Long Time Coming - Retail, page 32
part #18 of Robert Goddard Series
‘It belongs to her flatmate, actually. It was stolen from their basement flat in London last Friday.’
‘So you say.’
‘What do you really want from me, Lady Linley? If you genuinely believe I had a hand in your brother’s murder, you shouldn’t feel safe at the moment, alone here with me, a kitchen full of sharp knives just a few strides away. But you don’t look worried. You don’t look worried at all. Why is that?’
‘I want you to tell me what happened, Mr Swan. That’s all.’
Suddenly, I understood. She wasn’t there to accuse or berate me. She didn’t believe Rachel had killed Ardal. She didn’t know what to believe. ‘Does Sir Miles know you’re here?’
‘We can leave my husband out of this.’
‘I don’t think we can, I’m afraid. He’s responsible for Ardal’s death.’
She glared at me. ‘That’s a monstrous suggestion.’
‘It is, isn’t it? But it happens to be true. I don’t know if he explicitly approved the murder. Probably not. Probably this man Tate I’ve been dealing with took the decision. But responsible? Yes, I think we can fairly say Sir Miles is that all right. Ardal phoned you the day he died, didn’t he, to warn you he was going to deliver proof to us that your brother Desmond forged the Meridors’ Picassos? You told your husband about the call. He told Tate. And Tate took the action he deemed necessary to stop the proof reaching us.’
Her indignation had turned to dismay. ‘How do you know Ardal phoned me?’
‘Tate told me. And how could he know, unless Sir Miles told him?’
‘Who is this … Tate … you keep referring to?’
‘Ask Sir Miles. He can explain how these things work. If he wants to.’
Her self-control was faltering. She began fiddling with her wedding ring and looked past me, focusing, it seemed, on someone and somewhere else. She was breathing more rapidly, but also more shallowly. I wasn’t sure what she’d expected to hear from me, but I was in no mood to hold back.
I told her everything then: about the photographs Ardal had taken at Cherrygarth in October 1940; how Desmond had concealed them in one of the paintings she’d auctioned off; about the lengths Ardal had gone to obtain the painting and preserve its secret; where he’d been – and where he’d ended up – on the day of his death; and how I’d been forced to do a deal with Tate to hand the photographs over in return for Rachel’s freedom. I told her. And she listened. To every word.
I poured myself a stiff drink when I’d finished. She said nothing, except a hoarse and belated ‘Thank you’ when she noticed the glass of vodka and very little tonic that I put in front of her. She took an unladylike gulp.
‘Do you mind if I ask why you married Miles Linley?’ I said, sitting down opposite her. ‘I mean, honestly, why?’
She looked at me, and sipped her vodka, but still said nothing.
‘Was it for the money and social status you judged he’d give you? The knighthood you could foresee even then? The advantages your children would enjoy? I’d guess at something along those lines and I wouldn’t be far wrong, would I?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said in an undertone.
‘Oh, but I do. His promise to Eldritch, for instance. How could you let him break that?’ Her momentary frown of puzzlement gave me my answer. ‘You didn’t know, did you? I suppose Sir Miles never thought you needed to know. He promised to get Eldritch out of prison at the end of the war, Lady Linley. That’s why Eldritch withdrew his statement and said nothing at his trial. Because he took his old school friend at his word. More fool him.’
Most of the colour had drained from her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up. ‘I’d like to go now. I … I have a coat.’ She swayed and I jumped up, thinking she might be about to faint. But she recovered herself with a visible start. ‘My coat, please,’ she said, her voice by now barely a whisper.
I fetched it from the hall and helped her on with it. ‘Would you like me to phone for a taxi?’ I asked.
‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’
‘Eldritch is here, you know. In Antwerp. Do you want me to give him a message?’
She thought about that for a few seconds, then turned to look directly at me, as if to avoid any possible misunderstanding on the point. She shook her head. ‘No message.’
FORTY-TWO
‘She has gone, hasn’t she?’ van Briel asked, entering the lounge with exaggerated wariness to find me alone, sipping a second vodka.
