gear and ski stuff.
‘There’s nothing illegal here. I was expecting drugs at the very least. Why do you think he ran?’
‘You scared him.’
‘I did not!’ I looked over my shoulder to see he was grinning. ‘I mean, obviously I did, but I wasn’t trying to frighten him. As soon as I mentioned Roddy Asquith he took off.’
‘Maybe we’re not the only ones who know Roddy was murdered.’
‘And he thought I was threatening him?’
‘It’s possible. Or he was involved in setting up the fake accident. If you’d killed one of your friends, you’d be twitchy too.’
‘Why would he kill Roddy?’
‘If Roddy knew something that implicated him, Peter could have decided to shut him up.’
‘Roddy gave a no-comment interview. He didn’t even risk making a statement.’
‘He started off doing what he was told. That probably wouldn’t have lasted long once DS Kerrigan started working on him.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re persuasive. People tell you things they meant to keep secret.’
Derwent disappeared into the bedroom and I followed him, wondering if he was talking about Claire and how I’d found out about their son. But that had been luck, I thought, uneasily, not my investigative skill. The bedroom was tiny, just big enough for the bed, two bedside tables and a wall of fitted cupboards. He was already looking through the suits that were hanging up in one cupboard so I took the other, a mixture of open shelves and sliding wooden drawers that still smelled of cedar. Cashmere jumpers, pristine shirts, folded silk ties, serried ranks of socks.
‘Maybe it’s so characterless because he hasn’t been here for long.’
‘Or he spends all his time at work.’
‘Or with the mythical girlfriend.’ I pulled out the top drawer. ‘Maybe not so mythical.’
‘Oh?’ Derwent peered around the door, instantly curious.
I held up a condom. ‘A couple of these.’
‘Only two? Amateur hour.’
‘Luke had two boxes of them, which tells you something about his love life. At least he’s careful.’
I’d said it without thinking, and by the time I’d finished talking I was all the way in the middle of the minefield, with no way back. Derwent’s eyebrows twitched together, but all he said was, ‘He has more sense than I did.’
‘I don’t want to think about it,’ I said truthfully.
‘You brought it up.’
‘Well, I didn’t mean to.’ I looked at him, trying to judge his mood. It was too good an opportunity to pass up; we were hardly ever alone and I needed to know if he had forgiven me. ‘Are you still angry with me?’
‘Let’s not talk about it.’
‘That means yes.’
‘What do you expect?’ There was no answer to that. He disappeared again and I heard the sound of hangers scraping the rail as he slid them to one side, working through them.
I wavered. Say something or say nothing. Well, he was angry with me anyway. I had nothing to lose.
‘I can’t begin to imagine how you must feel, finding out you have a son you didn’t know about.’
‘I’m sure you can’t.’ I couldn’t detect any encouragement to keep talking in his tone.
‘What does Melissa think about it?’
He appeared around the door again. ‘Stop, now.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not telling you how she feels. It’s none of your business. It never was your business.’
I quailed. ‘Sorry.’ Common sense suggested I should stop talking about it. I was short on common sense at the best of times. ‘Look, I worry about you. This is a big thing. You’re a father.’
‘I don’t think it’s going to change anything.’
‘You don’t?’
‘I doubt he’ll want to get to know me. Not after all this time.’ A bleak look crossed his face. ‘Melissa told me the best thing I could do is forget about him.’
‘Oh.’ I tried to keep my feelings out of my voice.
‘He doesn’t need anything from me and I have no right to ask anything from him.’
‘Maybe he does need you.’
He shook his head; for someone who thought highly of himself he was being surprisingly negative.
‘You can’t just let him go. You have to try.’
‘That would be selfish.’
‘Why?’
‘Because getting to know him would really be for my sake, not his.’ His voice dropped. ‘I always wanted a son. I never imagined it would happen like this.’
I couldn’t find words to respond to him. His mouth tightened, as if he regretted saying so much, and he walked out. I heard noises from the bathroom: the lid of the cistern clanking and cupboard doors clattering.
I finished searching the wardrobe, my throat tight with suppressed emotion. Concentrate, Maeve. Definitely do not cry. I couldn’t even