The Twist of a Knife

Hawthorne and I met the following morning at a busy crossroads near Holborn station. He was sitting at a coffee shop – an outside table – lighting up what was almost certainly not his first cigarette of the day. I’ve often mentioned Hawthorne’s smoking habit, and thinking about it, I’d say he was addicted not just to the cigarettes but to the very act of smoking itself, that he wasn’t complete without it and the fact that it was unhealthy and antisocial only made him more determined to continue. For all his undoubted brilliance, Hawthorne was a very solitary man. He was separated from his wife and his teenaged son. I hadn’t met any of his friends. Apart from Kevin downstairs and his rather eccentric book group, he had never mentioned having any. He lived on his own. It was as if he had recognised how few pleasures he had in his life, making him all the more determined to cling on to the few that remained. Murder and cigarettes. That about summed him up.

I got myself a hot chocolate and joined him. We were on a corner with commuters pouring out of the station and early-morning traffic crawling past in four directions; not the most salubrious place to meet, but at least the sun had finally come out. I wasted no time telling him about my encounter with Jordan Williams the night before. I’d hardly been able to get to sleep, thinking about what he’d said. I’d mistrusted Tirian Kirke from the start. Now Jordan had provided me with a clear motive for the murder.

Irritatingly, Hawthorne didn’t agree.

‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said, drawing on his cigarette. ‘I know you’re not that crazy about Tirian after he turned down your show. But it doesn’t add up.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, for a start, we can’t be sure that Harriet did actually overhear what Tirian said at the party and nor can he. There were a lot of people in a small restaurant and from what you’ve told me, there must have been quite a bit of noise. Turkish music, people chatting, all the rest of it.’

‘He didn’t need to be sure. He could have gone round to her house and asked her.’

Hawthorne nodded. ‘That’s possible. But you’ve got to remember where the murder took place.’

‘Palgrove Gardens.’

‘I mean – which part of the building.’ Hawthorne looked at me a little sadly. ‘She was killed in the hallway.’

‘What about it?’

‘Look, Tirian might have been worried that Harriet had heard what he said about the film being no good. But there was always a chance she might not have taken it seriously. After all, it was a party. Everyone was drinking. And journalists don’t usually report private conversations.’

‘She wasn’t a journalist.’

‘Fair enough. But he’d still need to be one hundred per cent certain that she was going to write something nasty about him before he knocked her off – otherwise he wouldn’t take the risk. So what would he do? Go round to her house, talk to her, try and explain himself, find out what she’d heard and what she was going to do. She’d said nice things about him in her review. Maybe he could persuade her to forget this little indiscretion. But if, on the other hand, she was determined to go ahead and ruin his career, then, all right, he would have a reason to put a knife in her.

‘But the point is, Tony, would they have had the conversation standing there in the hallway? I don’t think so. They were right next to the door to Harriet’s study. They could have gone in there or into the kitchen and sat down over a nice cup of tea. “Hi, Harriet. I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean that stuff I said last night. I was just being stupid … ” That sort of thing.

‘But it never happened. I’d say it’s obvious that whoever arrived at the house that morning went there with one aim in mind, which was to murder her. No chat. No second thoughts. Harriet opened the door and that was the last thing she did.’

‘And it wasn’t Tirian.’

‘It might have been. I got Kevin to do a search on him, by the way. All that stuff he told us about growing up in Wales, his parents dying in a car crash, moving to Harrogate, the National Trust …’

‘And?’

‘It all checks out. The episode of Heartbeat was called “Another Little Piece of My Heart”. He didn’t get a credit, though.’

‘He was only an extra.’

‘I think they’re called background artists.’

My heart sank. ‘Have you heard anything more from Cara Grunshaw?’

‘She’s not going to call me!’

‘What about the forensic lab?’

‘They haven’t managed to sort themselves out just yet.’ He half smiled. ‘I thought you didn’t approve of my friend Kevin.’

‘I’m willing to make exceptions.’

Hawthorne ground out his cigarette and stood up. I was happy to leave my hot chocolate. It tasted of traffic fumes. ‘Martin Longhurst is waiting for us,’ he said.