Bear Island (35 page)

    “I know," I said, as if I understood, which I only partially did. "I hope we get the man responsible. I think we will. Do you have any ideas that could help?”

    “My ideas are not worth much, Doctor. My mind doesn't seem to be very clear.”

    “Do you think you could talk for a bit, Miss Haynes? It wouldn't be too tiring?"

    “I am talking.”

    “Not to me. To Lonnie Gilbert. He seems terribly anxious to speak to you.

    "Speak to me?" Tired surprise but not outright rejection of the idea. "Why should Lonnie Gilbert wish to speak to me?"

    “I don't know. Lonnie doesn't believe in confiding in doctors. All I gather is that he feels that he's done you some great wrong and he wants to say "sorry," I think.”

    “Lonnie say ‘sorry’ to me!" Astonishment had driven the flat hopelessness from her voice. "Apologise to ine? No, not to me." She was silent for a bit, then she said: "Yes, I'd very much like to see him now."

    I concealed my own astonishment as best I could, went back to the main cabin, told an equally astonished Lonnie that Judith Haynes was more than prepared to meet him and watched him as he went along the passage, entered her room and closed the door behind him. I glanced at Luke. He appeared, if anything, to be more soundly asleep than ever, absurdly young to be in this situation, a pleased smile on his face: he was probably dreaming of golden discs. I walked quietly along the passage to Judith Haynes's room: there was nothing in the Hippocratic oath against doctors listening at dosed doors.

    It was clear that I was going to have to listen very closely indeed for, although the door was only made of bonded ply, the voices in the room were being kept low and I could hear little more than a confused murmur. I dropped to my knees and applied my car to the keyhole. The audibility factor improved quite remarkably.

    "You!" Judith Haynes said. There was a catch in her voice. I wouldn't have believed her capable of any, of the more kindly emotions. "You! To apologise to me! Of all people, you!”

    “Me, my dear, me. All those years, all those vears." His voice fell away and I couldn't catch his next few words. Then he said: "Despicable, despicable. For any man to go through life, nurturing the animosity, nay, my dear, the hatred-" He broke off. and there was silence for some moments. He went on: "No forgiveness, no forgiveness. I know he can't. I know he couldn't have been so bad, or even really bad at all, you loved him and no one can love a person who is bad all through, but even if his sins had been black as the midnight shades--“

    "Lonnie!" The interruption was sharp, even forceful. I know I wasn't married to any angel, but I wasn't married to any devil, either." I know that, my dear, I know that. I was merely saying-”

    “Will you listen" Lonnie, Michael wasn't in that car that night. Michael was never near that car."

    I strained for the answer but none came. Judith Haynes went on: "Neither was I, Lonnie."

    There was a prolonged silence, then Lonnie said in a voice so low that it was a barely heard whisper: "That's not what I was told.”

    “I’m sure it wasn't, Lonnie. My car, yes. But I wasn't driving it. Michael wasn't driving it.”

    “But-you won't deny that my daughters were-well, incapable, that night. And that you were too. And that you made them that way?”

    “I’m not denying anything. We all had too much to drink that night -that's why I've never drunk since, Lonnie. I don't know who was responsible. All I know is that Michael and I never left the house. Good God, do you think I have to tell you this-now, that Michael is dead?”

    “No. No, you don't. Then-then who was driving your car?”

    “Two other people. Two men.”

    “Two men? And you've been protecting them all those years?”

    “Protecting? No, I wouldn't use the word "protecting." Except inadvertently. No, I didn't put that well, I mean-well, any protection given was just incidental to something else we really wanted. Our own selfish ends, I suppose you could call it. Everybody knows well enough that Michael and I-well, we weren't criminals but we always had an eye on the main chance.”

    “Two men." It was almost as if Lonnie hadn't been listening to a word she'd said. "Two men. You must know them."

    Another silence, then she said quietly: "Of course."

    Once more an infuriating silence, I even stopped breathing in case I were to miss the next few words. But I wasn't given the chance either to miss them or to hear them for a harsh and hostile voice behind me said: "What in the devil do you think you are doing here, sir?"

    I refrained from doing what I felt like doing, which was to let loose with a few choice and uninhibited phrases, turned and looked up to find Otto's massively pear-shaped bulk looming massively above me. His fists were clenched, his puce complexion had darkened dangerously, his eyes were glaring and his lips were clamped in a thin line that threatened to disappear at any moment.

