Confessor (32 page)

“Two-thirty in the morning?” Bex queried.

“Yes, it was around half-past two. I had been slightly worried.”

“Did he say where he’d been?” Herbie again.

“You know where he had been. At a meeting of the Old Sarum Sorcerers. I told you …”

“He left the meeting at one in the morning, Carole. Did he say where he had been
after
he left?”

“Not that I can recall. He could quite easily have gone for a drink with one of the bloody Sorcerers.” She was cool, but the use of the word “bloody” signified a disquiet in the back of her mind, even though her voice did not rise or take a different tone.

“The Sorcerer you put us on to said he left alone. They had a good evening, he said. Even apologized to Gus for keeping him so late.” This from Bex. “I spoke to him. Gus said he was going straight home.”

“You see, Carole, we have a little time problem. Gus left at one in the morning. Then he calls you at two-thirty. Hour and a half not accounted for.”

“Perhaps he had some bird stashed away in Salisbury.” She smiled, signifying this was a joke.

Herb made it clear it was no joke to him. “He have birds stashed away, Carole? Gus, was he a ladies’ man outside your happy marriage?”

“Don’t be bloody silly, Herb. Gus was honest as the day is long.”

“Days can sometimes be short.”

“The answer is no. No, I am pretty sure there were no extracurricular activities.”

“Then how you account for missing hour and a half?”

“Simple. I can’t.” She took a breath, as though about to say more, then changed her mind. Took another breath, and said, “I can’t, Herbie, but you knew Gus. He always had little things going on the side—I don’t mean women.”

“When he was Service. Before he went private, yes. Yes, he always had little deep side. Secretive. Things he did on his own until it was time to talk about it with the Section it concerned. But he was gone private, Carole …”

“He was working on his book, Herb. He
did
see people. I knew that. He saw people in London, so it’s quite possible that he saw someone in Salisbury. It’s not unknown.”

“Still, we’ve got to account for that missing ninety minutes, Carole. You can’t help us there, no?”

“No. No, I can’t. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Herb referred back to the telephone log. “There was an incoming call at five-thirty in the morning.”

Carole sighed, touched her face and bit her lip. “The law,” she said. “The place was swarming with cops by then. They arrived around four. Woke me up—”

“Swarming?” Bex asked.

“Well, a pair of plainclothes guys arrived to break the news to me. A couple of uniforms turned up soon afterwards. They had use of the telephone. There were a number of calls out. Three, four maybe. If they got a call back, it didn’t register with me. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for taking calls.”

Herbie nodded. “You took one at five fifty-seven.”

“The Chief called just before six, yes. I took that one.”

“But you didn’t take the five-thirty call?”

“I have no memory of a call then. Why?”

“Because, as you well know, Carole, the monitors are very good. Both here and in the house. The five-thirty call came from a rest stop on the M4 Motorway. About four miles from Heathrow. You know the one? Video games, shop and a couple of restaurants? Greasy-spoon type food.”

“Yes, I think I know it. We’d stop there for a pee if we were driving to London.”

“So, who could have stopped there for a pee at half-past five in the morning on that day? It
was
answered at this end. The cops call from public phone boxes, do they?”

“In this case they must have done.”

“Then the Chief called?”

“Yes, just before six. Said he was on his way up. Nice. Very good of him.”

“He get here before seven?”

She gave a deep sigh. “I really didn’t take note of the time, Herb. When you’ve just been told that your husband’s been killed by a car bomb, you don’t exactly sit around looking at your watch.”

“You took a call around seven-seventeen. It’s logged here, and shows as answered manually. Not the answerphone. Seven-seventeen on the dot.”

“I have no memory of that. The Chief was here by then—I think. I think he was here.”

“This call—seven-seventeen—came from a public telephone at Heathrow Airport.”

“Don’t remember it.”

“Who’d call you from Heathrow at seven-seventeen, Carole?”

“For heaven’s sake, Herb, I don’t know. There were a number of calls in and out. I know the Chief made several calls and took one—from Tony Worboys …”

“That’s right. Tony called him at eight-twelve. He called from my cottage, which isn’t a cottage anymore.”

