The Twist of a Knife

I was disappointed with myself. I’d liked Jordan Williams from the very start and I was grateful to him. It had been a real breakthrough when he’d agreed to take the part of Dr Farquhar and he’d thrown himself into it, supporting the play from the start. Only the week before we’d opened, he’d been on the radio, saying nice things about me. And here we were shouting at each other for no good reason at all.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘Right now I’m not even thinking about the book. I don’t even want to write it. All I care about is who killed Harriet Throsby.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And you might as well know that the police are convinced it was me. They kept me locked up for twenty-four hours and they interrogated me. I think, technically, that I’m out on bail. There! Now you know.’

‘But I was the one who threatened her!’

‘I know that. But it was my knife that ended up in her chest.’

He looked at me, puzzled. Then he remembered. ‘You had it in the green room!’ he said. ‘I saw you with it.’

‘You don’t remember what I did with it?’

‘I think you left it over at the side. Near the fridge. Yes! I’m sure I saw it there.’

‘Was it still there at the end of the evening?’

‘I can’t remember.’ He shook his head. ‘Someone could have taken it.’

‘That’s why we were at the theatre today, asking you all those questions. Hawthorne’s my friend. Well, he is sort of. He’s just trying to save me from being sent to jail.’ I felt empty, exhausted. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,’ I said. ‘That really wasn’t my intention.’

He smiled and at that moment I had the completely irrelevant thought that he would have been really good as Dr Who.

‘I may be able to help you,’ he said.

‘How?’

‘I may know who killed her.’

I stared at him.

‘Tirian.’ He went on hastily, before I could interrupt. ‘I’m talking out of turn – and whatever happens, you didn’t hear this from me – but you might as well know. Tirian was really worried about Harriet Throsby. I mean, worried sick! He thought she was going to ruin his career – his big break in that Hollywood movie.’

‘How come?’

‘You should know. You were right next to him!’ Jordan moved closer to me as if he was afraid of being overheard. ‘When Harriet came over to us at the party, Tirian was telling us about Tenet. Don’t you remember?’

‘He was saying it was no good.’

‘That’s right. He’s full of shit really, because he doesn’t know anything about anything, but he basically said the script was rubbish and the director – Christopher Nolan – didn’t know what he was talking about.’

‘And …?’

‘He didn’t see Harriet creeping up behind him and by the time he turned round, it was too late. She’d heard every word of what he said! When we went back to the theatre later on, Tirian and me, I could see he was shaking like a leaf. I asked what was wrong and he told me. He was terrified she was going to write about him and repeat what he’d said.’

‘In her review?’

‘No. She didn’t just write reviews. She had a diary column in the Evening Standard. She could have dropped it in there. Or she could have rung up Nolan’s office and done the dirty herself, maybe in return for an exclusive interview. She was a monster. I wouldn’t have put anything past her. And what do you think would have happened then? They’d have fired Tirian. He’d be one time-travelling secret agent who’d be heading right back to bit parts in TV. If they’d have him, that is. Nolan is Hollywood royalty. It could have been the end of him.’

‘You think Tirian killed Harriet to stop her talking?’

‘Look, I tried to persuade him not to worry. I said she had bigger fish to fry. And it’s true: he seemed all right down there in the green room, at least until we read the review. But I don’t know what was going on in his head. In fact, I never do. That’s half the trouble, working with him. Maybe he went round the next day and …’ Jordan mimed the rest of the sentence, the knife strike to the heart.

The dog whined.

‘I have to go in,’ I said.

‘All right.’ He held out a hand. ‘I’m sorry, Anthony …’

‘I’m sorry too.’ I took his hand. ‘If by some miracle I do end up writing about you, I’ll change your name. And I can make you something else if you like. Korean or something.’

‘No. I’ll stay as I am.’

We shook. Jordan disappeared back across the park. I went home.

16 Frost and Longhurst