A Line to Kill

For once, I knew exactly what was going through Hawthorne’s mind. All four of them had a motive to murder le Mesurier. And they had arranged things so that they were each other’s alibis. Could they have all been in it together?

‘When were you on the beach?’ Hawthorne asked, unexpectedly.

Dr Queripel realised that Hawthorne was talking to him and his cheeks went a shade darker. I had never seen anyone do embarrassment so well. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s a simple enough question. Have you walked on the beach today?’

‘No. I’ve been indoors.’

‘It’s just that when I came in, I noticed the bottom of your shoe. It’s the same shoe you were wearing this morning. It has a distinctive round cap, and more to the point, there are grains of sand caught in the sole.’

‘Are there?’ The doctor had crossed his knee again. He twisted the shoe and examined it. Hawthorne was right. The sand was still there.

‘I may have walked on the beach yesterday.’

‘Which beach?’

‘I don’t remember.’ Dr Queripel was trying to find a way out of this. But he couldn’t lie. It was a small island. He would almost certainly have been seen. ‘It might have been Saye Beach.’

‘Near le Mesurier’s place.’

‘The other end, actually. I’d heard there’d been a sighting of a black-winged kite and I was hoping to spot it.’

‘You’re a birdwatcher?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘I thought that was his speciality …’ Hawthorne gestured at George Elkin.

‘Henry and I often go out together,’ Elkin replied, coming to his friend’s defence. ‘I think it’s fair to say that we all have a shared love for this island: its wildlife, its topography, its history, its atmosphere of peace.’ He drew a breath. ‘It’s everything that NAB threatens to destroy.’

‘You know, actually, I think I’ve had enough of this,’ Susan Queripel said. ‘This is my home. You have absolutely no right to come in here and ask us questions, and certainly not in the way you’ve been doing. I’d like you to leave. Both of you.’

Well, that was something that had never happened before. I’d seen Hawthorne upset plenty of people, but none of them had ever tried to throw him out. He didn’t argue with her. If anything, he seemed amused. ‘Whatever you say, Mrs Queripel.’ He got to his feet.

It was George Elkin who opened the front door for us and walked with us down the drive as if to make sure we actually got into our car. But once we’d reached the lane, he stopped and looked across the fields that spread out towards the horizon. It was the middle of the day and the sun was directly overhead. I could smell salt in the air. The grass was bowing gently in the breeze.

‘It may seem all very stupid to you,’ he said. ‘But this is what it’s all about.’ He pointed. ‘That’s Charles le Mesurier’s land. He’s sold it to Électricité du Nord, presumably at a massive profit to himself, and that’s where they’ll build the converter stations, three of them, covering twenty-five acres, with facility areas and new roads attached. Do you know what a converter station looks like? It’s concrete and metal with cables and fences. It’s probably the ugliest building in the world and that’s where it’s going to be. No wonder Henry and Susan are thinking of leaving. They’ve lived in that house all their married life, but it’ll be valueless, of course. They’ll be ruined.

‘But it doesn’t end there,’ Elkin went on. ‘They’re putting a transition chamber on Longis Beach, where the sea and the land cables will connect. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much wildlife after that.’ His finger swept across the horizon. ‘And they’re going to run a 1,400-megawatt link cable across there, through Longis Common. Yes, you’re right, Mr Hawthorne. They’re going to dig up my old grandpa. But he’s not the only one. There are more than a thousand bodies buried there, poor souls who died in the most dreadful way, starved to death, tortured, murdered.’

He stood there, his face expressionless, his eyes far away. It took him a while to return to us.

‘I know you’re only doing your job, Mr Hawthorne, and you don’t really care how you get your results. I was there when you were giving your talk and it struck me then that you have absolutely no heart at all. You don’t believe in the law. You don’t want to help people or society. You don’t seem to have any understanding of morality at all. You’re a detective. That’s all that matters to you.

‘Well, I hope you do find whoever it was who killed Charles le Mesurier. It’s wrong that such a person should be at large. But when you arrive at that moment, I hope you’ll reflect on this. As the two of you stand face to face, you and the killer, I’m not sure there’ll be a great difference between the two of you. I think you live by the same rules.’

As a parting shot, it was a good one. Neither of us spoke as he turned and walked back to the house.

13 Further Information

We didn’t say very much on the way back to the hotel either. Even Terry managed to remain unusually quiet until the moment he dropped us off.