A Line to Kill

‘I shouldn’t have come here.’ Anne was still distressed. She had the sort of face that folded itself easily into grief. The greying hair, the grey eyes, the grey scarf that surely wasn’t needed in this warm weather: she was like one of those figures you get in mythology that stand on the shore as the ship sails away carrying the bodies of the dead. ‘My agent advised against it and I’m actually far too busy right now to be away from home.’

‘So why did you come?’ Hawthorne asked.

She sighed. ‘Because I’m a soft touch. They sent me a letter saying the island only had one school – St Anne’s – and that it was in danger of closure because of the falling population. They were also raising money to support the library. I don’t know why my giving a talk there would be any help, although I suppose having a high-profile author is always a good thing. Actually, I had a very good session there in the end: the children were lovely and the teachers couldn’t have been nicer. I really shouldn’t complain. Alderney’s beautiful and I love this hotel. But after that business yesterday, I just wanted to leave.’

She was referring, of course, to Elizabeth Lovell’s session and the revelations that had been made about her son.

‘I don’t believe any of that nonsense,’ she went on. ‘Life after death and ghosts and mirrors and all the rest of it. I’m not even sure why I went to her session. I suppose I was being polite. Well, more fool me. She had obviously done her research. It would have been easy to find that story on the internet. There was a lot of press interest in the lack of pastoral care at Bristol University and although we did our best to keep him out of the newspapers, William’s name was mentioned. What I don’t understand is how anyone could use information like that as part of a performance to promote their own work. It seems so cruel.’

‘Maybe she believes what she says,’ Hawthorne said.

‘She believes in the money she makes.’ Anne was indignant. It seemed to me that real anger wasn’t in her nature.

‘You still went to the party,’ Hawthorne said. ‘You must have known she’d be there.’

I thought he was being unnecessarily rough on her, particularly as, when they’d first met, he’d made a point of telling her how much he and his son had enjoyed her books. But she didn’t seem to notice. ‘I didn’t want to go,’ she said. ‘I told Anthony as much. I’d had a really rather difficult day, not just with that woman but also my pen! I’m quite sure somebody’s stolen it and it really upsets me because it was given to me by my agent after Flashbang Wallop got into the top ten. That was the first in the series. The books are in six languages now and they’ve done very well, but it’s always the first one you remember.’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘I don’t know. I just decided that there was no point sitting in the hotel on my own. That would only make me more depressed. But I didn’t want to join Elizabeth Lovell and her husband on the bus so I was very happy to accept a lift from George Elkin. And once I arrived, I made sure I steered clear of both of them – Mr and Mrs Lovell – for the whole evening. George is a very interesting man, by the way. Absolutely steeped in the history of the Channel Islands.’

‘Is that what you talked about?’

‘No. We talked about birds. He’s a keen birdwatcher. He’d seen a black-winged kite.’

‘Had he?’

‘It’s very rare, apparently. It’s hardly ever been seen in the UK.’

‘So you got to The Lookout at about seven thirty.’

‘You know that. You actually saw me come in.’ She paused. ‘I had quite a shock when I arrived. There was a man there I knew, although at first I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him. Anthony reminded me.’

Hawthorne had been standing right next to me at the time. ‘He was in one of your reading groups,’ he said.

‘No.’ Anne shook her head. ‘I’m not certain that he was now that I think about it. But I had definitely seen him when I was visiting Wormwood Scrubs in London. It was the walking stick that reminded me, although at the time he had a crutch, if I remember rightly. We were taken through the central area of the prison on the way to the library and I saw him there.’

‘Did you talk to Derek Abbott yesterday evening?’

‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I didn’t want to embarrass him.’

‘But you knew his name.’

‘I didn’t know his name until Anthony told me, and it didn’t mean anything to me then.’ She paused a second time. ‘Funnily enough, Charles le Mesurier talked to me about him a short while later.’ The tea and coffee had arrived while we were talking and she took a sip. There were also four slices of toast with some jam and butter, but it didn’t feel right to eat in the middle of an interview so I left them sitting on the table in front of me. ‘I spoke to Mr le Mesurier for quite some time,’ she went on. ‘And I know I shouldn’t say this, but he didn’t strike me as a particularly nice man.’

‘Why do you say that?’