Lost (27 page)

‘I do.’

‘Right.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not a famous journalist or even a good one. I have worked for the daily newspaper here, the
Islander,
for many years. I’m not brave’ – he raised his eyebrows at her, inviting her to share the joke – ‘not at all. I like my job but I don’t think of it as useful in any way. Do you understand me?’

Alice nodded.

‘When your son was kidnapped I was sent to cover it. You remember the commissaire? Monsieur Stuart? Well, he asked
me to keep the story out of the paper. I did not like Stuart. I thought he was just a narrow-minded policeman. But I said I would do what he asked because he said he would give me exclusive access and I believed him. I did not like him, but I knew he was honest.’

The barman appeared. She ordered a Coke and Lopez ordered a Kir.

‘Stuart was not a liar. He made me angry because he did not call me often enough, but he kept his word. He would have kept his word if he hadn’t been killed.’

‘How was he killed? How exactly?’

‘I am surprised you don’t know.’

She did not answer; her throat was dry.

‘I think that it was Paul Fizzi’s fault. He was a cowboy, but Stuart never saw this. And he was a drunk. He shot Garetta with a pump-action shotgun.’

Lopez paused as if for him this information was enough in itself.

‘But he shot him because he was aiming at Stuart,’ Alice said.

‘Maybe. Maybe not. What is certain is that he aimed at Garetta’s head. The bullet went right through the helmet and out the other side.’ Lopez sliced his hand through the air. ‘When they took his helmet off the skull fell open like the lid of a teapot. Fizzi got away with self-defence because Garetta did take a shot at him. Lucky for him they found the bullet.’

‘Are you saying that if Paul hadn’t been there, Stuart would not have been killed?’

Lopez considered this.

‘I don’t know. Philippe Garetta was a dangerous man. He may not have needed Fizzi there to kill Stuart but maybe Fizzi scared him. Maybe something could have gone on between the two men. Maybe Stuart could have talked him out of it. He was subtle. But with Fizzi rearing up with his weapon …’ Lopez threw up his hands. ‘What is certain is that Stuart could not have survived Garetta’s second shot. He fired a high-velocity bullet into Stuart’s chest and at close
range. It would have fragmented inside his body. So …’ He opened his hands.

Alice covered her mouth.

‘Are you all right, Madame Aron? I’m sorry. It’s nasty.’

She shook her head. She needed air. She stood up and walked away towards some double doors leading on to a dark courtyard covered in ivy. She would not cry. Lopez was behind her.

‘Madame Aron. I’m so sorry.’

She pushed open the doors and went outside. The smell of frying was being propelled into the yard by a ventilator in the wall. She turned her back on Lopez and threw up on to the ivy. When she had finished, Lopez handed her a clean white handkerchief.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, shaking his head. ‘I didn’t come here to make you sick.’

Alice wiped her mouth and stood up. She felt tired out and relieved.

‘I think I fell in love with Stuart,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise at the time, but I only knew him for five days and I loved him. I can’t seem to get over his death.’ She smiled at Lopez. He held out his arm.

‘Come. Come inside. It smells bad here.’

She took his arm and followed him back inside. They sat down again.

‘Coke is good for nausea,’ he said, nodding at her glass. She took a sip. ‘I wanted to talk to you. Now I am very glad that I came. Are you feeling better?’

‘Yes.’

‘Today you are going to court. This afternoon you will testify. Do you know what you will say?’

Alice looked away. She had not been able to think clearly about the trial and she now felt ashamed.

‘I don’t know. I’m very angry that Santini’s been let off. When I heard about it I lost heart. I don’t think the trial’s of much importance without him, really. I suppose I’ll just answer the questions.’

Lopez held up his finger. His eyes were shining with excitement.

‘Listen, Madame Aron. I told you I wasn’t brave. But there’s someone who is.’ He looked at her, full of eagerness. ‘Liliane Santini.’

Alice nodded.

‘I’m sure.’

‘She is.’

‘I believe you. I met her once.’

‘After the new magistrate let Santini out of prison she called me.’ He paused.

‘What did she say?’

‘She wanted your address.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘She never wrote.’

‘Yesterday,’ Lopez said, ‘she called me back.’ He held up his hand in case she should decide to speak. ‘I have some details that will help you answer the questions today.’ Lopez took a sip of his Kir. ‘Now. Santini is getting off. They’ve got nothing on him. He has sent a clear message to his accomplices in prison, Karim and Denis. The only ones on trial for the kidnapping. He has sent them some threats and some promises. Now both of them are denying Santini had anything to do with it. You know that?’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘So. Karim will get away with twelve to fifteen years for bringing your boy back and for having his balls eaten off. Denis the same, probably, and they’ll be let out in six to pick up their reward.’

