Death's Dark Shadow--A novel of murder in 1970's Yorkshire (32 page)

‘I'm sorry,' she says.

‘It's as much my fault as it is yours,' Robert Martinez says.

The doorbell rings again, more insistently this time.

‘It won't happen again,' Monika tells Martinez. ‘I promise it will never happen again.'

‘But I want it to happen again,' Robert says. ‘I so desperately want it to happen again.'

‘For God's sake, you're part of my investigation,' Paniatowski tells him.

‘But once the investigation's over …' he says hopefully.

The doorbell rings for a third time.

‘Who is it?' Robert Martinez calls out.

‘Courier service,' says a voice from the other side of the door.

And what the courier had been delivering, Paniatowski now realized, was a death sentence.

Robert took a cheap envelope out of his pocket and extracted a photograph from it.

‘She sent me this, too,' he said.

There were three people in the photograph. One of them was clearly Elena, and the second – a man – was proudly holding up a small baby.

‘That's your real father,' Paniatowski said.

‘Yes,' Robert agreed. ‘That's Javier Martinez.'

‘When you'd read the letter, you went up to his room, tied him up, and tortured him with a cigarette end,' Woodend said.

‘That's right,' Robert agreed. ‘I wanted to know all the details. I wanted to know just how big a
hijo de puta
he'd been.'

‘
Robert would never torture his own father
,' Paniatowski had assured the team.

And she'd been right – he hadn't.

‘So, from the very start, you believed everything in the letter, Mr Martinez?' Woodend said.

‘The letter had the ring of truth about it,' Robert told him. ‘I'd always known something was wrong between me and the man I thought was my father – but now I knew why. And he confirmed it all. It didn't take much to make him talk. The man was a coward through and through.'

‘And when you'd finished torturing him, you killed him,' Woodend said.

‘And when I'd finished questioning him, and he'd confessed to all crimes, I executed him in the approved judicial manner,' Robert Martinez corrected him.

‘You didn't want him buried with your mother, for obvious reasons,' Woodend said. ‘But why did you have him cremated?'

Robert Martinez smiled. ‘He cremated my father, didn't he? It seemed only fair that I should return the compliment.'

‘You're not ashamed of killing him, are you?' Paniatowski asked.

‘No,' Robert replied. ‘I'm proud of it. It was a matter of honour.'

‘Then why didn't you confess right away?' Paniatowski demanded, with a catch in her throat. ‘Why did you choose instead to … to …'

Woodend stood up. ‘I think my part in these proceedings is about finished,' he said. ‘I'll be outside when you want me.'

He walked over to the door, and stepped out into the corridor.

‘Why did you choose, instead of confessing right away, to put me on the rack?' Paniatowski asked. ‘Why did you let me fall in love with you?'

‘I did it for my mother – because I was a dutiful son,' Robert Martinez said, sadly.

‘I don't understand.'

‘What would have happened if I'd confessed to you the moment you arrived at the house?'

‘You'd have been arrested.'

‘And what would you have said when I told you that Luis Suarez had killed my mother?'

‘I'd have said that I believed you!'

‘But would anyone else have believed me?'

‘Of course they would,' Paniatowski said.

And then she thought,
But would they?

‘What proof did I have that anything I'd have told you was true?' Robert Martinez asked. ‘A letter from a dead woman? An old photograph? That's really no proof at all.'

‘If you'd been straight with us from the start, we'd have found the proof for you,' Paniatowski said.

‘You
did
find the proof for me, but only because I
wasn't
straight with you,' Robert countered.

‘Are you suggesting that if you'd confessed, we'd never have investigated your claims?' Paniatowski asked angrily.

‘No, I'm suggesting that if you already had one killer locked up, and thought – even though you couldn't prove it – that the other one was already dead, you wouldn't have investigated it half as thoroughly as you did,' Robert said.

It was true, Paniatowski thought. The chief constable would never have allowed a full-scale investigation if Robert had already been in jail. And if she'd already known who'd killed Elena, she herself would have hesitated before asking Charlie Woodend to stick his neck out in Spain.

‘Without the proof, would people have believed that Suarez had killed my mother and I'd killed him – or would they have believed Suarez was my father, and that I'd murdered them both?' Robert Martinez asked.

‘You had an alibi for the time of Elena's death,' Paniatowski said weakly.

‘Please, Monika, answer the question,' Robert said.

‘It would have been completely illogical, but there would have been a lot of people who believed that you'd murdered them both,' Paniatowski admitted.

‘And in their eyes, Luis Suarez would have been an innocent victim – rather than the monster that he really was,' Robert said. ‘My mother deserved better than that – and that's why I did what I did. It was the only thing I could still give her.'

‘Did you … did you ever feel anything for me?' Paniatowski asked.

‘Yes, in that at least, I've been honest with you,' Robert said. ‘I love you, Monika – but it's a doomed love, isn't it?'

