Name To a Face

TWENTY-FOUR

Harding had phoned ahead and booked himself back into the Great Western Hotel at Paddington. After travelling in from Heathrow, he paused only long enough to check in and dump his bag, then headed for Dulwich. It was late for unannounced house calls, but that did not trouble him. Ann Gashry had to expect there to be consequences to the lies she had told.

It was gone ten by the time he reached Bedmore Road, but the drawing-room windows at Ann Gashry’s house were still lit. With Dora presumably long gone, he reckoned she might be reluctant to answer the door at such an hour, so he gave the bell several lengthy and well-spaced pushes before adding a rap of the knocker for good measure.

The hall light came on. The frosted porch window revealed movement within. “Who’s there?” came the querulous call.

“Tim Harding.”

He heard her engage the chain before inching the door open and peering out at him. “It’s late, Mr. Harding. What do you want?”

“The truth. As opposed to that hogwash you served up on Tuesday.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m short of time and patience, Ann. There was an intruder at the Tozers’ apartment in Monte Carlo on Wednesday night. Hayley. She threatened Carol with a knife.” A flicker of alarm crossed Ann Gashry’s face. “Fortunately that’s all she did: threaten her. Otherwise you could be an accessory to murder.”

“What?”

“I’m doing my best to restrain Barney from calling in the police. I won’t be able to do so indefinitely unless you come clean with me. It’s up to you.”

Ann stared pensively at him, then quietly closed the door. A couple of seconds passed. He was on the point of rapping the knocker again, when he heard the chain being released. The door opened wide. “Come in, then,” she murmured.

She was encased in an ankle-length dressing gown, which somehow made her look smaller and feebler than when they had first met. Harding steeled himself not to be taken in by this, however. He knew her to be sharp-witted and highly intelligent-as well as deceitful.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what Hayley is alleged to have done,” she said as she closed the door be hind him.

“There’s nothing alleged about it.”

“There is to me.”

“The game’s up, Ann. I’m not sure if you knew what she was planning. But you knew she was planning something. Sending me on a fool’s errand to Lincoln was part of it. As was backing up her explanation for so closely resembling Kerry. The true explanation’s altogether more straightforward. Kerry had a twin sister, didn’t she? Called Hayley.”

Ann allowed herself the merest flinch. “Come into the drawing room,” she said, leading the way.

Logs were burning down in the grate. Chamber music was playing on an invisible hi-fi. A tray, bearing the remnants of a supper, sat on a low table beside an armchair in front of the fire. A hardback novel, tasselled bookmark neatly inserted, lay next to the tray. Ann Gashry’s evening looked to have unfolded in orderly and contemplative fashion. Until now.

“So.” She cocked her head slightly as she looked at him. “What do you claim Hayley’s done?”

“Are you sure you need me to tell you?”

“Yes.” Her expression gave nothing away. “I am.” She lowered herself into her fireside chair, inviting Harding with a gesture of her hand to take the other.

He set out the events of Wednesday night in as much detail as he could afford to. He made no mention of the tape, of course, fervently hoping Ann did not know about that. The other facts spoke for themselves anyway. There was no doubt what Hayley had done and very little doubt why. As he made clear by adding as much as he knew of her true life story.

Ann did not interrupt. Her only reaction was to look ever more pensive as he proceeded. When he had finished, she allowed herself a sigh that might have signalled nothing more than fatigue. “Would you like a drink?” she enquired. “I believe I would. There’s whisky and brandy in the cabinet. Brandy for me, I think.”

The cabinet was in the corner. Harding poured generous measures for both of them. Cognac for her, Glenfiddich for himself.

“Thank you,” she said as he handed her the glass. “Oh, could you put some more wood on the fire, please? I’m feeling a little chilly.”

He shot her an eyebrow-arched glance as he tonged a couple of logs out of the well-stocked basket, letting her know that playing for time was futile. But the goose pimples visible on her wrist and forearm as she sipped her brandy suggested she really did feel cold. Or afraid.

Flames licked up instantly round the added logs. Harding sat down and gazed across at her, expectantly and insistently. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” She took another sip of brandy.

“Well?”

A long, calming sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes for a second or two, then looked directly at him. “I’m not about to apologize to you, Mr. Harding, if that’s what you think. You’re right, of course. My brother Nathan hasn’t spent the years since Kerry’s accident in obsessive pursuit of women who resemble her. Nor did he haunt her hospital bedside. In point of fact, he’s always seemed indifferent to her fate. Perhaps that’s why I considered him fair game in the fiction Hayley and I devised between us to mislead you. Because I’ve never been indifferent to what happened to Kerry. I believe she was murdered by Barney Tozer. He may protest his innocence as much as he wishes. This show of charitable reluctance to report Hayley to the police only confirms his guilt in my mind. It was I who traced Hayley after the inquest and told her all that had happened. You could say I set her on the course that led to her attack on Carol Tozer. She didn’t tell me what she proposed to do. But you’re correct in supposing I knew she’d soon do something. Again, I make no apology. I became very fond of those girls as they grew up. Too fond, my stepmother used to say, in her spiteful, insinuating way. I couldn’t bear to see Kerry die a lingering death and Hayley languish in lonely obscurity after witnessing the wonderful, blossoming promise of their childhood. To stand by and allow all that to be snuffed out and forgotten? I couldn’t do it. I won’t do it. Someone’s responsible. Someone is answerable. As far as I’m concerned, that someone is Barney Tozer.”