    "You look upset, Mr. Gerran," I said. "In point of fact, I was eavesdropping." I pushed myself to my feet, dusted off. the knees of my trousers, straightened and dusted off. my hands. I can explain everything.”

    “I'm waiting for your explanation." He was fractionally more livid than ever. It should be interesting, Dr. Marlowe."

    “I only said I can explain everything. Can, Mr. Gerran. That doesn't mean I've got any intention of explaining anything. Come to that, what are you doing here?”

    “What am I What am I? He spluttered into outraged speechlessness, the year's top candidate for an instant coronary. "God damn your impudence, sir! I'm about to go on watch! What are you doing at my daughter's door? I'm surprised you're not looking through that keyhole, Marlowe, instead of listening at it!"

    “I don't have to look through keyholes," I said reasonably. "Miss Haynes is my patient and I'm a doctor. If I want to see her I just open the door and walk in. Well, then, now that you're on watch, I'll be on my way. Bed. I'm tired.”

    “Bed! Bed! By God, I swear this, Marlowe, you'll regret-who's in there with her?”

    “Lonnie Gilbert.”

    “Lonnie Gilbertl What in the name of hell-stand aside, sir! Let me pass!"

    I barred his way-physically. It was like stopping a small tank upholstered in Dunlopillo but I had the advantage of having my back to the wall and he brought up a foot short of the door. I wouldn't, if I were you. They're having a rather painful moment, in there. Lost, one might say, in the far from sweet remembrance of things past.”

    “What the devil do you mean? What are you trying to tell me, you--you eavesdropper?”

    “I'm not trying to tell you anything. Maybe, though, you'd tell me something? Maybe you would like to tell me something about that car crash-I assume that it must have been in California-in which Lonnie Gilbert's wife and two children were killed a long, long time ago?" He stopped being livid. He even stopped being his normal puce. Colour drained from his face to leave it ugly and mottled and stained with grey. "Car crash?" He'd a much better control over his voice than he had over his complexion. "What do you mean car crash, sir?"

    “I don't know what I mean. That's why I'm asking you. I heard Lonnie, just snippets, talking about his family's fatal car crash and as your daughter seemed to know something about it I assumed you would, too." I don't know what he's talking about. Nor you." Otto, who seemed suddenly to have lost all his inquisitorial predilections, wheeled and walked up the passage to the centre of the cabin. I followed and walked to the outer door. Smithy was in for a hike, I thought, no doubt about it now. Although the cold was as intense as ever, the snow had stopped, the west wind dropped away to no more than an icily gentle breeze-the fact that we were now in the lee of the Antarcticflell might have accounted for that-and there were quite large patches of star-studded sky all around. There was a curious lightness, a luminescence in the atmosphere, too much to be accounted for by the presence of stars alone. I walked out a few paces until I was clear of the main cabin and low to the south I could see a three-quarter moon riding in an empty sky.

    I went back inside and as I closed the door I saw Lonnie crossing the main living area, heading, I assumed, for his cubicle. He walked uncertainly, like a man not seeing too well, and as he went by close to me I could see that his eyes were masked in tears: I would have given a lot to know just what it had been that had been responsible for those tears. It was a mark of Lonnie's -emotional upset that he did not so much as glance at the still three-quarter full bottle of Scotch on the small table by which Otto was sitting. He didn't even so much as look at Otto: more extraordinarily still Otto didn't even look up at Lonnie's passing. In the mood he'd been in when he'd accosted me outside his daughter's door I'd have expected him to question Lonnie pretty closely, probably with both hands around the old man's neck: but Otto's mood, clearly, had undergone a considerable sea change.

    I was walking towards Luke, bent on rousing the faithful watch dog from his slumbers, when Otto suddenly heaved his bulk upright and made his way down the passage towards his daughter's cubicle. I didn't even hesitate, in for a penny, in for a pound. I followed him and took up my by now accustomed station outside Judith Haynes's door although this time I didn't have to have recourse to the keyhole again as Otto, in what was presumably his agitation, had left the door considerately ajar. Otto was addressing his daughter in a low harsh voice that was noticeably lacking in filial affection.

