The Lazarus Hotel (28 page)

‘Yes, it is,' he agreed. ‘A vicious one. It succeeds because victims don't know where to turn for help. If they could talk to the police, probably they wouldn't be worth blackmailing in the first place.'

There was another gravid pause. Will did nothing to end it, prayed no one else would. At last Tessa said pensively, ‘That much is true. She
was
trying to blackmail me.'

Success was so close Will was afraid of frightening it away. He inched up on it. ‘You met by the river?'

Under the quilt one shoulder lifted. ‘I wasn't afraid to talk to her. We were good friends once.'

‘You parked your car nearby and got in beside her?' Tessa nodded. ‘She asked for money, you refused, she threatened to ruin you. Then—?'

‘Nothing. I left.'

‘No.' Will shook his head. ‘Cathy ended up dead, and it wasn't suicide. What happened?'

Stubbornly she repeated it. ‘I left.'

For a moment he seemed to change the subject. ‘She was a strong girl. She was tall, powerful. You'd never have got the better of her physically. You needed an edge. What did you do – hit her over the head? That would have left a bruise, but the pathologist would expect as much – crash your car into a river and you're going to bounce your head off the windscreen or the side pillars.'

The peridot eyes were calm. ‘You talk as if you were there – as if you saw all this. But it never happened. I met her by the river, heard her out, told her to get lost and left. When she realized I wasn't going to play ball, in despair – or more likely a fit of pique – she drove into the river. Maybe she thought I'd dash back and pull her out. But her timing was shot to hell. I didn't know what she'd done until I heard it on the news. And I'm not sure I'd have saved her if I could have. You're right, I was relieved she was dead. But I didn't kill her.'

Will had constructed a model in his head of events as he believed they'd transpired. He'd equipped it with every detail, he knew or could extrapolate, and by now it had achieved a virtual reality. He talked as if he'd seen what happened because, in the theatre of his mind, he had.

But there was a price to pay. What he was describing was the murder of someone he'd cared for, and now the emotional burden of that broke over him, threatening to swamp him. He went to respond but the words caught in his throat.

Sheelagh laid a hand on his arm. Right or wrong, he was hurting and in need of comfort. The trials of this weekend had disclosed unexpected strengths in all of them, but none more surprising than the tenderness that bloomed when Sheelagh learned to step out from behind the anger that had shielded her so long from the risks of getting close to people.

It was the same with the others, she thought. Tariq, labelled as mercenary and unfeeling, had emerged as a sensitive and ethical man. Larry the alleged slave-driver had shown a tenacious loyalty that made nonsense of the accusation. Richard, whose courage one night fell short of the inhuman demands on it, had risked his life for a companion. And Will, condemned by himself as well as her father for letting Cathy go without a fight, had fought himself to a standstill on her behalf.

Sheelagh's cobalt eyes flew wide. Will was so exhausted that he'd missed something. He'd asked the question when there was no means of verifying the answer; now there was. ‘Miriam, you're a doctor. What are the symptoms of diabetic coma?'

The psychologist stared at her.
‘Diabetes?'
Her voice cracked with incredulity.

‘I know, it sounds crazy, but bear with me. I'll explain in a moment. How do you distinguish between the two sorts of coma that affect diabetics?'

Miriam must have decided to answer the question and find out why later. ‘The symptoms are distinctive if you know what to look for. I suppose the easiest guide for the layman is whether or not the patient's sweating.'

‘And if he is?' Sheelagh's voice was soft.

‘If he is it's hypoglycaemia and you need to get some sugar into him.'

‘You wouldn't inject insulin.'

It must have been obvious to her that none of this was academic. The waiting stillness in the big room confirmed it. She may not have known the precise significance of her answer but she knew it was important. Even so she spent no time thinking about it. ‘Christ, no!'

Sheelagh nodded slowly. ‘We found Joe in a state of collapse. He was barely conscious and sweating. Tessa diagnosed diabetic coma and injected insulin.'