“But not Carol,” put in Harding.

“No.” Ann bowed her head. “No, indeed.” She swallowed some more brandy. “Perhaps that consideration is what stayed Hayley’s hand. I pray so. I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Harding. I’m dismayed by what you’ve told me.” Her tune-and her demeanour-had suddenly if fractionally altered.

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, as you know, I can fool people. I’m actually quite proficient at it. And I was well aware that Hayley intended to wreak some kind of vengeance on Barney Tozer. But I never for a moment envisaged that it would take such an extreme form. I can’t imagine why Hayley should wish to harm Carol, let alone think of actually killing her.”

“How about because she wanted Barney to experience some of what she felt when you told her Kerry was dead?”

“I suppose… that’s possible.”

“Which is what you wanted too, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but-” She broke off and drew herself up defiantly. “He deserves to be punished for what he did. But not punished in kind. I couldn’t condone that.”

“It hardly matters what you could or couldn’t condone. You aided and abetted it. As I’ll make sure the police appreciate, if and when they’re called in. But it’s when unless you help me find Hayley. Before she does anything else like this.”

“I’m sure that won’t happen. She’s obviously realized violence isn’t-”

“Where is she?”

Ann started at the barked question, but instantly regained her composure. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her since Tuesday. She said she was going away. She didn’t say where or for how long.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“I’ve never pressed her to tell me more than she wishes to.”

“How very considerate of you.”

“Her trust is hard to win, Mr. Harding. And her soul is troubled. Ask more of her than she’s able or willing to give and you lose her. I’ve tried to bear that in mind. It’s a pity her parents never understood her well enough to do the same.”

“It also gives you a useful excuse for whatever she does, of course. You weren’t to know.”

“That’s not how it is.”

“Well, I’ll have to take your word for that.”

“Misleading you was a regrettable necessity. Hayley said she needed time. I helped her buy some and I told you as much of the truth as I dared. I invented nothing where my ancestor Francis Gashry’s concerned, as Herbert Shelkin must have confirmed to you. It’s merely that it has… no direct bearing on what happened to Kerry.”

“For which you and Hayley both blame Barney?”

“Yes. I’ve no doubt in the matter. Nor has Hayley.”

“She might have now, for all you know.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ann severely, as if the notion was absurd.

“When do you expect to hear from her again?”

“I couldn’t say. I imagine, after coming so close… to doing such a dreadful thing… she’ll need time to think. Time to reflect.”

“Spent where?”

“I don’t know. I truly don’t.”

“I’m not sure you quite understand the position you’re in, Ann. Barney’s prepared to stay his hand for as long as it takes me to find Hayley and resolve this situation. But if I don’t find her…”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“No. But you could promise to alert me as soon as she contacts you.”

“If she contacts me.”

“I’ll settle for that.”

Ann set down her brandy glass with exaggerated care. Several wordless moments passed as the clock on the mantelpiece ticked sonorously and the fire crackled. Then she said, “Very well. I daresay it’s… in everybody’s best interests. Perhaps I… shouldn’t have encouraged her.”

“Perhaps not.”

“She said you seemed… an honest man.”

“I am.”

“You have my word, then. If I hear from her, you’ll hear from me.”

Harding stretched across to the Canterbury that stood a few feet from his chair and pulled out a newspaper: the Daily Telegraph, folded to display the crosswords on the back page. Ann had completed the quick as well as the cryptic, without a single crossing-out. He jotted his mobile number at the foot of the page and handed it to her. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you,” she said, laying the paper down on the table.

“I need some information to be going on with.”

“I’ve told you all I can.”

“What do you know about Shep?”

“Who?” She looked genuinely puzzled.

“Shep. Short for Shepherd. Kerry’s journalistic mentor.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him.”

“According to Carol, they were often in touch.”

“I’m afraid I’ve still never heard of him.”

“Do you think Nathan might have?”

“It’s possible. I… couldn’t say.”

“I’ll ask him myself, then. If you don’t mind giving me his address and phone number.”

“Must we involve him? I doubt he’ll be able to help you.”

“Only one way to find out.”

A tremor of unease, mixed with distaste, crossed Ann’s face. She cleared her throat nervously. “I wouldn’t want Nathan… to learn how I’ve… misrepresented him.”

“I’ll do my best to steer round the subject.”

“Your best?”

Harding shrugged. “It’s all I can offer. And frankly…” He paused, forcing her to meet his gaze before he continued. “It’s more than you deserve.”