Майкл Ридпат - Fatal Error

I found my relationship with her slowly changing. I began to miss her when she was out of the office. I would go and talk to her about issues that I should have been able to deal with by myself. I would watch her in meetings. And when I was alone at the end of the day, or when I was travelling, I would think about her.

This all crept up on me. When I did finally realize what was happening, it unsettled me. I wasn’t sure what to do about it, if anything.

I had hoped talking to Mel about Guy would clarify things, but it had just made them more opaque. I wasn’t sure what Mel’s real views on Guy and Dominique were. And although I had been firm in my opinion that there was nothing going on between Guy and Ingrid, Mel’s suspicions had stayed with me. They nagged at me and raised another question I had wanted answered for a long time.

Ingrid and I were sharing a taxi to our ad agency in Soho. Except we weren’t going anywhere. They were digging up High Holborn and the only thing moving was the meter. Ingrid was staring out of the window at the pedestrians overtaking our cab at a stroll. She checked her watch. ‘We should have taken the tube.’

‘Too late now. You said we didn’t have time.’

‘See that man there? The one in the Barbour? I bet you five quid he gets to those next traffic lights before we do.’

‘You’re on.’

Three minutes later I handed her five pounds. The taxi moved forward ten feet.

We were locked together in the back of the cab. The driver’s window was shut. A wall of noise from pneumatic drills seemed to shield us from the street outside.

‘Ingrid?’

‘Yes?’

‘About Mull?’

‘Mull?’ she said in surprise.

‘Yes, Mull.’

She tensed. ‘What about Mull?’

I swallowed. Afraid to ask the question, but knowing I had to ask it some time and now was as good a time as any.

‘Why?’

Ingrid looked at me. ‘You asked me that then. I never answered you, did I?’

‘No.’

‘You deserve an answer.’ She sighed. ‘I could say I was drunk and Guy seduced me. And that would be true. I’m sure that if I’d been sober I’d never have gone into his room. But I wanted him to seduce me. And I didn’t want to say no.’

‘Why not? Especially given what he’d done to Mel?’

‘I guess I just wanted to see what it was like. I admit it, I was attracted to him. And the fact that I knew nothing would come of it made it more exciting. I could sin for a night and forget it. I’m not proud of it, not proud of it at all. I was stupid. I lost Mel as a friend. And you.’

So now I knew. But knowing made me disappointed in Ingrid. I had assumed she was different, but she was just like all the rest of them, queuing up for Guy’s favours.

‘If it makes any difference,’ Ingrid said, ‘it didn’t go any further. He flew back on his own the next day and I took a ferry to the mainland and a later train to make sure I missed you and Mel. I felt pretty small.’

I looked away from her. But it did make a difference.

It was ten o’clock and I was tired. Time to go home. I was shuffling the papers around on my desk ready for the next day, when I noticed a legal document. Damn! Guy was going to Paris first thing in the morning to finalize discussions with the man we had found to set up an office there. And I had forgotten to give him the contract.

I dialled Guy’s home number. No answer. Tried his mobile. Switched off. Damn, damn, damn. I stuffed the contract into an envelope, grabbed my briefcase and walked up to Clerkenwell Road, where I hailed a cab for Wapping.

The driver dropped me outside Guy’s building with his meter running. I told him I would only be a minute. I followed a woman into the building and took the lift up to the second floor. I rang the bell.

No answer. Bloody hell. What was plan B? Should I wait here, or try to meet him at Heathrow the next morning? Or was he flying from City Airport? I range the bell again.

This time I heard muttering. ‘All right, all right.’ A few seconds later Guy opened the door in his dressing gown. He seemed surprised to see me.

‘Sorry to get you up,’ I said. ‘I forgot to give you the contract when you left this evening. You couldn’t really go to Paris without it, so I took a taxi here. It’s waiting outside.’

‘OK, OK,’ said Guy, with impatience. ‘Give it here.’

I was a little put out at this. I had, after all, taken a taxi significantly out of my way to get the bloody document to him. OK, I should have remembered to give him the contract, but then he should have remembered to ask for it –

‘Hi, David.’

I looked up. There was Mel. Wearing one of Guy’s T-shirts that was barely long enough to cover her. Her blonde hair was tousled. She was smiling.

I glanced at Guy. A spark of irritation flashed in his face. I noticed he had been sweating.

‘Hello, Mel,’ I said, smiling back at her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘You said your taxi’s waiting,’ said Guy.

‘Yes.’ I backed out of the hallway.

‘Thank you for this,’ he said.

‘Bye, David,’ Mel called over his shoulder.

‘Goodbye.’

‘Davo,’ Guy whispered as he saw me out of the door. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you? Be a mate.’

I didn’t answer him. I turned and took the stairs down to my waiting taxi.

It was late morning, not even twelve o’clock, and the Elephant’s Head had just opened. While Guy was in Paris I had decided to take the opportunity to check out his story. Somehow, seeing him with Mel the night before had spurred me on. The Elephant’s Head was a darkened pub just by Camden Lock. At this time of day it was very quiet. I ordered a Coke from the woman behind the bar.

‘Were you working here in September?’ I asked her as she was pouring it. She was a big blonde woman, who looked like she wouldn’t take any nonsense from anyone and wanted people to know it.

‘I’ve been here almost a year,’ she replied in an Australian accent. ‘Why?’

‘Do you remember the police asking about two men drinking in here one evening? It would have been Tuesday the twenty-first.’

‘Maybe.’

This was not going to be easy.

‘What did they ask you? What did you say?’

The Australian woman was suspicious. ‘Why should I tell you?’

Why indeed? There could only be one reason. Feeling slightly awkward, I pulled two twenty-pound notes out of my trouser pocket and laid them on the bar in front of her. A couple of early drinkers at a table were immersed in conversation. There was no one else to see us.

‘It can’t do any harm,’ I said. ‘You’ve already told the police. I’m just looking for confirmation.’

The woman considered asking more questions but then thought better of it and reached out to take the money.

‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘Two detectives came in. They said they were investigating a murder. They showed us pictures of two blokes. One was a big ugly feller with white hair. The other was much smaller. We’d seen them that night. The smaller one was getting pissed. The big one was drinking Red Bull and watching him. They left at about nine.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘It was nine or thereabouts. On his way out the big one barged into one of our staff coming in to work. He was late. He remembered how late.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Cheers.’ I drank the Coke and left the bar.

I walked out on to Camden High Street. The Europa Owen had visited was about a quarter of a mile away. I found it and wandered up and down the cramped aisles. There were three cameras in there, pointing at the till and various parts of the shop hidden from the view of the shopkeeper.

Fortunately, it was quiet. I picked up a packet of biscuits and took it to the till.