Final Venture

'Here, get on my shoulders,' I said to Lisa, crouching down.

'OK.' She giggled, and climbed on to my back. I slowly straightened my legs, bringing her up to the level of the window.

The giggling stopped abruptly. She stiffened, and her fingers clawed at my hair. 'Simon,' she whispered. 'SIMON!!!'

I swung her down to the ground. Her eyes were wide, and she was gasping for breath. I leaped up and grabbed the window ledge with my fingers. I hauled myself up until my eyes were just at the level of the glass.

'Jesus!'

Someone was lying face down in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area, two dark patches spreading across his back.

I dropped to the ground, sprinted round the house, and charged the front door.

The wood cracked. I threw myself at the door two more times with all my weight, and it burst open. I rushed over to Frank's body.

He was dead. Two bloodied bullet holes gaped through the back of the checked shirt he had been wearing the day before.

Lisa let out a shriek, the like of which I had never heard before. She pushed past me and threw herself on to him, grabbing his face, willing him to be alive, sobbing 'Dad, Dad, Dad,' over and over again.

7

'Just a few more questions, Mr Ayot. Or is it Sir Simon Ayot?'

Sergeant Mahoney sat on the sofa in our small living room. His card said he was from the State Police Crime Prevention and Control Unit assigned to the Essex County District Attorney's Office. He was a big man, running to fat, with thinning red hair and bright blue eyes. One corner of his mouth seemed permanently raised in a half-smile of mild amusement, or mild disbelief, I couldn't quite tell. He was probably pushing fifty, and he had the air of someone who had seen a lot, as he no doubt had. A female colleague had taken Lisa out for a cup of coffee, leaving the two of us alone in the apartment.

'Just call me mister,' I said. 'All that the "Sir" means is that my father died young.'

I had tried to suppress my title since I had moved to America. And Lisa never called herself 'Lady Ayot', except sometimes when drunk and naked in bed. One of my reasons for being in America, apart from Lisa of course, was that things like titles didn't matter. In England, I felt awkward using the 'Sir', and disrespectful to my father's family not using it. Here I could just forget all about it. It was only when people saw my passport, as Mahoney had, or when Gil managed to squeeze it into a conversation somehow, that anyone knew.

'OK, Mr Ayot. I'd just like to go back over some of the things you told me yesterday' He had a thick Boston accent, but it was slightly different from Craig's. I still wasn't able to distinguish the local accents with confidence.

'Fine.'

'It looks like you were the last person to see Frank Cook alive.'

'Really?'

The blue eyes watched my every reaction. 'Yes. The coroner thinks he died sometime before ten p. m. on Saturday. Now you say you came to see him at about two thirty on Saturday afternoon?'

'I think that's right, yes.'

'That fits with the neighbour who says she saw you speeding down the dirt road toward his house.'

I smiled. 'I was doing about ten miles an hour. She just wasn't looking where she was going.'

'Fair enough. This isn't a traffic investigation.' The corner of Mahoney's mouth flicked upwards. 'Now when you arrived, was Mr Cook there?'

'Yes, he was there. He looked tired. On edge. He didn't seem too pleased to see me.'

'Why did you go to meet him?'

'I wanted to try to straighten out a few things between us.'

'What kind of things?'

I hesitated. 'Frank and I had had an argument at work. I wanted to try to sort it out.'

Mahoney looked at me closely. He knew I wasn't telling him everything. 'What was the argument about?'

'An investment.'

'I see.' He remained silent, holding my eyes, waiting for me to say more.

I had no desire to tell Mahoney about Frank's suspicions over me and Diane. But I had even less desire to be caught hiding them. This was a murder investigation: the questions would not go away. I decided it was best to be as straightforward as possible with the answers.

I sighed. 'I thought the real cause of the disagreement was that Frank suspected me of having an affair with one of my colleagues. I wanted to persuade him that there was no danger of that.'

'And were you?' The eyes peered into mine.

'No,' I said simply. This wasn't the time for righteous indignation. I would have to be very careful with Mahoney. Careful and precise.

'OK. Did Mr Cook believe you?'

'I don't know. I don't think so.'

'Did you have another argument?'

'Not exactly,' I said, truthfully.

'But you didn't leave best of friends?'

'No.'

Mahoney paused, but let his eyes rest on me. Then the questions came again.

'What time did you leave the house?'

'I don't know. Three o'clock, perhaps.'

'Where did you go then?'

'I went for a walk on the beach. Shanks Beach. And then I drove to the office of one of our companies, Net Cop.'

'Did you meet anyone on this walk? See anyone?'

'There were a few cars in the car park.' I thought hard. 'I think there were one or two people on the beach, but I can't remember them. I was too wrapped up in Frank and his attitude towards me.'

'OK,' said Mahoney. 'How long were you at the beach?'

'About an hour.'

'And then you drove to this company, what was it? Net Cop?'

I gave Mahoney the details of Net Cop and the people I had seen there. He promised to check with them. I was sure he would.

'Do you know how much Frank Cook's estate will be?' The change of tack surprised me.

'I've no idea.'

'Take a guess.'

I thought about it. Frank had had a successful business career, and had probably already made some good money at Revere. And then of course there were the BioOne millions that would come his way. Daniel was right. Frank must be a rich man. But I decided to undershoot for Mahoney's benefit. 'A million dollars.'

'Closer to four, we think. And Mr Appleby says that in another year or two, Mr Cook would have had another ten coming to him from one of Revere's investments. That will still go to his heirs. Which brings me to another question. Who are Frank Cook's heirs?'

'I have no idea,' I said.

'Try.'

'Lisa I suppose. And her brother Eddie. Maybe her mother.'

Mahoney grunted. 'I'll leave it to his lawyer to confirm whether you're right. But let's just say you might expect to get some money coming to you as a result of Mr Cook's death.'

I sighed. 'I suppose so. But I've never thought about it until now.'

'Do you own a gun, Mr Ayot?' Another change of tack.

'No.'

'Do you know anyone who owns a Smith and Wesson model six forty, three fifty-seven Magnum?'

'No.'

'Do you know how to use a gun?'

I paused. 'Yes.'

'How's that?'

'I used to be in the British army,' I answered. 'They teach you how to use a weapon.'

'I see. So you know all about guns, right?' He thought for a bit. 'Have you ever killed anyone?'

'Yes,' I said quietly.

'Tell me about it.'

'I'd rather not,' I said.

'Was it while you were in the army?'

'Yes.'

'In Ireland, maybe?'

'Yes.'

The blue eyes hardened.

'I don't have to answer this sort of question,' I said sharply. 'Am I under suspicion, or what? Do I need a lawyer?'

Mahoney relaxed. 'Look, we've got a job to do here. We're just gathering information from whoever might be able to help us with this, that's all. Thank you for your help, Mr Ayot. I'll be back if I have any further questions.'

With that, he was gone, leaving me feeling distinctly uneasy. As I waited for Lisa to return, Mahoney's last question rankled.

I remembered the vehicle checkpoint in a quiet country lane in Armagh, the beaten-up Ford Escort slowing down, Lance Corporal of Horse Binns bending down at the car window, the look of surprise and shock on his face, the two shots in rapid succession, his head disintegrating, his body thrown backwards, the car engine revving, my own weapon raised to the window, the explosion of noise and shattering of glass as I emptied the magazine into the car, the vehicle careering out of control into the side of our Land Rover.