‘It doesn't have to be doomed,' Paniatowski said. ‘You'll go to prison, of course, but …'

‘How long will I go to prison for?' Robert interrupted her.

‘I don't know.'

‘I tortured an old man, and then I killed him.'

‘There were mitigating circumstances, and …'

‘I'll get a long sentence, won't I?' Robert asked.

‘Yes,' Paniatowski admitted, ‘you'll get a long sentence.'

‘And I don't want you to throw away your life waiting for me, because prison changes people, and by the time I'm released, I won't be the man you know now.'

‘No, you won't,' Paniatowski agreed.

She cleared her throat. ‘Officially, this meeting has never taken place,' she said. ‘What I'd like you to do now is to go down to the police headquarters, and make a full confession.'

‘Of course,' Robert Martinez agreed. ‘Can I ask one more favour?'

‘What is it?'

‘I don't want you to be the one who questions me – I don't think it would be good for either of us.'

Paniatowski stood up. ‘It'll all be fairly straightforward,' she said. ‘Colin Beresford can handle it.'

She walked over to the door, then turned around again.

‘Goodbye, Robert,' she said.

‘Goodbye, Monika,' Martinez answered.

T
hey had arrived at Ringway Airport with plenty of time to spare, but somehow all that time had melted away, and they found themselves standing ten yards from the passport barrier, with only a few minutes left together.

‘How are you feeling, lass?' Woodend asked.

‘I'm sorry to see you go, obviously,' Paniatowski said.

‘Don't be so bloody thick, lass, you know that's not what I meant,' Woodend told her.

‘It hurts when I think about Robert,' Paniatowski admitted. ‘I expect it will hurt for quite a while.'

‘Yes, I expect it will,' agreed Woodend, who had never been one for sugar-coating the pill.

‘Flight two-six-four for Alicante is now boarding,' said a tinny voice over the public address system.

‘And how are
you
feeling, Charlie?' Paniatowski asked.

‘To tell you the truth, I'm feeling a little embarrassed,' Woodend said. ‘I don't think my deductive reasoning's ever been stronger than it was on this case. I don't think I've ever been better at getting inside other people's heads. And what was the result? I got the whole thing completely wrong.'

‘We all did,' Paniatowski said. ‘But sometimes you have to be wrong before you can be right. If you'd never gone to Arco de Cañas for the
wrong
reasons, you'd never have got your hands on the photograph, and if you'd never got your hands on the photograph …'

‘So it turns out I was brilliant after all?' Woodend asked.

‘Yes, Charlie, it does.'

‘Well, anyway, I really appreciate you giving me the opportunity to play a part in one last case.'

The airport suddenly felt much colder, and Paniatowski shivered.

‘Do you know, I don't like the way you said that,' she told him.

‘What?'

‘One last case.'

‘I only meant that the chances of being involved in another murder are pretty minimal.'

‘No, you didn't.'

‘No, I didn't,' Woodend agreed. ‘I've got cancer, lass.'

Paniatowski gasped. ‘Is it serious?'

‘Well, it's not a laugh a bloody minute, if that's what you're asking.'

‘You know what I mean.'

‘The doctor said I had a fifty-fifty chance of survival, but while he was talking, I was looking at his nurse, and from the expression on her face, I reckon he'd told her it was closer to thirty-seventy – and I don't mean in my favour.'

‘You'll beat the odds, Charlie – it's what you do,' Paniatowski said.

‘Maybe,' Woodend replied, non-committally.

‘Does Joan know?'

‘Not yet. I didn't see the point in bothering her with it until I absolutely had to.'

‘She's got a right to know,' Paniatowski said.

‘Maybe she has,' Woodend agreed. ‘On the other hand, there's a lot to be said for remaining in a fool's paradise for as long as you can.' He lit up a cigarette, and immediately starting coughing. ‘It's a funny thing,' he continued. ‘We're living in death's shadow from the moment we're born, yet it always comes as a surprise when that shadow starts to get darker.'

‘Last call for flight two-six-four to Alicante,' said the public address system.

Woodend stubbed his cigarette in the nearest bin. He seemed almost glad to have an excuse to get rid of it.

‘I'd better go,' he said.

They hugged each other.

‘I love you, Charlie,' Paniatowski said.

‘I love you, too,' Woodend said – and sniffed.

She watched him walk over to the passport desk – a big man in a hairy sports coat which would never wear out – and thought about all the years they had worked together, and all the cases they had solved.

The customs official had stamped Woodend's passport, and he was moving beyond the desk. In a few moments, he would turn the corner and she would lose sight of him.

She rushed across to the desk, and shouted out, ‘I don't want you to die, Charlie!'

He stopped, just at the corner, turned around, and smiled at her.

‘Aye, well, in that case, you'd better keep your fingers permanently crossed,' he suggested.

And then he was gone.