‘I want you to know straight away, Joe, that I’m going to try and cover your back on this. I simply won’t tolerate one of these instant witch-hunts. I loathe the modern revolving door mentality.’
Thanks, Harry. But not necessary.’
Without appearing to have heard. Harry ploughed on. ‘I’m going to try and argue that Pitch’s business was a poisoned chalice all along - which it was. God only knows. And I’m going to send you on holiday. No arguments. I understand stress, Joe. I know only too well what it does to people.’
‘I don’t need a holiday. Thanks anyway.’
‘But this flu …’
Anna had tried to persuade Joe to request bereavement leave but, dreading explanations, he had refused, and allowed her to talk him into a marginally less awkward dose of flu. ‘I’m fine now, really. It’s not a question of a holiday. Harry. It’s whether I’m the right person in the right job.’
‘For God’s sake, Joe, you’re a hard worker, you’re conscientious.
It’s just on the interpersonal front that you’ve been selling yourself short. Nothing that can’t be worked through.
In time.’
‘We’ve definitely lost Ritch, have we?’
The baldness of the question caused Harry a momentary shiver. ‘Yes.’
Joe had got the story of Tuesday’s video conference from Anna on his return from Wales the previous night. In Joe’s absence one of the department’s rising stars had been hauled in to make up the numbers, a quick-talking Oxford First with a brilliant intellect and a bypass in common sense, all gas and no wind, as Anna put it. ‘None of which would have mattered a damn,’ she snorted, ‘if Harry had been on time.’ But Harry wasn’t on time, he was held up in traffic on his way back from another meeting, and in answer to a simple question from Ritch the Oxford First had started spouting precedent and appeal court rulings and all the things that Ritch was paying the firm huge amounts of money not to hear. Every time Anna tried to bring the discussion back to strategy and results - the two subjects that generally held Ritch’s attention - the Oxford First began to expound on the nuances of recent case law.
‘Chapter and bloody verse,’ Anna sighed. She had tried everything, kicking his ankle twice, passing him notes, but he was not to be deflected. ‘No,’ she moaned despairingly, ‘he knew his stuff backwards, and, boy, was he going to tell us!’ By the time Harry waltzed in beaming his ears off, Ritch was smouldering quietly, she said, a bomb just waiting to go off. ‘It was painful to see, Joe. Harry in empire-conquering mode, opening the floodgates of his charm, the full gamut, from A to B, outrageous flattery, huge stinking dollops of it, calling Ritch “one of the great business minds in oil exploration today”, and saying things like “but I don’t need to tell you that, Mr Ritch - you’re the master negotiator”. I mean, please. Reach for the vomit bowl! And guess what, not only does Ritch fail to respond to this charm offensive, he is hugely underwhelmed.
And Harry can’t see it! He can’t believe that his tried and tested smarm and charm isn’t going to save the day. He just digs himself in deeper and deeper. When Ritch finally says, “This man’s a load of shit,” honestly, Joe, I almost exploded there and then. Almost shrieked. It was only the sight of Harry being so deeply tragic, and the suspicion that you were going to end up carrying the can that stopped me stone dead.’
Recalling this, seeing the sweat that even now stood in beads on Harry’s temples, Joe felt a passing sympathy for him.
Charm, ease of manner, facilitation were his watchwords, and when they failed him he had nothing to fall back on.
Joe said, ‘If we’ve lost the client, I think I’d rather walk before I’m pushed, thanks all the same.’
Harry slid forward until, like Joe, he was sitting on the edge of the chair with his forearms resting on his knees. ‘But, Joe, I couldn’t let you do that,’ he said unconvincingly. ‘I really couldn’t. It was a team effort. We all bear some responsibility.
Of course we do.’
Knowing the effort it must have taken Harry to say this, Joe reassured him. ‘I think it’s time for me to move on anyway.’
The light of deliverance crept into Harry’s eyes. ‘Well …
if you’re sure, Joe.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘These things can sometimes be for the best of course. If you’re positive?’ Without waiting for a reply, he added, ‘And it goes without saying that I’ll write you a reference. No question, Joe. Absolutely none.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Yes … You may be right, Joe. Not everyone’s cut out for the long haul at the coalface.’ Harry had never been too strong on his metaphors. ‘There’ve been times when I’ve wondered if it’s worth the hassle.’ He held up a hand as if to ward off cries of disbelief. ‘Oh, I may look as though I’ve never lost a night’s sleep, but I’ve had my fair share of cold sweats at three in the morning, believe me. The risks, the end game, the big picture.’
With these confidences his tone became positively avuncular.
‘So where’ll you aim for, Joe? One of the other big firms?’
‘Something more low-tech, I think.’
Harry nodded rapidly, then, deciding he had missed the central thrust of this remark, raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
‘More community-based.’
‘Community,’ he echoed uncertainly. ‘You mean, private clients?’
‘A small general firm, anyway.’
‘Less money, Joe.’
‘Yes.’
‘Fewer prospects.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
Harry gave a short laugh, as if he’d finally sussed it. ‘Less pressure.’
