The Man Who Died Twice (The Thursday Murder Club)

by Richard Osman

  I felt I should say something. I don’t know why, it just seemed about time, so I said, ‘We were very fond of Poppy,’ and he said, ‘Who’s Poppy?’ and I said, ‘She shot your friend Andrew, remember? And then you shot her, yesterday.’

  At this you could sort of see he gave up. Perhaps I don’t seem harmless any more? That will be annoying if it turns out to be the case.

  He confronted Elizabeth and said I don’t know who sent you, and she said we sent ourselves, and he looked at us and said he could believe that. Then he said, ‘Cards on the table, can I trust you?’ and Elizabeth said, ‘Not really, but if you didn’t kill Douglas, and if you want your diamonds back, we’re probably the best bet you’ve got.’ And then he told his story.

  Yes, the diamonds had been real, and yes, they had been stolen. I think we all knew and agreed on this point already. Yes, he had found out Douglas was responsible, and yes, he had threatened him. Ron said, ‘I would have done too, to be fair,’ and Lomax thanked him for that.

  You could smell the last of the honeysuckle in the air; it climbs up the side of the house. A west-facing wall is best for it, I learned that on Gardeners’ Question Time. Gerry was the gardener in the family, not me, but I still listen to it because it reminds me of him.

  Lomax then admitted that he had sent Andrew Hastings to Coopers Chase. The way he told it, he had just wanted to give Douglas a scare. To force Douglas to tell him where the diamonds were. Then Poppy stepped in, shot Andrew Hastings, and Lomax was left a man down and none the wiser.

  Elizabeth asked how he knew they were at Coopers Chase, and Lomax said that MI5 were very leaky, and I asked Elizabeth if that was true and she said it certainly used to be.

  Poppy and Douglas were then whisked away, and Martin Lomax said he had no idea where to, so had given up the chase. Elizabeth asked if he hadn’t tried MI5 again, and he said of course he had, but no information was forthcoming. Presumably far fewer people knew about the new safe house.

  Lomax then asked if we knew where the diamonds were, and we confirmed that we didn’t. And then he said he was likely to be driven out to sea and shot dead if they didn’t turn up sharpish. And you could tell that was the truth.

  This is my point about boring men and exciting men. Gerry would never be driven out to sea and shot, but he was a hundred times more exciting than this Lomax. And Gerry didn’t look like Blake Carrington, but perhaps if he had then he might not have ended up with me? Which is not a thought I’m comfortable entertaining. In certain lights he looked like Richard Briers though.

  Ron asked if he could use the toilet, and Lomax said there was one in the stables, and Ron said couldn’t he use one in the house, and Lomax said no chance. Nice try, Ron. I don’t think he wanted to go snooping or anything, I think he just really needed the loo.

  Elizabeth gave Martin Lomax her card (when did Elizabeth get a card? She kept that quiet) and told him that if what he said was true then we had a shared interest in finding the killer. Lomax agreed, and Elizabeth said to ring her if anything cropped up, and she would do the same in return.

  I took my chance and went into my bag and pulled out a friendship bracelet. Lomax looked horrified, which I am getting used to, but I explained it was for charity, and Elizabeth assured him I wouldn’t leave until he’d bought one. I had one that was gold and green and I thought quickly and said the green was for the garden and the gold was for the sun. I was going to say that the sequins represented the diamonds, but I decided not to push my luck.

  I asked him which charity he wanted his money to go to, and he shrugged, and I said to just pick a favourite charity. He said he didn’t have one, and asked who people normally gave the money to and, because I was standing with Elizabeth, I suggested Living With Dementia. Then he asked me how much they were and I told him that was up to him, and he didn’t seem to understand that, and I said, you just give what you can afford. I was looking at the house when I said that.

  He nodded, reached into his jacket and pulled out a cheque book. A cheque book! Even I don’t use cheques any more, and I’m seventy-seven. He wrote his amount on the cheque, then folded it up. He handed me the folded cheque and I handed him the bracelet.

  He seemed meek as a lamb at that point. But then he said, ‘Are you all finished?’ and when we said we were, he looked at each of us in turn, like a butcher sizing up a cow. It was quite unnerving.

