The Night Book (20 page)

‘No, it seems that you did not.’ The coroner carefully placed the page back in the file. ‘Well, perhaps you can tell me about it now. What exactly did your husband say to you
while he was in the water?’

‘Well . . . not a great deal. He waved to me, I remember . . . and then . . . let me think . . . he might have asked me the time.’

The coroner looked calmly at Meriel.

‘Might have done?’

Meriel almost bit her tongue. Why had she strayed into this? She should
never
have mentioned Cameron calling up to her from the water.

She swallowed. ‘Well, yes, he did. Ask me the time, that is. I’m sorry, I’m finding this all very stressful.’

Dr Young inclined his head sympathetically towards her. ‘Of course. I quite understand, Miss Kidd. Just take your time. Now . . . why would your husband need to ask you the time? Was he
not wearing a watch on this particular occasion?’

Shit.
The watch was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Despite the electric fan, Meriel felt herself begin to perspire even more. And it was nothing to do with the cloying,
oppressive heat.

‘Well . . . you see . . . he always took it off before swimming.’

‘Why? Wasn’t it waterproof?’

God, this was getting worse.

‘Oh yes, yes, it was . . . it was a Rolex. But it was very expensive, and I think he was just nervous about it slipping from his wrist, so he used to leave it on deck.’

‘I see. So you referred to this watch in order to tell him what time it was, did you?’

‘Yes, I, er, think so.’

‘You
think
so, Miss Kidd?

‘No . . . I mean, yes. Yes, I did.’

Shiiit!

Timothy Young poured himself a little iced water before asking his next question.

‘Why did he want to know the time?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you have any subsequent conversation with your husband?’

Meriel began to feel marginally less alarmed. They were moving away from dangerous territory now.

‘No. In fact it wasn’t long after that I noticed he’d disappeared.’

The coroner nodded. ‘So . . . you told him the time, he carried on swimming . . . and then he disappeared.’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well.’ Dr Young looked at his own watch. ‘I think we might adjourn here for ten minutes. Thank you, for the moment, Miss Kidd.’

‘That was all a bit funny, and not as in funny ha-ha, either, don’tcha think?’

The
Sun
journalist sucked at his cigarette. The press corps were congregated outside on the steps of the building, smoking and sipping coffees fetched from a snack bar around the
corner.

‘I mean,’ he went on, ‘she almost sounded like she was hiding something, I thought.’

There were scattered nods around him, and a faint chorus of agreement.

Seb didn’t know what to think. Meriel had never mentioned Cameron asking her the time to him. Why not? And the
Sun
guy was right – she had looked . . . well,
shifty
when the coroner had pressed her on the matter. Again, why?

Then there was the business of Cameron’s Rolex. Earlier that week at Cathedral Crag, Seb and Meriel had had quite a long conversation about what she should do with her late husband’s
personal effects. She’d put them carefully away in a mirrored box, and fetched it to show him. There were gold and platinum bracelets, diamond cufflinks, bespoke fountain pens . . . but no
Rolex.

She’d never even mentioned a Rolex.

Why not?

And where was it now?

‘Court’s reconvening, ladies and gents.’ It was the coroner’s clerk, gruffly calling to them from the entrance.

Seb trooped back in with the rest of them.

He was beginning to feel slightly sick.

Dr Timothy Young had learned that his clerk’s considered opinion on a case was well worth consulting, and he had done this during the adjournment.

‘Cards on the table, John – what do you think?’

John Armstrong pushed his spectacles back up onto the bridge of his nose. They kept sliding down it in the constant perspiration this infernal heat caused.

‘I’m not sure, sir, to be honest,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Obviously she’s holding back on something. Whether it’s important or not is another matter.
My instinct is that they had some kind of row.’

The coroner nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought. Why is she so touchy about this business concerning the watch, though?’

His clerk shrugged. ‘Who knows? Could be anything. Such as, it was a present from a mistress. Or carried an engraving from a former lover. Something like that. Forgive me for saying so,
sir, but I reckon you may have missed a trick there.’

‘Go on.’

Armstrong shrugged again.

