'No, he won't. That's the whole point.'
'OK,' I said, a grin spreading across my lips.
And so we made love, the wind and sun caressing our bare skin, water lapping a few inches below us, and the wide expanse of the marsh all around us. It was wonderful.
We lay in each other's arms, recovering. Lisa pulled her shirt over her chest to keep warm; I let the goose- pimples grow on my skin. We said nothing. I felt at one with the marsh, and with Lisa.
I don't know how much time passed before Lisa said, 'Come on. Let's see if Dad's back.'
'He'll know what we've been doing,' I said.
'No, he won't,' said Lisa. Then she giggled. 'Anyway, what if he does? It'll stop him worrying about our marriage, won't it?'
She held my hand as we made our way awkwardly along the walkway, back to Marsh House.
Frank's car was still there. Lisa rapped on the door. No reply. 'Do you think he's all right?'
'Of course he is,' I said. 'It's just a long walk.'
'I don't know,' said Lisa. She looked around anxiously. 'It's strange he locked the door. He usually leaves it open when he's here. Let's see if we can see inside the house.'
So we walked round the building, looking in through the windows. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. There was a small dining area between the two. The window was high, above my eye level.
'Here, get on my shoulders,' I said to Lisa, crouching down.
'OK.' She giggled, and climbed on to my back. I slowly straightened my legs, bringing her up to the level of the window.
The giggling stopped abruptly. She stiffened, and her fingers clawed at my hair. 'Simon,' she whispered. 'SIMON!!!'
I swung her down to the ground. Her eyes were wide, and she was gasping for breath. I leaped up and grabbed the window ledge with my fingers. I hauled myself up until my eyes were just at the level of the glass.
'Jesus!'
Someone was lying face down in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area, two dark patches spreading across his back.
I dropped to the ground, sprinted round the house, and charged the front door.
The wood cracked. I threw myself at the door two more times with all my weight, and it burst open. I rushed over to Frank's body.
He was dead. Two bloodied bullet holes gaped through the back of the checked shirt he had been wearing the day before.
Lisa let out a shriek, the like of which I had never heard before. She pushed past me and threw herself on to him, grabbing his face, willing him to be alive, sobbing 'Dad, Dad, Dad,' over and over again.
7
'Just a few more questions, Mr Ayot. Or is it Sir Simon Ayot?'
Sergeant Mahoney sat on the sofa in our small living room. His card said he was from the State Police Crime Prevention and Control Unit assigned to the Essex County District Attorney's Office. He was a big man, running to fat, with thinning red hair and bright blue eyes. One corner of his mouth seemed permanently raised in a half-smile of mild amusement, or mild disbelief, I couldn't quite tell. He was probably pushing fifty, and he had the air of someone who had seen a lot, as he no doubt had. A female colleague had taken Lisa out for a cup of coffee, leaving the two of us alone in the apartment.
'Just call me mister,' I said. 'All that the 'Sir' means is that my father died young.'
I had tried to suppress my title since I had moved to America. And Lisa never called herself 'Lady Ayot', except sometimes when drunk and naked in bed. One of my reasons for being in America, apart from Lisa of course, was that things like titles didn't matter. In England, I felt awkward using the 'Sir', and disrespectful to my father's family not using it. Here I could just forget all about it. It was only when people saw my passport, as Mahoney had, or when Gil managed to squeeze it into a conversation somehow, that anyone knew.
'OK, Mr Ayot. I'd just like to go back over some of the things you told me yesterday' He had a thick Boston accent, but it was slightly different from Craig's. I still wasn't able to distinguish the local accents with confidence.
'Fine.'
'It looks like you were the last person to see Frank Cook alive.'
'Really?'
The blue eyes watched my every reaction. 'Yes. The coroner thinks he died sometime before ten p. m. on Saturday. Now you say you came to see him at about two thirty on Saturday afternoon?'
'I think that's right, yes.'
'That fits with the neighbour who says she saw you speeding down the dirt road toward his house.'
I smiled. 'I was doing about ten miles an hour. She just wasn't looking where she was going.'
'Fair enough. This isn't a traffic investigation.' The corner of Mahoney's mouth flicked upwards. 'Now when you arrived, was Mr Cook there?'
'Yes, he was there. He looked tired. On edge. He didn't seem too pleased to see me.'
'Why did you go to meet him?'
'I wanted to try to straighten out a few things between us.'
'What kind of things?'
I hesitated. 'Frank and I had had an argument at work. I wanted to try to sort it out.'
Mahoney looked at me closely. He knew I wasn't telling him everything. 'What was the argument about?'
'An investment.'
'I see.' He remained silent, holding my eyes, waiting for me to say more.
I had no desire to tell Mahoney about Frank's suspicions over me and Diane. But I had even less desire to be caught hiding them. This was a murder investigation: the questions would not go away. I decided it was best to be as straightforward as possible with the answers.
I sighed. 'I thought the real cause of the disagreement was that Frank suspected me of having an affair with one of my colleagues. I wanted to persuade him that there was no danger of that.'
'And were you?' The eyes peered into mine.
'No,' I said simply. This wasn't the time for righteous indignation. I would have to be very careful with Mahoney. Careful and precise.
'OK. Did Mr Cook believe you?'
'I don't know. I don't think so.'
'Did you have another argument?'
'Not exactly,' I said, truthfully.
'But you didn't leave best of friends?'
'No.'
Mahoney paused, but let his eyes rest on me. Then the questions came again.
'What time did you leave the house?'
'I don't know. Three o'clock, perhaps.'
'Where did you go then?'
'I went for a walk on the beach. Shanks Beach. And then I drove to the office of one of our companies, Net Cop.'
'Did you meet anyone on this walk? See anyone?'
'There were a few cars in the car park.' I thought hard. 'I think there were one or two people on the beach, but I can't remember them. I was too wrapped up in Frank and his attitude towards me.'
'OK,' said Mahoney. 'How long were you at the beach?'
'About an hour.'
'And then you drove to this company, what was it? Net Cop?'
