“Maybe that too,” said Isabel, “if it exists. I was thinking of something much more common. Psychopathy, or sociopathy—call it what you will. She’s sociopathic. She will have no moral com-punction in doing whatever is in her interests. It’s as simple as that.”
“Including pushing people over the gods at the Usher Hall?”
“Yes,” said Isabel. “Absolutely.”
Jamie thought for a moment. Isabel’s explanation seemed plausible, and he was prepared go along with it, but did she have any idea of what they might do next? What she had suggested was surmise, no more. Presumably there would need to be some form of proof if anything more were to be done. And they had no proof, none at all; all that they had was a theory as to motive.
“So,” he said. “What now?”
Isabel smiled. “I have no idea.”
Jamie could not conceal his irritation at her insouciance. “I don’t see how we can leave it at that. We’ve gone so far. We can’t just leave the matter there.”
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A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h The tone of Isabel’s response was placatory. “I wasn’t suggesting that we leave anything anywhere. And it doesn’t matter that I have no idea what to do, right at the moment. A period of doing nothing is exactly what’s needed.”
Seeing Jamie taken aback by this, Isabel went on to explain.
“I think she knows,” she said. “I think that she knows why we were there.”
“She said something?”
“Yes. When I was talking to her—you were chatting to Paul Hogg at the time—she said to me that she had heard from her fiance that I was interested in—those were her exact words,
‘interested in’—Mark Fraser. She waited for me to say something, but I just nodded. She came back to the subject a little later and asked me whether I had known him well. Again I dodged her question. It made her uneasy, I could see it. And I’m not surprised.”
“So do you think she knows that we suspect her?”
Isabel took a sip of wine. From the kitchen came wafting a smell of garlic and olive oil. “Smell that,” she said. “Delicious.
Does she think we know? Maybe. But whatever she may think, I’m pretty sure that we are going to hear from her at some stage.
She will want to know more about what we’re up to. She’ll come to us. Let’s just give her a few days to do that.”
Jamie looked unconvinced. “These sociopaths,” he said.
“What do they feel like? Inside?”
Isabel smiled. “Unmoved,” she said. “They feel unmoved. Look at a cat when it does something wrong. It looks quite unmoved.
Cats are sociopaths, you see. It’s their natural state.”
“And is it their fault? Are they to blame?”
“Cats are not to blame for being cats,” said Isabel, “and therefore they cannot be blamed for doing the things that cats do, such T H E S U N D A Y P H I L O S O P H Y C L U B
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as eating garden birds or playing with their prey. Cats can’t help any of that.”
“And what about people like that? Can they help it?” asked Jamie.
“It’s very problematic whether they are to be blamed for their actions,” said Isabel. “There’s an interesting literature on it. They might argue that their acts are the result of their psychopathol-ogy. They act the way they do because of their personality being what it is, but then they never
Jamie looked towards the kitchen. He saw a chef dip a finger into a bowl and then lick it thoughtfully. A sociopathic chef would be a nightmare. “It’s the sort of thing that you might discuss with your friends,” he said. “The Sunday Philosophy Club.
You could discuss the moral responsibility of people like that.”
Isabel smiled ruefully. “If I could get the club together,” she said. “Yes, if I could get the club to meet.”
“Sunday’s not an easy day,” said Jamie.
“No,” Isabel agreed. “That’s what Cat says too.” She paused.
She did not like to mention Cat too much in Jamie’s presence because he always looked wistful, almost lost, when she did so.
C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N
E
WHAT I NEED, thought Isabel, is a few days free of intrigue.
I need to get back to editing the review, to doing the crosswords without interruption, to going for the occasional walk into Bruntsfield to have an inconsequential chat with Cat. I do not need to spend my time conspiring with Jamie in pubs and restaurants and brushing up against scheming corporate financiers with expensive tastes in art.
She had not slept well the previous night. She had said good-bye to Jamie after their meal at the restaurant