‘Yes, Bart. She’s gone.’
‘How was it?’
‘Strange. I ended up feeling sorry for her.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t think she understood until now that all those sacrifices she made to get what she wanted may have ended up costing her brothers their lives.’
‘You’ve got yourself into some heavy stuff, Stephen.’
‘I know.’
‘But soon it’ll be over. Even your uncle thinks so.’
‘You’ve spoken to Eldritch?’
‘He phoned just before Lady Linley arrived. You can get him on this number.’ Van Briel handed me a piece of paper with a number scrawled on it. ‘He wants to know as soon as we hear they’re letting Miss Banner go. Like I told him, it could take Bequaert most of tomorrow to decide he has to. But if this witness you say will show up does show up, it’ll happen. For sure.’
Van Briel was right. Events played themselves out the following day as predicted. Also as predicted, they did so at a frustratingly slow pace. I alternated between short, aimless walks around Zurenborg and long, fretful pacings across van Briel’s lounge. Eventually, he phoned me from the office to report that the Prosecutor’s Office had thrown in the towel. New evidence (in the form of Tate’s tame witness) meant Rachel was no longer regarded as the person most likely to have murdered Ardal Quilligan. And that meant they were going to let her go.
I phoned Eldritch right away. He picked up the receiver so quickly it was easy to believe he’d been sitting by it waiting for my call.
‘Van Briel’s going to drive Esther and me to Bruges to collect her,’ I reported.
‘That’s good. You’ve done well, Stephen.’
‘Oudermans will release the negatives to Tate at the same time.’
‘And that will be that. Well, so be it. Give Rachel my regards, won’t you?’
‘Why don’t you give them to her yourself? We’ll be coming straight back to Antwerp.’
There was a lengthy pause, though what he needed to think about was unclear to me. His response, when it came, was typically ambiguous. ‘We’ll see.’
It was late afternoon by the time we reached the Palace of Justice in Bruges, where Rachel was waiting for us. Our reunion wasn’t at all as I’d envisaged. She was strangely subdued and her mother’s presence, not to mention van Briel’s, as well as assorted poker-faced police officers’, seemed to raise a barrier between us. She looked tired and drained, barely speaking as the bureaucratic details of her release were attended to.
Then van Briel reported a small but significant problem. Bequaert was nowhere to be found and he hadn’t authorized the return of Rachel’s passport – or mine. Whether this was a devious ploy or a mere oversight van Briel wasn’t sure. Phone calls were made and messages passed. We sat in a crowded waiting room, drinking vending-machine coffee, incapable of saying much to each other, while he made a nuisance of himself on our behalf. Eventually, Rachel asked if I’d take her outside. Esther had the good sense to say she’d stay behind and fetch us if anything happened.
Night had fallen and I couldn’t see Rachel’s face clearly as we stood in the drizzle-smeared car park. I tried to kiss her, but she turned away so all I ended up doing was brushing my lips against her cheek. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘Van Briel said you’d done a deal to get me out,’ she replied, her voice distant and suspicious. ‘Tell me what it was.’
And so I told her. I heard her suck in her breath when I recounted how and why I’d surrendered the proof that Desmond Quilligan had forged the Picassos. And I saw, despite the darkness, the solemn shake of her head as I explained why we had no choice but to accept defeat. I realized in that moment that Rachel did have a choice.
She’d gone on a very different journey from me over the past four days and had ended up in a very different place. The distance between us suddenly yawned in front of me. I loved her. And she loved me. I was sure of it. But I wasn’t sure that our love would be enough to hold us together. ‘There was no other way to save you, Rachel. Linley is untouchable. And that means your case against the Brownlow estate is unwinnable.’
‘You found the proof,’ she said incredulously, ‘and you gave it away.’
‘I traded it for your freedom.’
‘You had no right to do that. It was for me to decide, not you. I’ve spent most of my life trying to lay hands on that proof. For the past year I’ve thought of nothing else. And you gave it away.’