  ‘I bet they all lap it up, don’t they?’ he said. ‘The three of you. Harmless little gang. The police, MI5, they buy this act?’ Elizabeth agreed that people do seem to buy it, yes, and Martin Lomax nodded and said, ‘Doesn’t work with me, I’m afraid. I don’t care if you’re eighteen or eighty. I’ll kill you regardless. You understand that, don’t you?’

  It was quite frightening, if I’m being honest. I have to remind myself sometimes that this is not a game.

  Elizabeth said that of course we understood, and that he was being ‘admirably unambiguous’.

  Then Lomax said, ‘Charm doesn’t work on me,’ and Ron said, ‘More power to you,’ and then Lomax said, ‘If you find my diamonds, and you don’t bring them straight to me, I will kill you. If you even suspect where they are without telling me, I will kill you.’

  He doesn’t hold back, I will say that for him. In a way it’s refreshing, because at least we know where we stand.

  Then he said he would kill us one by one. He pointed at Ron and said he would start with him. Ron gave us an ‘it’s always me’ gesture. And he’s right, it always is.

  ‘We’ll be sure to let you know then,’ Elizabeth said. ‘If we find them.’

  And this is how it ended. Lomax said, ‘I don’t want to kill you.’ Ron said, ‘Sure.’ Lomax said, ‘But I will, without a second thought,’ and Elizabeth said, ‘Message received and understood.’

  By this time Ron really, really needed the toilet, so we said our goodbyes.

  We did actually have a quick turn around the garden after that, because it was very lovely, and then Bogdan drove us home. I asked him to do some Arabic on us, which he did. Just one to ten.

  Elizabeth believes Lomax, that he didn’t kill Douglas and Poppy. I told her I thought he was unconvincing and she said well, that was just the thing. Liars like Lomax always sound at their most unconvincing when they’re telling the truth. They’re simply not used to it.

  So who did kill them? She has a theory, and she has invited Sue Reardon down to the village to test it out. I know not to ask by now.

  By the way, earlier, when I said Elizabeth is a terrible flirt, I didn’t mean she’s a terrible flirt like I’m a terrible flirt. I mean that when she flirts she’s terrible at it. Really all over the place. I like to see things Elizabeth is bad at. There aren’t many, but at least it levels the playing field a bit for the rest of us.

  As I say, we slept all the way home, so it wasn’t until I got in that I remembered the cheque, and got excited.

  I opened it up and it said ‘five pounds only’. Well, thank you ever so much, Martin Lomax; lucky old Living With Dementia.

  38

  Ibrahim had suggested they hold the evening at his place. He feels pressured at the moment to get out of the flat. To do things. Ron has suggested they go for ‘a walk’ sometime. Ron! They are worried about him, and Ibrahim isn’t enjoying the feeling. Ibrahim likes to be no trouble. Ibrahim feels like he is beginning to melt away and, right now, that’s fine by him.

  ‘Do you know I have a theory?’ says Elizabeth, already three glasses of wine to the good.

  ‘You surprise me, Elizabeth,’ says Sue Reardon. Sue has a glass of wine too, despite this, officially speaking, being business for her. Perhaps she is oiling the wheels? She will be no match for Elizabeth, regardless.

  ‘Some people in life, Sue, are weather forecasters, whereas other people are the weather itself.’

  Elizabeth had rung Sue on the way back from Hambledon, and wondered if she might be free to pop over for a chat? Sue had been delighted to, and had driven straight down.
Ibrahim had ordered in Domino’s pizza.

  ‘My favourite weather forecaster is Carol Kirkwood on the BBC,’ says Joyce. ‘I always think we’d get on.’

  Joyce had popped round half an hour before the rest, and she and Ibrahim had looked at dogs on the internet. Joyce is on Instagram now too, and was trying to engage him in that. He was losing interest, but then Joyce showed him some videos of a woman solving cryptic crosswords.

  ‘The weather forecasters,’ continues Elizabeth, ‘and here that’s me and Ibrahim, we always have our fingers in the air trying to feel which way the wind is blowing. We never want to be surprised or caught out.’

  True, thinks Ibrahim.

  ‘You’ll feel the way my wind is blowing in a minute,’ says Ron, lounging back on one of Ibrahim’s armchairs, finishing a slice of pizza before dunking a chocolate digestive into his red wine.

  ‘Whereas Joyce and Ron, you are the weather,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You move as you choose, you act as you feel. You make things happen without fannying around worrying about what those things might be.’

