The Wheel of Fortune (169 page)

NOTES ON LANCE:

I’m tempted to regard the interview as a failure since Lance when pressed for a verdict could only serve up a whimsical piece of mysticism reminiscent of Bronwen on an off day, but in fact despite his refusal to commit himself to any rational opinion he did let fall some interesting information.

He revealed that my father and Kester had been at loggerheads for far longer than I realized. And more important, he confirmed that even my grandfather believed, on the occasion of this 1949 lunch party, that Kester was capable of thoroughly unpleasant behavior. This backs up Gerry’s opinion.

Lance confirmed something I thought was non-proven: that Declan was talking of extortion while Kester was still alive. It wasn’t just a story he invented for the Bryn-Davies lawsuit after Kester’s death. Lance rightly pointed out that this still doesn’t make the story true but it does mean I must stop protecting myself by writing it off as an Irish fairy tale.

Lance stated that Thomas’s death, which is at the heart of the extortion mystery, followed an extended sequence of hostilities between Kester and my father. I didn’t know this before. Nor did I know that Thomas joined them in forming a triangle of men all hostile to one another. This is unquestionably sinister and makes the possibility of a lethal termination of the triangle much more plausible.

VERDICT:
This interview enabled me to see various random events of the past in an interesting and suggestive perspective. Lance said he couldn’t help me, but in fact I feel I’m further on. I certainly don’t believe his wild assertion of double insanity, but now I can see a nightmare taking shape, the nightmare of mutual loathing periodically swinging out of control. And when two people loathe each other to such a neurotic extent, then surely anything becomes possible
—
blackmail, land grabbing, the lot.

The past is getting murkier. If I were neurotic myself I’d feel that at any moment the lights were about to go out, the ghosts were about to walk and the horrors were about to begin. But I’m not neurotic and I’m not afraid of ghosts. I don’t believe in them. Soldier on.

VIII

Before leaving Lance and making the short journey east to Cardiff I phoned Evan to make sure he was at home and on arrival I found him alone in the vast kitchen of his Victorian rectory. His wife was out counseling at the social-services center. Evan was brewing tea, listening to the radio and jotting down notes for a sermon. Six books ranging from an Agatha Christie novel to a critique on Descartes lay open on the table to aid his quest for inspiration.

Evan was forty-two, thin and scanty-haired like Lance, but without Lance’s air of tranquillity. He had a much more forceful personality, and the impression of force was heightened by the clergyman’s tricks he had acquired since his ordination, the clarity of speech, the firmness in expressing his opinions, the unobtrusive skill in handling people who could be awkward, demanding or just plain dull. However despite his stylish clerical manners he always seemed to me to be an unlikely clergyman. He was the kind of restless idealist who could hardly be content indefinitely with the same theological surroundings, and he fancied himself an expert on the more esoteric reaches of the Christian faith. He had performed a notorious exorcism which had landed him in trouble with his bishop. He had dabbled in the laying on of hands. His routine experiments with ecumenism had turned into radical flirtations with Rome. As I grew older I saw him not just as a rebel but as a complex man trying not altogether successfully to submerge his complexity within the confines of orthodox religion, and I had occasionally wondered if later he might drop out, perhaps run for Parliament, start a business, become a television personality. He had that unfocused dynamism which could have made him a success in any field that gave him the chance to project his personality. Although he resembled Lance physically in some ways it was easier to believe he was Gerry’s brother. He had Gerry’s charm without Gerry’s vulgarity, Gerry’s drive without Gerry’s shady amoral streak.

“I know what you said at the inquest,” I said to him when I had explained the purpose of my visit. “But I want to make quite sure that you were saying what you really thought.”

“Certainly I was!” said Evan at once and added firmly: “It was an accident, Hal. I have no doubt in my mind whatsoever that Kester would never have committed suicide.”

