The Sentence Is Death

‘It was too bloody obvious, mate. There were only two ways it could have got there. Adrian Lockwood could have killed Richard Pryce and splattered paint on his shirt when he wrote the message . . .’

‘. . . or she could have put it there.’

‘If they were sleeping together, she’d have had easy access to his clothes. And of course, she knew what colour to choose.’

‘Because I’d told her.’

Hawthorne finished his coffee and glanced out of the window. The rain was beginning to ease off but grey pebbles of water still clung to the glass. ‘You don’t need to be so hard on yourself, Tony. We solved it. I get paid – and you get your book. By the way, I still haven’t seen the first one. Have they sent it to you yet?’

‘No. I haven’t seen anything.’

‘I hope it’s a good cover. Nothing too arty. Maybe a bit of blood.’

‘Hawthorne . . .’ I began.

Somehow I had known before I even sat down that I was going to say this. I had decided that Jill was right.

‘I think this is a bad idea. These books, I mean. I’m a fiction writer, not a biographer, and I don’t feel comfortable doing this. I’m sorry. I’ll finish this one . . . I might as well since I’ve got all the material. But I’m going to ring Hilda Starke and ask her to cancel the contract for the third.’

His face fell. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because of what you just said! We’ve investigated two cases together and both times I’ve said something stupid that’s completely mucked it up, and both times I’ve almost managed to get myself killed. It doesn’t make me feel any better that I made a complete fool of myself. You used me. You deliberately set me up to get back at DI Grunshaw, but it’s worse than that. You actually congratulated me. You persuaded me that I’d managed to work it out when everything I’d said was wrong.’

‘Not everything. I checked. Adrian Lockwood does have an eye problem.’

‘Fuck off! I admit it. I’m not clever enough to be Holmes, but if you want the truth, I don’t much enjoy being Watson either. I don’t think this is working. I think we’d be better off going our separate ways.’

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked upset.

‘You’re just saying that because you’re in pain,’ he muttered eventually. ‘You’ve been stabbed. I’m amazed they even let you out of the hospital so quickly.’

‘It’s not just that—’

‘And it’s a bloody horrible day.’ He cut in quickly, not wanting me to say any more. ‘If it was bright sunshine out there, that would change your mind.’ He pointed. ‘That’s an example of that thing authors put in books when the weather makes a difference to the way people feel.’

‘The pathetic fallacy,’ I said.

‘Exactly!’ He brightened up. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. You know about that stuff. You’re a writer. And I bet when you get home tonight and start doing your notes, you’ll enjoy describing just how shitty it is out there. Blackfriars Bridge. Farringdon Street. You’ll choose all the right words and you’ll make it come to life. There’s no way I could do anything like that. Which is why it’s such a great partnership. I do the legwork. You do the rest.’ He smiled. ‘Partners in Crime. That’s what you should call the book.’

‘There’s already a book with that title, Hawthorne.’

‘I trust you, mate. You’ll think of a better one.’

I looked out of the window. I still wasn’t sure. But on the other hand, the rain had finally stopped and it seemed to me that a few rays of sunlight were beginning to break through.

Acknowledgements

One of the stranger aspects of writing about my investigations with Daniel Hawthorne is that I end up having to thank people who actually appear in the book . . . though not all of them. As will have become clear, some of them made my life very difficult while others have demanded that I change their names or remove them altogether: one of them has even gone so far as to threaten me with lawyers, although I would say my depiction of her is entirely accurate.

It would have been impossible to write The Sentence Is Death without two men in particular. Dave Gallivan, who led the rescue team into Long Way Hole, spoke to me at length about his work. Chris Jackson went one stage further. He actually took me caving – an experience I enjoyed much more than I expected. We went through Drake’s Passage and he showed me the actual spot where Charlie Richardson died. Later on, he read the manuscript and drew my attention to a number of technical errors. I very much enjoyed meeting both of them and won’t forget our steak and kidney pie at the Station Inn in Ribblehead.

Graham Hain, the forensic accountant at Navigant, is also mentioned in the book. Although he had never met Richard Pryce, he gave me some brilliant insights into the way a high-end divorce might work. Alex Woolley, a solicitor at Winkworth Sherwood, and Ben Wooldridge, a barrister at 1 Hare Court, were both generous with their time and provided me with a complete legal backdrop. Any mistakes, of course, are mine.