The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club #3)(91)

‘Have you always been honest with me?’

‘Course,’ says Pauline. ‘I have the odd fag when you’re not looking, but apart from that.’

‘Robert Brown Msc,’ says Ron.

‘What about him?’

‘I know I’m not the clever one,’ says Ron. ‘But it’s about time I cracked something.’

‘Ron?’

‘It’s the make-up,’ says Ron. ‘It’s been sitting there in the bathroom all this time. All lined up under the mirror where I shave. Staring me in the face.’

Ron looks at Pauline. He doesn’t want to say it, but he has to.

‘Your mascara,’ says Ron. ‘Bobbi Brown, your favourite. Bobbi Brown Mascara. “Robert Brown Msc”.’





84





Donna and Bogdan kiss outside the car, they kiss in the hallway, they kiss by Elizabeth and Stephen’s front door. Bogdan is unused to public displays of affection. What if somebody sees? Also, he has a bag full of food that needs to go in the fridge.

But he is in love, and he accepts that will bring its own challenges. Bogdan knocks, then opens the door, calling Stephen’s name.

Stephen is sitting on the sofa in his pyjamas, which is not in the least unusual.

‘Here’s the happy couple,’ he says. ‘Look at you both.’

‘The very happy couple,’ says Donna. ‘Hello, Stephen.’

Donna is still holding her statue. Stephen levers himself up, and walks over to take a look.

‘Our old friend Anahita,’ says Stephen, his eyes lighting up. ‘Goddess of love and battle. Most appropriate.’

Donna smiles, and pops into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Bogdan loves to see Stephen’s eyes sparkle. Loves to see that intelligence. Bogdan had seen the list that Stephen made of Henrik’s books. So detailed, so beautiful. He will give Stephen a shave later, and then a post-shave balm. Then a moisturizer. Stephen has never had a skin-care regime before – ‘Soap and water, old boy’ – but it is never too late to start. Maybe he should start giving him vitamins too? Would Elizabeth object? Just C and D to start with. He doesn’t get out enough.

‘Speaking of battle,’ says Bogdan, taking his seat by the chessboard. ‘We play?’

Stephen waves this away.

‘We don’t play today?’ says Bogdan. Maybe they will watch a film instead? Or just tell stories. Bogdan will cook a paella.

‘Not me, old chap,’ says Stephen. ‘Elizabeth’s the chess player round here.’

‘Elizabeth?’

‘I tried chess a few times,’ says Stephen. ‘Never got the hang of it. You play?’

‘Yes, I play,’ says Bogdan.

‘Any good?’ says Stephen.

‘Depends,’ says Bogdan, determined to stop the tears forming. ‘In chess you’re only really ever as good as the person you play against.’

Stephen nods and looks down at the board. Bogdan wonders what he is seeing.

‘Better man than I,’ says Stephen. ‘Devil’s own job, that game.’

Donna walks back in with two mugs of tea. Stephen beams.

‘That’s the stuff, all right,’ says Stephen. ‘Cup of tea. That’s the stuff.’





85





Ron can see the others returning. But they’re in the distance, and their walk back is uphill. They will be a while yet. Joyce has her arm linked with Mike Waghorn’s.

‘The whole truth?’ says Pauline.

‘I think I’m due that,’ says Ron.

‘I think you are too, Ronnie,’ says Pauline. ‘But I don’t want the others to know. I don’t want Mike to know.’

Ron gives a small shrug. Is this where it all ends? On a clifftop high above a wild sea?

‘It was about half ten,’ Pauline begins, barely able to look Ron in the eye. ‘I was getting ready for bed, believe it or not, early start the next day. There’s a ring on the door. I ignore it, nothing good comes at night unless you’ve ordered it. It rings again, and again, and eventually I’m “bugger this” and I look on the entry camera and there she is.’

‘Bethany Waites?’

‘Bethany Waites. I buzz her up and wait for her to knock. In you come, I say, what’s all this about? I could see something was up, else I’d have just sent her packing. She’s wearing a houndstooth jacket and yellow trousers, looked like she’d just picked them up from a jumble sale. No make-up. She sits, and she says, Pauline, I need a favour, and I say, at ten thirty at night, and she tells me to sit down and listen to a story. I say, should I ring Mike, and she says, you can’t ring Mike, I don’t want him to worry.’

‘What was the story?’

‘Bethany says, you gotta believe this, Pauline, someone’s trying to kill me. I’ve got this story they don’t want coming out, I’ve just had this message, threatening me, and you know me, Ronnie, I’ve heard it all in my time, but I don’t know what to believe. But something in her eyes tells me I’m hearing the truth. Close to the truth at least, so I’m like, what can I do? What’s the favour? If I can help, I’ll help.’