A Crowded Coffin(30)

Recoiling in shock she turned away involuntarily and came upon another picture that was somehow infinitely sad, a small, swirling green canvas. An oasis, perhaps? She couldn’t make it out but it spoke of grief and longing.

And I sneered at his offer to paint me, she winced, as she slowly became aware that he was looking at her. His face was blank, features schooled into immobility, but his hazel eyes were watchful.

She put out a tentative hand. ‘Rory—’

‘I was backpacking last year,’ he said, turning his head away. ‘I was due to start working at the university here in the autumn so there was the summer to fill. Mum had died only a couple of months earlier so there wasn’t anything to go home for. I’d broken up with my girlfriend too so a trip out East seemed as good an idea as any.

‘It was fine until Mitch, the guy from college that I was with, met this local man in a bar and when he offered us a lift in his Jeep to share expenses, we jumped at it. He seemed okay and we bummed around the countryside with him for a few more days till we were going through Customs.’

He shrugged. ‘It was the old story. Couple of gullible young idiots who were horrified to find our bags stuffed with heroin, but his luck ran out when one of the Customs people recognized him from a wanted list.

‘I won’t bore you with the details but in a way, that helped Mitch and me. Because the local guy was a known smuggler they accepted that we’d been caught in his net, but they still threw us in jail. He, the other guy, was charged, tried and found guilty all in a rush, but because they were angling for a deal with the British government, they held off executing him, using us as the bargaining point.’

Again came the resigned shrug. ‘We were told afterwards that was probably why we were arrested in the first place but whatever the truth of it, we served their purpose. It took them nine months to sort everything out and in the end they cleaned us up, kitted us out in smart new gear and took us out of the cell, so we thought we were home and dry. But they had one last surprise for us – they forced us to watch the smuggler’s execution.’

He ignored her shocked gasp. ‘It was all very hush-hush and we were told to keep a low profile once we got home – other Europeans in the same jail, you see. God only knows how that Lara woman found out about it. I must remember to shut her up. Anyway, my university job was held open for me so after debriefing and counselling, here I am.’

It was hard to know what to say and Edith was grateful that he was looking more himself again. ‘These are for an Amnesty exhibition in the New Year,’ he told her as she stared again at the flaring paintings, then his glance flickered towards the small green canvas. ‘I was glad Mum was dead. It would have been hell for her; she had no family left.’ He went to the sink and started to clean his brushes. ‘She had a cerebral haemorrhage, right out of the blue. She was only forty-nine.’

That seemed to be his last word on the subject so Edith let it

go. ‘Harriet’s just rung to invite us out to dinner with her and Sam tonight. I said I’d ask you.’ She explained the circumstances behind the invitation and was relieved at his immediate agreement.

The new French bistro almost lived up to its own hype so Harriet was able to set aside her concerns and be, frankly, greedy. A glance at the other two reassured her. Rory was looking more relaxed and Edith too seemed more herself. Sam was – well, she hid a sigh – Sam was his usual pleasant self, delighted that his two young guests were enjoying their meal, but Harriet knew that on this of all days, his wife’s death was very much with him. A lot of topics to avoid in conversation, she thought, it’s a flipping minefield: mustn’t talk about Avril; better not mention Rory and what happened to him, even though I’m guessing he’s told Edith about it now. Plus there’s Walter’s accident, which is better avoided, and Sam will hit the roof if I bring up the topic of the local ‘murder mystery’.

‘I wanted to sound you out about this missing man, Harriet.’ Edith looked up in surprise as Harriet choked on a sip of Merlot. ‘You okay?’ As Harriet nodded, avoiding Sam’s affronted expression, Edith went on, ‘Well, I’ve been talking to people about it, at the party today and to Karen, among others. It all sounds a bit odd, I have to admit, and at least four people solemnly told me they were quite convinced he’s been murdered.’

She gave a sudden giggle as she caught Harriet’s eye. ‘The silliest idea is that he was a spy and MI5 have done away with him, for reasons unspecified but believed to originate from the fact that he asked a lot of questions and a pair of sunglasses was spotted in the top pocket of his jacket. As it was January, the dark glasses are held to be deeply suspicious. On the other hand I also heard that the sinister reason he was asking about Grandpa was that he was investigating his military career. However, as Grandpa came out of the army after the Korean War, sixty years ago, that seems unlikely. Nobody can give me a good reason as to why this stranger, who’s probably just done a bunk, should have been bumped off, but it’s worrying when you consider Grandpa’s accident as well.’