A Line to Kill

‘Everything I had was taken away from me,’ he was saying. ‘My business. My savings. My reputation. My life. I was locked up with animals – real animals – for six months and every single day I was threatened and degraded. I will never go back to prison. I don’t care what happens to me in my life, but I will never let that happen again. Every minute of that place was like death to me.

‘And do you know what it’s like to come out again into a world where nobody wants you?’ He wasn’t asking us for our pity. He was telling us the facts. ‘Nobody would see me any more. All my friends had deserted me, of course. Even my family … I have a sister and my mother was still alive then. They say what happened to me killed her. Collateral damage. Nobody ever recognised that I was the victim in all this.

‘I moved to Alderney because I had nowhere else to go. It was an island, small enough and far away enough to let me be anonymous. I bought the most isolated house I could find … near to the lighthouse.’ He half smiled. ‘When I first got here, the light used to shine at night, but they shut it down a few weeks after I moved in and now it’s pitch-dark. I prefer it like that.

‘Of course, most of the people here know who I am and what happened to me. But you know the great thing about this island? Live and let live. People aren’t judgemental. When Charles le Mesurier asked me to help him with his finances – particularly the publishing end of his business – it wasn’t just a job. It was a lifeline. He believed in me and because of that a lot of other people on this island were prepared to do the same. To see me for what I am, not for what you made me out to be.’

That hadn’t been my impression. Nobody had so much as looked his way when he came into the theatre and they hadn’t been queuing up to chat to him at the party either. Even the state of his house told me something about him. No Norah Carlisle for him. She wouldn’t have come near.

‘Why don’t you tell me about le Mesurier?’ At last Hawthorne broke his silence.

‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘How long did you work for him?’

‘With him. Not for him. About five years.’

‘But it wasn’t going to be much longer, was it? Things were over between you.’

That surprised Abbott … the fact that Hawthorne knew. ‘Who told you that?’

‘It doesn’t matter who told me. The two of you had a falling-out.’

In fact, we had got the information from Anne Cleary. She had heard it from Charles le Mesurier himself at the party. He had told her that he’d argued with his former friend and was about to fire him.

‘He owed me money. That was all it was. Charles never knew what he was saying after he’d had a drink. He would have come to his senses in the morning.’

‘So the two of you argued, then? Did he fire you that night?’

Abbott faltered, realising that he had given away more than he intended. ‘Of course not,’ he snapped. ‘He’d never have been able to manage without me.’

‘Then what did you mean when you said he’d come to his senses?’

‘I meant he might actually apologise. He drank too much, like he always did, and he said some stupid things. If anything, I should have been the one who resigned.’

‘How much money were you owed?’

‘That’s none of your fucking business. It was peanuts. Do you know how rich he was? And thanks to me, thanks to the advice I gave him, he got even richer. As for the job, I didn’t need it. I’ve got savings. And there’s nothing to spend money on in this shithole anyway.’

And just a few moments ago he’d been extolling the island of Alderney for its sense of fair play.

‘Did you go into the Snuggery?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘No, I did not go into the Snuggery.’

‘You didn’t take cocaine with Charles le Mesurier?’

Abbott let out a brief bark of laughter. ‘No, I don’t do drugs. No, I did not put a knife in him. When are you going to stop making up lies about me?’

‘Tell me about Helen le Mesurier.’

‘What do you want to know about her?’

‘How often did you see her?’

‘I saw her when I saw him.’

‘Why did you arrange to meet her yesterday?’

‘I didn’t.’ He gave Hawthorne the full gun-barrel eyes. ‘That’s another lie.’

‘She sent you a text. She’d seen you go into the Snuggery with her husband just before he was killed and she wanted to know what was going on. You told her to come here at half past two, but she would have cut across the railway line and you were waiting for her there. You killed Charles le Mesurier because he’d fired you and you killed her because she saw you.’

‘I never texted Helen. I didn’t kill Charles. She didn’t see anything.’

‘I’ve also spoken to Colin Matheson.’ It was like some kind of vicious chess game between the two men. Each move was another attack. Hawthorne waited a moment for a response and when it didn’t come he went on. ‘He’s told us that you were blackmailing him.’

‘So now it’s murder and blackmail?’

‘You had compromising photographs of him and Mrs le Mesurier. You coerced him into supporting the Normandy-Alderney-Britain line.’

‘And why would I do that?’