crowbars and wedges down there, already, waiting for the big job. I suppose I thought I could move him again the next night. Maybe I didn’t think at all, just huddled him out of sight. It was getting light, and all the time I had Paddy on my mind. It was quite a job, single-handed, but it can be done if you’re pushed.”
“So you very honestly explained to me,” said George, “when I asked you, yesterday.”
“Well, by instinct I am honest. I’ve never had any reason to be anything else, before. It gets everything snarled up, though, when you do get into a jam. Well, I got him into the coffin. I thought I was putting him in with Treverra. And all the time I was shutting him in with the man he’d killed two years before. Who says providence hasn’t got a sense of humour?
“And yet it doesn’t make me feel a bit better about it, that he turned out to be a murderer. It doesn’t alter anything.
“And then afterwards, when I began thinking where I’d move him to, I thought, well, why? Why move him at all? For all I knew then, he had a loving family. I don’t think I’d ever wanted to deprive them of him, and I didn’t really like the thought of them waiting and worrying, and looking for him, not even knowing whether he was alive or dead.
They had walked the length of one little shopping street from the end of the harbour, and emerged into the square. Without consultation, but quite naturally, they crossed the cobbled space of parked cars towards the door of the police station.
“I’m glad I did,” said Simon, producing suddenly, even out of his profound depression, the smile that drew people after him.
“You didn’t need me,” said George. “This has been your show throughout.”
They reached the apron of paving before the steps, and halted there by consent to take breath before entering. Neither of them noticed the light flurry of steps on the cobbles, heading for them at a confident run from the newsagent’s shop at the corner of the square.
“Well, that was exactly how it happened. Pointless and needless. Nobody even wanted it. But it happened, and I was the one who made it happen.” Simon filled his lungs deeply, as though there was going to be less to breathe inside. Very soberly he asked: “What do you think I shall get?”
The running feet broke rhythm, suddenly and very close to them. A breath caught on a half-sound, as if someone had been about to speak quite loudly and gaily, and then swallowed the word unspoken. George swung round, and found himself staring into the wide, wary, golden-hazel eyes of his son.
“Dad, I—I was only—” His voice wavered away into uncertainty and silence. He looked from one face to the other with that bright, uneasy, intelligent glance, and drew back a step. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in. I’ll see you later. It wasn’t anything.”
“That’s all right, Dom,” said George calmly. “But not now, we’re occupied. Run off and take care of your mother, I’ll be with you at lunch.”
“Yes, of course. I didn’t realise you were busy. Sorry!”
He drew back at once, gladly, quickly, but the stunned look in his eyes had begun to change before he turned his back on them and walked away rapidly out of the square, and the imagination behind the eyes was at work frantically with what he must certainly have heard. “It happened, and I was the one who made it happen. What do you think I shall get?” His innocent approach couldn’t have been better timed to tell him everything in two sentences. And he was exceedingly quick in the uptake.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Simon with compunction, looking after the slender figure as it walked too steadily, too thoughtfully, away from them. “But he’d have had to know pretty soon, I suppose. What
“With luck,” said George, “a discharge. At the worst, up to three years for manslaughter. If you tell it as you’ve told it to me.”
“Ah, but I shan’t be doing that. And neither will you, George, not quite. If they reduce the charge to manslaughter, or unlawful killing, or anything less than murder, I’m going to plead guilty. Then they won’t have to call evidence at all—will they? So everyone will be spared.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said George with equal firmness. “You’ll employ a good lawyer, and be guided by him how to plead. You just tell the truth and leave the law to him. With any luck he’ll get you off.”
Simon’s tawny face had recovered something of its spirit and audacity, and all of its obstinacy. “I’ll tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, but not quite the whole truth. I’ll say he came following and threatening me, I’ll say he was abusive. And with what’s going to come out about Ruiz, that won’t be at all hard for them to believe and understand. But I won’t bring Paddy and Tim and Phil into it. They’re back safely on the rails, and running like a train, and I’m not going to do anything to shake them again, and neither are you. I’d rather plead guilty ten times over. I’m not what I’d call a good man, George, but that’s one thing I won’t do, and won’t let you do, either. And unless you promise me here and now to keep them out of it, it’s your word against mine for all this. I won’t co- operate. I’ll turn back here and deny everything, and make you sweat your case up as best you can. I don’t believe you could ever make it stick.”
“You wouldn’t be happy,” said George, smiling.
“No, I wouldn’t. I’d much rather go in there and get it off my chest. But not at that price.”
“I told you,” said George, “
“Good, then they’re out of it. For keeps. I look upon that as a promise, George. But—would you mind coming in with me? And will you be kind enough to let Tim know, afterwards? Don’t let them worry. They’ll know best how to tell Paddy. It isn’t that I wanted to keep him from knowing,” he said, as they climbed the steps side by side. “I just wanted him safely off the scene until I’d got the worst over.”
The shadow of the doorway fell on him, softening the tight, bright lines of his face, braced again now for the
