A Line to Kill

‘I don’t want you to say anything, Kitty! It’s very important that you understand that, now and moving forward.’ Her mother had drawn herself up in her seat. She knew exactly what she was going to say. Even as Hawthorne had been speaking, she had rehearsed it. ‘Could you please get the letter off the sideboard?’ she asked.

‘Mum …’

‘Please, dear.’

Kathryn wasn’t happy, but she got up and did as she was told. She handed her mother an envelope.

‘This may not make a great deal of difference to what you decide to do, Mr Hawthorne,’ Anne said. ‘For what it’s worth, I accept your conclusion. What I did was wrong and I expect to pay. Except that it seems I am paying already.’

She held out the letter. Hawthorne took it, a single typed page. I saw the NHS logo at the top.

‘You have heart disease,’ he said.

‘Left ventricular systolic dysfunction, to be precise,’ Anne told him. ‘I’m taking various medications … enzyme inhibitors and angiotensin receptor blockers. But my prognosis is not good. I have weeks, maybe months. It could just be days.’

I knew she was telling the truth. I remembered her breathlessness and the so-called antibiotics she had mentioned. On the morning after the murder, she’d said she had to leave the island for a doctor’s appointment and that was probably true.

‘This isn’t a payment,’ Hawthorne said.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘If you’re suggesting to me that you were sent this heart condition as a punishment for what you intended to do, that makes as much sense as Elizabeth Lovell and her stupid ghosts.’

‘Does it matter what I call it? The point I am making, and the only point that should be of interest to you, is that I am going to die very soon.’ She half smiled. ‘Funnily enough, what I told you about my deal with Disney was true. It just arrived a little too late to be of any use to me.’

‘Go on.’

‘I won’t stand trial. I certainly won’t go to prison. I knew that long before I went to Alderney.’

‘It was part of the reason why you went.’

‘Yes. When the doctor told me that my time was limited, I thought a lot about William and how I might make amends. And then, when I was asked to come to Alderney and I saw Spin-the-wheel on the invitation, it felt like it was meant. I had been given an opportunity, in the last days of my life, to take some sort of action … Punishment, retribution. Call it what you like.’

Hawthorne briefly considered what he had just been told. ‘So what are you suggesting, Anne?’

‘I killed Charles le Mesurier. I also killed Helen le Mesurier. Kathryn wasn’t even there when the second crime took place.’

‘You say …’

‘I will confess to both murders. That was always my intention.’

‘Until Derek Abbott threw himself off a cliff.’

‘Well, can you really blame me for allowing that to change my mind?’

‘I don’t blame you for that, Anne. I blame you for the vicious, premeditated murders of two people.’

‘You’re right. I planned them. I arranged them. I took the knife and the coin. It was all exactly as you described. But Kathryn—’

‘—was an accessory to murder. That still carries a life sentence.’

‘You don’t need to tell anyone about her. Kathryn lost a brother she loved. She hardly sees her father and she’s about to lose her mother. Hasn’t she suffered enough? She’s married to a good man, a GP. She wants to start a family. What good will it do, putting her behind bars? Please. I’m begging you. Show a little mercy. As far as I can tell, the police have closed the file following the death of Derek Abbott.’ She reached out and took her daughter’s hand. ‘Why can’t you just leave us alone?’

Hawthorne didn’t need to think about what she had just said, not even for a minute. He stood up.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t do that. You’re asking me to judge you, but that’s not my job. My job was to find the truth and that’s what I’ve done. What happens next isn’t up to me.’ He looked around him one last time. ‘You have to go to the police and tell them what you did. Maybe you’ll be able to persuade them that Kathryn had nothing – or very little – to do with it. I’ll be honest and tell you I don’t really care what happens. But it’s like I’ve said. It’s not my decision.’

Anne nodded slowly. ‘I understand. How long can you give me?’

‘The sooner you do it, the easier it will be.’

‘Yes. That’s probably true.’

‘There is one last thing …’

‘What’s that, Mr Hawthorne?’

Hawthorne smiled. ‘My son couldn’t believe I was seeing you today. He’s grown out of your books now, but he’s still a big fan.’

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Hawthorne had taken a book out of his inside pocket. It had a brightly coloured picture of two children and a pirate ship on the cover. A one-eyed pirate was waving a sword. The book was called Flashbang Trouble, the book that he had mentioned at Southampton and which had made his son laugh out loud. He also had a pen.

‘Could you sign it for him?’ he asked.

Anne stared for a moment, then took the book and the pen. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘What’s his name?’

‘As a matter of fact, he’s called William too.’

‘Oh.’