A Traitor to Memory

“Why she was going, Mr. Davies. Did your wife mention that?”


Richard bristled. Jill held her breath, trying to ignore the stab she felt in her breast at those words: your wife. How she felt about hearing anyone other than herself referred to with that term could not be allowed to matter at the moment because the detective's question got right to the crux of the topic that was of interest to her. She longed to know not only why Richard's wife had left him but also how he'd felt about her leaving him, how he'd felt then and, much more importantly, how he felt now.

“Inspector,” Richard said evenly, “have you ever lost a child? lost a child to violence? lost a child at the hands of someone who's living right inside your own home? No? You haven't? Well, then, I suggest you think about what a loss like that can do to a marriage. I didn't need Eugenie to give me chapter and verse on why she was leaving. Some marriages survive a trauma. Others do not.”

“You didn't try to find her once she was gone?”

“I didn't see the point. I didn't want to keep Eugenie where she didn't want to be. There was Gideon to consider, and I'm not of the school who believe that two parents for a child are better than one no matter the condition of their marriage. If the marriage goes bad, it has to end. Children survive that better than living in a house that's little more than an armed encampment.”

“Your break-up was hostile?”

“You're inferring.”

“It's part of the job.”

“It's taking you in the wrong direction. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there was no bad blood between Eugenie and me.”

Richard was irritated. Jill could hear it in his tone, and she was fairly sure that the detective could hear it also. This worried her, and she stirred on her seat and tried to get her lover's attention, to throw him a warning look that he would interpret and act upon, altering if not the substance of his replies then at least their timbre. She well understood the source of his irritation: Gideon, Gideon, always Gideon, what Gideon did and did not do, what Gideon said and did not say. Richard was upset because Gideon hadn't phoned and reported the detective's visit. But the detective wouldn't see it that way. He'd be far more likely to note it as Richard's reaction to being questioned too closely about Eugenie.

She said, “Richard, I'm sorry. If you could help me for a moment …?” And to the detective, with an exasperated smile, “I'm running to the loo every fifteen minutes these days. Oh, thank you, darling. Heavens, I'm not quite right on my feet.” She held on to Richard's arm for a moment, acting the part of a woman lightheaded, waiting for Richard to say that he'd help her along to the loo, which would thus buy him some time to regroup. But to her frustration, he just fastened his arm round her waist for a moment to steady her and said, “Do take care,” but made no move to assist her from the room.

She tried to telegraph her intentions to him. Come with me. But he either ignored or didn't get the message, because once she was apparently solid in her stance, he let go of her and gave his attention back to the detective.

There was nothing for it but to go to the loo, which Jill did with as much dispatch as she could muster, considering her size. She needed to pee anyway—she always needed to pee now—and she squatted over the toilet while trying to hear what was going on in the room she'd just left.

Richard was speaking when she returned. Jill was gratified to see that he'd managed to wrest his quick temper under control. He was saying calmly, “My son is suffering from stage fright, Inspector, as I've already told you. He's completely lost his nerve. If you've seen him, you've no doubt also seen that something's badly wrong with the boy. Now, if Eugenie could have helped with that problem in any way, I was willing to try it. I was willing to try anything. I love my son. The last thing I want to see is his life's destruction brought about by an irrational fear.”

“So you asked her to meet with him?”

“Yes.”

“Why so long after the event?”

“The event?”

“The concert at Wigmore Hall.”

Richard flushed. He hated, Jill knew, any mention of the venue. She had little doubt that, should Gideon ever regain his music, his father would never again allow him so much as to pass over its threshold. It was the scene of his public humiliation, after all. Better to burn it to the ground.

Richard said, “We'd tried everything else, Inspector. Aromatherapy, anti-anxiety treatments, pep talks, psychiatry, everything under the sun save having an astrologer do a reading of the stars. We'd been going those routes for several months, and Eugenie was simply the last resort.” He watched Lynley writing in his notebook, and he added, “I'd very much appreciate it if this information is kept confidential, by the way.”