Close to Death

It was the most perplexing, the most difficult question I had ever been asked and I didn’t have any idea how to reply. Did I want to know who had killed Giles Kenworthy? Of course I did. It was the whole point of the book and it would be wonderful, just for once, to be ahead of the game – by which I mean, ahead of Hawthorne. I had spent hours and hours raking through the documents he had given me, trying to decipher the information that might be useful and setting aside anything that was not. If I knew the answer, it would save me hours of time – reading, researching, reimagining.

But did I want Morton to tell me? I wasn’t so sure. This felt like the wrong time. The solution comes at the end of a murder mystery, not halfway through. It would be like cheating. It would take away the reason for finishing the book, a bit like being given the bill before the end of a meal. Everything that followed would be an anticlimax. And did I really want to be in debt to a man like this? I understood exactly what Lady Barraclough had said. He had made the offer quite deliberately. He was taunting me with it. And if I accepted, I would make the book his.

And yet I had to know. I couldn’t stop myself.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Tell me.’

He smiled. A vampire smile.

‘It was Roderick Browne, the dentist. He would have done anything to protect his wife and he killed Giles Kenworthy to stop the swimming pool being built. That was the end of the matter. Detective Superintendent Khan was given the credit for a successful investigation. Hawthorne was quietly removed from the case.’

I sat back, reeling. Could it really be so simple? I couldn’t believe it. All the questions, all the clues, all the dissimulations, all the different smokescreens added up to that? The killer was one of the most obvious suspects with a motive he hadn’t even bothered to hide? I’d almost have preferred Sarah, the gardener. At the same time, I knew that Morton had enjoyed telling me. He had just committed the cardinal crime in crime fiction, the one thing that no critic, however vituperative, has ever done. He had told me the ending before I had got to the end.

‘Why should I believe you . . . ?’ I stammered.

He had been ready for this. ‘Why would I lie?’ he asked. He opened one of the files and took out a clipping from a tabloid newspaper. He turned it round for me to read. I saw that it had been published on 21 July 2014.

CELEBRITY DENTIST FOUND DEAD

Police have today revealed the identity of the man they believe was responsible for the death of Giles Kenworthy, the hedge fund manager found dead in his Richmond home on Tuesday morning. Roderick Browne, 49, who took his own life following the event, was once called a ‘dentist to the stars’ due to the number of well-known personalities who visited his clinic in Cadogan Square, London.

Mr Browne had written a detailed note confessing to the murder of his neighbour, which followed a lengthy dispute. His wife is being looked after by relatives.

Speaking at a press conference held at the scene of the original crime, Detective Superintendent Tariq Khan said: ‘This is a case of a neighbourhood feud spiralling out of control. Mr Browne objected to Mr Kenworthy’s plans for a new Jacuzzi and swimming pool in his garden and this led to a double tragedy. I can confirm that there are no other suspects in this investigation and to all intents and purposes, the case is closed.’

Giles Kenworthy will be cremated at Kingston Crematorium. He leaves behind a wife and two sons.

‘He killed himself!’ It was all I managed to say. In a way, the second death – the suicide of the dentist – was as big a shock as the revelation that he was the one who had killed Giles Kenworthy.

‘That’s right.’ Morton smiled at me. ‘There was a lot of news that week, but still, you’d have thought they’d squeeze out a few more paragraphs. Celebrity dentists. They don’t gas themselves every day.’

‘Is that how he did it? Gas?’

‘Nitrous oxide. Laughing gas. I don’t think he can have found it too amusing, though.’

I sat there, reeling. Part of me was wondering if Morton was tricking me, if he’d produced a fake newspaper report to throw me off the track. But that made no sense. The article felt real and he knew perfectly well that I could cross-check it with other stories on the net. No. This was the solution. I could see it in his eyes, his cold assurance.

‘Can I get you a glass of water?’ Morton asked. ‘You look a bit shocked.’

‘I am shocked,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to blurt it out like that.’

‘It’s too bad. But I’m sure you understand. I needed to prove to you that it’s time to move on. There’s no point writing the book.’

Of course that was why he had done it. He simply wanted me to stop.