at them, but made no move to pick them up. “You are listening to me, aren’t you, Robin?”

“Intently.”

“Much the best thing for her to do is simply to sit by the phone and wait for some news. I shall arrange for the body to be flown home as soon as possible, though Christmas could complicate matters, I suppose. What a time for this to happen.” She clicked her tongue, apparently in irritation at her late husband’s lack of consideration. Perhaps she thought he should have waited until the holidays were over before getting himself thrown off a Portuguese cliff. “The Consulate have booked me into a hotel in Portimão. The Globo. I’ll leave you the number. Get Sarah to call me there as soon as she can. Or she can call the Consulate direct if she prefers. Either way, get her to make contact.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m relying on you to. Handle Sarah as delicately as you can. She’s strong. But whether she’s strong enough for this…” She glanced at her watch. “I ought to go home and pack. I’m booked on a horribly early flight.” She rose to her feet and looked down at me, suspicion tainting her concern. “Are you all right?”

I stared up at her, too confused by the blizzard of consequences her revelations had whipped up in my mind to conceal my distaste for the motives she’d so blithely admitted. “What do you think?” I asked, daring her to define how I ought to react to what she’d said.

“I don’t have time for this,” she snapped, letting anger get the better of her candour. “I’ve told you everything I know. And I’ve apologized for misleading you. What more can I say?”

“Why did you tell me everything?”

“Because I thought you had a right to know the truth. And because I thought I could rely on you to give Sarah the support she’ll need once you’d understood the seriousness of the situation.”

“You can. But I wonder if you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m not sure. You’ve known Paul to be lying for the past three months. But you’ve done nothing about it. Now Louise’s killer’s been set free. And your husband’s been murdered. Some might hold you to blame for that.”

“Rubbish. Nobody can prove I knew anything.”

“No. But they can go a long way to proving I did, can’t they? Thanks to the enquiries you got me to make on your behalf. Which I suppose you could deny asking me to make. If it suited your purpose.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” But smiling as she spoke gave the game away. We both knew she would do it-if she thought she had to. Was this, then, why she’d chosen to enlighten me? So I’d be in no doubt how much I stood to lose along with her? So I’d refrain from telling Sarah the truth for fear she’d blame me, not Bella, for trying to suppress it? “Just find Sarah for me, Robin,” Bella concluded in her most mellifluous tone. “Then fly away from all this. And count yourself lucky you can.”

Bella probably read into my subdued farewell a reluctant agreement to do what she’d more or less instructed me to do: break the news to Sarah of her father’s death without challenging the official view that it was a tragic accident; leave Paul well alone; and view subsequent developments, whatever they might be, from a safe distance.

But that was her way, not mine. And no amount of pressure, whether subtle or overt, was going to force me to follow it. There was something she’d overlooked, something she’d never have been capable of understanding. The truth was shocking and appalling. Of course it was. But it was also immensely uplifting. Because suddenly Louise Paxton was free of all suspicion. She hadn’t led Naylor on. She hadn’t been having a secret affair with anyone. Her “perfect stranger” had been an invention, designed to deflect Sophie’s curiosity. Or else some kind of joke at Sophie’s expense. Either way, Louise had met nobody on Hergest Ridge until the day she’d met me there. And that was the day she’d died. She was an innocent victim. Not only of a brutal rapist, but of a jealous husband, a treacherous friend and a self-serving pack of doubters and deceivers.

After Bella had gone, I lay on the dust-sheeted sofa in the sitting-room, an alarm-clock stationed on the floor beside me. It was set to go off at half past five. If I was on the road by six, I could be in Clifton by eight. Not that I expected to need an alarm to wake me. Tired though I was, sleep seemed a remote contingency. Fear and elation stalked my thoughts, stretching my weary nerves. I felt if I could only rest and reflect on what Bella had told me, the answer would emerge, as logical as it was obvious. What was the final link in the chain connecting Sir Keith Paxton’s hidden jealousy with Paul Bryant’s manufactured guilt? What purpose could be served by setting a murderer free?

I did fall asleep, of course, though not for much more than an hour. But that was time enough to dream of Louise. She was waiting to meet me as I walked along Offa’s Dyke. The sun was setting behind her and I couldn’t see her face clearly. She was standing a few yards beyond an artist’s easel, set up directly in my path, with a canvas ready for use on its frame. But the canvas was blank, save for the tentative pencilled outline of a figure that seemed to dissolve as I approached. I tried to speak, but couldn’t seem to. I knew I had to warn her of something, but what it was I couldn’t remember. Then she turned and walked away down the slope. I ran after her, but the gap between us only widened. There was a line of trees at the foot of the slope. I sensed I had to overtake her before she reached them in order to avert a catastrophe. But there was nothing I could do to stop her. She entered the trees without looking back. And vanished from my sight.