‘Nothing recently,’ said Clémence. ‘Madeleine’s lawyer came to see me on Monday. He told me she plans to plead guilty to everything. She’s going to Arizona next week. Bail is unlikely, even at her age, so she’s probably going straight to jail. But at least with a guilty plea there is no chance of the death penalty.’
‘I’m glad of that,’ said the old man. ‘Did he tell you anything else?’
‘She has set up a fund to pay for the rest of my education. Apparently she owns Grandpa’s flat in Notting Hill and she’s giving it to him. The lawyer said she was planning to leave me something in her will. I said I didn’t want it.’
The old man raised his eyebrows. ‘That might be a lot of money. Wakefield Oil is a big company.’
‘I know. But I really don’t want it. It’s all Alden’s, isn’t it, originally? It’s tainted. Bad karma. Very bad karma.’
‘I’m not entirely sure what bad karma is, but you are probably right.’ The old man reached into a canvas bag by his feet. ‘I’ve brought something too.’ He pulled out a black exercise book. With a red binding.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Clémence.
‘The police found it in Fabrice’s car. He hadn’t destroyed it.’
‘Can I read it?’
‘Of course,’ said the old man.
Clémence hesitated. She wanted to reach out and grab it, but that seemed rude.
‘What are you going to do with it? Are you going to try to publish a second edition of Death At Wyvis?’
‘Actually, I have another idea, but it requires your help.’
The old man’s eyes were twinkling. He was excited.
‘Oh, yes. What is it?’
‘I thought you and I could write a book together. A new book. Incorporating Death At Wyvis and adding your story to mine. After all these years, I finally know what really happened, and I need to set the record straight.’
‘And you want my help? You’re the one who has written all the books before.’
‘I think it would be fun to write it together. And to give your point of view. We could have a crack at it over the summer before I go back to Australia. You could come and stay at Culzie. Bring Callum. We could play Scrabble. I’ll let you win again.’ The old man smiled slyly. ‘Of course if you have to go back to Hong Kong, I would understand.’
The idea grabbed Clémence. She was dreading going home; she wasn’t even sure whether her mother would let her back in the house. This sounded fun. She really liked the idea of spending the summer with Callum, and Madeleine’s money would fund it.
Then a thought struck her. ‘We wouldn’t mention Patrick jumping on me, would we?’
‘Oh, I think we should, don’t you? I think your side of the story will be very convincing. And it would serve him right.’
Clémence hesitated. The old man was looking at her steadily. She trusted him. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Patrick is in the book. I assume we’d say it was a novel?’
‘Of course. Why break with tradition?’
‘And what would we call it? Death At Wyvis Two?’
‘I thought Amnesia.’
‘So you get star billing?’
‘We could be joint authors.’
‘You mean ditch Angus Culzie?’
‘Yes. That was just me.’
Clémence hesitated. ‘Wouldn’t one name be better? Another pseudonym?’
‘Maybe,’ said the old man. ‘But what?’
Clémence’s mind was blank. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I do,’ said the old man, after a moment’s thought. ‘We can use Mike’s name. You know, my friend with the eagles.’
‘OK,’ said Clémence. ‘What was that?’
‘Michael Ridpath.’
Clémence thought it over. She liked the idea. She liked it a lot.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s do it.’
Author’s note
There is a Wyvis Estate on the shores of Loch Glass in Easter Ross, although I have rearranged some of the dwellings there. The various owners of the estate over the years and their families are entirely fictional, with the exception of the nineteenth-century proprietor. The bed and breakfast outside Dingwall run by a vet and his wife is entirely real. The name is Kildun Cottage, and I warmly recommend it.
I should like to thank a number of people who have helped me with this book: Andrew Botterill, Kevin Anderson, Alasdair and Gill Macnab, Aline Templeton, Kate Penrose, Julia Ridpath and Richenda Todd. Also Louise Cullen and Sara O’Keeffe at Atlantic Books, Nicky Lovick, Liz Hatherell, my agent Oli Munson and, as always, Barbara.