  ‘You can’t predict things,’ says Ron. ‘Why try?’

  ‘But you can predict things,’ says Ibrahim. ‘The tides, the seasons, nightfall, daybreak. Earthquakes.’

  ‘None of that is people, though, mate,’ says Ron. ‘You can’t predict people. Like you can guess what they’ll say next, but that’s about it.’

  Ibrahim is back in the gutter for a moment, tasting blood. He tries to shake it off.

  ‘There’s no point overthinking anything,’ says Joyce. ‘I agree with Ron.’

  ‘Well, of course you agree with Ron,’ says Elizabeth, finishing her glass. ‘The two of you are peas in a pod.’

  ‘How many times do you ring me, Elizabeth, first thing in the morning, and say, “Joyce, we’re going to Folkestone,” or, “Joyce, we’re going to an MI5 safe house”? “Joyce, pack a flask, we’re going to London”?’

  ‘A lot,’ admits Elizabeth.

  ‘And do I ever ask why?’

  ‘Well, there’s no point, darling, I would never tell you.’

  ‘So I just pack my bits and bobs, look up the train times and off we go. I always know it’s going to be fun. No overthinking.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s always fun because I plan it,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You just have to worry about whether to put on a big coat.’

  Ibrahim sees Sue risk a peek at her watch. When are they going to get to the good stuff? That’s what she’s thinking. What does Elizabeth know? Does she know where the diamonds are? That’s why Sue had driven down through the dusk. Good luck to you, Sue.

  ‘Let me tell you this,’ says Elizabeth to the room, clearly not planning to talk about diamonds any time soon. ‘The first trip I ever went on with Stephen was to Venice. He wanted to look at the art and the churches for a weekend, and I wanted to look at him for a weekend.’

  ‘That’s romantic,’ says Joyce.

  ‘Looking at a man you love isn’t romantic, Joyce,’ says Elizabeth. ‘It’s just the sensible thing to do. Like watching a television programme you like.’

  Ibrahim nods.

  ‘Anyway, on the way over Stephen had said, let’s do the whole weekend without guide books, let’s just wander, let’s get lost, let’s turn a corner and see magic we didn’t know was there.’

  ‘OK, well, that is romantic,’ says Joyce.

  ‘No, that’s not romantic either, that’s deeply inefficient,’ says Elizabeth.

  ‘Agreed,’ says Ibrahim. Look where spontaneity has got him.

  ‘I know Stephen. I know Stephen won’t be happy unless he sees Tintoretto’s Golden Calf, and Bellini’s altarpiece at the San Zaccaria. Unless he finds a beautiful hidden bar serving cicchetti and spritzers to locals. He doesn’t want to turn left and find a local government office, or turn right and find an alleyway full of heroin addicts who steal his watch.’

  ‘I’m sure that wouldn’t happen,’ says Joyce.

  ‘Well, of course it wouldn’t happen,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Because I’d spent the previous two weeks studying every guide book under the sun. So off we strolled, arm in arm, wandering aimlessly, me with a perfect map in my head, and we were lucky enough to stumble across the San Francesco della Vigna, what a pleasant surprise! And then we were fortunate to pass in front of a beautiful little bar I’d seen Rick Stein in on BBC2 …’

  ‘Ooh, I like Rick Stein,’ says Joyce. ‘I don’t like sea-food, but I do like him.’

  ‘And then, lo and behold, we turned a corner and found ourselves in the Madonna dell’Orto, and we’re up to our ears in Tintorettos and Bellinis. It was the perfect trip and, as far as Stephen was concerned, the whole weekend was one magical accident. And that’s because he is the weather, and I am the weather forecaster. He believes in fate, while I am fate.’

  ‘Gerry and I never used to plan our weekends away,’ says Joyce. ‘And we always had a wonderful time.’

  ‘That’s because Gerry planned them and never told you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Because things are more fun for you when they’re not planned, and they were more fun for him when they were planned. It’s best to have one of each in every relationship.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ says Ron. ‘Marlee and me were both weather.’

  ‘You got divorced twenty years ago, Ron,’ says Ibrahim.

  ‘True,’ says Ron, raising his glass a touch.

  ‘I don’t wish to be a party pooper,’ says Sue Reardon. ‘But are you going somewhere with this, Elizabeth?’

