Close to Death

‘If DS Khan had bothered to check, which he didn’t, he would have found that there is – but not the same Wendy Yeung. It’s a common name. It would have been easy enough for Strauss to find someone who shared it.’ He paused. ‘It’s like when a magician tells you to pick a card and then says you can change your mind. You very seldom do. Just the fact that he gives you the opportunity is enough. It makes you believe he’s playing fair and square.’

‘You called her from the room.’

He sighed.

‘No. Adam Strauss dialled the number and passed the phone across. He made a point of announcing that he wasn’t going to say a word. Again, the magician! Khan was the one who did the talking and what was the first thing he said? “My name is Detective Superintendent Khan.” That was the stupidest thing he could have done. That was the trigger! Whoever it was in Hong Kong, it wasn’t Wendy. It was a friend, a relation, an actress, someone who had been paid to play a part years ago. And he’d tipped them off. There was no hesitation, no need for any explanation. When the woman heard who she was speaking to, she simply did what she and Strauss had rehearsed.’

‘He said he was paying her money. Was that a lie too?’

‘It’s probably true. One thousand pounds a month into an account in Hong Kong would be easy enough to arrange. He pays it in. It gets passed across to a second account and then it gets paid back again.’ He drank his coffee. ‘You’ve got to understand, Anthony. Nobody has ever planned a murder so far in advance. That was what made Strauss so unique. And why he was so dangerous. In a way, he was the most obvious suspect from the start. Only a chess grandmaster could have dreamt up anything as elaborate.’

I took this all in.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘You needed to know.’

‘Yes. And you didn’t call me Tony.’

I wondered at what point he’d worked out the truth – before or after Hawthorne? But I didn’t ask him that. Hawthorne had mocked me once, telling me how much smarter Dudley was out of the two of us. Well, he was right. For what it’s worth, I’d come to the conclusion that the killer was Damien Shaw, possibly working with Tom Beresford. I didn’t tell him that either.

‘What did you think when you heard that Adam Strauss was dead?’ I asked.

Dudley smiled, but for a brief moment all the sadness in the world caught up with him: the loss of his fiancée, his loneliness and alcoholism, sessions with a therapist called Dr Suzmann, his broken friendship with Hawthorne, his exile to the Cayman Islands. I saw his whole history flicker through his eyes.

‘I suppose there are some people who might say that he deserved it, but I can’t celebrate anyone’s death. Not even his. Hawthorne saw things differently to me and maybe that was what drove us apart. I’ll miss him when I go, but I think it’s for the best. As for your book, you know the truth now and I’m sure you’ll agree that the world is a better place without Adam Strauss, so that gives you a happy ending of sorts. I’m not sure what happened to his wife. She was in it all along, of course . . .’

‘How can you be so sure?’

He put down his coffee cup. ‘I saw it, just as we were leaving The Stables. DS Khan and DC Goodwin went out first. Then Hawthorne. But as I approached the door, I happened to notice their reflections in a mirror in a gold frame on the wall. Strauss and his wife were holding hands, and their faces . . . it was extraordinary to see. The triumph! They were celebrating. They had got away with it. And in that one brief glance, I realised they were monsters. They were evil. And if Hawthorne was the one who pushed Strauss off that balcony, I’m not the one to pass judgement.’

He looked at his watch.

‘Despite everything, I’m glad I met you, Anthony. Do you sell many books in Grand Cayman?’

‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Well, I’ll look out for the new one.’

He stood up. It was time for me to go.

‘No need to come with me,’ I said. ‘I’ll find my way out.’

4

All along, while I’d been talking to Dudley, I’d been thinking that once we’d finished, I’d head up to the twelfth floor. I wouldn’t repeat what he’d said to me. I wouldn’t even say we’d met. That would have been like betraying myself! But I would knock on Hawthorne’s door and go in and see him. I’d explain why I’d gone to Fenchurch International and I’d apologise – to him and to Roland. I was afraid that the damage had already been done, but I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d let him down and that I might not work with him again.