Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

A good question. ‘I don’t know,’ said Toby. ‘But I do know she can’t have killed him.’

The woman’s shoulders slumped. ‘Whoever she is, she’s innocent until proved guilty, I get that. And she’s your wife, so you think she’s innocent. I get that too. But I don’t care. If the police find she’s guilty I hope they lock her up and throw away the key. If she’s innocent, then they can let her go. I won’t want to see her then, and I don’t want to see you now. Do you understand me?’

Toby nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘Good. Now let me get back to my shitty life. Goodbye.’

She turned and left Toby watching her forlornly.

‘Was that Sam’s girlfriend?’ Bill asked at Toby’s shoulder.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I suspected it might be. I thought it best to leave her alone.’

‘Good call,’ said Toby.

‘Did they ask you about Craig’s death?’ said Bill as he drove Toby back to Barnholt.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you tell them anything?’

‘No.’

‘Good man,’ said Bill.

Toby’s phone buzzed. It was Piet. Toby ignored it.

Toby stared out of the window at the industrial buildings guarding the northern outskirts of King’s Lynn, dismal beneath a layer of grey clouds that was gathering from the south.

He thought of his disastrous conversation with Sam Bowen’s girlfriend. He had just been thinking of himself, how he wanted to express his own sorrow and sympathy for her. He hadn’t been thinking of her. She clearly had no interest in him or his sympathy, and why should she?

She had a point about Alice. Lisa Beckwith’s strategy was all very well, but if Alice was innocent, surely the easiest way to get her off the hook was to prove it to the police? Or give them enough information so they could figure it out for themselves.

It was true that Alice knew what had happened on the submarine, she knew that was secret and she took that seriously. But if Sam had told the world that her father had saved it back in 1983, would that be such a bad thing? Would it be worth Alice killing Sam for?

The answer was clearly no.

Maybe defence solicitors had learned through experience that being helpful didn’t work as well as keeping quiet and being obstructive. That was probably because most of their clients were guilty.

Then it dawned on Toby.

He turned to Bill. ‘Does Alice’s solicitor think she killed Sam Bowen?’

Bill focused on the road ahead. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

Then an even more troubling thought occurred to Toby. ‘Do you think Alice killed him?’

‘Of course not,’ said Bill.

But he didn’t take his eyes off the road; he didn’t look at Toby.

Toby wasn’t sure he believed him.

When they returned to Barnholt, Toby went up to his bedroom and Bill scurried off to his study.

Toby had just flopped on to the bed, when there was a knock at the door. It was Megan. ‘Want to grab some lunch?’

‘Sure. There’s got to be some cold turkey left.’

‘I was thinking of going out. To the King Willie. I need to get away from this house.’

‘Won’t it still be cordoned off?’

‘It might be. If it is, we can go to Thurstead. There’s a good pub there, I think.’

‘All right.’ Toby pulled himself off the bed. ‘Shall we ask your dad?’

‘Let’s not ask my dad. With everything that’s going on, I bet he’s doing his needlepoint in his study. We wouldn’t want to disturb that.’

It had just started to rain, but the walk was only five minutes. The King William was now open, although there was a police car stationed at the entrance to the car park, an officer sheltering inside. Toby nodded to him as they entered the pub.

The pub was virtually empty, just two couples in their sixties eating lunch, and a man in painters’ overalls refreshing himself with a quick pint. A fire crackled in a large brick fireplace, its sweet smell tempering the sour odour of stale beer.

Toby ordered two pints of Wherry, a ploughman’s for him and a scampi and chips for Megan, from a middle-aged woman with bright-yellow hair in a ponytail. A disconcertingly large wart drooped from a sagging cheek.

‘When did the police let you open?’ Megan asked.

‘Just half an hour ago,’ said the woman. She glanced around the empty bar. ‘We should have more people here on a Saturday lunchtime.’

‘Do you think the murder will put them off?’ Megan asked.

‘I don’t know.’ The woman looked guilty. ‘But it’s not the kind of thing I should worry about, at least not yet. That poor man!’

‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’ said Megan. ‘He was visiting us. He stayed for Thanksgiving dinner, just before he died.’

‘And I saw him when he got back here,’ said the woman. ‘He was full of good cheer. He told me he enjoyed your dinner.’

Her warm smile turned into a frown. She fingered the wart on her cheek.

‘Yes,’ said Megan. ‘It’s my sister who they’ve arrested. But they’ve got the wrong person. Alice didn’t kill him.’

The landlady took a moment to decide how to respond. ‘Oh, I do hope not,’ she said. ‘She looked like such a nice young lady. She came to visit Mr Bowen that evening. It was almost closing time — they had a quick drink and then they both went up to his room.’

‘How long was she with him?’ Megan asked.

‘Oh I don’t know. I didn’t see her come down. Or him, as a matter of fact. I found him in the morning when I brought him his coffee. He was collapsed by the side of the bed, still wearing his clothes. At first I thought he’d had a heart attack or something, although he seemed a bit young for that. Then I saw the blood.’ She shuddered. ‘Dreadful. Was your sister his girlfriend? The police didn’t say.’

‘She wasn’t,’ Megan said. ‘This is Alice’s husband.’

Toby smiled at the landlady stiffly.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean to imply—’

‘Of course not,’ Toby said. ‘Thursday was the first time they had met.’

‘That will be twenty-two forty,’ said the woman, shutting down the conversation.

Megan chose a table with a view of the green. An old red telephone box stood a respectful distance from the much older cross. It no longer housed a payphone, but a defibrillator. A nice idea but, as the landlady had discovered, there were some sudden attacks for which it was no help.

‘It kind of feels like the family is falling apart,’ Megan said. ‘Alice locked up. Brooke and Maya running away. Mom’s gone. And Dad seems so fricking evasive. It feels like me and you are the only ones who still care. Which, given my track record, is downright weird.’

‘Your track record?’

Megan shrugged. ‘I was always the naughty one of the four of us. And I lost it when Mom died. Made some poor life choices. Dropped out of college and ran off with a guy who made a living spreading malware on the Internet. I wound up my dad at every opportunity, and Alice — like the time I skipped your wedding at the last minute. And probably the reason I’m quitting my job and doing this waitress thing in New York is to piss them off. I’m surprised they put up with me. Alice must have told you?’

‘She did say you were difficult,’ Toby admitted. ‘Although I’m not sure that’s the way you seem to me.’

Megan flashed him a quick smile. ‘Oh, I am. She was right. I used to take all the stuff she did for us all for granted. But now... I don’t know. We need to get her out of jail.’

‘We do.’

‘What did you think of her lawyer?’

‘She’s a tough nut and she’s clearly competent. But I’m worried she thinks Alice killed Sam.’

‘Really? Isn’t it her job to think Alice is innocent?’