‘I don’t know about that. But more pay-back anyway.
More job satisfaction.’
This was one mystery too far for Harry. His eyes shaded over, he said briskly, ‘What’re your contractual terms, Joe?
Without the proper three months’ notice, it’s usually just a month’s salary, but I’ll try for more. Can’t promise, mind. You know how the contracts people are. Well, they would be, wouldn’t they?’ he added with a grin.
At the door, Harry shook Joe’s hand, a double-handed sandwich in the American style. ‘It’s been good, Joe. Thanks for all your hard work. And, Joe? Half an hour okay?’
For an instant Joe thought he meant lunch.
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll send someone along for your pass. You know how tedious Security are about these things.’
When Joe emerged onto the litigation floor Anna glanced up from her work so rapidly he knew she must have been looking out for him. Reading his smile, she offered a tentative grin, a questioning thumb up.
‘Okay?’ she asked, meeting him at the entrance of his cubicle.
‘I’m out of here in’ - he looked at his watch - ‘twenty-seven minutes.’
‘You mean—’ Her face turned from sunny to stormy. ‘The bastard!’
‘No. It was me. I jumped.’
‘The shit,’ she hissed, unmollified.
‘Believe me, I’m glad.’
‘But Joe, it’s not right! Harry should take some of the blame.’
‘He did.’
‘He didy She was immediately reduced to pleading, ‘But what about me? You can’t desert me! Look at them all.’ She gestured towards the bowed heads in the line of cubicles.
‘Earnest to a man. Heading for mock-tudors in Carshalton. I won’t survive this place without you.’ Then, slumping against the desk in a pantomime of dejection, she gave a long sigh and said more seriously, ‘I’m just jealous, of course.’
‘Nothing to stop you, Anna.’
‘Don’t tempt me. What will you do?’
‘I’m not entirely sure.’
‘Well, if it’s legal and exciting, will you let me know?’
Rooting through a drawer, looking for any oddments he could call his own, he said, ‘How about a celebration lunch?’
‘But you’re already booked.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, reception called and said your lunch appointment was waiting downstairs.’
She was wearing black and seated like a supplicant, knees and feet pressed together, head of wavy blonde hair bent low, forehead propped on one splayed hand.
‘Kate?’
Her head shot up, her large blue eyes brilliant with resentment.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she cried.
‘About Chetwood?’
‘Of course about Jamie! What else but Jamie!’
Tm sorry—’
‘My brother gets arrested and you don’t tell me!’
Joe moved to sit next to her, but she jumped up abruptly, she made a sweeping gesture as if to push his hand away.
Taken aback by her vehemence, it was a moment before he managed to say, ‘We thought it was best not to tell anyone unless absolutely necessary.’
‘But it was in the papers! Daddy saw it. Daddy! How could you not tell me first!’
,‘Kate, I only got back yesterday. I was going to call you this morning. Really. I had no idea it was going to be in the papers. I thought they weren’t allowed to publish his name.’
‘But Daddy knew straight away! From the age, the way they talked. Straight away!’ Then, moving on impatiently, she grasped his arm, she tugged on it hard. Her huge eyes seemed to bulge a little. ‘Tell me they’ve got it wrong, Joe! Tell me they realise they’ve made an absolutely terrible mistake! Tell me they’re going to let him go! Tell meF
‘Calm down, Kate. Just calm down.’
‘No, tell me!’ she demanded at fever pitch.
Something in Joe’s past had long since cautioned him against scenes of emotional frenzy, and now he raised a staying hand. ‘You really must calm down.’
Kate pulled away, she blinked hard, as though this implacability had revealed him in a new and rather daunting light.
Controlling herself with an effort, she gasped obediently, ‘Please:
‘Okay,’ he said in a voice that was deliberately unhurried.
‘The situation is that Chetwood was arrested on Tuesday morning, but has not been charged.’ He repeated it slowly, as though explaining it to a child, which was perhaps how he saw her just then. ‘He has not been charged. They held him for as long as they were allowed to hold him, which was a day and a half, and then they released him on police bail.’
‘You mean he’s free? He’s out of danger?’
‘Not necessarily. They could still charge him.’
‘But they can’t!’
Tm afraid there’s still a possibility.’
‘But you mustn’t let them, Joe! You’ve got to stop them!
You’ve just got to. It’s mad to think Jamie could ever do a thing like this. He’s simply not capable of it! You must do something!’
‘We’re doing our best, Kate. We’ve found the best lawyer in the area. The best lawyer for miles. He’s doing everything he can for Jamie.’ Aware of his own more immediate deadline, he said, ‘Look, I’ve got to go and pick up some stuff from the office. Give me two minutes and we’ll go and find somewhere to talk.’
But Kate was still in the grip of her wild undirected panic.
She cried in a series of gasps, ‘Ines said she was strangled! Ines said—’
‘We don’t know that,’ he interrupted firmly. ‘We don’t know anything of the sort.’
