FIFTEEN

Harry never got the chance to ask Dangerfield if he would be prepared to put him up. Geddes did the asking for him, before leaving the hospital. In the circumstances, Dangerfield had little choice but to agree. He was also obliged to pass on a message from Wiseman to the effect that he was too tired to see anyone else. Harry found himself turned away by one fellow Clean Sheeter and foisted on another. For this last he could only apologize, which he attempted to do as he and Dangerfield stood outside the main entrance to the hospital, watching Geddes hurry away towards his car.

'The bloody man's got it into his head that Barry and I are involved in some sort of murderous conspiracy. I'm sorry you've ended up with me as a house guest because of it, Danger. But it won't be for long. I'm sure of that. Once they establish the car crash really was an accident, he'll have to drop it.'

'What if they establish it wasn't an accident, Harry?'

'You surely don't believe Magister's car was sabotaged.'

'Magister believes it.'

'What? And that I was responsible?'

'He didn't come out and say so. But when I told him you were waiting to see him, he pleaded with me to stop you going in. He seemed… frightened.'

'Frightened? Of me?'

'I know. It's crazy. But what with Jabber dying in front of him and Geddes banging on about Chipchase Sheltered Holdings

'You didn't invest in that, did you, Danger?'

'No. I'd never heard of it before yesterday. Besides, Barry's been staying with me. Do you think I'd have put him up if I'd been one of the punters he ripped off?'

'Point taken.'

'Personally, I don't think either of you has what it takes to kill anyone.'

'Thank God for that.'

'Unfortunately for you, my opinion doesn't count for much.'

'Perhaps I should go back in and try to make Magister understand how—'

'Leave it for now, Harry. He'll probably be thinking more rationally after a night's sleep. We probably all will.'

—«»—«»—«»—

They agreed to say nothing to the others about Harry's status as a suspect, at least for the moment. The atmosphere at Kilveen Castle for the rest of their stay promised to be strained enough without that information being added to the mix. It meant Erica had to be kept in the dark as well, which obliged both men to guard their tongues during the drive back. But when she suggested diverting to see the site of the crash, Harry did not object. He welcomed a postponement of their arrival at the castle — and the torrent of unanswerable questions it would set in motion. He was also curious to see the stretch of river where his alleged plot against Wiseman was supposed to have reached its climax — and where poor old Jabber had stopped jabbering for all time.

—«»—«»—«»—

Blue and white police tape fastened to stakes marked out a cordon round a set of wheel ruts cutting across the narrow grass verge between the road and the riverbank. It was the only sign of the earlier accident. Otherwise all was much as it had been during the brief stop Dangerfield had made there during his minibus tour the previous day. The Dee was a cold, grey, speeding mass of water, with dull green fields on its other side and dark, whale-backed mountains forming the western horizon. The road hugged the line of the river, hemmed in by a wooded hillside. There was a fishermen's hut tucked away under the trees and a pull-in for cars, where they stopped and gazed at the empty scene in silence for a minute or more before climbing out.

'You'd never know, would you?' murmured Dangerfield.

'It looks so… peaceful,' said Erica. 'I can understand why you fish here.'

'I don't think I ever will again.'

'That's a pity.'

'It's all a—' Dangerfield was interrupted by the trill of his mobile. He yanked it out of his pocket and answered. 'Hello? … Oh… Yes, hello.' Then he waved an apology to Harry and Erica and walked away out of earshot.

'Is it my imagination, Harry, or does Johnny hold himself in some irrational way responsible for everything that's gone wrong this weekend?'

'I guess that's inevitable. The reunion was his idea, after all. But none of this is his fault.'

'He'll be left to cope with the aftermath, though, won't he, when you all go your separate ways tomorrow.'

'Actually, I'm not leaving the area. Not tomorrow, anyway. Danger's putting me up for a few days.'

'Good. That'll be a help. It was kind of you to suggest it.'

'I didn't. It was Inspector Geddes's idea.'

'Geddes?'

'I'm his prime suspect.' Pretence on the point seemed suddenly futile. 'Me and my supposed co-conspirator Barry Chipchase.'

'You're joking.'

'I wish I was.'

'But that's ridiculous. Co-conspirators in what? A man kills himself. Another dies in a car crash. The police surely don't think

'I'm afraid they do.'

'Christ.' Erica frowned. 'I'd no idea.'

'It's not true, by the way.' Harry smiled gamely. 'I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. Nor did Barry. You can trust me on that. I'd be grateful if you didn't mention this to the others just yet, though. I don't want them petitioning to have me turned out of the hotel.'

'Now you are joking, right? Anyway, don't worry. I won't breathe a word.'

'Thanks.'

'You haven't got a cigarette, have you?'

'I don't smoke.'

'Neither do I. Usually.'

'I stopped when my daughter was born. Before she was born, actually.'

'What about pen and paper? Got either of those? I want to write something down for you.'

'Here.' Harry produced a Kilveen Castle ballpoint and the copy of Dangerfield's letter about the reunion Lloyd had given him. 'Use the back of that.'

'My mobile number. Call me if you need any help.' Erica smiled. 'I'm sure you won't. The police will soon come to their senses. But just in—'

She broke off and handed the letter and ballpoint back to Harry as Dangerfield headed towards them, grim-faced.

'That was Jabber's daughter,' he announced. 'The hotel put her onto me. I should have phoned her earlier. She was… pretty cut up. She's travelling up with her mother tomorrow. There'll be a lot to arrange. I said I'd give them as much help as I could, of course, but…' He gestured helplessly. 'That'll amount to sod all, won't it? I can't bring him back.'

'No-one can,' said Erica softly.

'No.' Dangerfield's gaze drifted to the river. 'But if I could only turn back the clock…'

'No-one can do that either.'

'That's a shame.' He kicked a pebble off the bank into the water. 'A crying bloody shame.'