I looked at her blankly. ‘I don’t know,’ I said lamely. ‘Maybe he thought that key would never be used again. Maybe he just forgot . . .’
‘I can’t imagine Robin ever forgetting anything,’ responded Julia. And she managed a wry smile.
‘I have to know,’ I whispered. ‘I have to know for sure.’
Julia nodded. When she spoke again she sounded quite businesslike.
‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘And I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions until we have more proof.’
‘How?’ I asked mournfully.
Julia’s frown deepened. Then she slapped the table top with her free hand.
‘Got it,’ she said. ‘Couldn’t you do a check on passengers flying out of Heathrow to Ireland on the morning after my fire?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘But surely he wouldn’t have checked in under his own name.’
‘Robin travels to Ireland regularly, doesn’t he?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, there are family connections and he is involved in several property deals there.’
‘Then he would know that although travel between Ireland and the UK is officially passport-free, the airlines frequently ask either for passports or some sort of identification,’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘They’re still pretty security conscious. If Robin flew out of Heathrow that morning I don’t think he would have risked a false name. He could all too easily have just ended up drawing attention to himself. I think he would have used his real name. He wouldn’t have expected anyone to check the passenger list. After all, he would appear to have arrived in Ireland as scheduled by train and boat. He had an alibi. You took him to the railway station, for goodness’ sake. Look, if it hadn’t been for the key we wouldn’t be doing this now, would we?’
Without responding I went to the telephone and called the police at Heathrow. I knew one officer serving there and I asked for him by name. I had to do this under the old pals act – a straightforward approach would have set alarm bells clattering. I doubted there was a bobby in the country who didn’t know about DCI Rose Piper, Robin Davey and the Abri Island disaster.
My mate was off duty until the following day.
‘Now what?’ I asked Julia.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘We ought to carry on as normal until we know for certain. But that means you driving back to Bristol later this afternoon, as arranged. And, well,’ she paused, then continued bluntly, ‘I don’t like the idea of you going back to the man, I really don’t.’
‘I’m going to have to, aren’t I?’
She half-nodded. ‘I suppose so,’ she murmured eventually.
I told her I’d be fine. Strangely enough, I still wasn’t afraid of Robin. But I was afraid of having to face him, of having to pretend that everything was normal.
If Robin and I had been alone together that evening I am not sure that I would have been able to pull it off. The dinner with the AKEKO chairman made it just about possible. Indeed Robin and the Japanese businessman seemed to have so much to talk about that I was mercifully required to make very little conversation. There was the familiar glint in Robin’s eye when talking about Abri, and the plans to rebuild, to which AKEKO were undoubtedly now every bit as committed as he was. Robin’s continued obsession with the island had concerned me enough even before I had learned all that I had that day, and, with the offending key tucked carefully in a corner of my handbag, it was a struggle for me to keep up any semblance of normality. However, if Robin noticed anything amiss, he said nothing, except to remark casually on the way home that I had been unusually quiet.
‘Couldn’t get a word in edgeways,’ I said lightly, and that had seemed to satisfy him.
In bed that night I disgusted myself. I let Robin make love to me. Only that’s not an honest description. I told myself that I was only doing so in order not to rouse his suspicions, but the truth was that physically I wanted him as much as ever, I responded as passionately as ever. I didn’t have to pretend. A part of me wondered desperately if this could really be the last time and cried out for it not to be, and I was ashamed. I wept when I came just as I had the very first time. He kissed me gently, turned over and went straight to sleep.
I lay awake all night. The physical relief that he always brought me had heightened rather than lessened my mental anguish.
As soon as he left for the office the next morning I called Heathrow. My old pal was on duty, but as I had expected he immediately sussed out the significance of my request. He agreed to help me with great reluctance and only after I had made all kinds of promises and told several white lies.
Then I sat and waited for him to make his enquiries and call me back. It was a long three hours before the phone rang. I picked up the receiver with trepidation. The caller was Julia. And she went straight to the point.
‘I’ve done a bit of checking myself this morning,’ she said. ‘On the night of the fire the train timetables changed and the Fishguard train left Bristol twenty-five minutes earlier than previously. Robin would have missed it, wouldn’t he?’
‘Almost certainly,’ I replied in a voice that held no expression any more.
I could feel the world closing in on me. I told her that I was still waiting to hear from Heathrow. She said she wished she was with me, that she was about to meet Kendal and finally gain access to her flat, and that I was to phone her there as soon as I had any news.
I hung up and the phone immediately rang again. This time it was the call I had been waiting for.
The morning after the fire in Julia’s flat a passenger called Robin Davey travelled to Cork aboard the first British Airways flight out of Heathrow.
Twenty-Three
I couldn’t wait. I didn’t have time to call Julia. That would come later. Within minutes I was in my car and on the way to Robin’s office.
I walked straight in, not even acknowledging the secretary he shared with the business partner I had only once met. Robin, elegant as ever in a dark grey pin-striped suit, was sitting sideways at his big leather-topped desk with his long legs stretched out. His shoes had a mirror shine to them. It occurred to me obliquely that I had never seen him wearing shoes without a deep shine, except perhaps on Abri or at his mother’s farm. And there was always a razor-sharp crease in his trousers. He was talking on the telephone and he looked up enquiringly as I entered, smiled the to-die-for smile and gestured me to a chair.