‘Listen to me, Rachel.’ I tried to put my arm round her, but she recoiled. ‘This is crazy. I—’
‘That’s what a lot of people said I was. Crazy. But they didn’t believe me. It’s worse … when someone who does believe you … when someone you trust …’ Her voice fractured into a sob.
I reached out, but she pushed me away. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There was no alternative. You must understand that.’
‘You should have consulted me.’
‘How could I?’
‘You knew I wouldn’t agree. That’s why you went ahead. You just wanted this over and done with.’
‘That’s not true. I did what I thought was best. I did the only thing I could think of to save you.’
‘And yourself.’
‘For God’s sake, Rachel, there was no other way.’
‘Yes, there was. There always is – if you look hard enough. But you didn’t look, did you? Because you didn’t want to find one.’
I knew this was her anger and frustration talking. Later, she’d come to see there truly had been no room for manoeuvre – no other way at all. But the knowledge did little to soften the blow of how disappointed she was in me.
‘You betrayed me. I was relying on you. And you betrayed me.’
‘No. I did what I had to do to get you out of trouble. And I did it because I love you.’
‘Love?’ She stared at me – and through me – as if I was a stranger. ‘I can’t talk to you any more, Stephen. Not now. Not after this. I have … nothing to say to you.’
Esther had already guessed what was wrong and was sorry, though unsurprised, to see my shocked and downcast look when I rejoined her in the waiting room.
‘Rachel’s greatest strength is also her greatest weakness, Stephen,’ she said. ‘She simply refuses to admit defeat, even when it’s staring her in the face. She’ll have sustained herself since her arrest with her certainty that eventually, somehow or other, she’ll win.’
‘I can’t deliver that victory, Esther. No one can.’
‘I know. But she can’t accept that. Not yet, anyway. You’re going to have to be patient with her. Don’t let her push you away.’
‘Maybe I should go back out to her.’
‘No. What she needs now is time to adjust to the reality of the situation and to remember the things that really matter. Give her that time, Stephen. It’s all you can do.’
I had little doubt Esther was right. But that didn’t make it easy to follow her advice. It was van Briel who went to find Rachel, about twenty minutes later, with the news that Bequaert had finally been contacted and had approved the return of our passports. She came in with him, blank-faced and uncommunicative. The passports were delivered and signed for. We were free to go at last.
The drive back to Antwerp was tense and largely silent, van Briel’s attempts at conversation fizzling out early. It was a tight squeeze for the four of us in his Porsche, but close was the last thing I felt to Rachel. She sat in the back with her mother and, whenever I glanced round at her, her expression was the same – an empty stare through the window into the surrounding night, where she could only have seen what I could see too: blackness.
We dropped Esther and Rachel at Zonnestralen. The parting was terse, almost perfunctory. Esther thanked van Briel and spoke of seeing me the next day, doing her best to compensate for the fact that Rachel said nothing at all.
‘I’m sorry, Stephen,’ said van Briel, as we drove the short distance to his house. ‘She doesn’t seem very grateful for what you’ve done for her, does she?’
‘I thought she’d understand why I had to give up the proof, Bart. But I thought wrong.’
‘She’ll come round. Give her a little time.’
‘That’s what her mother said.’
‘There you are, then. Mothers always know best.’
Several late-night vodkas blurred but failed to dispel the bleakness of my mood. The suddenness with which elation had turned to dejection left me shocked and bewildered. Remembering that I could ask no more of van Briel, I assured him I’d move out the next day, though where I’d be going I couldn’t imagine. In truth, I couldn’t imagine very much about my immediate future at all.
After a long and largely sleepless night, desperation drove me to appeal for help to the one person who might be able to persuade Rachel I’d done the very best for her that could have been done in the circumstances.
Nimbala answered the phone and said Eldritch had gone out for a walk, which, since it was barely light, suggested he hadn’t slept well himself. ‘I’ll have him call you as soon as he returns, Meneer Swan.’
‘This is very important, Mr Nimbala. It’s vital I speak to him.’
