Publish and Be Murdered (27 page)

‘So I decided. To kill Willie, I reasoned, was a bit like culling a diseased stag. Willie was rotten to the core. He was happy to destroy a great journal that had made his life interesting and comfortable for reasons of pure greed. Because I wanted to stop him, he was quite prepared to destroy my son, who had done nothing Willie disapproved of, and who – for all that I believe him to be a murderer – is not a bad man. Anyway, he’s my son.

‘So when my wife had returned and gone to bed I found the wire and tiptoed out of the house. I don’t need to tell you the rest.’

‘How did you get back through the garden gate?’

‘I’d left that open so my options would be too.’

‘What did you do in the war, Charlie?’

Papworth grinned. ‘Good question. Young people forget we did things. And some of the time I was a commando. I often think that having been in a war sometimes gives us the edge over the young. Certainly, had I not seen action, I doubt if I would have embarked on a new career as a murderer at the age of seventy-six. Apart from anything else, I wouldn’t have known what to do.’

‘What a pity…’ said Amiss, and stopped. Papworth raised an eyebrow.

‘The telephone call from Willie. If only…’

‘Ah yes, that fateful telephone call. If only I had admitted to receiving it, I wouldn’t be in the pickle I’m in. But you see I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, and in my innocence I didn’t know that the wretched telephone company now can snoop on who rings whom. Then I thought I had covered it up all right, or rather I thought Imogen had covered it up all right, but unfortunately I had forgotten until now that it was that night you phoned about the printers.’

‘How much does Imogen know?’

‘Just that I told a stupid lie and that it could be incriminating. Naturally she didn’t ask anything more. One of her great merits is that she never seeks to know that which people don’t want to tell her. But though she is an honest woman, she would lie to anyone for my sake and do it well too.’

Amiss looked at Papworth. ‘Charlie, I know you are calm by disposition. But really you seem extraordinarily unperturbed by the prospect of ending up in court and in jail.’

‘I am really, but I thought it all through before I actually went back to the
Wrangler
building and set the ambush for Willie, and I was prepared to take the consequences of my actions. Having said that, I’ll wriggle out of this if I can, though I suppose there’s a fair chance that they’ll find some cab driver who remembers me or something else incriminating. If I have to, I’ll confess to having murdered Willie because he was trying to destroy
The Wrangler
. Obviously, I’ll say nothing about Piers. And I suspect that prison won’t be too bad since they’ll be kind to me for the few months I’ve got.’

‘The what?’

‘Of course, I haven’t told you this, have I? Piers knows I’m not in the most robust of health, but only Imogen knows I’m dying. Leukaemia. Indeed, one of the things that made it easier for me to embark on this crime was being terminally ill. It’s the best time to choose to do the sort of thing that gets you a life sentence.’

He cradled his glass in his wizened old hands. ‘Robert, I can’t pretend that I wouldn’t be grateful if you could keep this to yourself, but I understand that you probably can’t. You’re an honest man and a supporter of law and order. You know too that since I made you the offer of permanent editorship before you told me about your phone call, I’m not trying to bribe you. If you go to the police, as far as I’m concerned, you can still stay editor and I’m sure I can rely on you to send me copies of the journal when I’m in jail. But I know too that I can rely on you not to tell what I’ve told you in confidence.’

‘Yes,’ said Amiss. ‘You can rely on me for that.’ They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Amiss spoke. ‘I’m going to forget about that phone call, Charlie. I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been ill, because I am a puritan when it comes to murder. But on humanitarian grounds I simply could not bear to be the cause of you being put away. However, this does mean that I can’t stay editor.’

Papworth sat bolt upright. ‘My dear boy, I am, of course, extremely grateful to you for this decision. But in God’s name, why do you feel you must turn down the editorship?’

‘I’d be compromised. It’s as simple as that. At least I’d feel I was. And besides, I was in two minds about it anyway. You know I think that really it would be better to have the journal run by someone with right-wing fire in his belly rather than by an open-minded facilitator. So that’ll be the official reason I’ll give.’

‘But, Robert, don’t you think you take high-mindedness to a level of lunacy?’

