“I’d bear it in mind. For when I get out. I’ll have some scores to settle then. You wouldn’t want to be one of them.” He took another gulp of tea and eyed me knowingly. “What you said on the telly would be good enough.”

And what I’d said on the television had been truer than I’d realized at the time. To resist the conclusion was to cling stubbornly to a memory every fresh discovery showed up as a lie. And stubbornness was a luxury I couldn’t afford. He was going to get out. He knew it. So did I. There would be other settlements-other surrenders-more painful than this one. “All right. I’ll make a fresh statement. Along the same lines as my interview on Benefit of the Doubt. You have my word.”

He chuckled. “The word of a gentleman?”

“If it amuses you to say so.”

“Yeh. It does. But, then, the whole thing’s a bit of a joke, ain’t it? All that effort-all that closing of ranks-to get me put away. And the real murderer turns out to be one of your own. I’ve heard of keeping it in the family, but-”

“Who was Cassidy’s informant?”

“Ain’t it obvious?”

“Not to me.”

“I’m only entitled to a couple of visits a month, mate. Why d’you think I’d waste one on you?”

“Because Sarwate advised you it was-”

“Sarwate? I don’t take orders from some-” He broke off and smiled grimly. “Truth is, I got visits to spare. The missus don’t come to see me no more. Says it’s bad for the kids. But that’s bullshit.”

“Why doesn’t she come, then?”

“Because she’s got somebody else. Simple as that. Can’t blame her, really. I mean, twenty years is a long time, ain’t it? Must have come as a bit of a shock to hear I was going to be out in less than four. Like I say, I can’t blame her. Leastways, I wouldn’t. If it had been anybody else but Vince Cassidy.”

“You’re saying…”

“My wife tipped off Vince. Nobody else it could be. Sarwate told her about Bryant. She told Vince. And Vince scarpered. What else could he do? Hang around till the police came for him, then explain he helped have me sent down just so he and Carol could…” He shook his head. “Don’t think so, do you?”

“Why didn’t you say this at your trial?”

“Didn’t know, did I? Not then. Carol talked me into believing he’d done it to get the Drugs Squad to drop some charges against him. But I’ve heard since he was having it away with her long before…” He swirled the tea glumly in his cup and drained it. “Should have guessed. She was always thick with that tart Vince had for a sister.”

Then it came to me. The girl on the walkway outside Sharon Peters’ flat. The faint but mutual recognition. We’d seen each other on the same videotape. Carol Naylor and me. Carol Naylor, calling on Vince Cassidy’s sister. She’d tipped him off. There was treachery everywhere. Even, perhaps especially, for Shaun Naylor.

“You look more shocked than I was at the time, mate. Not the answer you was expecting?”

“Not exactly.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. But it’s the oldest story in the book.”

“You’re certain of this?”

“Oh yeh. I’m certain.”

“And Bledlow? Why should he have testified against you?”

Naylor shrugged. “Christ knows. He hated my guts, but… maybe he’d have done some deal even if he hadn’t. He got a light sentence, y’know. Must have thought he’d played it real sweet. Funny how it goes, ain’t it? If he’d kept his mouth shut and copped the usual, he wouldn’t have been out in time to get his head blown off in that bullion raid. I have a laugh about that sometimes.”

The trail ended here, I suddenly realized. The mystery of Vincent Cassidy’s motive-and his foreknowledge-dissolved into the sordid normality of adultery and deceit. And the enigma of Louise Paxton vanished with it. I hadn’t found what Bella wanted. Instead, at every turn, I’d been met by something much less palatable: the truth; the whole unquenchable insistent truth.

“What you going to do now?”

“Alter my statement. As promised. I’ll have to tell the police about Cassidy and your wife, of course.”

“Be my guest. They probably already know. Probably just said they blamed you. To frighten you off. Sounds like their style.”

“You may be right.”

“What about this digging around Sarwate said you been doing? Going on with that?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nowhere left to dig.”

“Meaning you’ll have to admit Bryant did the murders?”

“Oh, I’ll leave that to the proper authorities. Time I dropped out of the picture, I think.”

“You’re lucky you can,” he said, apparently without rancour.

“Quite.” I pushed my chair back and stood up. “Well, I must be going. Thank you… for seeing me.”

He made no move, merely raised his eyes fractionally to meet mine. “No problem.”

“I’m sorry… about your wife.”

“Not half as sorry as you are I didn’t do it, I bet. Galling, ain’t it?”

He was smiling now, already savouring the foretaste of his ultimate victory, already planning the humiliation he’d heap on those who’d wronged him. I should have counted myself lucky to face mine behind closed doors, with ample warning; to be baited by this loathsome man to the point where I could tell myself he didn’t deserve to hear the apology he was owed. But I didn’t feel lucky at all. Only eager beyond reason to be out of his sight.

“This guy Bryant…” he began, his smile fading into a thoughtful frown.

“What about him?”

Several silent seconds passed as Naylor looked up at me. Then he said: “Nothing. It don’t matter.”

“Very well. I-”

“Best be on your way, eh?” The smile returned as he raised the cigarette to his lips.

“Goodbye, Mr. Naylor,” I said through gritted teeth. I waited for him to respond, but all I got was a cool stare through a veil of smoke. Then I turned and walked slowly towards the exit, catching the eye of one of the prison officers as I passed their desk.

“Leaving so soon, sir?”

“Yes.”

But it didn’t seem soon to me. Steeling myself not to glance back at Naylor as I waited for the door to be unlocked, it seemed, in fact, all too late.

Sitting in the passenger lounge on the car ferry back to Portsmouth an hour later, I confronted and took the decisions I could no longer delay. Whatever Bella might say, this was the end. She’d be outraged as soon as she heard I’d changed my statement, so I might as well cut my losses and tell her I wouldn’t be doing her bidding from now on. She’d probably retaliate by giving her vote to Adrian, unless I could persuade her I really had done all she could expect of me. And even then… But it couldn’t be helped. I’d plead my case as forcefully as I was able. In the end, though, it wasn’t up to me. My visit to Naylor had made me almost glad of that. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be involved any more, whatever the cost.

Determined to act on my decision at once, I telephoned Bella that evening. She seemed irritated I’d made contact and insisted on calling me back later, “when it’ll be easier to talk.” This turned out to be near midnight, one of her most alert and active hours. On other occasions, she might have found me sluggish and slow-thinking. But on this occasion I was ready for her.

“I have to see you straightaway, Bella. There’s been a development.”

“What sort of development?”

“I can’t discuss it over the phone. We have to meet.”

“Well, I can’t come to England at the moment.”

“Then I’ll come to you.”

“No. Things are fraught enough here without you turning up out of the blue. Keith’s in no mood to entertain unexpected guests.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Let me think,” she snapped. A few moments passed. Then she said: “We could meet in Bordeaux.”

“All right. But how does that-”

“Get a flight out on Tuesday. I’ll drive up the same day. A shopping trip with an overnight stay won’t sound suspicious to Keith. I’ve done it before. I’ll stay at the Burdigala, as usual. You’d better stay somewhere else. Meet me in the hotel bar at six o’clock.”