one point of certainty from which I can take my bearings. She isn’t like Leicester or Darren Lyle; not even like my father, if it comes to that. With Karen Haldane, for better or worse, I know exactly where I stand.
I tell her to keep me informed.
My next stop is Sir John’s office where I spend fifteen minutes filling him in on the progress of the bid. He holds himself a little too squarely, and gives my words an unusually careful consideration. He has been drinking. I don’t like these occasions at the best of times, and so once I’ve said my piece, I rise and head for the door. Sir John checks me.
‘Raef, do you think Stephen’s quite steady just now?’
‘He’s got the Meyers under control.’
‘Not the bid. I was thinking of Inspector Ryan. Ryan's heard about the two of them. Stephen and Daniel.’
‘The two of them what?’
‘With the best will in the world, Raef, they never saw eye-to-eye, did they?’
‘That was work.’
‘Yes, I told Ryan that.’
‘Why’s he asking you about Vance?’
‘I’ve no inkling.’ He frowns. ‘But I mentioned it to Stephen just now. Asked him what he wanted me to say. He nearly bit my head off.’
I tell Sir John it might be best if he steers clear of Vance for a while. ‘He’s under enough pressure with the Meyers, he doesn’t need us on his back.’
‘Stephen was here on Wednesday night, wasn’t he? He stayed back?’
‘Yes?’
'I was just wondering,’ he says tentatively. He strokes his nose, a habit he’s developed since the red veins there became quite visible.
‘Wondering what?’
He looks at me from the corner of his bleary eye. ‘How far do you suppose we are from St Paul’s Walk?’
Back in my own office I try to call Hugh but all I get is his answering machine. Then Becky comes in. She fusses with the papers on my desk, and I'm about to ask her what the problem is when she asks me, ‘That Inspector’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘Sure.’
‘He spoke to me again, about my statement and that. You know. What I saw that night on the boat.’ She looks down. ‘I had to say.’
The Antipodean approach defeats me. I reach across for our loan agreement with the Meyers.
‘I mean, I told him how Daniel stood back up and everything.’
My hand freezes on the folder. A great chasm seems to open wide beneath me. Looking up slowly, I ask Becky what it is, exactly, that she has told the Inspector.
‘Well,’ she says apologetically, ‘I told him I saw you hit Daniel. I’m sorry Raef, I had to.’
She saw me hit Daniel the night of the party, the night Daniel died. I stare at her.
‘What did he say?’
‘He wants to see you. He made an appointment.’
‘When for?'
Becky opens her hands helplessly. ‘Now?’
7
----
R yan eases himself into the chair. He looks at me stone-faced, and the first thing he says is, ‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘It wasn’t important. Nothing.’
‘ ‘You hit him.’
‘We scuffled. Schoolboy stuff.’
‘Six hours later Stewart was dead.’ Then a claw clicks out from his paw. ‘Mr Carlton,’ he says. ‘You know I don’t want a media circus.’
A cold shiver runs through me. The tabloids. If they pick up on this I’ll be crucified, we both know that, but I hold his gaze.
‘Talk me through it,’ the Inspector says. ‘The scuffle.’
‘We argued. We’d had a bit to drink.’
‘And then?’
‘Look, Daniel was shot. I don’t see that this comes into it.’
‘I’m not suggesting he was beaten to death Mr Carlton. I’m trying to understand why two supposed friends were brawling in public just hours before one of them was murdered.’
I tell him it wasn’t a brawl. He asks me what I’d call it then.
‘Is this where I demand to speak to my lawyer?’ But this foolish quip falls into silence. Worse, the Inspector’s gaze wanders down.
‘There’s the phone,’ he says. He isn’t just some banker or client; he isn’t here to negotiate with me. He
I tell her to keep me informed.
My next stop is Sir John’s office where I spend fifteen minutes filling him in on the progress of the bid. He holds himself a little too squarely, and gives my words an unusually careful consideration. He has been drinking. I don’t like these occasions at the best of times, and so once I’ve said my piece, I rise and head for the door. Sir John checks me.
‘Raef, do you think Stephen’s quite steady just now?’
‘He’s got the Meyers under control.’
‘Not the bid. I was thinking of Inspector Ryan. Ryan's heard about the two of them. Stephen and Daniel.’
‘The two of them what?’
‘With the best will in the world, Raef, they never saw eye-to-eye, did they?’
‘That was work.’
‘Yes, I told Ryan that.’
‘Why’s he asking you about Vance?’
‘I’ve no inkling.’ He frowns. ‘But I mentioned it to Stephen just now. Asked him what he wanted me to say. He nearly bit my head off.’
I tell Sir John it might be best if he steers clear of Vance for a while. ‘He’s under enough pressure with the Meyers, he doesn’t need us on his back.’
‘Stephen was here on Wednesday night, wasn’t he? He stayed back?’
‘Yes?’
'I was just wondering,’ he says tentatively. He strokes his nose, a habit he’s developed since the red veins there became quite visible.
‘Wondering what?’
He looks at me from the corner of his bleary eye. ‘How far do you suppose we are from St Paul’s Walk?’
Back in my own office I try to call Hugh but all I get is his answering machine. Then Becky comes in. She fusses with the papers on my desk, and I'm about to ask her what the problem is when she asks me, ‘That Inspector’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘Sure.’
‘He spoke to me again, about my statement and that. You know. What I saw that night on the boat.’ She looks down. ‘I had to say.’
The Antipodean approach defeats me. I reach across for our loan agreement with the Meyers.
‘I mean, I told him how Daniel stood back up and everything.’
My hand freezes on the folder. A great chasm seems to open wide beneath me. Looking up slowly, I ask Becky what it is, exactly, that she has told the Inspector.
‘Well,’ she says apologetically, ‘I told him I saw you hit Daniel. I’m sorry Raef, I had to.’
She saw me hit Daniel the night of the party, the night Daniel died. I stare at her.
‘What did he say?’
‘He wants to see you. He made an appointment.’
‘When for?'
Becky opens her hands helplessly. ‘Now?’
7
----
R yan eases himself into the chair. He looks at me stone-faced, and the first thing he says is, ‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘It wasn’t important. Nothing.’
‘ ‘You hit him.’
‘We scuffled. Schoolboy stuff.’
‘Six hours later Stewart was dead.’ Then a claw clicks out from his paw. ‘Mr Carlton,’ he says. ‘You know I don’t want a media circus.’
A cold shiver runs through me. The tabloids. If they pick up on this I’ll be crucified, we both know that, but I hold his gaze.
‘Talk me through it,’ the Inspector says. ‘The scuffle.’
‘We argued. We’d had a bit to drink.’
‘And then?’
‘Look, Daniel was shot. I don’t see that this comes into it.’
‘I’m not suggesting he was beaten to death Mr Carlton. I’m trying to understand why two supposed friends were brawling in public just hours before one of them was murdered.’
I tell him it wasn’t a brawl. He asks me what I’d call it then.
‘Is this where I demand to speak to my lawyer?’ But this foolish quip falls into silence. Worse, the Inspector’s gaze wanders down.
‘There’s the phone,’ he says. He isn’t just some banker or client; he isn’t here to negotiate with me. He
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