Robert Goddard - Name To a Face

“Thus denying himself the opportunity to refute authorship of a confessional email sent from an internet café around the time of his death. A hypothetical email, I mean. At this stage.” Whybrow allowed himself the slenderest of smiles. “What an unexpectedly fertile imagination you turn out to have, Tim. I’m quite… impressed.”

“I’m not trying to impress you.”

“Obviously not. Nevertheless, you do.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“We have… an understanding.” The smile broadened infinitesimally Or maybe the sparkle in Whybrow’s eyes made it seem to. He offered his hand. Harding had not expected this: a sealing of the bargain. But he was committed. They shook. “When will you tell Carol?”

“This afternoon.”

“And what will you tell her-exactly?”

“That I’m no longer sure it was Hayley I saw at Nymphenburg.”

“She won’t take that well.”

“No.”

“And by the time certain other evidence inculpating Nathan Gashry… comes to light… you’ll be gone.”

“Probably yes.”

“You should expect hard words from her.”

“I do.”

“She may have an opportunity to take them back, of course. If you attend the funeral.”

“Not sure I’ll be able to do that.”

“You’ll be with Hayley by then, I suppose.”

Harding did not respond. Nor did he glance away. He went on looking Whybrow squarely in the eye. Several seconds passed. A silent acknowledgement communicated itself between them. Then the moment was gone.

“Ever try your luck in there?” Whybrow asked, nodding towards the Casino.

“No.”

“Very wise. Luck, of course, has nothing to do with it. But then you don’t need me to tell you that, do you?”

“I’m just no gambler, that’s all.”

“No gambler?” Whybrow snickered softly. “I beg to differ. In fact… I’d say you were a natural.”

Carol was not at home when Harding arrived at the apartment at four o’clock. Her texted reply to his phone message had simply said she would see him there, so he was not greatly surprised. He let himself in by the garden entrance and waited by the pool. Twenty minutes or so elapsed while he recollected coming to see Barney less than three weeks before, knowing virtually nothing of the Tozer family and absolutely nothing of the Foxtons and the Martyns and the Gashrys. He had entered a parallel world that day, of the kind Hayley had later told him about: an alternative reality from which he could not escape, even if he wanted to; a land of no return.

A movement caught his eye through the patio doors. He headed over to them and spotted Carol on the far side of the room. She looked at him expressionlessly almost wearily, then walked slowly across to the doors and slid them open.

“You came, then,” she said neutrally.

“I said I would.”

“You said you’d do lots of things.” She was wearing slightly too much make-up and one of her more obviously couturish outfits. It was a look he had once found searingly sexy. But that, as he knew, had been in a different life. “Are you coming in?”

He stepped into the room. She moved to the table, where she had dropped her handbag, fished out her cigarettes and lit one. The sigh she gave after the first inhalation suggested it was badly needed.

“Christ, what a day,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s been so rough for you, Carol.”

“Please don’t make it any worse, then.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I’m going to have a drink. D’you want one?”

“No, thanks.”

“Please yourself.”

She walked through to the kitchen. Harding listened to the clack-clack of her high-heels on the tiles, the opening and closing of the fridge door, the clunk of ice in a glass, the fizz of tonic; only the gin was silent.

She returned to the room and sat down, taking a deep swallow from her glass before setting it before her on the table. “Undertaker. Lawyer. Now you. And no one has any good news. You don’t, for certain. Right?”

“Not good, no.”

A long draw on the cigarette; a flick of ash into one of Barney’s bespoke giant wooden ashtrays. Then: “Sit down, for Christ’s sake.”

“OK.” He took the chair on the opposite side of the table from her and sat forward on the edge of the cushion, incapable even of pretending to relax.

“Well?”

“I found out who killed Kerry.”

“Are you going to tell me it really was Barney?”

“No. It was all about Josephine Edwards. Last time we spoke, I asked you if you remembered her. The Martyns cured her, Carol. Kerry wanted to write the story up for the national press. But the Martyns didn’t want any publicity. Sabotaging her diving gear was intended to scare her off. But… it worked too well.”

“The Martyns did it?”

“Yes.”

“To stop people finding out they’re… faith healers of some kind?”

“Some kind, yes. A very strange kind.”

“Shit.” Another drag. “That’s just… so stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“All this… mess… because Kerry stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted among the islanders.”

“That’s about it.”

“Poor old Barney. I should’ve believed him all along. I almost feel sorry for Hayley So much… hating in the wrong place.”

“She didn’t kill Barney.”

“What?”

“I found that out too.”

Carol shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “What are you saying?”

“She was on St. Mary’s at the time. John Metherell will swear to that. And I’ll swear it wasn’t her I saw at Nymphenburg.”

“Not her?”

“No. A lookalike. More of a dressalike, actually. A close enough resemblance at a distance, on the run, but not Hayley. Someone hired, to do the job. The same job they did on Nathan Gashry to stop him admitting Hayley didn’t ask him to phone Barney.”

“Who did ask him, then? Who hired this… dressalike?”

“Tony Whybrow”

A long blink. A slug of gin. Carol’s hand shook faintly as she returned the glass to the table. She stared at Harding intently. “Are you serious?”

“Never more so.”

“Can you prove this?”

“No. Which is why I’ve struck a deal with Tony. For your sake as well as mine-and Hayley’s.”

“A deal?”

“Nathan Gashry will take the blame. We’ll… take what we can get. It’d be crazy to accuse Tony openly Carol. He’ll have covered his tracks well. You can be sure of that. And he’d be a dangerous enemy. Look what happened to Barney. You said you thought Tony might have been cheating him. Well, I reckon you were right. Barney must have found out and issued some kind of ultimatum. It was a fatal mistake.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me Tony Whybrow had my husband killed. And you’re also telling me to do nothing about it.”

“Nothing… for the moment.” He took out Unsworth’s card and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?”

“Unsworth is Scotland Yard’s man at Europol. That’s his personal number. According to him, Starburst International is a front for big-time EU fraud. The sort of thing you read about. VAT. CAP. Generous slices of Brussels payola. I’m assuming you didn’t know. Is that right?”

Carol smiled faintly and shook her head. “I didn’t know.”

“Unsworth’s offer is this. Put some hard documentary evidence of illegality his way and you get immunity from prosecution when they move on Starburst. You also get to keep whatever capital you’ve taken out of the company to date. Tony carries the can. Well, as finance director and the brains behind all the scams, so he should. It’d be the best kind of revenge, Carol. The kind he deals in himself.”