‘I think you should ask her where the watch is now, sir. Even ask to see it. We could get a car over to her house and back again before close of play.’

‘You think the watch is in some way involved in the cause of death?’

‘Dunno. Might be, although I can’t see how. But it’s obviously a sore spot with her. You should press down on it.’

She was so taken aback by the question that for several seconds, Meriel was unable to speak.

‘I’m sorry . . . I don’t quite understand,’ she managed at last. ‘You want to know the whereabouts of my husband’s watch?’

Dr Young nodded, almost kindly – but inside he was beginning to vibrate with the quiet certainty that he was on to something. Good old John. A creature of rare instinct. Meriel
Kidd’s reaction to his query on the whereabouts of the Rolex was telling, to say the least. The game’s afoot, Watson, he thought to himself. But he bided his time.

Standing stock-still in the witness box, Meriel worked to fight down the tide of panic that was rising within her. With an almost physical effort, she managed to bring her thoughts into
focus.

No one knows anything. No one knows anything about what I did with the watch. Or with the lifebelt afterwards. I just have to stay calm and stop allowing myself to be thrown off balance like
this. Get a bloody grip, Meriel.

STARTING RIGHT NOW.

‘I don’t know,’ she said as slowly and deliberately as she could. ‘I haven’t seen it since my husband drowned. I may have lost it.’

The coroner – a man of considerable instinct himself – immediately felt his witness slipping away from him. It had happened before, sometimes, most often during his career at the
criminal bar. Whatever it was Meriel Kidd was concealing, she had just thrown another thick blanket over it, and now she was stepping back, ready to face him down.

Damn.
Damn.

‘Lost it? Have you looked for it?’

‘Yes. Without success, I’m afraid. I remember putting it into my handbag before I left the boat with the police. I must have put it somewhere when I got home that night. I was still
in shock from seeing my husband lose his life right in front of me. Forgive me, sir, can I ask why you are pursuing me with these questions? My husband drowned. What has his watch got to do with
anything?’

In a criminal court, Young reflected, the judge would instantly have rebuked the witness for bandying words with the prosecution. But this was not a criminal court, he was not counsel for the
prosecution, and he was certainly not a judge.

He was going to have to let this go.

‘That’s quite all right, Miss Kidd. I am merely trying to establish all the facts.’

He pretended to shuffle the documents on the desk in front of him. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.

‘Miss Kidd . . . you told the police that when your husband eventually resurfaced, he was in a state of some distress.’

Meriel immediately knew the worst was over.

‘Yes . . . he was thrashing around and making terrible noises. I threw him the boat’s lifebelt, but he was completely unaware that I’d done so. I think he was already
unconscious.’

‘Was there no possibility of you taking it to him, perhaps placing it around his shoulders?’

Meriel appeared stricken.

‘No . . . I’ve never been able to swim. I feel dreadful about that now, obviously. I suppose I could have used the lifebelt to support myself as I paddled over to him, but what then?
If I’d given it to him, I would probably have drowned myself. There was nothing I could do. As I say, I feel absolutely awful about this. But the fact is, I can’t swim.’

The coroner politely inclined his head towards her.

‘Thank you, Miss Kidd. I have no further questions for you.’

Seb did.

But they’d have to wait.

‘Recording a verdict of death by misadventure, coroner Dr Timothy Young said he wanted to emphasise that during the current extreme weather conditions, it remains
unsafe to swim in Cumbria’s lakes. To underline his warning, he commented: “One wouldn’t go swimming in a force-nine gale or a thunderstorm. People should be equally sensible of
the hazards of doing so while this unprecedented heatwave continues.”

‘This is Seb Richmond reporting for Lake District FM and network news, live from Kendal Coroner’s Court.’

Seb lowered the microphone and pulled the earphones from his head. Jess, sitting on the other side of the radio car’s transmitter, flicked several switches to off and gave him the
thumbs-up.

‘Nice one, Seb. Want a drink in the Shakespeare before we head back?’

Seb shook his head.

‘No thanks, Jess. I’ve got to go and see someone.’

‘That someone being Meriel Kidd, I take it.’