‘Then, if you prefer, come here now.’
I did prefer. Nimbala’s apartment was only about a mile away, in an Art Deco block overlooking the landscaped greenery of the Stadspark. I saw Eldritch going in as I approached and intercepted him before he made it to the lift.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded. Then, seeing the look on my face, his tone softened. ‘What’s happened?’
I explained during a slow circuit of the park. My plea was simple and direct. I’d helped him and now I needed him to help me. It meant he’d have to meet Esther, of course, which he’d gone to some lengths to avoid, but, as I saw it, only he stood any chance of making Rachel see reason.
‘I doubt she’ll listen to me, Stephen,’ he objected.
‘She certainly won’t listen to anyone else. You can tell her exactly the sort of people we’re dealing with.’
‘Maybe. But—’
‘I need you to try this, Eldritch. Is it really asking too much?’
He lit a cigarette while he thought about it, then said, ‘You’re actually lucky to have caught me. I went to see Marie-Louise yesterday after you’d left for Bruges. I invited her to go away with me and start spending my forty-five thousand.’
‘She surely didn’t turn you down?’
‘No. But I wanted to leave straight away, whereas she insists on giving Esther at least a week’s notice. She’s supposed to be announcing it this morning. So, thanks to her … sense of duty … you got this chance to put me in the firing line.’
‘Does that mean you’ll do it?’
He sighed. ‘I suppose so.’
I walked back with him as far as Tramplein. He headed on along Cogels-Osylei towards Zonnestralen, while I made for Velodroomstraat.
Van Briel was preparing to leave for the office when I arrived. He reckoned asking Eldritch to intercede on my behalf was a smart move and wished me luck with it. Generously, he added that I was welcome to stay another night if I needed to.
I had no idea whether I’d find myself having to take him up on his offer, incapable as I was of thinking so far ahead. The next hour or so consumed all my hopes and left no room for anything else.
Less than an hour had actually passed, though it seemed longer, when the doorbell rang. I had some idea I’d answer it to Rachel, or Eldritch with Rachel. But Eldritch was alone. And his expression was grave.
‘What did she say?’ I asked, dreading his answer.
‘She wasn’t there,’ he replied, confounding me.
‘Not there?’
‘She left early this morning. She told her mother she was coming here. To patch things up with you.’
‘But—’
‘I couldn’t come any sooner without Esther realizing she’d been lied to. She’d be beside herself if she knew. We need to make a phone call.’
‘Who to?’
‘Rachel’s flatmate in London. She phoned her last night, apparently. That’s the only clue I have to where she’s really gone. And why.’
‘United States Embassy.’
‘Marilyn Liebermann, please.’
‘Hold on while I try to connect you.’
Several seconds of silence, then a ringing tone. And then a voice I recognized. ‘Grants and Bursaries.’
‘Marilyn? This is Stephen Swan.’
‘Oh, Stephen. I’m so glad you’ve called. I’ve been worried about Rachel since I spoke to her last night. I mean, it’s great the Belgian authorities have cleared you two, but—’
‘Why are you worried about her?’
‘Well, she sounded, I don’t know, sort of … Are you with her now?’
‘No. In fact, I don’t know where she is.’
‘You don’t?’
‘What did she say last night?’
‘Well, she told me the Belgian police had dropped all charges and let her go. I asked if she was coming back to London and she said yes, but she had to sort something out first.’
‘What was that?’
‘She said she had to … prove a point.’
‘What point?’
‘That no one is untouchable.’
‘She said that?’
‘Her exact words.’
‘Did you ask her what she meant?’
‘I never got the chance. She hung up. Does it make any sense to you?’
It did, reluctant as I was to admit it. It made perfect and terrible sense.
FORTY-THREE
If I’d thought about it, I might have recognized how strange it was, given his caution at other times, that Eldritch never once questioned what I proposed to do. Nor was there any suggestion he wouldn’t accompany me. A crisis had come that we couldn’t dodge or debate. Rachel meant to avenge herself on Sir Miles Linley. And we had to stop her.