    "What have you been saying, you young she-devil? What have you been saying? Car crash? Car crash? What lies have you been telling Gilbert, you blackmailing little bitch?”

    “Get out of here!" Judith Haynes had abandoned the use of her dull and expressionless voice, although probably involuntarily. "Leave me, you horrible, evil, old man. Get out, get out, get out!"

    I leaned more closely to the crack between door and jamb. It wasn't every day one had the opportunity to listen to those family tete-e-tetes.

    "By God, and I'll not have my own daughter cross me." Otto had forgotten the need to talk in a low voice. "I've put up with more than enough from you and that other idle worthless bastard of a blackmailer. What did you--”

    “You dare to talk of Michael like that?" Her voice had gone very quiet and I shivered involuntarily at the sound of it. "You talk of him like that and he's lying dead. Murdered. My husband. Well, Father dear. can I tell you about something you don't know that I know he was blackmailing you with. Shall I, Father dear? And shall I tell it to Johann Heissman, too?"

    There was a silence, then Otto said: "You venomous little bitch!" He sounded as if he was trying to choke himself.

    “Wenomous! Venomous!" She laughed, a cracked and chilling sound. "Coming from you, that's rich. Come now, Daddy dear, surely you remember I938-why, even I can remember it. Poor old Johann, he ran, and ran, and ran, and all the time he ran the wrong way. Poor Uncle Johann. That's what you taught me to call him then, wasn't it, Daddy dear? Uncle Johann."

    I left, not because I had heard all that I wanted to hear but because I thought that this was a conversation that was not going to last very long and I could foresee a degree of awkwardness arising if Otto caught me outside his daughter's door a second time. Besides-I checked the timeJungbeck, Otto's watchmate, was due to make his appearance just at that moment and I didn't want him to find me where I was and, very likely, lose no time in telling his boss about it. So I returned to Luke, decided that there was no point in awakening him only to tell him to go to sleep again, poured myself a sort of morning nightcap and was about to savour it when I heard a feminine voice scream "Get out, get out, get out" and saw Otto emerging hurriedly from his daughter's cubicle and as hurriedly close the door behind him. He waddled swiftly into the middle of the cabin, seized the whisky bottle without as much as by-your-leave-true, it was his own, but he didn't know tbat-poured himself a brimming measure and downed half of it at a gulp, his shaking hand spilling a fair proportion of it on the way up to his mouth.

    "That was very thoughtless of you, Mr. Gerran," I said reproachfully. Upsetting your daughter like that. She's really a very sick girl and what she needs is tender affection, a measure of loving care."

    "Tender affection!" He was on the second half of his glass now and he splattered much of it over his shirt front. "Loving care! Jesus!" He splashed some more Scotch into his glass and gradually subsided a little. By and by he became calm, almost thoughtful: when he spoke no one would have thought that only a few minutes previously his greatest yearning in life would have been to disembowel me. "Maybe I wasn't as thoughtful as I ought to have been. But an hysterical girl, very hysterical. This actress temperament, you know. I'm afraid your sedatives aren't very effective, Dr. Marlowe."

    "People's reactions to sedatives vary greatly, Mr. Gerran. And unpredictably."

    “I'm not blaming you, not blaming you," he said irritatedly. "Care and attention. Yes, yes. But sonic rest, a damned good sleep is more important, if you ask me. Hem, about another sedative-a more effective one this time? No danger in that, is there?"

    "No. No harm in it. She did sound a bit-what shall we say-worked up. But she's rather a self-willed person. If she refuses-"

    "Ha! Self-willed! Try anyway." He seemed to lose interest in the subject and gazed moodily at the floor. He looked up without any enthusiasm as Jungbeck made a sleepy entrance, turned and shook Luke roughly by the shoulder. "Wake up, man." Luke stirred and opened bleary eyes. "Bloody fine guard you are. Your watch is over. Go to bed." Luke mumbled some sort of apology, rose stiffly and moved off.

    "You might have let him be," I said. "He'll have to get up for the day inside a few hours anyway."

    "Too late now. Besides," Otto added inconsequentially, "I'm going to have the lot of them up inside two hours. Weather's cleared, there's a moon to travel by, we can all be where we want to be and ready to shoot as soon as there's enough light in the sky." He glanced along the corridor where his daughter's cubicle was. "Well, aren't you going to try?"