I ignored the gesture and, remaining standing, tore my wedding ring off my finger and threw it at him. It would have hit him in the face except that he raised his left hand, fending the ring off so that it dropped back on to his desk. He stopped speaking in mid-sentence and replaced the phone in its cradle.
‘It’s strange how people get caught out,’ I said.
I put my hand in my pocket, took out the key to Highpoint, still with the label attached saying ‘Julia’ in my handwriting, and held it in the palm of my hand.
‘Your only mistake,’ I said, glancing down at it. I looked up at him again, genuinely curious. ‘Why didn’t you replace it with Julia’s key after . . . afterwards?’ Again the slight pause, the stumble, the difficulty in putting the dreadful deed into words. ‘We might never have known,’ I continued.
I studied him carefully, watched the gradual realisation dawn, and saw him turn grey before me. In the space of a minute he aged ten years. His shoulders slumped. He didn’t even try to kid me any more because he knew there was no point. Robin was sensitive to my every mood, to my every thought. He recognised the sea change within me. There was defeat in his voice when he replied, although he managed a wry twisted smile, almost as though he were amused by the absurdity of what he was about to say.
‘Would you believe I lost the key, that there was a hole in my trouser pocket . . .’ He stopped then, as if only just realising what he had begun to admit.
I had no intention of letting him off the hook. Not this time. Not any more. Robin had made me forget all too often that I was a police officer. At last
I hoped I was at least beginning to remember, although I knew perfectly well that I should not really even have been confronting him in the way that I was. But some things in life you just cannot stop yourself doing – and I, of all people, was acutely aware of that.
‘I also know that you flew from London to Cork on the morning after Julia’s fire,’ I told him flatly.
He said nothing. There was an awful blankness in the blue eyes which had so captivated me.
‘So you see,’ I continued conversationally, fighting to keep all emotion out of my voice, ‘I know that you tried to kill Julia, and I know how you did it. I know that you came back to the house when you realised you had missed the Fishguard train, that you overheard my telephone conversation with Julia, and that you took the key to her flat out of the cupboard at home and replaced it with your own old Highpoint one. I am also quite sure now that you abandoned Natasha on the Pencil. And you have forty-four other deaths on your conscience – if you have any conscience. I just wish to God I knew why you did it all.’
I could see that Robin was trying to evaluate what I had told him, the evidence that I had put before him. This time I just waited, although it seemed a very long time before he eventually spoke.
‘Why?’ he repeated, and he was not looking at me, but at some distant place somewhere above and beyond my head. ‘I am a Davey. I am the heir to the legacy of centuries. I could not lose Abri. I could not go down in history as the Davey who lost our island . . .’ His voice trailed off. He switched his gaze, focusing on me. His voice was unusually rough when he spoke.
‘You could never understand. Why should you? What do you know about the responsibility, the burden, of inheritance? What do you know about land, about old families, their traditions and their fortunes? You have no conception of what any of that means. You never felt a damn thing for Abri.’ He gave a derisory snort. ‘But then, how could you?’ he sneered. ‘A bloody little policewoman from Weston-super-Mare.’
His eyes narrowed, and he spat out the next words. ‘I should never have married you!’
I flinched. In spite of all that I now knew, I hated to hear him say that. I forced myself to maintain control.
‘But surely Natasha understood,’ I said quietly. ‘She came from the right kind of background . . .’
He interrupted me, his voice unusually high-pitched. ‘She was perfect. Perfect. But when she found out about the mines and the maps I held back from AKEKO she just wouldn’t let up on it. Kept insisting that I hand over the maps, or at least have a full mining survey done. AKEKO would never have gone ahead if they’d been aware of the extent of the network of shafts on Abri. I knew that – but I never believed they were dangerous. They’d been there for 150 years. Natasha would not listen to reason . . .’
Even at that moment I wondered how he could say that. Forty-four people had died and more than twice as many had been injured, yet he still appeared to think that his had been the voice of reason.
‘She just said she wouldn’t allow me to take risks with other people’s lives . . .’ he went on.
‘So you decided to take hers. Just like that.’
He looked as if he were going to respond straight away, then changed his mind. Dramatically he switched tack.
‘No, no, I will not give in to you, I will never admit it, never, not any of it,’ he cried. Swiftly he got up from his chair, came around to the front of the desk, took me by both shoulders and began to shake me.
‘How could you do this to me?’ he shouted in my face. ‘How could you? I love you, you stupid bitch. I was obsessed with you from the start. Do you think I would have chosen to get involved with a fucking police detective? I couldn’t help it, I loved you so much.’
‘And I have loved you, Robin,’ I said. Although I was becoming afraid of him I remained surprisingly calm. ‘More than you will probably ever know.’
The words made some kind of impact, I think. He stopped shaking me, and stood back. I could see him physically pulling himself together, trying to clear his thoughts. That public-school training again, I thought obscurely. I had managed to keep hold of the key. Curiously, perhaps, he hadn’t even tried to take it from me. I put it back in my pocket.
