A Line to Kill

‘Right.’ If Hawthorne was put out, he didn’t show it. ‘Let’s not waste any time while he’s on his way. I’d like to talk to Helen le Mesurier. And it would be helpful if you could pick up Marc Bellamy and that girl he was working with and bring them across.’

‘Why?’ Matheson was surprised.

‘They organised the party and they were looking after the guests. If le Mesurier decided to slip off into the garden – and, for that matter, if anyone followed him – they might have noticed.’

That made sense. With a wall completely enclosing the garden and the back door locked, the killer would surely have had to approach the Snuggery from the house. So it had to be someone who had been at the party. Someone I had seen.

We began to walk back towards the sun lounge.

‘What was your relationship with le Mesurier?’ Hawthorne asked. He directed the question at Dr Queripel.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’m interested to know what you were doing in his study. You said you’d been in there a couple of times and that was how you knew about the paperknife. But you weren’t his GP and there was obviously no love lost between you …’

‘How can you possibly say that?’

‘Well, you haven’t exactly been shedding tears over his demise. You referred to him as Mr le Mesurier, so you weren’t on first-name terms, and I didn’t see you at the party last night. Given that Alderney isn’t exactly a whirl of social activity, I’m assuming you weren’t invited.’

Dr Queripel was the sort of man who blushed easily and he did so now. ‘As a matter of fact, there’s plenty to do on Alderney,’ he replied. ‘And last night, my wife and I had a very pleasant evening playing bridge. But you’re right. I was not on friendly terms with Mr le Mesurier and the reason I saw him on two occasions was strictly business.’

‘What business?’

‘The power line.’

‘Dr Queripel is one of the most vocal opponents to the Normandy-Alderney-Britain power line,’ Matheson cut in. He looked embarrassed. Or maybe he was angry. He was certainly uncomfortable. ‘He’s actually organised quite a few demonstrations against it.’

‘So you’re the one painting “BAN NAB” all over the place?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘Not at all. I would never take part in that sort of activity. But those of us who are opposed to this awful scheme are entitled to have their voices heard and I had two meetings with le Mesurier, in his study, to get our point across.’

We had stopped walking about halfway between the Snuggery and the house. Colin Matheson and Dr Queripel were facing each other like two boxers squaring up before a fight and at that moment all thought of the murder seemed to have vanished.

‘What did you say to him?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘The obvious. The power line and the construction around it will rip the heart out of Alderney. The cable landing chambers, the transition posts, the converter stations. There are almost no foreseeable benefits and the damage to the environment, to wildlife and to tourism will be irreversible.’

‘Why did you feel you had to talk to le Mesurier?’ Hawthorne asked. ‘I thought Colin here was in charge of the committee making the decisions.’

Dr Queripel nodded. ‘Colin is the head of the committee set up by the States, but everyone knows that it’s le Mesurier who’s pulling the strings.’ He stared across at the other man. ‘I still don’t know how he got to you, Colin, or how he made you dance to his tune. Or maybe it’s just a question of how much he offered you—’

‘That’s outrageous!’

‘—but it was le Mesurier who wanted this bloody thing and he was the one who was going to benefit the most.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, for a start, he’d sold his own land for the converter station. He wouldn’t disclose how much he’d made out of that, but I bet it was a damn sight more than anyone else on this island was going to see—’

‘You should be careful what you say, Henry,’ Matheson cut in, glaring at Dr Queripel. ‘And it might help if you were a little less hypocritical. Everyone knows that the only reason you’re against this project is because you’re worried about your view.’

‘What is Alderney without its views?’

‘It’s a beautiful island and it’s a shame that the converter station has to go between your house and the sea, but it had to go somewhere.’

‘And it’s just a coincidence that it goes on le Mesurier’s land?’ Queripel was fighting to keep his self-control. ‘Who knows what deals he was making with Électricité du Nord? Without him, this whole thing would never have got as far as it did and – with a bit of luck – now that he’s dead, perhaps it’ll all go away.’

‘You don’t sound too sorry he’s been killed,’ Hawthorne remarked.