Name To a Face

THIRTY-THREE

Nymphenburg once more. The weather had changed; a cold wind was blowing across the park beneath a slate-grey sky. A long stretch of the canalside path and a large chunk of the woodland bordering it had been cordoned off. Uniformed police were dotted around the perimeter to ensure the cordon was not breached. The search for evidence continued within, though out of sight from the path on the other side of the canal, where Harding stood with Carol, muffled up against the chill, gazing across at the spot where Barney Tozer had died.

The news of Hayley’s arrest, which Harding had half expected to hear that morning, had not come. She had either slipped through the net and fled the city or was lying low somewhere, waiting for the intensity of the search to fade. They would catch her eventually, though. That he did not doubt. Even if Carol seemed to.

“I don’t want her to get away with this, Tim. Barney was a nice guy. Maybe I never loved him. But I was fond of him. And I already miss him. More than I’d ever have thought possible.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “They’ve got to find her.”

“And they will.”

“Humph talked as if it was Barney’s own fault somehow. Heartless bastard. They were flesh and blood. Though you’d never have known it.” She lit a cigarette, Harding holding her hand for a moment to steady the flame of her lighter. “Anyway, his attitude settled it for me. He took it as read Barney would be buried in Penzance. But he’s got another thing coming.”

“It’s your decision.”

“Like quite a lot else now, hey? You know, I can’t believe Tony thinks he can still push me around. Let him tell the police about us if he wants. Hayley did what she did. There’s no way we can be dragged into that.”

“He wouldn’t go to the police direct, Carol. I imagine the tape of your message would find its way to them anonymously.”

“He doesn’t care that Barney’s just been murdered, does he? He only cares about safe-guarding his position. One of the first things I’m going to do after the funeral is hire an independent accountant to go through Starburst’s books line by line. It wouldn’t surprise me if Tony had been cheating Barney.”

“It might pay to keep on the right side of Tony. At least for the time being.”

Carol took a thoughtful drag on her cigarette. “Yeah. I suppose so. Until they catch Hayley, anyway. She won’t try to wriggle out of it. She’ll be proud to admit what she did. Then Tony’s threats will be worthless. And he’ll find out what it’s like to have me as his boss.”

“I guess Barney’s stake in Jardiniera makes you my boss too.”

“I’ll write that off as a gift, Tim. You don’t need to worry about me trying to run Jardiniera.” She turned to look at him. “It’s probably best if we… don’t have any reason to see much of each other in the future.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It must have been what you wanted. When you slept with Hayley.” She let him absorb the point for a moment, then went on. “Of course, you didn’t know she was a homicidal maniac then, did you? But maybe it was a smart move after all. Maybe it’s why she didn’t shoot you as well as Barney.”

“I didn’t cause any of this, Carol. You know that.”

“I guess not. If only Barney hadn’t sent you to Penzance. He should just have ignored Humph. Then…”

“Hayley would have made her move sooner or later. You know that as well.”

“Yeah. And what will happen to her anyway? Some smooth-talking lawyer will persuade the court she wasn’t really responsible for her actions. Tragic death of twin sister. History of mental trouble. Extenuating circumstances by the bucket-load. She’ll probably only serve a few years in prison.”

“Just before it happened, Barney was saying… how much he regretted not having made his peace with Hayley.”

“So, you think it was his fault, do you?”

“No.”

“Whose side are you on, Tim? I’d really like to know.”

“Do there have to be sides?”

“Oh yeah. There have to be. I’m surprised life hasn’t taught you that.” Carol looked back across the canal.

Following her gaze, Harding noticed two men in plain clothes walking slowly through the wood, within the police cordon. He recognized the taller and leaner of the two as Streibl, the Kriminal-Polizei officer who had asked most of the questions the previous day. The other man was stocky, grey-haired and trench-coated, probably the older, possibly senior in rank. Harding had never seen him before. An animated conversation appeared to be in progress between them, complete with emphatic gestures and energetic nods.

“Do you know those two?” asked Carol neutrally.

“The one on the left is Streibl. He’s in charge of the investigation. The other bloke… I don’t know.”

“So that’s Streibl, is it? I’m due to meet him this afternoon. Has he finished with you?”

“He asked me to stay in Munich for twenty-four hours in case there was anything they wanted to check. After that…”

“You’ll be free to go?”

“I guess so.”

“And will you?”

“I suppose. Unless you want me to…”

“No.” She looked at him regretfully but unapologetically “I don’t think I do.”

Harding opted not to share the taxi for the journey back into the centre. It was impossible to tell whether Carol was grateful for this. More likely Harding reflected as he set off on foot, she did not care. Barney’s death had laid bare her inner strength. She was distressed to lose her husband, but not grief-stricken. She was shocked by what Hayley had done, but not overwhelmed. As heiress to Barney’s considerable estate, she would soon control the resources she needed to make her life whatever she wanted it to be. And she had already made it clear that Harding would have no place in it.

He was not a religious man. He had never resorted to prayer during Polly’s illness, nor lit candles for her after her death. She would not have wanted him to and, as a good agnostic, he had always respected her atheism. Quite why, after the long, cold walk from Nymphenburg, he went into the Frauenkirche, sat himself down in the rearmost pew in the nave and gazed vacantly along the tunnel of pillars towards the distant altar, he could not properly have explained. There had been a choice of ways to make matters right. But Hayley had chosen a different course. Now Barney Tozer was dead. And her act of revenge, however satisfying in the moment of its commission, was unravelling into the ruin of her life. There was nothing Harding could do for her. And the only thing he could do for himself was to abandon her to her fate. He felt empty of hope and purpose, drained of foresight. Above all, he felt alone. And solitude, as he knew from previous experience, was a bleak place to be.

But solitude in the literal sense was not destined to last long. He was suddenly aware of a figure looming beside him. Glancing up, he was astonished to see the grey-haired man who had been talking to Streibl out at Nymphenburg. He was smiling down at Harding, a roll of fat around his chin distorted by the upturned collar of his coat, his blue eyes twinkling almost mischievously beneath drooping lids and bushy brows.

“Mind if I sit down?” the man asked, doing so without waiting for an answer. His accent was North Country English. He was clearly not from the Kriminal-Polizei. “The name’s Unsworth. Chief Inspector Unsworth. Fraud Squad. On secondment to Europol.” He flourished a warrant-card. “Ever been to The Hague, Mr. Harding?”

“What?”

“It’s where Europol’s based. Boring city, let me tell you. Munich, on the other hand…” Unsworth gazed about him, apparently savouring the Gothic architecture. “More style. More character.”

“Did you… follow me here?”

“Ah. You spotted me earlier, did you? No. One of Streibl’s men tailed you. They’re good at the simple stuff. Whereas what I want to discuss with you… is a little complicated.” Unsworth grinned. “Why don’t I buy you lunch?”