Her lips parted but for a moment Miriam said nothing. When the words came they were flat, colourless and hard. ‘Is he dead?'

‘We don't know for sure. Tessa says Joe attacked her and is still outside waiting for us.'

Miriam didn't believe it. ‘No.'

‘Yes!' Tessa leaned forward over her bent knees, her face flushed with anger. ‘It's true, I clipped his wings because he was dangerous, and lied in case some bleeding heart stopped me and someone died. When he came round he tried to kill Tariq and me both, and if he hadn't been disturbed he'd have killed you too. The man was insanely obsessed, and nobody's more to blame for that than you are, Miriam. You're a psychologist! – couldn't you
see
what he was doing, what was happening to him? Couldn't you see it was going to end in tragedy?'

Miriam's gaze was unyielding. ‘I knew Joe well for a period of months. He was depressed and troubled, but I don't believe he was capable of violence. And if he wasn't violent you had some other reason for what you did.'

Tessa tossed the fox-red hair, impatience merging with despair. ‘I can't talk to any of you, can I? You're not interested in anything I say. You've decided who's to blame – you don't want to hear the facts in case they get in the way. You tell me what happened, then, because I'm sure I don't know why I'd do the things you say I've done!'

The few moments'respite, the support of allies, gave Will new heart. ‘All right, I'll tell you what I think happened next. To Cathy, beside the river. You had her helpless in the car beside you, and you weren't going to let her threaten you again. You started the car and as it headed for the river you jumped clear.'

He gave a little snort of laughter that had nothing to do with mirth. ‘It must have scared the wits out of you when Richard hurtled past. He didn't see any of this, of course, never guessed there was someone else there. You kept out of sight and let him get on with it. You didn't think he could save her and you didn't care if he died trying. While he was fighting for his life you went home.'

His forehead creased. ‘What is it you're so afraid could still come out? Joe didn't suspect Cathy had been murdered. Even if he had, even if he'd suspected you, what could he possibly have proved?'

Tessa offered no explanation. But understanding came from somewhere because Will's brow cleared and he exhaled a soft little sigh. ‘The
seat?
The driver's seat was in the wrong place. In order to start the car you had to squeeze between Cathy and the wheel, so you pushed the seat back. The car would have been photographed when it was recovered. If the police reopened the file they'd spot what should have struck them at the time – that the driver's seat was too far back for Cathy to have reached the pedals.

‘That should have rung alarm bells right away. It didn't because they thought they knew what had happened. But they only had to compare measurements to realize Cathy couldn't have been driving. And if she wasn't driving it wasn't suicide.'

He believed it utterly, conviction growing with every chip he added to the mosaic. He couldn't be sure if the three-woman jury was equally convinced. Throughout the telling their eyes had turned like flowers following the sun, from his face to Tessa's and back; but though she had plainly lied it was a far cry from there to murder. He needed her to admit it.

She shrugged the quilt closer under her chin. In the ashy light of dawn her face was grey, bright hair and bright eyes leached of colour. Will waited for her response but the seconds passed and his hopes with them. He was going to have to finish it alone, trudge every last step with her silence dragging at him like lead. He drew a disappointed breath to do it; but she spoke first.

Her voice was colourless too, denatured, stripped of the vigour that had braced it through so many crises. But if Will was right they were crises of her own making: it was easy to be brave and witty and strong in adversity, thought Sheelagh, when you knew the only danger in the whole bloody building came from you!

Tessa's eyes rested half-focused on the quilt peaked over her knees. Softly, wearily, she said, ‘I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to hurt Cathy – I was fond of her once. But she'd have bled me dry and then sold the husk. She had no sense of honour left. All that mattered was getting what she wanted. She'd have ruined my life. I had to stop her.'

In the soul-deep silence that followed they could clearly hear the thunder of feet, the crash of wood on wood down the corridor where the wrecking crew had yet to realize they were engaged on a fool's errand.

Finally Miriam said gently, ‘Is Will right? Did you drive Cathy's car into the river?'

After another long pause Tessa looked up, her gaze defeated. She nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘Was he right about the rest?'

