‘He wasn’t more specific about what kind of information it was? What it related to?’
‘No. I wouldn’t have understood anyway. It was just something to do with his work. Well, I thought it was very odd him coming to our house to tell me this, so I asked him why, and he said that one of the things he regretted about the fight he’d been having with Richard was the pain it might have caused innocent parties, especially myself. He explained that he had heard gossip at the university that our marriage had been running into difficulties, and he hoped he hadn’t contributed to that. Only now he felt obliged to warn me that things would get worse for my husband, and I might like to consider how I could protect myself from the consequences, financially.’
‘‘‘Financially”? He said that? What did you understand him to mean?’
‘I really wasn’t sure, when I thought about it afterwards. I mean, Richard handles all our finances, and I hadn’t a clue what our assets might be, or whose name they might be in. Short of divorcing Richard, I wasn’t sure that I could “protect myself ”, but I did take some steps. I went through the records Richard keeps at home, and went to speak to an accountant.’
‘What else did Springer say?’
‘Nothing. He said that was all he’d come to say and got up and left.’
‘Did he indicate when he was going to make the information public?’
‘No.’
‘And you told your husband about this visit, did you?’
Sheila Haygill lowered her eyes. ‘No. I intended to at first, of course, but then I imagined the terrible fuss Richard was bound to make about it, him coming to our home and speaking to me while Richard was away, and me letting him in and listening to him. And… I wasn’t sure that I wanted to tell Richard about Max Springer’s advice to me. It would make him very angry, I was sure, and there again, maybe… maybe it was good advice. So in the end I just kept quiet.’
‘You didn’t warn him that Springer was planning to ruin him?’
‘I didn’t see how I could, without telling him the whole thing.’
‘Maybe you could have given the warning to a third party to pass on to Richard. Someone like Dr Darr, for instance.’
He watched the reaction, the blink of surprise, the flush of the cheeks beneath her make-up, then she stared defiantly at him and said, ‘I may have mentioned something to Dr Darr, yes. Sometimes, when Richard and I aren’t… when he forgets to tell me things, about his movements and so on, I talk to Tahir-Dr Darr.’
‘Rather than Richard’s secretary?’
‘She… she’s very efficient and devoted to Richard. Unfortunately she doesn’t like me very much. The feeling is mutual.’
‘So what exactly did you tell Tahir?’
‘I told him about Max Springer’s visit and his threat to Richard. Tahir wasn’t really concerned. He said that Springer was mad and always trying to cause trouble, that there wasn’t any way he could damage Richard and that I shouldn’t worry about it. I was reassured by his reaction… at the time.’
She hesitated and lapsed into silence as if running out of momentum, and Brock glanced anxiously at her. Knowing that she couldn’t be compelled to give evidence against her husband he didn’t want to lose her. ‘Can I get you something, Mrs Haygill? A cup of tea, coffee?’
She roused herself. ‘No, no, thank you. I’d just like to get this over.’
‘Of course. There’s something about Richard that you want to tell me?’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t think too much about Springer’s visit after I spoke to Tahir, until I opened my paper on that Friday morning and saw the report of his murder. I was very shocked, of course, but I didn’t connect it with his visit to me until later that night. Richard had been away on business again that day-he’d flown up to Glasgow for some meeting, and he didn’t get home until late. I was in bed when I heard him open the front door, and I expected him to come straight upstairs to have a bath as he usually did after a long day. Only he didn’t come upstairs, and I began to wonder if he’d missed his evening meal and was making himself something in the kitchen. I put on my dressing gown and went downstairs, but there was no light on in the kitchen. Then I noticed a light coming from his study. The door wasn’t quite shut, and I pushed it gently, because sometimes he’s quite irritable when he’s tired, and I was about to say something when I caught sight of him. He was sitting with his back to the door, at his desk, taken up with something he was holding under the desk light, examining it. I saw straight away what it was. It was a gun.’
She came to a stop, staring down at her handbag as if seeing the scene again.
‘What sort of gun, Mrs Haygill?’ Brock prompted gently. ‘Can you describe it for me?’
‘Er… it was black, not very large-about the same size as his hand. Not like the kind of thing you see in Westerns. More modern, flat.’
‘A pistol rather than a revolver then. And you weren’t aware of your husband owning such a thing?’
‘Good heavens, no! Why ever would he possess something like that?’
‘Go on then, what did you do?’
‘Well, I just froze. I didn’t dare even breathe. My first thought was that he was going to shoot himself. I thought, maybe Max Springer was right and Richard is in some kind of terrible trouble and wants to end it all. But when I thought of Springer I remembered the newspaper report of that morning, how he had been shot at the university by an unknown gunman, and there was Richard holding a gun.’
‘Examining it, you say?’
‘Yes, I think so. Then he sort of shook his head, as if he’d come to a decision about something, opened the drawer of his desk, and put the gun inside. I stepped back from the door and returned to the foot of the stairs. I didn’t dare try to get up them again without him hearing, so I called out his name, as if I’d just come down. He answered and came out of the study. He looked very tired and I asked him if he was all right. He said he was, then started to switch off the lights, and we went upstairs.
‘The next day he was due to fly to the Gulf, and I was to drive him to the airport at midday. After breakfast he did some packing, then said that he was going to go for a walk to clear his head. I was surprised, because he never does that. I offered to go too, but he said he had some things to work out for his trip and he needed to think. He put on his old coat and I heard him go into his study before he left. Once I was sure he was gone I went in there and opened the desk drawer. The gun wasn’t there any more. I searched all through the desk, and the suitcase he’d packed, but I couldn’t find it. I began to think I’d imagined seeing it.’
Brock exchanged a glance with Kathy. ‘Why?’ he said cautiously, imagining what a defence counsel might make of this. ‘Had you been drinking before your husband got home that night?’
‘I’d had one or two drinks, yes. But I wasn’t anywhere near drunk. I know what I saw.’
‘But you’re absolutely sure it was a gun? It couldn’t have been something else black? His wallet perhaps?’
‘No, no, it was a gun. It was the last thing I expected to see in his hand. I looked at it so hard to be sure I wasn’t making a mistake. He turned it over, directly under the light. It glinted like dark metal.’
‘All right. So how long was he away the next morning?’
‘Not very long. Twenty minutes.’
‘Have you any idea where he might have gone?’
‘He turned left outside our gate, and when he returned he had mud on his shoes. There’s a small wood not far from our house, with a pond. I thought he might have gone there.’
Brock thought, simpler to have wrapped it up and put it in his dustbin, unless he was expecting his house to be searched while he was away.