Shape of Snakes

several hours in advance of her death, now you're saying Geoffrey Spalding murdered her. When are you going to make up your mind, Mrs. Ranelagh?'

Sam roused himself. 'She's not saying Spalding killed her.' he said reasonably, 'just that he thought he did. If it comes to that, I've spent twenty years worrying that I did the same. And maybe I did. Maybe that fifteen minutes I left her to lie in the gutter was the difference between life and death.'

'Then you should have cleared your conscience by telling us the truth at the time,' said Drury with a far from friendly smile, 'instead of contaminating the investigation because you couldn't keep your hands off your friend's wife.'

He would have been wiser not to mention Libby, I thought with private amusement as I watched an angry flush stain Sam's cheeks. Guilt was the one thing guaranteed to fire my husband's temper.

'You told us there wasn't going to be an investigation,' he snapped. 'I remember it very distinctly. You came to the house the next day to explain the postmortem findings. Unequivocal, you said ... a clear-cut accident ... no hint of foul play. I also remember you saying that if there had been any question marks over the death, the whole matter would have been turned over to the CID.'

'There were no question marks, Mr. Ranelagh. It might have been different if you hadn't lied, but we could only work with the information we had.'

Sam smoothed a hand across his bald patch, staring past Drury to the lights on the other side of the water. 'Jock and I didn't offer any information until the Thursday evening when we were asked to make voluntary statements in support of what Libby had told you the day before, namely that Jock was at my house.'

'So now you're blaming Mrs. Williams?'

'No, merely pointing out that you'd made up your mind it was an accident a good twenty-four hours before Jock or I said anything.' He stared thoughtfully at Drury as if he were fundamentally reassessing some previous judgment. 'Would it have made any difference if we had told the truth? Wouldn't you just have claimed she was hit by a truck between the couple in the car seeing her and my finding her?'

Drury's silence was an answer in itself. 'You telephoned me several times at work,' Sam went on, 'telling me that my wife was suffering a classic response to stress and needed psychiatric help. You said you'd seen that sort of reaction before and it always led to more and more a accusations.'

'You agreed with every word, Mr. Ranelagh, including the necessity for an official caution.'

My husband folded his arms and stared fixedly at the cobbles as if certainty lay within their uneven surface. 'Did I have any choice?' he asked. 'You read out a catalog of complaints against her ... wasting police time ... making false accusations against Derek Slater ... reporting imaginary sex attacks to win sympathy ... plaguing you with telephone calls and visits because she had an unhealthy obsession with you.' He lifted his head. 'You were a policeman. I had to accept you were telling me the truth.'

'It must have tallied with your own opinion,' said Drury persuasively, 'otherwise you'd have argued your wife's case.'

Sam made a troubled gesture with his hand. 'I was in no position to argue. I hadn't seen her for nearly three weeks, and on the one occasion she phoned she was hysterical. I couldn't make head or tail of what she was saying so I called her parents and asked them to help her.' He paused, trying to marshal facts in his head. 'But you'd already persuaded my mother-in-law that an official caution in front of her family was the best way to deal with the situation. 'She needs shaming to stop her wasting any more police time,' was the way you put it.'

There was a short silence.

'It worked then,' I said lightly. 'I'd have slit my throat rather than say another word to Mr. Drury ... or to you and Ma, Sam. You both stood by and watched this bastard bully me into keeping my mouth shut'-I jerked my chin at Drury-'and then shook his hand at the end as if he'd done something fine. The only person who refused to go along with the charade was my father, yet he knew no more at that stage than you did. He just had faith in the woman he knew me to be rather than a pathetic, disturbed creature who was resorting to sexual fantasy to prolong her fifteen minutes of fame.'

'You were never described in those terms or treated with anything other than courtesy,' said Drury curtly. 'Your husband knows that. That's why I asked him to be present, so that you wouldn't be able to rewrite the history afterward.'

'You could be as courteous as you liked,' I said, 'because you knew I wouldn't argue with you. Not after the unofficial caution you arranged for me the night before. You should have joined the party,' I told him. 'I imagine it was a great deal more exciting than hammering a needle into a twelve-year-old's arm or pounding at a black face until the cheekbone snapped.'

The muscles along the man's jawline tightened. 'Now you're slandering me in front of a witness.'

'Then sue me. Give me my day in court. It's all I've ever wanted. But you'll be on thin ice ... I've another copy of your assessment in my rucksack.'

He took an abrupt step forward, swinging his fists at his sides. I thought he was going to hit me and dodged away 'round the bonnet of the car, but he snatched up the rucksack instead and tossed it into the water beyond the harbor wall.

There was a second of silence before it hit with a splash, and Drury stared after it with a look of satisfaction on his lean face. He flung off the nervous hand that Sam laid on his arm. 'Leave it,' he warned. 'This is between me and your wife.'

'You always were a shithead,' I hissed angrily as I thought of my wallet and credit cards sinking into the sludge at the bottom of the river. 'That's the only solution you've ever had to anything. Get rid of the evidence before your crimes find you out.'

He laughed at my anger. 'It's not so much fun when the boot's on the other foot, is it?' he taunted, resting his palms on one side of the bonnet and staring me down.

I did the same from my side, thrusting my face toward his and raking him with furious eyes. 'Do you know what pisses me off the most? Not what you did to me'-I lifted a finger and stabbed it at his chest-'I learned to deal with that. It's the fact that you had the nerve to underestimate me ... and still fucking well do.' I could feel the stridency roaring in my voice and, for once, didn't give a damn how it sounded. If the truth be told, I'd always been closer to loudmouthed fishwives than effete Victorian ladies who gave