Score!

Rupert stared at Isa’s pale, impassive gypsy face, so like Jake’s twenty-five years ago. It must have taken courage to come here. Getting to his feet, he took Isa’s hand. ‘I’ll have to check with Wolfie and Tab, but I’ve never turned down a good offer or one that might irritate my first wife. And I reckon if you and I joined forces no-one in the world could beat us.’

‘Except, perhaps, Little Cosmo,’ said Isa drily.

Bernard comforted Tristan the most by putting things in perspective.

‘When Étienne sent Laurent into his own regiment, hoping it would straighten the boy out, he asked me to keep an eye on him. I tried but Laurent was bent on bucking the system. They were torturing prisoners in Chad, Laurent hit a senior officer across the mess and there were persistent rumours of anti-French activities. Of course, there was outrage at the time that he’d been taken out by his own side but I think it would have happened sooner or later.’

‘I hate Laurent and my mother for what they did to Papa.’ Tristan’s face was haggard.

‘Laurent was the best-looking lad I ever saw,’ admitted Bernard. ‘He was your father’s most adored son, the true favori du roi, which made the betrayal much worse. He had all Posa’s charisma and courage.’

‘And his ruthlessness,’ snapped Tristan. ‘Pretty shabby cuckolding your own father.’

‘He was terribly young, only twenty, and she was sixteen. I loved Laurent,’ confessed Bernard. ‘I held him in my arms as he lay dying and he said, “Look after my son.”’

‘So you knew?’ said Tristan in amazement. ‘That’s why you came out of the army, and went into films, and became my first assistant.’ His eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve been my guardian angel,’ he mumbled, grabbing Bernard’s hand.

‘Guardian angels don’t have brick-red faces and black moustaches.’

There was a pause. Tristan longed to pour his heart out about Lucy, but felt under the circumstances it was tactless.

‘I’m sorry about Rozzy.’

Bernard shrugged. ‘I’ve got a family at home. They’ve never seemed more precious.’

The Shaven Crown was packed out with members of the Inner Cabinet getting drunk. Gablecross usually felt sad at the end of a murder, even if they’d caught the criminal: it didn’t bring back the victims. Beattie had probably had a mother who was fond of her. But it was hard to feel upset about a monster like Rannaldini.

‘Well done, Karen.’ Gablecross patted her arm. ‘My second Charlie.’

Karen’s face lit up. But embarrassed, because she felt so colossally honoured, she immediately changed the subject. ‘Poor Rozzy seemed such a nice lady. What made her do it?’

‘Low self-esteem. Couldn’t hack not being loved by everyone. Kill anyone who slighted her. The exposure made her feel important, the centre of attention. She’s a singer, after all. Then she got a taste for it. In the end she’d have killed Tristan because he couldn’t have reciprocated her love. I’ll drive you home,’ he went on, seeing Karen suppress a yawn.

It was such a beautiful night. Moths danced in the headlamps. Shooting stars careered across a drained blue sky. The scent of limes drifted through the car windows. Gablecross had dropped Karen off and was turning off the Paradise Road towards Eldercombe. He was just congratulating himself on being home early for Margaret for once, so they could discuss Diane’s eighteenth birthday party, which he could easily pay for now, when he heard singing:

‘She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes, She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes, Singing ay yay yippy, ay yay yippy…’

Some nutter was turning up his stereo at full blast. Next moment a huge maroon Roller roared past, shattering the peace of the evening.

Gablecross gave chase. But every time the road widened enough for him to catch up, the Roller’s driver put his foot down, and the laughter and singing grew more raucous. He finally managed to block them in as they swung into River House’s drive. Inside he found Hermione and Sexton.

‘“She’ll be coming round the mountain—” Sergeant Gablecross!’ cried Hermione, in amazement. ‘We thought you were our good friend the Chief Constable going home.’

Gablecross got out his notebook, and was just pondering whether to book them for speeding, drunk-driving, not wearing seat-belts, or creating a nuisance when Sexton said:

‘Come in and celebrate.’

‘You both appear to have been celebrating for several hours, sir.’

‘Indeed,’ Hermione bowed, ‘and with cause, Timothy. We want you to be the first to know. We are with child. A sibling for Little Cosmo.’

Gablecross hoped it would be a little brother, or Cosmo would certainly put her on the game.

‘We’ve got a smashin’ bottle of Krug in the fridge,’ said Sexton cosily.

‘Bubbly for the bobby, bubbly for the bobby,’ chortled Hermione, as she weaved up the drive.

Gablecross sighed. He obviously wasn’t going to get home to Margaret for a while.

85