‘From Santini.’

‘From Santini. Do you want another Coke?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

She nodded. Lopez waved at the waiter and ordered another Kir.

‘Okay. So Santini is walking free even though we know he organised, maybe not the first but certainly the second kidnapping. Stuart knew this but he never got any proof together because he was alone; he had no support from his hierarchy, not really, and he was in a hurry. For you, perhaps.’ The waiter brought his Kir and he took a few sips and put down the glass. ‘So.’ He leaned forward. ‘When the President asks you today why you think Santini was involved, you can say that you are speculating on the basis of what Commissaire Stuart told you. “And what was that,” he will ask. And you will answer: “He has an arms cache on his property.” And whatever they throw at you just say that Commissaire Stuart told you that there was an arms cache at Santini’s villa and that’s all you know.’ Lopez grinned and leaned back in his chair.

‘Evelyne emptied that cache.’

Lopez raised his eyebrows.

‘You knew about it?’

‘I was there when Stuart searched his property.’

‘Where were the weapons?’

‘Under his swimming pool.’

‘Why didn’t Stuart take him in?’

‘He made a deal. If he led us to Sam he’d let him off.’

‘I thought this and I tried to put it to Paul Fizzi, but he told me to fuck off. He thought I was just digging up the dirt on Stuart. I wanted Fizzi to talk about the cache, but I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t reveal me as his source.’

Alice watched Lopez take another sip of his Kir.

‘Evelyne moved the weapons,’ she said. ‘As soon as we left, she moved them.’

‘But’ – Lopez raised his index finger again – ‘Evelyne, who is quite a clever woman, thought it would be too risky and too obvious to move the weapons off the property, so she moved them from the pool to his mausoleum. I know this, because I was there. I saw it.’

Alice looked at his beaming face.

‘Why didn’t you testify, then?’

‘I told you. I am not brave. Someone would kill me sooner or later.’

She smiled.

‘So who’s going to kill me?’

‘No one. You’ll leave the island. You’ll leave it all behind. Nothing ever spills beyond the island. All the shit stays here.’

Alice took a sip of her Coke. A pleasant feeling of excitement was growing in her.

‘How do you know the weapons are still there?’

‘I don’t know for sure, but Santini’s been under house arrest ever since his release from prison. So I’m assuming he wouldn’t take the risk.’

Alice sat back in her chair and looked at Lopez, who was staring hard at her. They were like two children with a plan.

‘It was Liliane Santini who told me to come to you,’ he said. ‘She is the one with the courage. Will you do it?’

‘Yes. I think I will.’

‘You just answer the questions. Like I said.’

‘Will Santini be there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you?’

Lopez shook his head in mock terror. She smiled.

‘We’d better go,’ Lopez said, looking at his watch. ‘You only have an hour.’

Alice hurried up the steps of the Palais after Santini. He must have heard her footsteps and he turned round. As he waited for her to catch up, she felt his yellow eyes on her. He held open the door for her and she smiled graciously at him.

‘You look good,’ he said, pointing at his head. ‘The hair.’

‘I’m happy to be back here.’

Santini tilted his head.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Shall we walk together? We mustn’t be late. Do you know where it is?’

‘Follow me,’ he said.

As they walked along the corridor, he had his hands in the pockets of his blazer and he kept glancing sideways at her as if he could not believe his luck.

‘You sold the place in Santarosa, then? It’s a shame.’

‘Yes.’

‘It must be painful for you to return here.’

‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘I’m so happy.’

They were in sight of the main courtroom. She let him go first into the space, barely large enough for them both, between the inside and outside doors.

‘I wonder,’ she whispered, ‘do you know, by any chance, what Commissaire Stuart’s first name was?’

‘Antoine. Why do you ask?’

‘Antoine,’ she repeated. Santini looked at her mouth. She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’

She noted the strong smell of wood polish and knew that it would always remind her of this moment. As he pushed the second heavy wooden door into the chamber, she spoke to the back of his neck: ‘I’m going to testify against you, Santini.’

He stopped dead. Alice felt her heart fluttering in her throat. She thought of Stuart’s hand in hers. ‘You’ll go to prison.’

There was an infinitesimal shift in the tilt of his head and she felt a rush of fear as she waited for him to turn and face her. But he held still and she was suspended a moment in this strange air-lock, between her past and her future. Then he pushed the door and stepped into the chamber.

Lucy Wadham was born in London and educated at Oxford. She has lived in France for the past twenty years. Her first novel,
Lost
, was shortlisted for the Macallan Crime Writers Association Gold Dagger for Fiction. She is also the author of
Castro’s Dream, Greater Love
and
The Secret Life of France.