Майкл Ридпат - Fatal Error

‘No. It’s not that. I want to talk to you about your husband’s death.’

‘Oh.’ Sabina sat down at the kitchen table. She clearly wasn’t excited about the subject, but she seemed willing to talk, for the moment at least.

‘I was the one who saw Tony just before he died. And I also saw the private detective who was waiting outside his flat. I understand from the police that he hasn’t been charged. I wondered what he was doing there?’

‘I hired him,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘I was worried about Tony’s safety.’

‘Really?’ My eyebrows rose. ‘So he was a sort of bodyguard?’

‘That’s right.’ Sabina fiddled with a spoon on the table. ‘A bodyguard.’

I didn’t believe her. If Tony needed a bodyguard he would have organized one for himself. It was obvious that Sabina had hired a private investigator to spy on her husband for the reason that wives always hire private investigators to spy on their husbands. She just didn’t want to admit it to me. Which was understandable.

The kettle boiled. Sabina busied herself with the tea.

‘How long were you married to Tony?’ I asked as she handed me a mug.

‘Three years last April. We met five years ago at a party in Cannes. I was working for a film company. There was instant chemistry between us. I’ve never known anything like it. After the festival he flew over to Germany to see me: I was working in Munich at the time. We fell in love.’

‘I’m very sorry about what happened to him, by the way. Sorry for you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, biting her lip.

‘I only saw you for a few minutes this summer. But you seemed to be very fond of each other.’

‘We were,’ she said. ‘Then.’ She looked at me doubtfully. She wasn’t much older than me and at that moment she seemed young and vulnerable. She wanted to talk.

‘Then?’ I said quietly.

‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Until I found out he was having an affair. That’s why I hired Leonard Donnelly. I overheard Tony talking to a woman on his mobile. I checked the last-numbers-called on his phone later when he wasn’t looking and got the number. It was British. London. So I contacted a private detective agency and asked Mr Donnelly to watch Tony next time he went there. It was a terrible thing to do, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing another woman. I mean, what did he find wrong with me?’

A very good question, I thought.

‘After Andreas was born I was convinced he didn’t think I was attractive any more. I wanted to know who this other woman was.’

‘Did you find out?’

‘Yes.’ Sabina looked crushed. ‘It was the wife of a friend of his. Mr Donnelly thinks she is forty-eight. I was humiliated. And very angry.

‘And then... Then he was killed. Can you imagine how bad I felt then? I hadn’t stopped loving him. In fact, it was because I loved him that I was so angry with him. It almost destroyed me. And now, whenever I think of him, I think of him and her. I wish I’d never heard that phone call. I wish I’d never hired Mr Donnelly.’

‘Do you have any idea who might have killed him?’

‘No. None.’

‘What about business enemies? I remember reading many years ago that he forced out his partner.’

‘That was many years ago. In fact, the man died last year. Cancer, I think. No, it’s a long time since Tony’s property days. He hardly ever spoke about them, and I never met anyone from then.’

‘What about in France? Had he made any enemies there?’

‘Oh, no. Or none that I’m aware of. No, I don’t think so.’

‘So what was this man Donnelly up to?’

‘Well, as you can imagine, the police had lots of questions about him. They thought I might have paid him to do it. But he’s not that kind of man, and they know that. Anyway, I was the one who first told them about him.’

‘He must have seen who did run Tony over?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘But I don’t see how he can have missed it?’

‘I don’t know the details. I don’t want to know the details.’ Sabina shuddered, her face pinched. ‘Why are you asking all these questions?’

‘Tony’s death was very close to home. I don’t know whether it had anything to do with Ninetyminutes. The police haven’t got anywhere. So I thought I would check, myself.’

‘I’m sure the police will find who killed him in the end.’

‘I hope so. What are you going to do now?’

‘I’m not sure. I’m not living in Les Sarrasins, that’s for certain. I’ll stay here with my parents until I decide what I want to do. According to Patrick, Tony left me quite well off. And, of course, he left me Andreas.’

Her eyes began to fill with tears. I decided it was time to leave.

I caught the first flight to London the next morning, and was in the office by ten. Guy didn’t know and didn’t care that I had spent the night in a Munich airport hotel. I did some research on the Internet and soon located Leonard Donnelly. I phoned his number and spoke to a man who informed me he was Donnelly’s partner. I made an appointment to see Donnelly that afternoon.

His office wasn’t far from Hammersmith tube station. There was a doorway right next to a bookmaker’s with a steel plate proclaiming AA Abacus Detective Agency. Not very imaginative, but it had snared Sabina. I pressed the bell and climbed the dingy stairs in front of me. AA Abacus was on the second floor, and I was greeted by Mr Donnelly himself. I recognized him, as much from the photograph Spedding had shown me as from when I had seen him in his car that night. He was thin, with small bright eyes that quickly moved over me. He was wondering whether he recognized me too.

He led me into a small office with two desks, two computers and lots of filing cabinets. Both desks were empty. His partner was out on the streets. There was a funny smell in the place. Damp or drains or both.

‘Take a seat, Mr Lane,’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’ He spoke rapidly in a clipped Irish accent.

‘We’ve met before,’ I said, sitting down. ‘Or, if we didn’t actually meet, we saw each other.’

Donnelly nodded, and smiled a thin smile. In doing so he displayed protruding front teeth with a clear gap between them. I wished I’d seen them when I was describing him to Sergeant Spedding.

‘I saw you waiting in a car the night Tony Jourdan died,’ I began.

‘I know.’

‘I was wondering if you could tell me what happened. What you saw.’

‘I told the police.’

‘I know. Now perhaps you would tell me.’

Another smile. Those teeth again. ‘Doing a little detective work, are you, Mr Lane?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Now, why would it be in my interest to help you?’

I had anticipated his question. I pulled out five twenties. ‘I believe you make your living by providing information for a fee. There’s the fee.’

Donnelly glanced at me. I had no idea what the right amount to offer him was. He could see that. He could also see that I was keen to get the information.

‘That’s quite true,’ he said. ‘But I charge more than that.’

‘How much?’

‘Two-fifty. Including VAT.’

I counted out another five notes. ‘Two hundred. That’s all.’

Donnelly pocketed the notes.

‘What do you want to know? I warn you I can’t divulge any private information relating to my client. That would be unethical.’

‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Just tell me what you saw that evening.’

Donnelly took a well-worn notebook out of a desk drawer and thumbed through it until he found the right day. The smell seemed to me to be getting worse. I glanced at the window. Shut.