A Line to Kill

‘Of course. I know exactly why you’re here. But although it may not have occurred to you, everything that happens on this island is connected. My grandfather planted that lawn and four generations have been looking after it, keeping it perfect – not just for our pleasure but for everyone who passes.’

‘And George Elkin’s grandfather is buried at Longis Common, which is going to be dug up too,’ Hawthorne said, innocently. ‘Is that the sort of connection you mean?’

Judith fell silent, so her husband cut in. ‘I think that’s a little unfair. The plans for Longis Common allow for the complete restoration of the grasslands. In fact, they insist on it. There will be a few months’ disruption, but after that nobody will notice any difference.’

‘Is it disruption? Or desecration?’

‘Are you taking the side of the protestors, Mr Hawthorne?’ Colin Matheson was as close to anger as he could manage. ‘Because if so, I think you should leave my house.’

‘I’m not taking anyone’s side,’ Hawthorne replied. ‘It was your wife who suggested a connection between what happened here and the death of Charles le Mesurier. I’m just trying to understand the mindset. Anyway, from what I understand, now that le Mesurier is dead, the line may not go ahead.’

He had somehow made that sound like an accusation and Matheson flinched. ‘Charles le Mesurier had nothing to do with the decision-making process,’ he replied. ‘He made his views known, but so did many other people. The committee made its recommendations based on the evidence: the financial and technological benefits weighed against any environmental consequences.’

Hawthorne turned to Judith. ‘Did you support the line?’ he asked.

She hadn’t expected the question. ‘Nobody asked me my opinion,’ she faltered.

‘But …?’

‘Obviously, I supported my husband.’

‘How well did you know Charles le Mesurier?’

She looked to Colin Matheson as if he could somehow prevent this line of questioning, but he couldn’t help her. ‘Charles le Mesurier was probably the most famous person on the island,’ she said. ‘Everyone knew him.’

‘That’s not what I asked you.’

‘I met him socially quite a few times. He invited us to dinner once or twice. I wouldn’t say we were friends. Of course, I got to know him better through the festival. Once he got involved.’

‘The festival was your idea.’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get him to finance it?’

‘It was a business opportunity,’ Judith said. ‘I told him sponsoring a literary festival would be good for Spin-the-wheel. And he liked meeting well-known people. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite work out. We invited lots of famous authors – Philip Pullman, Val McDermid, Jacqueline Wilson, Alexander McCall Smith – but they all turned us down.’

‘What did you think of Charles le Mesurier?’ Hawthorne asked. At least he had the decency to avoid my eye.

‘I didn’t really have an opinion.’

‘What about his wife?’

Judith Matheson sat up stiffly. ‘I hardly knew her.’

‘But everyone’s connected on Alderney.’

‘I met her a few times. We had nothing in common.’

Colin Matheson leaned forward. ‘Actually, Mr Hawthorne, if you don’t have any more questions …’

‘I’ve nothing more to ask your wife,’ Hawthorne said. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you.’ He paused. ‘Alone.’

Judith wasn’t having any of that. ‘Anything you want to say to my husband, you can say in front of me.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Hawthorne said, not put out at all. He smiled at Matheson. ‘Shall I go ahead, then?’

But Matheson wasn’t stupid. He was, after all, a barrister and he must have sensed what was in the air. He turned to his wife. ‘Actually,’ he demurred, ‘if this has anything to do with States business, perhaps it might be best if you weren’t here, darling. I wouldn’t want you to be compromised.’

He was lying, of course. He knew that whatever Hawthorne had in mind had nothing to do with the island’s parliament. And Judith was equally disingenuous. She must have guessed that he was lying, but she went along with it. She stood up. ‘All right.’ She was still indignant. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’

She walked out of the room.

‘There’s something you have to understand about Judith,’ Matheson began as soon as the door had closed. ‘She loves this island. In fact, it’s very hard to get her to leave it … even for holidays. She’s always believed that everything is perfect here, so why would she want to go anywhere else? But as a result you could say that she is insular in the exact sense of that word. She was very upset by all the arguments about NAB, and as for what happened to le Mesurier … well, I hardly need tell you, there’s never been a murder on Alderney …’

‘You don’t,’ Hawthorne agreed.

‘But I’ve been married to her for twenty years. I love her very much and I wouldn’t want anything to harm her.’ He took a breath, waiting for the blow to fall. ‘So what do you want to ask me?’

‘I think you already know, Mr Matheson. Helen le Mesurier has gone missing, but we’ve managed to recover certain text messages from her phone that suggest the two of you were … how shall I put it …?’