A Line to Kill

‘But you were in Paris for … two days?’ She didn’t answer, so he went on. ‘Where did you stay?’

‘The Bristol.’

‘Were you alone?’ Again she didn’t speak. Hawthorne looked at her almost sadly. ‘The thing is, Mrs le Mesurier, the police are going to ask you the same questions and you can’t lie to them. They’ll talk to the receptionist. And these days, there’s CCTV, phone records …’ He spread his hands. ‘I know it’s not very nice having to talk about personal matters, but it’s all going to come out anyway, so you might as well get it over with.’

‘I want a cigarette.’

‘Have one of mine.’ He took out a packet and they both lit up. It was strange to see two people smoking indoors, but I suppose it was her house. Their lungs. ‘So who were you with?’ Hawthorne asked.

The two of them had bonded in some strange way over the cigarettes. Suddenly, she was less antagonistic. ‘You have to understand,’ she said. ‘I did love Charles. I’d been married to him for fifteen years.’

‘No children?’

‘It didn’t happen for us, but we didn’t want children anyway. I’ve got nephews and nieces. That’s good enough for me.’

‘How did the two of you meet?’

‘I was an actress. He saw me in a production of The Sound of Music. I was one of the nuns. He offered me a job and things developed from there.’

‘What job?’

‘Modelling. PR. I helped him with his internet business and then we started going out together and in the end we got married. You didn’t know him so you may not understand, but actually I always knew what I was getting myself into. Charles was never going to stay at home and sit in an armchair, watching TV. He wasn’t that sort of man.’

‘What sort of man was he, Mrs le Mesurier?’

‘He liked life. He liked women. Lots of women. There was no stopping him.’ She looked to me for confirmation. ‘You must have seen him last night. Even that girl who was serving the drinks … he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. That’s how he was … in New York, in Saint-Tropez, in London. He was always on the move, always after the next conquest. I just had to live with it.’

‘Are you saying you didn’t mind?’

‘Why should I have minded, Mr Hawthorne? I had a lot of fun with Charles. He was witty. He was generous. And if he could be a complete prick some of the time, there were plenty of compensations.’ She counted them on her fingers. ‘I had an allowance. I had this house. I had expensive presents. I could travel. Charles might be out there being photographed with different floozies for the gossip columns, but I was the one he always came home to. And for what it’s worth, he wasn’t the only one who played the field. We both did. We had an open marriage. No secrets from each other.’

‘He knew who you were with in Paris?’

Helen shook her head. ‘No. I hadn’t told him yet. I would have eventually. I didn’t get the chance.’

‘So who was he?’

For the first time, she looked vulnerable. ‘If I tell you his name, will you contact him?’

‘I might.’

She didn’t know whether to go on or not, but she knew she had no choice. She put the cigarette to her lips and the tip glowed red. ‘Jean-François Berthold,’ she said. The answer came out in a swirl of smoke. ‘I met him when he came to Alderney.’

‘And what was Jean-François Berthold doing in Alderney?’

‘He’s a land surveyor. He was working for a French company.’

‘Would that be Électricité du Nord?’

‘Yes.’ She was surprised he knew. Or perhaps she’d hoped he didn’t. ‘He’s part of the NAB project …’

‘Which your husband supported.’

‘I really don’t think that’s an appropriate question,’ Colin Matheson cut in. He had been so quiet up to now that I’d almost forgotten he was in the room.

‘Why not?’ Hawthorne demanded.

‘Charles has just been killed. Helen is in shock. And you’re suggesting some sort of … conspiracy?’

Hawthorne turned back to Helen. ‘Are you in shock, Mrs le Mesurier?’ he asked.

Helen sniffed. ‘I’m upset. Of course I am.’

Hawthorne got up and went over to the window. ‘You arrived yesterday from Paris. You didn’t stay long at the party. You went upstairs. Do you know what time that was?’

She didn’t know, so I helped her out. ‘It was ten past nine,’ I said. I remembered looking at my watch.

‘Did you go straight to bed?’

‘I unpacked and had a bath first.’

‘Were the curtains drawn?’

Helen thought back. ‘No. I drew them myself. After my bath.’

Hawthorne looked out of the window. ‘You can see the Snuggery from here.’

‘I didn’t see anything! I mean, I didn’t see anyone go in or come out, if that’s what you’re getting at, Mr Hawthorne. Even if I had looked out of the window – and I didn’t – it would have been too dark to see the bottom of the garden.’ She paused. ‘I think I did notice that the lights were on inside, but that’s all I can tell you.’ She was almost daring him to challenge her. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Did you hear anyone come upstairs? During the party or immediately afterwards.’