“Lots of people called. Even that bitch Angela called …”

“Not until after she heard it on the news. Angela, the former Mrs. Keene, called from her home at nine-twenty. Who else called?”

“Herb, I didn’t take count. There were various calls. I didn’t log them in and out.”

“No, but the machinery did.”

“Then ask the damned machinery.”

“That’s what we’re doing.”

“I didn’t even know the Dower House was linked to the telephone computer in the main house.” She all but shouted in anger.

Herbie made a harrumphing noise. “They probably forgot to unhook the Dower House phones. Accident, but we got a complete log.”

“So you don’t remember the seven-seventeen call?” Bex pressed.

“No. Bitsy was here by then. Ask her. She could’ve taken it.”

“We’re going to ask her. Thought we’d do you a favor and talk to you first.”

“Well, I can’t remember every call that came in on that day. It was like a mad house, and I was in no condition …Oh, Herb, I’d help you if I could.” She caught his eyes with her own, spaniel eyes. Pleading, don’t be too hard on old Carole, Herb.

“Two thirty—the next morning. Middle of the night.”

“What about it?”

“Two-thirty—Chinese dentist time …”

“What?”

“Tooth hurtie.” Herb grinned the Halloween grin, did not even get a flicker of a smile from the bad joke. “Go better second house.” He switched off the grin. “Call at two-thirty in the morning. That was answered. You answer that one, Carole?”

“I don’t recall one at two-thirty.”

“Funny. It was picked up at this end. They show it as picked up quickly, within a couple of seconds. The machines are all-knowing, omnipotent, but you know that.”

“Of course I know it.”

“Two-thirty was picked up very quick.”

“Very quickly, Herb,” Bex corrected him.

“Sure,” he nodded to himself. “You pick up the one at two-thirty, Carole?”

“I don’t remember. Perhaps the log’s wrong. Could be a call going into the main house.”

“Definitely not.” He shook his big shaggy head. “Two-thirty, Carole? This one’s important.”

“Why so?”

“Came in from overseas. Abroad. Out of the country. America, we think. Maybe New York.”

“Who the hell would call me from New York at that time of night?”

“That’s what we need to know.”

“No memory of it.”

“Then get your memory into gear, Carole. We’re doing all this work to find out who blasted old Gus from face of the earth. Need your cooperation.”

“You’ve got my cooperation, Herb. I want to know as much as you.”

“Two-thirty from New York?” Bex prodded.

“Don’t recall it.”

Herb, watching her hands, saw the involuntary twitch. The fingers of the right hand giving a little jump as they lay over her left hand. Bull’s-eye, Herb thought. A hit, a palpable hit.

“A call from overseas in the early hours of the morning and you don’t remember?”

“The doc gave me a sedative. Said I needed some sleep.”

“You took this sedative?”

“Of course I took it, Herb. What’s this all about anyway? You think I offed poor old Gus?”

“We got everyone as a suspect.”

“Oh, grief.
Me
? You’d suspect
me
?”

“Everyone, Carole. You know the form.” A tiny conciliatory tone from Bex.

“You also made a call from the main house the other morning.” Herbie looked at her as though she had committed a truly cardinal sin.

“I did?”

“You know you did, Carole.” Bex again. “You were seen making it and it was logged.”

“Okay, so I made a call. In fact, I went over to the main house to get that video of Gus’s lecture and demonstration. Nobody seemed to mind.”

“Good video. Very puzzling and really good theory.” Herb paused. “You made a call to Martin Brook at the Office.”

“What if I did?”

“Why, Carole?”

“Because Martin’s a good lad. Gus brought him up in the ways of the world—the old world.”

“So you called him on a whim?” Bex asked.

“Not really. Bitsy told me he had called the Dower House. Bitsy’s been very good. She’s been over to see me almost every day, which is more than can be said of you, Herb.”

“So what you talk about? Old times? The changing seasons of the world of secrets?”

“No. If you want to know, I asked him if I could give the tape to you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Martin, if you hadn’t heard, is the Lord High Inquisitor designate. Which also means he’ll be in charge of everything down here.”

“Didn’t know that, Carole. You get it straight from the Chief or what?”

