Isabel stared at him. The hand was tight about her arm, almost painful.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded cracked, and she cleared her throat without thinking.
“Calm down,” said Johnny. “I’m terribly sorry if I gave you a fright. I had come to see you and I found the door open. I was a little bit concerned, as the house was in darkness. So I came in and checked that everything was all right. Then I went out into the garden, just to look round. I thought that there might have been an intruder.”
Isabel thought quickly. What Johnny said was just possibly true. If one found a house with an open door, and with no sign of the owner about, then it might well be that one would look about the place to check that all was in order. But what had his mobile phone been doing upstairs?
“Your telephone,” said Isabel, moving over to the light switch to turn it on. “I dialled it and it rang.”
Johnny looked at her curiously. “But it’s in my pocket,” he said. “Look.” He reached into the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, and then stopped. “Or at least it was there.”
Isabel took a deep breath. “You must have dropped it.”
“So it seems,” said Johnny. He smiled. “That must have given you a dreadful fright.”
“It did.”
“Well, yes, I suppose it would. Again, I’m sorry.”
Isabel pulled herself away from Johnny’s grip, which was dropped. She looked down at the broken stained glass; it had por-trayed the harbour at Kirkcudbright, the hull of the fishing boat tiny shards now. As she looked down, the thought came to her, a thought which overthrew all her assumptions: Minty was right.
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Minty was not the person they should have been investigating; it was Johnny. By coincidence they had gone right to the person who was behind whatever it was that Mark had uncovered.
It was a realisation that was sudden and complete. She did not have to reconsider it, as she stood there in her hall, confronted by Johnny Sanderson. Good was bad; light was dark; it was as simple as that. A road followed in faith was the road that led nowhere, because it stopped, suddenly and without warning, at a sign which said, unambiguously, Wrong way. And the human mind, jolted out of its assumptions, could either refuse the new reality or switch tracks. Minty might be ambitious, hard, scheming, and promiscu-ous (all rolled into one elegant package), but she did not push young men over balconies. Johnny Sanderson might be a culti-vated, sympathetic member of the Edinburgh establishment, but he was greedy, and money could seduce anybody. And then, when everything was threatened by the possibility of exposure, it would be such an easy step to remove the threat.
She looked at Johnny. “Why did you come to see me?”
“There was something I wanted to talk about.”
“And what was that?”
Johnny smiled. “I really don’t think that we should talk much now. After this . . . after this disturbance.”
Isabel stared at him, struck by the sheer effrontery of the response.
“A disturbance which you created,” she said.
Johnny sighed, as if confronted with a pedantic objection. “I merely intended to discuss the matter we were discussing the other day. That’s all.”
Isabel said nothing, and after a few moments Johnny continued: “But we’ll do that some other time. I’m sorry that I gave you that fright.” He turned and looked back up the stairs. “Would you 2 3 0
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h mind if I recovered my phone? You say that it’s up in your bedroom? Would you mind?”
A F T E R J O H N N Y H A D G O N E , Isabel went into the kitchen and fetched a dustpan and broom. She carefully picked up the larger pieces of broken glass and wrapped them in newspaper, and then she swept up the smaller fragments and carried them back into the kitchen in the dustpan. Then she sat down at the kitchen telephone and dialled Jamie’s number.
It took Jamie some time to answer and Isabel knew that she had woken him up.
“I’m very sorry,” she said. “I had to speak to you.”
Jamie’s voice was thick with sleep. “I don’t mind.”
“Could you come round to the house? Right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. I’ll explain when you come. Please. And would you mind staying here overnight? Just tonight.”
He sounded as if he was fully woken up now. “It’ll take me half an hour. Will that be all right?”
I S A B E L H E A R D H I S TA X I arrive and went to the front door to greet him. He was wearing a green windcheater and was carrying a small black overnight bag.
“You’re an angel. You really are.”
He shook his head, as if in disbelief. “I can’t imagine what you want to talk about. But still, that’s what friends are for.”
Isabel led him into the kitchen, where she had prepared tea.
She motioned to a chair and poured him a cup.
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“You’re not going to believe this,” she began. “I’ve had an eventful evening.”
She told him of what had happened and his eyes widened as she spoke. But it was clear to her that he did not doubt her for a moment.
“But you can’t believe him. Nobody would wander into somebody else’s house like that just because the door was open . . . if it was open in the first place.”
“Which I doubt,” said Isabel.
“Then what on earth was he doing? What did he have in mind? Doing you in?”
Isabel shrugged her shoulders. “I suspect that he might wonder about my intentions. If he’s the one we should have been suspecting all along, then he might be worried that I had some proof. Some documents linking him with insider deals.”
“This is what this is?”
“I assume so. Unless he was planning something else, which is rather unlikely, at this stage.”
“So what do we do now?”
Isabel looked at the floor. “I have no idea. Or not now. I think I should just go to bed and we can talk about it tomorrow.” She paused. “Are you sure that you don’t mind staying? It’s just that I can’t face being in the house by myself tonight.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Jamie. “I wouldn’t leave you by yourself. Not after all that.”
“Grace keeps one of the spare rooms made up,” she said. “It’s at the back. It’s nice and quiet. You can have that.”
She took him upstairs and showed him the room. Then she said good night, leaving him standing just inside his room. He smiled, and blew her a kiss.
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“I’m just along here,” he said. “If there’s any attempt by Johnny to disturb your sleep, you just give me a shout.”
“I think that’s the last we’ll see of him tonight,” said Isabel.
She felt safer now, but there was still the thought that unless she did something, the issue of Johnny Sanderson was unresolved.
Jamie was there tonight, but he would not be there the following night, nor the night after that.
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S I X
E
IF GRACE FELT any surprise at finding Jamie in the house the next morning, she concealed it well. He was by himself in the kitchen when she came in, and for a few moments he seemed at a loss as to what to say. Grace, who had picked up the mail from the floor of the hall, broke the silence.
“Four more articles this morning,” she said. “Applied ethics.
No shortage of applied ethics.”
Jamie looked at the pile of mail. “Did you notice the door?”
“I did.”
“There was an intruder.”
Grace stood quite still. “I thought so. That alarm. I’ve been telling her for years, years, to use it. She never does. She never listens.” She drew breath. “Well, I didn’t actually think anything.