Mara answered the door on his second knock and let him in.
“I suppose you want to sit down?” she asked.
“It might take a while.” Banks made himself comfortable in the rocking chair.
The children sat at the table colouring, and Paul slouched on the beanbag cushions reading a science-fiction book.
“Where are Rick and Zoe?” Banks asked.
“Working.”
“Can you go get them, please? I’d like to talk to all of you. And would it be too much to ask for some tea?”
Mara put the kettle on first, then went out to the barn to fetch the others.
When she came back, she saw to the tea while Rick and Zoe sat down.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Rick demanded. “Haven’t we had enough? Where’s your friend?”
“He’s packing.”
“Packing?” Mara said, walking in slowly with the teapot and mugs on a tray.
“But-“
“It’s all over, Mara. Almost over, anyway.”
Banks poured himself some tea, lit a cigarette and turned to Paul. “You wrote that suicide note, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come off it, the time for messing around is over. The pressure on the keys was different from that on the letters Seth typed, and his style was a hell of a lot better than yours. Why did you do it?”
“I’ve told you, I didn’t do anything.” They were all staring at him now and he began to turn red.
309
“Shall I tell you why you did it?” Banks went on. “You did it to deflect the blame from yourself.”
“Wait a minute,” Mara said. “Are you accusing Paul of killing Seth?”
“Nobody killed Seth,” Banks said quietly. “He did it himself.”
“But you said-“
“I know. And that’s what we thought. It was the note that confused me. Seth didn’t write it; Paul did. But he didn’t kill anyone. When Paul found him, Seth was already dead. Paul just took the opportunity to type out a note of confession, hoping it would get him off the hook. It didn’t seem like such a bad thing to do, I’m sure. After all, Seth was dead. Nothing could affect him any more. Isn’t that right, Paul?”
Paul said nothing.
“Paul?” Mara turned to face him sternly. “Is it true?”
“So what if it is? Seth wouldn’t have minded. He wouldn’t have wanted us to go on being persecuted. He was dead, Mara. I swear it. All I did was type out a note.”
“Had he written anything himself?” Banks asked.
“Yes, but it said nothing.” He pulled a scrap of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans and passed it over. It read, “Sorry, Mara.” Just that. Banks passed it to Mara, and tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “How could you, Paul?” she said.
Paul sat forward and hugged his knees. “It was for all of us,” he said. “Can’t you see? To keep the police off our backs. It’s what Seth would have done.”
“But he didn’t,” Banks said. “Seth had no idea that Paul would forge a note. As far as he was concerned, his suicide would be accepted for what it was. He’d never imagined that we’d see it as murder. If his death led us to the truth, so be it, but he wasn’t going to explain. He never did while he was alive, so why should he when he was about to die?”
“The truth?” Mara said. “Is that what you’re going to tell us now?”
“Yes. If you want me to.”
Mara nodded.
“You might not like it.”
310
“After all we’ve been through,” she said, “I think you owe it to us.”
“Very well. I think Seth killed himself out of shame, among other reasons. He felt he’d let everyone down- including himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Seth stabbed PC Gill and he couldn’t live with what he’d done. Paul had already suffered for it. Seth would never have let him take the blame. He’d have confessed himself rather than that. When Paul was released, he was happy for him. What it meant for Seth, though, was that the police would get even closer to him now. It was just a matter of time. I’d already seen PC Gill’s number in his notebook, and those books in his workshop. I knew it was his knife, too. I’d asked him about Elizabeth Dale, and he knew how unstable she was. All I had to do was find her and get her to talk. Seth knew all this. He knew it would soon be all over for him.”