IX

“You want me to recap the evidence I gave at the inquest?” said Evan. “No, of course I don’t mind, why should I, I’m only glad you want to talk it over frankly. It always worried me that you never felt able to discuss it before. …

“Okay, here goes. I saw Kester on the day before he died when I took over to Rhossili his extremely sophisticated radio which I’d been guarding and enjoying while he’d been in Ireland. When I arrived at the cottage I found Kester in magnificent spirits. He said giving up Oxmoon was the smartest thing he’d ever done and that because he’d been relieved of the burden of looking after it he was now enjoying a period of unprecedented creativity. Mark you, I’m not sure whether he’d actually started this new novel—I never asked Kester about his work unless he volunteered information—but I definitely got the impression that if he hadn’t started a masterpiece he was just about to begin one. His whole attitude, you understand, was quite incompatible with suicide. He was buoyant, excited and radiant.

“Now the coroner asked me if I felt Kester’s mood could have been some form of manic mood swing compatible with a serious depressive illness. I’m not a doctor so my opinion is of only minimal value, as Harry pointed out to me later with perfect truth, but in my opinion it wasn’t a manic mood swing. The suicide school of thought, of course, says that it was. However at least I gave the jury their opportunity to file their verdict of accident.

“Here’s what I think happened: I believe Kester drowned on the Shipway. From Harry’s evidence it was obvious to me that Kester was wandering around in a haze of creative euphoria, and in those circumstances I think it’s highly possible that he got mixed up about the tides—for instance, perhaps his watch stopped and having lost all track of time he misjudged the state of the Shipway. After all, the Shipway’s deceptive, isn’t it? It’s not easy to tell when it’s about to go under. It doesn’t sink uniformly. It’s quite possible for a man to start out thinking he’s quite safe and then realize in the middle that he’s made a fatal mistake—why, think of Owain Bryn-Davies back in the Eighteen Eighties.

“Okay, so much for Kester; if one bears in mind that he was on the brink of a new novel this stroll out to the Worm in a creative haze, though eccentric, would have been entirely in character. But the real mystery, Hal, isn’t Kester’s behavior that evening; it’s your father’s. Why did he follow Kester out there? Obviously he wanted to talk to him and I’m afraid I don’t for one moment believe that Kester had invited him to the cottage earlier for a drink. They just weren’t on those terms, not by that time. Besides, if Kester had really invited him for a drink, why issue the invitation in a note that afterwards conveniently couldn’t be found? Why not ring up? I realize the cottage had no phone but there was a call box close at hand in the village.

“I think Harry invented that note. The postman and the parlormaid could only recall that there were several letters which arrived by the afternoon post, so their testimony doesn’t help, but it strikes me that Harry had to invent that note to explain why he went to Rhossili that evening—it would be the only way of explaining the inexplicable. There was no logical reason why either of them should have wanted to see the other at that particular time. Kester was happy, sunk deep in a creative stupor. Why should he have wanted to upset himself by inviting Harry to see him? And why should Harry have put himself on the rack by paying him a visit?

“Yes, that’s certainly a mystery, and the plot thickens, doesn’t it, when you remember that Harry didn’t just sit waiting for Kester at the cottage. He went out to look for him and when he found him he staggered all the way after him across the Shipway. It was the most extraordinary thing to do. I admit Harry explained it all very convincingly at the inquest by talking of his anxiety and concern, but I still think the whole thing was bloody odd. Harry was a brilliant witness, of course. He had the coroner eating out of his hand and certainly I believed him at the time, but … well, that’s what being a brilliant witness is all about, isn’t it? Everyone believes you at the time and it’s only afterwards that people start to wonder. And talking of witnesses …

“Yes, I knew you’d want to ask me about Declan. Well, as far as the murder theory goes, I think that just has to be nonsense. Harry might well have been capable of killing Kester, but I’m quite sure he didn’t do it. I think if he was going to kill Kester he would have done it more efficiently—after all he was a trained killer. I can see him bashing Kester over the head and then disposing of the body in such a way that it would never be discovered, but I have great trouble seeing him pushing Kester into the sea after pursuing him out to the Worm’s Head in view of two independent witnesses.

“So I’d dismiss the charge of murder, but the charge of extortion is certainly much more plausible. I have no trouble at all in thinking Harry capable of taking Oxmoon by extortion but I do have trouble seeing how he did it. I don’t believe all that rubbish about Thomas. Kester was a man of peace. He wouldn’t have taken part in a drunken brawl, so how could he have killed Thomas by accident? And even if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have been fool enough to ask Harry to help him cover up a crime. Harry may well have extorted Oxmoon, but if he did we’ll never know how it was done.

