Michael Ridpath - See No Evil

Of course he knew Kim had got married. And whom she had married, even if he hadn’t recalled her husband’s first name. Todd was the son of Cornelius van Zyl, a newspaper tycoon originally from South Africa who owned the Herald, a British mid-market tabloid, and other newspapers in America and elsewhere. The wedding had caused a stir among the group of friends from Cambridge which Calder kept up with, and although some of them had seen Kim since then, Calder hadn’t. Which was a shame. They had been good friends at university, sharing an overcrowded student house in the Kite in their second year.

‘So what brings you to Norfolk?’ Calder asked as he returned to their table with the drinks.

‘We were over in England visiting with Kim’s folks,’ Todd said, ‘and we figured we would drop in and see you on the way back down to London.’ His accent was odd, almost standard English, but with traces of American and South African. Of course, Norfolk was nowhere near a straight line from Liverpool to London, but no doubt Calder would find out what they wanted later.

‘So you left the City?’ Kim asked. ‘Last time I saw you you’d just joined Bloomfield Weiss.’

‘Yes,’ said Calder. ‘I stuck it out until a couple of years ago. I enjoyed the bond trading, and I was pretty good at it too, but the office politics got a bit much for me.’

‘We read about that business with the hedge fund,’ Todd said. ‘Kim got all excited that she knew you. It sounded like quite a mess.’

‘It was,’ Calder said. Calder had uncovered a scandal the previous year involving Bloomfield Weiss and a large hedge fund that had connived with the investment bank to hide losses of hundreds of millions of dollars. A woman who worked for Calder had been killed as a result. When the scandal eventually saw the light of day Calder had received his fifteen minutes of fame. People still occasionally spoke to him about it.

‘And now you’re running this flying school?’ Kim said.

‘With my business partner, Jerry. It’s going quite well, we’re building up a nice reputation. But it’s a struggle just to break even.’

‘Did you think about going back to the RAF? I loved the idea of you whizzing about the sky dropping bombs and things. It was so you.’

‘They wouldn’t let me fly fast jets any more. I injured my spine ejecting, which is why I left. I suppose I could try and join an airline or something, but I like running my own show.’

‘You’ve got some nice airplanes there,’ Todd said. ‘What was that big single-engined plane with the red star on the side?’

‘Oh, that. It’s a Yak. A Yak-11, made in 1956. The insignia is from the old Russian air force. It’s great to fly.’

‘Looks cool.’

‘I’d take you up if the weather wasn’t so bad.’

Todd’s interest perked up. Kim frowned. Calder was amused to see Kim cast in the role of worried wife.

‘What about you?’ he said to her. ‘You were off to Harvard to do an MBA.’

‘That’s where I met Todd. Then I worked for a management consultancy in Philadelphia. I usually don’t admit it but I rather enjoyed myself. Lots of telling people what to do and then waltzing off before you see the damage you’ve caused. But now we live in a little town in New Hampshire. Todd teaches English at a boys’ school there. And I work in the local hospital administering things.’

There was the tiniest tinge of resentment as Kim said this. Not enough to be rude or disloyal, but just enough for Calder to pick up. And for Todd, of course, who stiffened slightly.

‘We decided to get out of the race,’ Todd said. ‘I was working for my father—’

‘Todd just couldn’t stand it,’ Kim interrupted. ‘He realized the newspaper business just wasn’t what he wanted to do. Somerford is a beautiful little town and we love it there.’

Calder couldn’t quite see Kim getting out of the rat race. She was more the type to elbow herself to the front. She glanced at him quickly, seemed to read his thoughts, then moved a hand on to her husband’s as if to reaffirm her loyalty. It was funny how he could still tell what she was thinking all these years later.

Calder picked up the menu. ‘Shall we order something? The fish here is usually delicious. It’s all caught locally.’

They ordered, then Calder leaned back in his chair. ‘So, what’s up?’

Kim and Todd exchanged glances. ‘Actually, we wondered if you could help us with something,’ she began.

‘I hope so,’ Calder smiled.

‘It’s to do with Bloomfield Weiss.’

Calder’s smile disappeared.

Kim noticed, but ploughed on. ‘You probably remember who Todd’s father is?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Calder admitted.

‘Right. Well, Todd’s mother, Martha, was American. They lived in South Africa, near Cape Town. When Todd was about sixteen she was killed in a game reserve near the Kruger Park in the north of the country. The authorities said she was murdered by guerrillas but Todd has never believed that, have you, darling?’ Kim touched her husband’s sleeve.

‘How long ago was this?’ Calder asked.

‘In 1988,’ Todd said. ‘When South Africa was still under apartheid rule.’ He hesitated, glanced at Calder, and then went on. ‘I was at boarding school in England at the time. My mom and dad were going through a difficult patch, the worst I’d seen by a long way. Things had been really tense the last time I was home and that was the main reason I arranged to spend part of that summer holiday staying with a friend in England. Mom was unhappy about that.

‘The fights got worse and Mom decided to go off by herself to a private game farm near the Kruger Park for the weekend. It’s a bit of a mystery why she chose that particular reserve; it was a place called Kupugani and she’d never been there before.’

Todd swallowed. Kim’s hand tightened on her husband’s arm. Todd was staring into his beer, seemingly unaware of her or Calder. ‘I pestered my father until he told me what happened. They put her up in a cottage a few hundred yards away from the main camp. It was the morning, she was alone in bed and the other guests had gone off on the morning game drive.’ He swallowed again.

‘You don’t have to tell Alex if you don’t want to,’ Kim said.

‘No, that’s OK, unless you don’t want to hear it.’ Todd glanced up at Calder. Calder could tell he wanted to talk.

‘Go on.’

‘The cottage was next to a dried-out river bed. Apparently, guerrillas used to come through the area after entering South Africa from Mozambique. If they were picked up they would claim they were refugees. The police said a group of them passed through Kupugani that day. They saw the cottage and Mom inside, and one of them fired through the window from the far side of the river bed. Mom was hit by three rounds in the chest. She was killed instantly.’ His voice quivered and he paused to compose himself. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a long time ago and you’d think I was over it by now, but I don’t see why anyone would want to do that to my mother. She was a wonderful woman. She believed in the struggle, in the abolition of apartheid; she always said that was one of the main reasons she married Dad and moved to South Africa.’

‘But you don’t think the guerrillas shot her?’

‘No,’ Todd said. ‘It’s too convenient. It wasn’t just a random killing.’

‘Martha knew someone was going to kill her,’ Kim said. ‘Or at least she had a strong suspicion someone was going to try.’

‘How do you know this?’ Calder asked.

‘Martha’s mother, Todd’s grandmother, died a couple of months ago,’ Kim said. ‘Todd was looking through her papers when he found a letter to her from Martha. In it she says that she has discovered some information about Zyl News which if it came to light would destroy everything. She seems very frightened. She also mentions a diary which she wants her mother to find and keep safe. We...’ Kim paused and glanced at her husband. ‘We think that this information might give us a better idea of why she was killed and who killed her.’