  She is trying to hurry things along a bit, thinks Ibrahim. But Elizabeth will go at her own pace.

  ‘Why would I be going somewhere with it?’ asks Elizabeth.

  ‘Because you asked me down here this evening. And now you’ve taken me by the hand, you’ve led me left and right. And I just wondered, where are we going? What’s around the next corner? Why do I feel I’m being led into an alleyway full of heroin addicts?’

  ‘Well, you’re not,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You’re eating pizza in a room full of doddery pensioners, what harm could possibly come to you? I was only making conversation.’

  Joyce snorts, and she and Ron roll their eyes at each other.

  ‘Out with it,’ says Sue.

  ‘Well, it really is nothing, except, we went to see Martin Lomax today.’

  ‘Did you now?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, yes,’ says Elizabeth. ‘And we are minded to think he didn’t kill Douglas and Poppy.’

  ‘I see,’ says Sue.

  ‘Although I wasn’t there,’ says Ibrahim. ‘On account of my bruising. I would love to have been otherwise.’

  You liar. He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to stay in. What was left for him? He was enjoying this evening, at least.

  ‘And it all started me thinking about Douglas in a little more detail. I don’t know if you knew him all that well?’

  ‘Well enough,’ says Sue.

  Elizabeth nods. ‘Well, you would think he was the weather, wouldn’t you? The way he just blows through people’s lives. Having affairs and divorcing people, left, right and centre. But he’s not. Douglas was a weather forecaster. Douglas planned everything. If Douglas sent me a message saying he had something to show me, then he had something to show me. And if he was going to show me it at five, he’d be damned sure he was still alive at five. Douglas was very, very careful with words.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ says Sue.

  ‘I’m saying, what if Douglas showed me exactly what he wanted to show me? He wanted me to see his dead body?’

  ‘Just like Marcus Carmichael,’ says Joyce.

  ‘Who’s Marcus Carmichael?’ asks Ibrahim.

  ‘Well, quite,’ says Elizabeth, wiping orange fingers on a white serviette. ‘Sue, can I ask you something? I imagine you’ll have thought of it already, but regardless?’

  ‘Anything you like,’ says Sue. ‘Who is Marcus Carmichael?’

  ‘Look him up, there’ll be a file,’ says Elizabeth. ‘How
was Douglas’s body identified?’

  ‘Oh, here we go,’ says Ron, and takes a swig of his red. ‘I knew you had something up your sleeve.’

  ‘Meaning, was the body definitely Douglas?’ asks Sue.

  ‘Meaning precisely that,’ says Elizabeth.

  ‘You think he faked the whole thing, and took off with the diamonds?’ says Ron.

  ‘I think it’s a possibility,’ says Elizabeth.

  ‘You must have faked some deaths over the years, Sue?’ says Joyce.

  ‘One or two,’ agrees Sue. ‘Douglas was wearing the clothes he was last seen in, he had his wallet, all his cards and so on, but of course he would.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Elizabeth.

  ‘But these days it’s all done on DNA matches if there’s no next of kin. The doctor took a swab, the lab matched it to his file. It was Douglas.’

  Elizabeth drinks and thinks. Eventually she nods. ‘Those two statements don’t follow, Sue, you know that. If Douglas had a plan, he had a plan. If he needed the DNA to match then it would.’

  ‘True,’ agrees Sue.

  ‘So who there could have tampered with the DNA? Anyone?’

  Sue thinks. ‘I could have done, Lance could have done, at a push, the doctor could have done – she wasn’t our usual, but she’s very experienced. I suppose someone in the lab? We do it all on-site now.’

  ‘Forty years of nursing teaches you it’s always the doctor,’ says Joyce, reaching for the white wine to top up her glass.

  ‘So it’s possible it’s not Douglas?’ asks Elizabeth.

  ‘It’s possible, yes. It would take an unlikely chain of events, but it’s possible,’ says Sue.

  ‘But that’s what good plans are, isn’t it?’ says Elizabeth. ‘A trail of events so unlikely it throws you off the scent. Who would go to all that trouble? That’s how I would get away with something, that’s how you would get away with something, and that’s how Douglas would get away with something. Make it … complicated.’

  ‘He was probably having an affair with the doctor,’ says Joyce. ‘He had affairs with everyone, Sue. No offence, Elizabeth.’