“The biggest argument against extortion is that I can’t see Kester ever sitting back and accepting it. But on the other hand one could argue that he’d found life without Oxmoon unexpectedly carefree and that he was prepared to let matters ride until he’d finished his new book. I’m quite sure in my own mind, Hal, that Kester returned to Rhossili purely and simply to write. But if extortion did exist and Harry had a guilty conscience it’s quite possible he might have put a different construction on Kester’s behavior and that, of course, would explain why Harry was so determined to see Kester that night: sheer paranoia would have induced him to think Kester had returned to Gower to reclaim Oxmoon and Harry would have felt driven to seek a showdown. No wonder Kester kept going once he reached the Inner Head that evening! Yes, I know Harry said at the inquest that Kester was apparently unaware that he was being followed, but what Harry was really saying was that he never saw Kester look back. But of course Kester must have looked back and of course he must have seen Harry—and that was why he kept going. … No, this needn’t necessarily mean he was frightened of Harry. The most likely explanation is that he just didn’t want an interview with anyone, least of all his paranoid cousin, when all his characters were trekking through his head in glorious Technicolor.

“So we come back to my theory of an accident. I don’t really believe Kester planned to be marooned on the Worm that night, no matter how deep he was in his creative haze. Nor do I believe that he would have toiled all the way out to the Worm if he’d known he had so little time to enjoy the view on the other side of the Shipway. I’m sure something was wrong with his watch and he was misled about the time. My theory is that he kept going along the Worm to avoid Harry but when Harry turned back he turned back too. They were visible to each other, remember, when Harry came round the bend onto the southern flank of the Inner Head and saw Kester far away by the Devil’s Bridge; if Harry saw Kester, then Kester could have seen him.

“So what happens? Harry turns back and recrosses the Shipway but by the time he reaches the mainland again the Shipway’s about to go under. He looks back and sees to his horror that Kester, in a muddle about the tides, is leaving the Inner Head and setting out across the Shipway. Then Harry does nothing. There are no witnesses. He doesn’t call the Coastguard. He just watches Kester drown—and then he panics. He knows there are witnesses who saw him going out to the Worm earlier. He knows his hatred of Kester is notorious. He knows the police are bound to look at him askance once they realize Kester died in mysterious circumstances. So he rushes off and cooks up an alibi with Dafydd—the one person in the world who’d do anything for him—and it works. He’s exonerated at the inquest. But then his guilt—the guilt that he did nothing to save Kester—eventually surfaces and crucifies him. Harry’s mental collapse is really only explicable, isn’t it, if he’d either killed Kester or else believed he’d failed to save him from death, and that is the one theory of accident which covers this point—indeed, I’d go so far as to say that my theory is the only possible explanation of the tragedy, the only explanation that fits all the facts. So there you are, Hal. Take my advice, call it an accident—and for your own sake, let the matter rest …”

X

As he stopped talking I rose to my feet and we stood facing each other in that shadowy room.

“Is that what you want?” I said. “You want me to let the case rest?”

“Yes. It would be better. Let it be.”

I sat down again abruptly. “Okay,” I said. “Cards on the table. Now, just what the hell do you really think was going on?”

There was a long, long silence. Then Evan too sat down again and said, “You’re bound to think I’m some sort of mystic crackpot.”

“Try me.”

“I think you should refrain from investigating forces which even today we don’t really understand.”

“Come again.”

“I’m talking about evil. It was present between those two men. Individually I believe they were no worse than anyone else, but they were a catalyst to each other, and whenever they met evil was generated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As I say, such things are very imperfectly understood even today—perhaps especially today when people have this touching faith that everything can be explained in scientific terms. But in my opinion, what we have here is a spiritual malaise which can’t be explained scientifically; I believe Harry and Kester were locked together in a metaphysical nightmare which ended in their deaths—physical death for Kester, spiritual death for Harry. They were like two sides of a schizophrenic personality. It was as if they shared a common soul.”