‘That’s what my girlfriend will say when I give her the official reason. I’d hate to think what she’d say if I gave her the unofficial reason. But it’s no good, Charlie. I know you were giving me the job anyway. I know you wouldn’t feel you were being blackmailed if I stayed on. But don’t you see that I’d be inhibited from arguing with you. I wouldn’t be able to look for more money for the kind of investments I want to make, without feeling that you couldn’t say no.’

‘I could, you know, Robert. We trust each other that much.’

‘No one,’ said Amiss, ‘even you, could be under that much of an obligation to anyone else without chafing sometimes. I’ll stay on for the moment and together we’ll search for the right editor and when you find him, you can give me a good party.’

‘But you’re a good editor, dammit. I don’t want to lose you.’

‘No, I’m not really, Charlie. Sometimes I worry because already I’m beginning to feel the urge to argue in my own leaders against the line being taken by the journal. I don’t really believe that Tony Blair and Bill Clinton are the anti-Christ. I’m wishy-washy, always a man for on the one hand and on the other. I don’t see how I could go on with a journal that doesn’t suffer from doubt. Anyway, that’s the story I’ll tell everyone.’ He got up. ‘Now I’d better go home and break the news to Rachel.’

‘There’s just one thing,’ said Papworth. ‘And I’ve been feeling bad about it ever since…’

Amiss laughed. ‘Ever since you heard that I nearly went the same way as Willie.’

‘It honestly didn’t occur to me that anyone else could have any reason to come down those stairs until he’d been found. I have to tell you that if you had been seriously hurt or killed, I’d have given myself up. I have no guilt about Willie, but had you died, I’d have been in sackcloth and ashes.’

‘What a scrupulous pair we are,’ said Amiss. They laughed and shook hands and Papworth showed him to the front door.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Amiss and Rachel virtually in unison.

‘You tell me first,’ she said, her voice tense.

‘Charlie Papworth offered me the editorship.’

‘Oh, Robert, that’s wonderful. Despite all my criticism, that is wonderful news.’

‘And I turned it down.’

She shut her eyes and compressed her lips. When she regained her composure, she looked at him again. ‘And what quixotic reason determined that?’

Amiss laughed. ‘You should be pleased, really. It was because I couldn’t be wholehearted about the journal’s politics.’

‘And is that a good enough reason to wreck what had suddenly become a really promising career?’

‘I think so.’

‘Knowing you’re prepared to argue all shades of opinion without help from anyone else,’ she said, ‘I shan’t even bother. But I’m sorry. Apart from anything else, I’d rather have left you when you were on a high than when you were once again heading off into limbo.’

‘Left me?’

‘Yes, Robert. That’s what I have to tell you. And don’t look so shocked. You can’t really be that surprised, can you? It’s a long time since we’ve been enjoying each other much.’ He said nothing. ‘Isn’t it?’

There was a pause. ‘Yes,’ he said. He paused again. ‘You’re not inclined to give it another chance?’

‘No, I’m not. There’s no future for us. All we do these days is that I snap at you and you feel aggrieved and misunderstood. Besides, there’s someone else and I’m going to live with him.’ She stopped and looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘Or to be more precise…’

‘It’s all right,’ said Amiss. ‘I’m with you. You mean he’s going to come and live with you. To be precise, when you say you’re leaving me you mean you want me to leave you. Don’t worry. I’ll be obliging.’

She went over and sat beside him. ‘I knew you would be.’

‘So who is he?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

‘Rachel, how can I guess? I only know a few of your colleagues. At least you might spare me having to guess who’s been screwing you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s Eric.’

‘Oh, Christ. Not your minister. Isn’t he married? Not to speak of being twenty years your senior?’

‘Yes.’

‘Kids?’

‘In their mid-teens.’

‘Don’t you mind breaking up his marriage?’

She sounded defensive. ‘They’ve grown apart. Only saw each other when he got up to the north at the weekends and then, of course, he was busy with constituency business and the rest of it.’

‘It’s a bit hard on her, isn’t it? How could any woman lumbered with looking after the kids hundreds of miles away from her husband compete with the dishy clever private secretary who’s by his right hand by day and – of course, as I now realize – quite frequently night? But, Rachel, isn’t this going to screw up your career? You surely can’t stay in the Foreign Office if you’re publicly known to be living with one of its ministers.’