Seb stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

Jess snorted as he pushed the button to retract the radio mast above them.

‘Do me a favour, sunshine. Where d’you think you work, for Christ’s sake? A Trappist monastery? People talk. Everyone knows about you and Meriel.’

Seb gave it up.

‘How?’ he asked weakly.

Jess smiled at him.

‘Well, for starters the licensee of the String of Horses is brother-in-law to one of the cleaners at the station. She told everyone who’d listen that you and Meriel spent the night
at the pub. And believe me, everyone listened.

‘Then there’s the young couple who live opposite you in Warwick Road. She’s Helen Briar’s daughter – you know Helen, she runs accounts. They were coming home from
dinner one evening and they saw Meriel slipping into your flat. Seemingly had her own key, they told Helen. Said they probably wouldn’t have noticed her if she hadn’t been wearing giant
sunglasses after dark. Made her stand out a bit, apparently.’

Seb sighed deeply. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yup,’ Jess replied cheerfully. ‘Tony in advertising keeps a little sailboat on Derwent Water. He was driving past Meriel’s house – what’s it called?
Cathedral something, right?’

‘Cathedral Crag.’

‘That’s it. Anyway, Tony was tootling past there early last Saturday morning and whose Triumph Spitfire d’you suppose he saw turning out of the drive?’

Seb put his face into his hands.

‘Shit. What’s everyone saying about it?’

Jess looked surprised.

‘What do you think? They’re loving it. You work for a radio station, Sebby old chap. Everyone shags everyone else on a radio station. Except me. I’m too old and I’m
happily married.’

Seb thought for a moment.

‘Bob Merryman warned me that if Meriel and I were seeing each other and it got out, the press would have a field day with us. Well, with her mainly.’

Jess finished with the mast and began winding a long electric cable back into its housing above a wheel-arch.

‘Well, you’d know more about that than me. I just drive the bus. But I wouldn’t worry about that for a while. Our people might enjoy a good gossip among themselves, but
we’re family and what happens on the station stays on the station. No one’s going to do the dirty. Apart from anything else, everyone’s rather fond of both of you.’

He snapped the lid down over the coiled flex and turned back to Seb.

‘It’ll come out eventually, of course, but by then this Cameron guy will have been long buried . . . well, at least for a month or two. And why shouldn’t his widow seek a
little comfort from one of her handsome colleagues? It’s only natural. Anyway, this is 1976, not 1876. Having sex is allowed.’

He paused, and looked curiously at the younger man.

‘What was all that business in your report just now about the dead guy’s watch? I couldn’t work it out.’

Seb shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know. The coroner obviously seemed to think it might be important and . . . well, I’m sure the papers will report that Meriel looked a bit
thrown when he asked her about it.’

‘Did she? You didn’t mention that.’

‘No, I didn’t see the point. She was bound to be upset, Jess, she was telling the world how she watched her husband drown, for God’s sake.’

Jess nodded sympathetically. ‘Well, go on then, back to Cathedral what’s-it-called, and do your arm-around-the-shoulder routine. A very pretty shoulder, I might add. I’ll
finish up here.’

‘Thanks.’ Seb paused. ‘Jess . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s not what people might think, you know. Oh, we are seeing each other, there’s obviously no point denying that . . . but what I mean is . . . This isn’t just a casual
fling, you know. When things settle down we’re probably going to get married. I mean it.’

The engineer patted the reporter’s shoulder.

‘Well, all I can say is – you’ll make a lovely couple.’

The police had offered Meriel a car to the inquest but she preferred to drive herself. Now, less than an hour after listening to Dr Young dispassionately giving his verdict,
she turned into her driveway and brought the Mercedes to a crunching halt on the gravel. She glanced at the car clock. Almost six o’clock; time for the news.

A few minutes later she was listening to Seb’s voice summarising the main evidence from the inquest. The part about the missing watch was only briefly mentioned, but she knew he was going
to ask her about it later. He’d want to know why she hadn’t mentioned her final conversation with Cameron, too. But, like the coroner, he’d probably be more curious about the
missing Rolex.