Cliff Hardy: Deep Water Part 9

Kindness in another's trouble,

Courage in your own.

Bit ba.n.a.l maybe, but his bust is in Westminster Abbey. Les Murray'd never make that.

11.

If Margaret had a disturbed night I didn't know about it. I woke up from a sound sleep to the smell of coffee. I found her in the kitchen in white silk pyjamas and a kimono-style dressing gown, pressing the plunger.

'Morning, Cliff. That bed's okay. I slept just fine. Coffee?'

'You bet.'

'Toast?'

'No, thanks. Orange juice with my b.l.o.o.d.y pills and coffee and that's it.'

'I'm ravenous.'

She put two slices of bread into the toaster and poured the coffee.

'I could do you scrambled eggs,' I said. 'I remember how from my cholesterol days.'

She laughed. 'Maybe another time. Who's the woman in the photo, if you don't mind me asking?'

I didn't. 'Lily Truscott. We were together for nearly five years. She was murdered. That's one of the reasons I took off for the US.'

She studied me for a moment, then nodded and dealt with her toast. We were sitting across from each other in the breakfast nook.

'You wear a preoccupied look now and then. Would that be about her?'

'Sometimes it would. Sometimes about Megan; sometimes, quite often, about myself. And about your father ... and you.'

'Tell me now what you haven't told me.'

I gave it to her straight-the dumped and burnt car, the signs of her father having been held over time, the possibility of torture of some kind, maybe triggering the fatal heart attack. She took it well. Probably the nurse training helped, but there was something else working in her, holding her together. When I finished she reached across the table and touched my hand.

'Thanks for telling it like it is, Cliff. I hate being patronised ... protected. I'll see Dad's lawyer and find out exactly what's coming my way. Probably a lot, and you know what? My first priority is to find out who killed him. Mr Bachelor and you ... you'll stay on it, won't you?'

'We will, but ...'

'I know, no guarantees.'

I told her about the attack on Hank's office and how, thematically, that tied in with the burning of her father's car but otherwise didn't point solidly in any direction. Likewise, the securing of the drawings. I didn't mention the approach from Phil Fitzwilliam-given Fitz's corrupt history that could tie in almost anywhere.

'Is Megan okay?' she said.

'Swimming laps the very next day.'

'I'm looking forward to meeting her again.'

Margaret showered, dressed pretty much as she had the day before with a fresh blouse, and I drove her to Newtown. She sent her daughter another text message on the way. She'd seen the house, now she saw the office in all its austerity. She could have no illusions about the size of the operation. Didn't faze her. The carpet had been replaced and the petrol smell was faint. The door to the office, previously always kept open, was closed and a peephole had been installed.

'How do the others feel about what happened?' I asked.

Megan smiled. 'I'm the heroine of the hour. They're just glad the whole joint didn't go up in flames.'

Margaret was businesslike with Hank, friendly with Megan. She used the phone to arrange a hire car and called for a taxi to take her to the depot. I'd given her a key to the house.

'See you back there,' she said, and was off.

'Staying with you, is she?' Megan asked.

'For now. I don't know what her plans are. She makes her own moves as you see. How're you going with the quarries?'

'Okay. I think I've got them all and I'm plotting them on a map. I'm most of the way to tracking down who actually owns them.'

'And?'

'Tell you when I finish.'

She was wearing a bandanna around her head. I pointed to it.

'How's the wound?'

'Healing. My swim cap covers it and protects it neatly. Faint scar maybe. Doesn't worry me. Could be s.e.xy.'

'Funny,' I said, 'I've never found that to be true.'

'You've probably got too many.'

I went into Hank's office and asked him what he was doing.

'Cleaning up a few things and working on getting some inside dope on Tarelton.'

'How?'

'I've located the guy who installed their computer network.'

'That'd be a shocking breach of confidentiality.'

'Wouldn't it? I like our client. She says she'll back us all the way.'

I nodded. 'Question is, how far will we get?'

'Think positive. What're you doing?'

'Working on a hunch.'

'Oh, yeah? Be secretive. Secretive is good.'

My notes had not looked wrong-headed in the morning. Rather the reverse. I phoned Josephine Dart.

'Mr Hardy. I've seen the reports about Henry. Do you have any other news?'

'I'm afraid not, but I'd like to see you. Today, if possible.'

She sighed. 'I antic.i.p.ated that. Yes, you can come here, now if you wish.'

I thought I might've been met with reluctance, but not so. She sounded almost relieved, and I had a feeling that perhaps I was making some progress as I drove to Dover Heights again. She met me at the door as before but her manner was very different. Defensive? Apprehensive?

The flat had the same appealing lived-in look with a touch of neglect at the edges. Josephine Dart was dressed as before, simply and elegantly, but with strain showing in her face. I wasn't offered coffee. We stood in front of those windows full of blue sky and grey-green sea.

'You know, don't you?'

'I'm only guessing.'

'I gave you something to guess with, didn't I?'

'Secrets are hard to keep and they don't always do you any good. Just a few things you said had me wondering.'

'It's a relief, actually. So just a few words steered you in the right direction?'

'Not really,' I said. 'When I sat down to think about it, Henry McKinley came across as just too good to be true.'

'He was my lover.'

I nodded. 'Did your husband know?'

She smiled. 'Oh, so you're only halfway there.'

She turned away from the window and walked across to a drinks tray I hadn't seen on my last visit. She dropped ice cubes into two gla.s.ses and poured solid slugs of scotch. She held the drink out towards me in a hand that barely shook.

'Have a drink,' she said. 'Yes, Henry was my lover and Terry knew because they were lovers, too. And there were others.'

part two.

12.

It all came out in a rush. The Darts and McKinley had been involved in a menage trois with a difference, in that McKinley was the lover of both partners in the marriage. The arrangement had started almost ten years before, she said, and had continued happily right up until McKinley's disappearance.

'Are you shocked, Mr Hardy?'

'Nothing shocks me except reality television and house prices.'

She smiled. 'A man of the world.'

'You said there were others.'

'Yes, occasionally. Another man, or another woman. I wasn't going to have both hands tied behind my back, if you follow me.'

'And no friction, ever?'

'Scarcely ever, and then it was quickly overcome.'

'I don't mean between you three. I meant from the others.'

'Only once. A few years back. A man Henry met somewhere. He joined us a few times but he became ... possessive.'

'Of who?'

'Of me. Terry and Henry persuaded him that his behaviour was unacceptable. I believe he protested but he didn't persist.'

'Do you know his name?'

'Oh, no. No names. No real names.'

I looked around the flat. 'Easy enough to find out who you were.'