The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,100

kill him?’

‘No!’ she said, provoked at last to respond. ‘No! Of course not!’

‘Well, you’ve done a pretty good job of hindering our investigation, and you admit to being in the area at the time.’ A pause. ‘You must see how it looks, Gaby. You lied.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t lie. But I didn’t tell you everything I knew.’

They stood, still staring at each other. ‘I should take you to the police station,’ he said, ‘caution you, question you with a solicitor present.’

She pushed her hair away from her face. He saw she had a small smudge of paint on her cheek. It was green, the same shade as her coat.

‘Please don’t. I need this residency. I know I whine about it, but without it I’d never survive.’

‘They can’t sack you for helping the police with their enquiries.’

‘We’re not talking about Jonathan here! He’s cool. We’re talking the board of trustees. Local business people, mostly men, and politicians, again mostly men. They don’t see the point of art. They’d rather rent out this space as a craft workshop to someone who wants to make cheap tat for the tourists. That way they could charge a fee. They’re just looking for an excuse to get rid of me. They have been since I first arrived.’

Matthew pulled out a chair and took a seat. ‘How long have you got before your students turn up?’

‘An hour.’

‘Make me some coffee then and we’ll talk.’

They sat, the smell of the coffee overlaid with the smell of paint, turps and chalk dust.

‘Why did you lie about Walden? Why pretend that you disliked him?’

‘I told you, I didn’t lie. I did dislike him at first. That wasn’t a pretence. I hated him in the house. His disturbing presence. His brooding.’ She rubbed paint-stained fingers around the rim of her mug.

‘But you found him attractive? You admitted that the last time we talked.’

‘I found him interesting,’ she conceded.

‘Why hide your relationship from me? From your friends?’

She took a while to find the words. ‘I was embarrassed. I’d been so opposed to him staying in the house and then, there I was, dreaming about him. Thinking about him. A former soldier and alcoholic, who knew nothing about art.’ She paused again. ‘And it was exciting, you know, keeping it secret.’ Matthew understood embarrassment. The fear of looking foolish had haunted him all his adult life. It had taken Jonathan to start curing him of that.

‘All the same, you should have told us. This is a murder inquiry. Your embarrassment isn’t important. Finding the killer is.’

‘Once I started lying, I couldn’t stop. I was worried you’d think I’d murdered him.’

Matthew looked at her over the rim of his mug. ‘Did you?’

‘No! I just kept the relationship secret. From you and from my friends.’

‘What did Simon think about that? It might have seemed as if you were ashamed of getting together with him.’ Surely, Matthew thought, that would make a man resentful.

‘Nah.’ She gave a fond smile. ‘Simon preferred it that way. He said he had so many secrets, what was one more?’

‘What do you think he meant by that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Gaby paused for a moment and seemed lost in thought. ‘One day, when we were in the Braunton flat a couple of weeks ago, he started talking about secrets. I already knew he’d been married, but this was something else, something different. He seemed preoccupied and I could tell something was troubling him. I asked what was wrong. I thought for a moment that he was going to tell me; I had the sense that he wanted to share whatever was on his mind. But then he just laughed. He said if he told me everything, there would be no secrets any more. And he didn’t know what that would feel like. It was the secrets which defined him. He wouldn’t feel the same man. It would be like having no guilt.’

Matthew thought about that. ‘And he gave you no idea at all what was troubling him?’

‘No. He said he’d have to sort it out. He seemed almost pleased about that. He said it was his responsibility. His chance to make amends.’

Matthew drank the rest of his coffee. It was clear that there’d been some drama in the last weeks of Simon Walden’s life. He’d made a discovery that would lead to his death. In that time, he’d started travelling to Lovacott, he’d sent his money to the solicitor in Exeter and pressed for a meeting with him. Walden’s life