“Well?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Raphael, “I couldn’t get it out of my head that the last thing Dad wanted to say to me in this life was, ‘run along and make sure your sister gets her diamonds.’ Words to treasure forever, eh?”
At a loss for anything to say, Robin took another sip of wine, then asked quietly: “Do Izzy and Fizzy realize the necklace is Kinvara’s now?”
Raphael’s lips twisted in an unpleasant smile.
“Well, they know it is legally, but here’s the really funny thing: they think she’s going to hand it over to them. After everything they’ve said about her, after calling her a gold-digger for years, slagging her off at every possible opportunity, they can’t quite grasp that she won’t hand the necklace over to Fizzy for Flopsy—damn it—Florence—because,” he affected a shrill upper-class voice, “‘Darling, even TTS wouldn’t do that, it belongs in the family, she must realize she can’t sell it.’
“Bullets would bounce off their self-regard. They think there’s a kind of natural law in operation, where Chiswells get what they want and lesser beings just fall into line.”
“How did Henry Drummond know you were trying to stop Kinvara keeping the necklace? He told Cormoran you went to Chiswell House for noble reasons.”
Raphael snorted.
“Cat’s really out of the bag, isn’t it? Yeah, apparently Kinvara left a message for Henry the day before Dad died, asking where she could get a valuation on the necklace.”
“Is that why he phoned your father that morning?”
“Exactly. To warn him what she was up to.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police all this?”
“Because once the others find out she’s planning to sell it, the whole thing’s going to turn nuclear. There’ll be an almighty row and the family’ll go to lawyers and expect me to join them in kicking the shit out of Kinvara, and meanwhile I’m still treated like a second-class citizen, like a fucking courier, driving all the old paintings up to Drummond in London and hearing how much Dad was getting for them, and not a penny of that did I ever see—I’m not getting caught up in the middle of the great necklace scandal, I’m not playing their bloody game. I should’ve told Dad to stuff it, the day he phoned,” said Raphael, “but he didn’t sound well, and I suppose I felt sorry for him, or something, which only goes to prove they’re right, I’m not a proper bloody Chiswell.”
He had run out of breath. Two couples had joined them in the restaurant now. Robin watched in the mirror as a well-groomed blonde did a double take at Raphael as she sat down with her florid, overweight companion.
“So, why did you leave Matthew?” Raphael asked.
“He cheated,” said Robin. She didn’t have the energy to lie.
“Who with?”
She had the impression he was seeking to redress some kind of power balance. However much anger and contempt he had displayed during the outburst about his family, she had heard the hurt, too.
“With a friend of his from university,” said Robin.
“How did you find out?”
“A diamond earring, in our bed.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” said Robin.
She felt a sudden wave of depression and fatigue at the idea of traveling all the way back to that hard sofa in Wembley. She had not yet called her parents to tell them what had happened.
“Under normal circumstances,” said Raphael, “I’d be putting the moves on you. Well, not right now. Not tonight. But give it a couple of weeks…
“Trouble is, I look at you,” he raised a forefinger, and pointed first to her, and then to an imaginary figure behind her, “and I see your one-legged boss looming over your shoulder.”
“Is there any particular reason you feel the need to mention him being one-legged?”
Raphael grinned.
“Protective, aren’t you?”
“No, I—”
“It’s all right. Izzy fancies him, too.”
“I never—”
“Defensive, too.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Robin, half-laughing, and Raphael grinned.
“I’m having another beer. Drink that wine, why don’t you?” he said, indicating her glass, which was still two-thirds full.
When he had procured another bottle, he said with a malevolent grin, “Izzy’s always liked bits of rough. Did you notice the charged look from Fizzy to Izzy when Jimmy Knight’s name was mentioned?”
“I did, actually,” said Robin. “What was that about?”
“Freddie’s eighteenth birthday party,” said Raphael, smirking. “Jimmy crashed it with a couple of mates and Izzy—how do I put this delicately?—lost something in his company.”
“Oh,” said Robin, astonished.
“She was blind drunk. It’s passed into family legend. I wasn’t there. I was too young.
“Fizzy’s so amazed at the idea that her sister could have slept with the estate carpenter’s son that she thinks he must have some sort of supernatural, demonic sex appeal. That’s why she thinks Kinvara was slightly on his side, when he turned up asking for money.”
“What?” said Robin sharply, reaching for her notebook again, which had fallen closed.
“Don’t get too excited,” said Raphael, “I still don’t know what he was blackmailing Dad about, I never did. Not a full member of the family, you see, so not to be fully trusted.
“Kinvara told you this at Chiswell House, don’t you remember? She was alone at home, the first time Jimmy turned up. Dad was in London again. From what I’ve pieced together, when she and Dad first talked it over, she argued Jimmy’s case. Fizzy thinks that’s down to Jimmy’s sex appeal. Would you say he’s got any?”
“I suppose some people might think he has,” said Robin indifferently, who was making notes. “Kinvara thought your father should pay Jimmy his money, did she?”
“From what I understand,” said Raphael, “Jimmy didn’t frame it as blackmail on the first approach. She thought Jimmy had a legitimate claim and argued for giving him something.”
“When was this, d’you know?”
“Search me,” said Raphael, shaking his head. “I think I was in jail at the time. Bigger things to worry about…
“Guess,” he said, for the second time, “how often any of them have asked me what it was like in jail?”
“I don’t know,” said Robin cautiously.
“Fizzy, never. Dad, never—”
“You said Izzy visited.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledged, with a tip of the bottle to his sister. “Yeah, she did, bless her. Good old Torks has made a couple of jokes about not wanting to bend over in the shower. I suggested,” said Raphael, with a hard smile, “that he’d know all about that kind of thing, what with his old pal Christopher sliding his hand between young men’s legs at the office. Turns out it’s serious stuff when some hairy old convict tries it, but harmless frolics for public schoolboys.”
He glanced at Robin.
“I suppose you know now why Dad was taunting that poor bloke Aamir?”
She nodded.
“Which Kinvara thought was a motive for murder,” said Raphael, rolling his eyes. “Projection, pure projection—they’re all at it.
“Kinvara thinks Aamir killed Dad, because Dad had been cruel to him in front of a room full of people. Well, you should have heard some of the things Dad was saying to Kinvara by the end.
“Fizzy thinks Jimmy Knight might’ve done it because he was angry about money. She’s bloody angry about all the family money that’s vanished, but she can’t say that in so many words, not when her husband’s half the reason it’s gone.
“Izzy thinks Kinvara must have killed Dad because Kinvara felt unloved and sidelined and disposable. Dad never thanked Izzy for a damn thing she did for him, and didn’t give a toss when she said she was leaving. You get the picture?