‘But someone killed her - that’s what they’re saying! Why couldn’t it have been a burglar? Or a rapist? Why does it have to be Jamie? Why not someone she just invited in! I mean, she always had to have someone around, didn’t she? Always had to have some adoring man at her feet, feeding her ghastly her ghastly’ - she groped furiously for the expression - ‘self-obsession. She probably got bored and asked someone in - a complete stranger. Why not? A man she just picked up somewhere. Much more likely than Jamie!’
Joe took a long breath. When he finally spoke, it was in a low voice. ‘I’ll be five minutes, probably less.’
Searching his face, finding the rebuke there, Kate seemed to become aware of what she had said, and gulped as if to take back her words. ‘Yes. All right,’ she whispered in a voice that was suddenly very small.
Back at his desk, Joe scooped the accumulated personal detritus of five years into two carrier bags, and hugged Anna farewell.
‘Remember,’ she said sternly, ‘anything legal. No, on second thoughts make that anything.’
The litigation floor was sparsely populated. Most people were on their lunch break, and rather than put the few at their desks through the thankless task of finding something uplifting to say to him he decided to slip away.
When he returned to the front hall, Kate was standing quietly, shoulders bowed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to … I’m sorry, Joe.’ She touched her fingers to his lapel, she stroked it lightly like a child asking forgiveness. ‘It’s all been such a huge shock.’
The wine bars were crowded, the pubs not much better, so he took her to a restaurant. She wasn’t interested in the menu so he ordered for both of them. He gave her wine and watched her drink it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, and gave a sweet apologetic smile, a forlorn look from the round blue eyes. ‘I just find the whole thing so unbearable, you see. I feel Jamie’s got no one to care about him. No one on my side of the family anyway, Daddy pretended to be horrified when he read the paper well, maybe he was - but I know he was secretly pleased as well, because it confirmed everything he’d ever said about Jamie. About the bad blood coming out. All his worst predictions come true! He phoned me specially. Wouldn’t leave a message, except to say he had something to tell me. He knew I’d been meeting Jamie in London. He knew we’d got to know each other, and he just couldn’t wait to rub my nose in it!
Couldn’t wait to tell me what a very wicked person Jamie was!
It was just awful!’
In anger, she seemed petulant. The doll-like features which had appeared so pretty when she giggled had taken on a sulky look, her wide mouth was pinched into a pout of indignation.
He said, ‘When did you speak to Ines?’
‘Oh, I tried her all last night. I tried you all last night. I finally got through to her this morning. But she was in her car and it was a bad signal and all I heard was that she’d been in Wales with you, and Jenna had been strangled. Then we were cut off.’
Kate wasn’t entirely calm, but she was getting there, and Joe decided it was as good a time as any to take her through the rest of it. ‘We managed to find Chetwood a good lawyer.
He’s Dafydd Elwyn Roberts, a specialist in’ - he almost said ‘murder’ - ‘serious crime. He thinks the authorities haven’t been able to establish the cause of death with any certainty.’
‘But Ines said—’
‘There was bruising on her neck, that’s all we’ve been told.
But Elwyn Roberts is pretty sure the postmortem must have been inconclusive because the police have called in another pathologist for a second opinion. And now Elwyn Roberts has called in his own man as well, a top guy from London, to do a separate postmortem. So a lot rests on what these pathologists decide, whether they think this bruising indicates strangulation, whether it could have been one of several factors contributing to her death, whether it was simply a by-product of the fall.’
‘Then … Jamie might be all right after all?’
‘Can’t say until we know what else the police have. Or think they have.’
Her face fell, and again he was reminded of a child: the speed with which her moods changed, and the transparency of her emotions. ‘But what else could they have?’
‘We don’t know. Obviously they need to find a motive—’
‘Well, that’s right! He had no reason to kill her! He was so incredibly good to her! So incredibly kind! He put up with all her behaviour! How can they think he wanted to kill her!’
‘Well, they seem to be fixed on the idea that he was playing away. Th
at Ines was more than just a cousin.’
Kate met his eyes unwaveringly as she said, ‘Well, that’s ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.’
With the memory of their conversation in the tack room reverberating in his mind, Joe waited for a flicker of recognition from her, some acknowledgement of the need for present and future complicity, but there was none.
‘Nevertheless, that seems to be the way they’re going,’ he said at last. ‘Along with Jenna’s mental health. They’ve been asking a lot of questions about her breakdown, whether it caused problems in the marriage.’
‘Ridiculous!’ Kate declared sweepingly. ‘He was so loyal!’
‘And then there’s the matter of his alibi.’
‘Yes?’ She was urging him on.
‘The problem is that no one’s sure when Jenna died. There’s a gap of four days between when she was last seen and when the neighbours got back from their weekend away and realised she was missing. For the first two days Chetwood was in Mexico or on his way back from Mexico, The next two days he was in London.’
‘Well, there you are then!’
‘The problem is, he was with Ines.’
‘Well, why on earth shouldn’t he be?’
‘The second problem is that he can’t find any way of proving it. No receipts or restaurant bills or fuel stops on the way home.’
‘Oh.’ Gradations of understanding, concern and pessimism filtered over Kate’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, frowns came and went, until her expression settled into one of despondency. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Oh dear. Oh dear.’
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