Amagansett

‘What did he look like?’

‘Small…nondescript,’ shrugged Justin.

‘Deputy Chief Hollis.’

‘Yes, that was his name.’

‘What kind of questions?’ asked Wakeley.

‘I don’t know…my relationship with her. He seemed to know we’d been engaged. I really can’t remember, I was pretty upset at the time.’

‘Try and remember.’

Wakeley could feel Manfred tensing beside him and he wished he was alone with Justin right now.

‘He wanted to know how she was, the last time I saw her.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Well, not the truth,’ snorted Justin, ‘if that’s what you’re worried about.’

He had told them the truth, by phone, within a few hours of that walk on the beach with her. He had described Lillian’s worrying appeal to his conscience, the extent of her own crushing guilt, which seemed to have grown since her move out to East Hampton. He had told them, and they had told him not to worry, they would talk to her, make her see sense. But she hadn’t, she had stood her ground.

‘Why the hell didn’t you say something about this before!?’ snapped Manfred.

Justin was clearly taken aback by the vehemence of the question. ‘What…?’

‘Manfred…’ said Wakeley, trying to silence him with a look.

‘You should have told us before,’ insisted Manfred.

‘He was just a policeman doing his job, asking questions,’ said Justin defensively. ‘Anyway, her death’s got nothing to do with this.’

And then the unthinkable dawned across his face.

‘It doesn’t, does it?’

‘Of course not,’ said Wakeley, stepping in.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

It was an admirable recovery on Manfred’s part, just the right note of dismissive indignation.

‘But we can’t afford to take any chances. Everything has to go through Richard, we agreed that— everything.’

Dinner was a muted affair. Justin declined the offer of a nightcap and they accompanied him to his car. As he pulled away into the night, Manfred turned to Wakeley.

‘I’m sorry, Richard, I messed up.’

‘You’re inclined to speak before you think. It’s your one fault.’

‘He knows, doesn’t he?’

‘He can’t afford to.’

‘That’s not the same thing.’

‘Yes, it is.’

Manfred offered him a cigarette and lit it for him.

‘The policeman, Hollis, he’s no fool. He has shrewd eyes.’

‘Christ, it’s unraveling, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s not. These things are rarely perfect, it’s all about evidence, a game of percentages. If Hollis had anything concrete we’d know it by now.’ Wakeley paused. ‘It’s Labarde who concerns me. We haven’t heard the last of him.’

‘You think?’

‘They were close, Manfred.’

‘You said they only knew each other a few months.’

‘She was in love with him.’

Manfred snorted.

‘You don’t want to believe it, I understand. But why would she lie to Rosa about something like that?’

‘Rosa said that?’

Wakeley nodded.

Manfred shook his head in disbelief. ‘What did she think, that we’d welcome him into the fold?’ He flicked his cigarette away in anger. ‘A fucking fisherman!?’

‘Our opponent. And you never underestimate an opponent. We have to assume he’s not going away.’

‘That’s very comforting, Richard.’