‘Most of it.'

Will had seen people in this situation before. They lied and lied, staked their reputation and their liberty on a fiction that grew thinner and less plausible the more it was explored, and when it finally tore and flew apart they reacted with horror, anger and even grief, as if the invention was something tangible which had been stolen from them, like a purse.

But their second reaction was relief, as if the invention had been crushing them. As if they'd saddled themselves with a burden they couldn't hope to carry but didn't know how to lay down. They were grateful to be rid of it. When there was no more need for caution they wanted to talk about what they'd done.

Now she'd started talking Tessa wanted to tell it all. To explain things which showed her in a bad light, to have a little sympathy for the trials she'd endured. ‘It happened faster than I expected. I barely got out before the car left the dock. Then there was that great splash, and a moment after that Richard – well, someone, I only found out who in the next day's papers – came sprinting past. If he hadn't been fully occupied he'd have seen me.'

She looked at Will then and her jaw lifted with a trace of the old arrogance. ‘You were wrong about that. I didn't think he'd die. I thought he'd save her. I thought I'd have the police round as soon as she woke up. Oh, you were wrong about that too. I didn't hit her – it was ether.

‘I went home. There didn't seem much point running so I waited. John, my husband, was at work so I passed the time writing to him – an explanation, an apology. When the police still hadn't come I put the radio on.

‘The first report gave no names, just said a woman was believed drowned and a man trying to save her was rescued after a car went into the Thames, and the police didn't suspect a crime. That was the first intimation I had that I might get away with it. I waited another hour, listened to all the bulletins, and the story didn't change and the police didn't come. So I burnt my letter and went to bed.'

‘What happened next?'

‘
Nothing
happened next,' she said, still possessed by the wonder of it. ‘No one came anywhere near me. Cathy must have been as secretive about me as I'd been about her. When the inquest recorded it as suicide I thought it was over and tried to put it out of my mind. Cathy was the author of her own downfall. I genuinely didn't
feel
like a murderer. After fifteen months it no longer seemed real. I saw no reason not to come here when I was asked. I wouldn't have joined in a group confessional, of course, but nobody asked me to. I was here to research an article. The thing with Cathy wasn't – relevant.' Her gaze switched to Miriam. ‘How did you
know?
‘

‘
What
I knew came from Joe,' said the psychologist. Her voice was quiet and controlled. Perhaps it wasn't the first time she'd heard a killer's confession; or perhaps the whole thrust of her training was to ready her for anything she heard, however terrible. ‘He talked to Cathy not long before her death. She told him almost everything – all the disappointment, all the slights. But not that she was planning to blackmail you, so he'd no reason to think she was murdered. He wanted you here because you gave her drugs that ruined her life and then left her in the wreckage alone.'

‘The mesambuterol wasn't my idea!' Tessa said indignantly. ‘Really. She picked some up on the circuit, liked the results and asked me to get her a supply. I suppose that was her first shot at blackmail. She said if I wouldn't help she'd have to ask around, but if she was caught it could come out about her and me.' She sniffed sourly. ‘She must have put it more subtly than that because I didn't get the subtext, and in the event she didn't have to spell it out. I thought it was the safest way if she was determined to have it. She promised I'd never be compromised, but it was the steroids talking. From then on she made a lot of promises she'd no intention of keeping.'

Will had kept quiet while she got used to talking. But it was too late for her to clam up now so he risked prompting her. ‘You must have been as puzzled as anyone when this weekend took the turn it did. But you were the last to spend much time with Cathy. You knew about the rest of us. When you realized who we were you knew her ghost was up and walking. That's why you had to talk to Miriam.'

Tessa made an ambivalent gesture of acceptance – with her head: her arms were under the duvet. ‘I needed to know how much damage had to be contained. I could cope with people knowing about Cathy and me – John would have been hurt but he wouldn't have left me and my partners wouldn't have cared. I could field the drugs issue because this long after, nothing could be proved. But if someone was aware it might not have been suicide, then I was in trouble.'