‘I’m going to be his political researcher.’

‘But isn’t that a great comedown? You had everything going for you in the Foreign Office.’

‘Eric and I are a partnership.’

‘I just can’t see you as a political wife, Rach. Chatting up constituents and smarming up to senior ministers and charming the Prime Minister surely isn’t for you.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ she said. ‘You don’t really know me any more, Robert. We were apart for too long. And I’m not as high-minded as you.’ She grinned. ‘But then no one is.’

He grinned back. ‘More feeble-minded than high-minded. And you don’t even know the half of it.’

There was a pause. She looked worried. ‘What do you think you’ll do next?’

‘On the job front I’ve no idea, but I needn’t worry for a few weeks. On the home front, I don’t see why I shouldn’t move into the flat at the top of the
Wrangler
building for the moment.’

Her face cleared. ‘That’s a great idea. It’ll give you time to look around.’

There was another pause. She got up, went over to him and gave him a hug. ‘I’m still very fond of you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes. And me of you.’

‘But it’s better this way.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘I’ve got a suggestion, if you don’t think it in poor taste.’

‘When do I ever think anything’s in poor taste?’

‘Let’s go out and have a bottle of champagne and drink to both our futures.’

‘Yes, please. But don’t tell Eric. He’d recommend sparkling water.’

25

«
^
»

‘So she’s thrown you out.’

‘Why do you always have to put such a brutal interpretation on everything, Jack? Rachel and I have agreed in a civilized fashion to separate and since it’s her flat and she wishes her new chap to move in, the least I could do was to move out as fast as possible. So this evening I’ll be transferring my belongings to Willie’s old pad. Thank heaven I hadn’t had time to get round to arranging to let it.’

‘Good. This solves my problem too. Plutarch is packing as we speak. I’ll deliver her to you tomorrow.’

A feeling of dull dread swept over Amiss. ‘Do you know what you’re saying, Jack? That although I’m suffering a broken heart after being ditched by my long-term inamorata for a hypocritical wanker, you intend to rub salt in the wound by replacing Rachel with Plutarch.’

‘Simple choice. You can have her alive in Percy Square or dead in Cambridge. I sense here that a lynch mob is gathering. I would not wish to tell a lad of your tender years of the murderous light I glimpsed yesterday in the eyes of the Fellow of Comparative Religions. Take her tomorrow, or her blood is on your hands.’

‘Oh, God, I suppose I’ve no choice. Anyway, compared to my other problems this is truly a mere bagatelle.’

‘What do you mean by other problems? You’re not making a fuss about moving, are you?’

‘No, that’s minor. But I can’t tell you about what’s major over the phone.’

‘Oh goody,’ she said. ‘Sounds promising. Tell you what. I’ll deliver you Plutarch in the morning and come back around six to visit her and find out with what trivial issues you are bothering yourself.’

‘It’s a deal.’

‘So that’s an account of my trivial worries,’ said Amiss.

The baroness stopped vigorously stroking an appreciative Plutarch. ‘Well, my boy, I withdraw the word trivial. I think you have had enough human and moral problems in the last couple of days to justify the use of the word “weighty”.’

‘What do you think, Jack?’

‘I think that you must deal with what you can deal with, and what you can’t deal with there’s no point in worrying about. You’re fine really. Rachel may have expelled you, but you’ve got somewhere even better to live. There’s nothing more to be said except that she’s a foolish girl who will live to regret it when she gets fed up with that sanctimonious jerk. And if I were you I would be off in search of plenty of jolly women to cheer you up.

‘Plutarch is back with you, which I accept is not an unmixed blessing, but the circumstances could hardly be better. She has no Rachel around moaning about her, she’s got a fine apartment, the fire escape, the garden, and the rest of the inhabitants at Percy Square to torment. And since they’re your subordinates – at least for the moment – I suppose they’ll put up with that. So two problems you had two days ago – viz, keeping Rachel happy and finding some way of reconciling her needs with Plutarch’s – have miraculously disappeared at a stroke.’

Amiss nodded reluctantly.