‘As for being obsessed with me, Robin, the only obsession you have ever had is Abri Island,’ I carried on. ‘You once told me that you loved the place more than life itself. I now know, without doubt, that to be the absolute truth, and that you were prepared to do anything, put hundreds of lives at risk and even commit cold-blooded murder, anything at all, in order to keep your island.’
His eyes were still blazing. ‘Think what you like,’ he snapped. Then he seemed to make another resolute effort to regain control.
‘In any case,’ he said, in a quieter, less hysterical voice. ‘The evidence you have is still flimsy. Whatever you think you might know and proving it are two different things.’
‘It is my professional opinion that there is enough evidence on which to build a substantial case against you,’ I replied evenly.
He stared at me for a few seconds. You could almost see the wheels turning over inside his head. Once more he changed direction dramatically. He had always been quick to react, quick to grasp at any advantage he might have in however tight a spot. He even conjured up a small to-die-for smile as he played his final card. The card which had invariably been his trump.
He reached out very gently with one hand and touched the side of my face. Suddenly his eyes were smouldering instead of blazing, and his voice was husky when he spoke again.
‘You won’t be able to do it,’ he said. ‘You’d miss what we have too much, wouldn’t you? Remember last night? Remember how you felt inside? I think you must have known then, or very nearly, but you couldn’t stop yourself wanting me, could you? Couldn’t stop your body exploding for me. I’ll bet you’re still tingling from it.’
I could feel the heat of his breath now. He leaned abruptly forward and kissed me on the mouth, his tongue pushing my lips apart, seeking my tongue. He was so confident of his power over me. The nerve of the man was staggering. I willed myself to feel nothing.
Outside I heard the sirens of police cars. Brakes squealed. Doors slammed. Robin heard it too. He stepped back and he looked more surprised than anything else.
‘It’s all over,’ I told him, and I rubbed my mouth against my sleeve to rid myself of his taste.
Epilogue
Three months have passed. Robin has been charged with the murder of Natasha Felks, attempting to murder Julia and the manslaughter of the forty-four people killed in the Abri disaster.
I am still in shock. I feel numbed by the immensity of all that has happened. It takes a huge effort of will for me just to get out of bed in the mornings. I don’t know how long it will be before I can function properly again. Nonetheless, I am also aware of a certain relief. At least it has ended. I know the worst now.
I am being helped to cope – allegedly – by the attentions of assorted doctors and, of course, those strange people called counsellors who read into my state of mind peculiarities that I haven’t previously considered. Mostly they want to give me drugs of one sort or another, usually hiding under fancy names, but still drugs. I continue to prefer to drown my sorrows in The Macallan, which both Julia and I consider to be one of the few signs of hope around.
Robin was arrested the same day that I summoned the police to his office and has been remanded in custody ever since. I have not seen him again, and neither do I ever wish to do so. I have received several letters from him which I have returned unopened. Sometimes, just sometimes, there really is nothing to say.
He will stand trial before the end of the year. Predictably, however, he plans to plead not guilty, which means I will have to face a Crown Court cross-examination, from a brief no doubt already looking forward to having wonderful fun with a Detective Chief Inspector who has failed so dismally both professionally and personally.
The Crown Court cannot force me to give evidence against m
y husband, of course, but what choice do I have? I really couldn’t live with myself if I refused.
I suppose I always realised that my overwhelming passion for Robin made it impossible for me to be objective about him. I still cannot believe, though, quite how blind I was. Julia, who seems to be totally well again, thank God, says it wasn’t like that – I saw, but I wouldn’t accept. That might be worse, I reckon. Julia also says I’m to remember that a government enquiry which sat for several months completely exonerated Robin – and even she did not really suspect that he was guilty until almost the very end.
‘Surely nobody expects intelligent reason in anything the Government does, and you have the excuse of having suffered brain damage,’ I told her glumly.
‘Thanks,’ she said, raising her eyebrows at me. But I knew she didn’t mind. She is as glad as I am that I am recovering – if not my sense of humour – at least my sense of the ridiculous. I reckon I’m going to need it.
I have resigned from the force, of course. Ultimately I felt I had no choice. I didn’t see how I could go back, or even how I could expect The Job to have me back. I no longer even want to remain a policewoman. Curious, I suppose, as my career has always been the driving force of my life. But I now know with absolute certainty that it cannot continue.
Peter Mellor has been promoted to Detective Inspector and not before time. He came to see me when he heard that I was quitting and told me he was going to miss me. I’m not sure if he was telling the truth but if he was fibbing, then I’m grateful to him for bothering. He also told me he would continue, on my behalf, to drive Titmuss the Terrible barking at every opportunity.
On the day Robin was arrested, and I eventually stopped kidding myself that there was even the slightest chance that he might be an innocent man, it felt as if my life was finished, not just my career. Now I am trying to make myself believe that I can start again. I have to build from scratch. Even the basic foundations of my old life have been ripped from beneath me.
For Death Comes Softly Page 29