“Tony Worboys.”

“When?”

“Last time he was down here.”

“Came to see you?”

“Came in for what he called an informal chat. Told me that Martin’s appointment would be approved before the week was out.”

“So you called him to say, well done, Martin?”

“More or less. I knew he wanted the job. Nobody’s really been in charge since Gus retired. Temporary people all the time. Temporary and unpaid from what we heard.”

“So you said, ‘well done, Martin?’ That all?”

“I tried to be honest with him. Said I was handing over one of the tapes and asked if that was okay.”

“And what did he say?”

“Follow your own judgment. He said do anything if it would help get the people who murdered Gus.”

“He know what the tape was?”

“No. The Fat Boy—that’s what we used to call him—did not know about Gus’s talents.”

There was a pause, then Herb said they would put aside the telephone log for a while. “Want to ask you other things, Carole. Unpleasant things. Your little dalliance with
Jasmine
.”

“Your affair with
Jasmine
,” Bex added.

“It wasn’t an affair. It was a one-night stand. Not even that. A one-afternoon stand, and I felt so bloody guilty that I just kept away from him after that.”

“What actually happened? We know Gus was away, but how did it really happen?”

She shook her head, eyes brimming and the corners of her mouth quivering. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk about it.” Bex being very firm.

“I told you. When Gus brought him here, he asked me to make him comfortable. Keep him happy. You know Gus. When he was working with someone, he liked to get the atmosphere right. Make the target feel at ease. That was partly my job.”

“And you fancied him straightaway?” Bex again.

Carole shook her head, not a negative shake, but a movement that looked as though she were trying physically to get rid of cobwebs in her brain. “In a distant kind of way. You never felt that, Bex? When you’re promised, or tied, to another, you see a guy and something inside your head asks you what it would be like with him?” As she asked, she automatically glanced at Bex’s left hand to note if there was a wedding or engagement ring.

“I know what you mean. What’d he look like?”

“He didn’t look like an Arab. That was the first thing. Yet he was a fine-looking man. A hunk, as they say. Very tall. Six two. Six three. Somewhere around that. Muscular. You felt that he could break someone with his fingers. Enormously charming. Oozed charm. Of course we were all younger then.”

“So you thought, what would it be like with this rather striking man?”

“Yes, but it was innocent. You never made a list, Bex? A list of guys you know and would like to do it with?”

“No, but I know what you mean. A list of blokes that you would like to try out and then rate on a scale of one to ten?”

“That’s it …”

“Like the band of Royal Marines,” Herb said to nobody in particular.

“It’s odd, thinking back. I loved Gus. Loved him like never before. We used to say that nobody had ever loved each other more than we did …”

Herbie turned away.
That’s
what had happened to him. Twice. The feeling that the beloved and the loved were somehow mystically joined in a way that no other two people had ever been, or ever would.

“But?” Bex probed.

“Difficult to explain.” They had Carole now. They had really got her attention. “Very difficult. It was summertime …”

And the living was easy, thought Herbie.

“Summertime. Early summer. For some odd reason, I remember that I was terribly randy. Couldn’t get my mind off sex. It was as though everything that happened had some underlying sexual content. Even what I ate and drank. I remember that it was like a subtext to my life. Sex reared its lovely head in every action, in things I read, trees I touched, flowers I gathered for the house.”

“And?”

“And …Well …Well, Gus was very busy. Tied up with a lot of things, and …Well …”

“You weren’t getting any.” Bex sounded crude, and Herb knew what she was doing. This woman is good at playing with people’s heads, he thought.

“If you want to put it like that.” Carole bridled.

“Gus wasn’t paying you much attention is what Bex means.” Herb stepped in.

“That’s about right. Poor lamb, he was so busy. Dashing around like a scalded cat. Didn’t have time for anything outside work.”

“He was a lot older than you, Carole. Never forget that.” Herbie again.

“I never forgot that!” Again she bridled. “Don’t you ever remind me of that again, Herbie Kruger. I had been with Gus a long time before we married.”

“He was your morning and evening star, I know this, Carole. But at that particular time there weren’t enough hours in the day?”

“You have a row with him?” Bex remained almost callous.