“Rowena committed suicide because of the doubts about her mother Seymour planted in her mind with all his prying and probing. But Paul must have blamed himself for her death and decided he deserved to be punished for it. Why else would he confess to a crime he hadn’t committed? He’s obviously unhinged. I suppose his attack on you was the first sign of that. And his confession was the second. How he convinced the police it was true-how he put together his story without making some vital slip-is quite simply beyond me. He must be extremely clever as well as seriously insane.

“Keith didn’t think he would convince the police. He was sure they’d find some flaw in his account. But what if they didn’t? What if somehow, by some uncanny fluke, Paul was believed? Keith said he’d have no choice. Weak and frightened as he was, he’d own up rather than let Naylor walk free. I could see he meant it. And that meant I might find myself married to a known murderer, with everybody suspecting I’d gone along with his attempt to cheat justice. Can you blame me for doing everything in my power to prevent that happening?”

“No. But I can blame you for setting about it the way you did.”

“Yes, well…” She gave a faintly contrite toss of the head. “It stood to reason there had to be a weak spot in Paul’s story. It was a lie, after all. And lies are never perfect. But I didn’t trust the police to search it out. And I wasn’t prepared to wait while they tried. I reckoned the sooner we put a stop to Paul’s madness the better. Since Keith forbade me to take a hand myself, I had to persuade somebody to do it for me, somebody intelligent and reliable who might be willing to help me out for old times’ sake.”

“Old times’ sake? Come off it, Bella. Thanks to the Bushranger row, you had me over a barrel. And you never let me forget it.”

“Does it make you feel better if I say I’m sorry?”

“Not much.”

“Well I am, anyway. Especially since it was all for nothing. He’d covered his tracks well, hadn’t he? So well you became even more convinced than when you started that there were none to follow. What’s worse, you began to chase clues I’d have preferred you to leave alone. Naturally, I didn’t want you to go after Cassidy. There was a faint chance you might learn the truth that way. By the end, when you finally threw in the towel, I was almost grateful. At least it made up my mind for me. If Paul’s story was watertight, the chances were Keith would be forced to confess. Well, I had to be out of it before then, so I capitalized my assets as best I could-Adrian was a real help there with his money-no-object determination to get the better of you-and told Keith I couldn’t live with a man who was capable of commissioning a murder. He took it more calmly than I’d have expected. I suppose he thought divorce would be the least of his problems if it came to the crunch.

“There was still a chance it wouldn’t come to the crunch, of course. But once the police had said they were satisfied Paul was telling the truth, that chance dwindled to virtually nothing. When I last spoke to Keith, about a fortnight ago, he was clinging to the hope that Paul might lose his nerve and withdraw his confession. I never thought he would, though. He’d already gone too far by then to turn back.”

“Couldn’t you have tried to talk him out of it? If you could have convinced him you were absolutely certain he was lying-”

“How could I have done, without telling him why I was certain?” Bella frowned thoughtfully. “Besides, it had crossed my mind by then that Paul might have suspected the truth for some time. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? He might have confessed in order to smoke Keith out.” She sighed. “If so, it’s rebounded on both of them, hasn’t it?”

“When did Keith hear Naylor was going to be released?”

“I don’t know exactly. My guess would be a couple of days before the papers broke the news. His solicitor was keeping him in touch. The rest is guesswork on my part too. I think Keith went to Portugal in order to warn Smith he was about to blow the whistle on all of them. And I think Smith decided to stop him. I suppose he felt he didn’t have much choice. It was either that or face the prospect of extradition on a conspiracy to murder charge. So he took Keith for a one-way trip along the coast.”

“Will you tell the Portuguese police any of this?”

“Certainly not,” she replied, arching her eyebrows at me. “There’d be no point. I don’t know who Smith is. Or Brown, come to that. I haven’t a shred of evidence. And now Keith’s dead, I’m unlikely to get any. I shan’t be looking anyway. These people are dangerous, Robin. They stick at nothing. I won’t be making any waves. It wouldn’t be wise-or healthy. And you’d do well to follow my example. Just tell Sarah her father’s dead, make sure she’s all right and leave it at that. As for Paul, he’s made his bed-of-nails and must lie on it. What he does now is up to him. What I shall do is my duty as Keith’s widow. That and nothing more.”

Bella had always possessed the ability to disarm me with her breathtaking combination of frankness and duplicity. Somehow, despite admitting to deceit and downright callousness, she’d almost managed to convince me she deserved my pity for becoming caught up in all this. She might even have succeeded, but for one awkward fact. I knew-and she knew I knew-that she’d willingly have colluded in her husband’s evasion of justice if I’d been able to pick a hole in Paul’s mesh of lies for her.

But for the moment there were more important things to consider. There was the stinging realization that Naylor had been guilty all along. And there was the bewildering discovery that Paul’s confession had been false in every detail.

“I left several messages on Sarah’s answering machine,” said Bella. “But she hasn’t phoned back. So, either she’s too sick to pick the damn thing up, which I doubt, or she’s off playing hooky somewhere. Maybe Rodney knows where she is. Or a neighbour. Either way, I can’t hang around to find out. You do see that, don’t you?”

“Oh yes. I see it.”

“I even tried phoning Paul, but he wasn’t answering either. I suppose he’ll have to be told eventually. How do you think he’ll react? I mean, if he really did suspect Keith, he’ll also suspect his death wasn’t an accident, won’t he?”

“Perhaps you want me to break the news to him as well.”

“No, no.” Bella frowned at me, immune in her current mood to sarcasm. “The police would think it very odd if we contacted him before they did. As far as they’re concerned we still believe he murdered Louise. It’s best if they think we’re not even on speaking terms with him. Surely you can appreciate that.”

“Of course. Stupid of me.”

Her frown darkened, but she decided not to pursue the point. “I happen to have a set of keys to Sarah’s flat. They belonged to Rowena originally. Keith left them at The Hurdles. Use them if all else fails.” She fished two keys on a ring from her handbag and plonked them on the table in front of me. “One’s for the street door. The other’s for the flat itself.” I stared down at them, but made no move to pick them up. “You are listening to me, aren’t you, Robin?”

“Intently.”

“Much the best thing for her to do is simply to sit by the phone and wait for some news. I shall arrange for the body to be flown home as soon as possible, though Christmas could complicate matters, I suppose. What a time for this to happen.” She clicked her tongue, apparently in irritation at her late husband’s lack of consideration. Perhaps she thought he should have waited until the holidays were over before getting himself thrown off a Portuguese cliff. “The Consulate have booked me into a hotel in Portimão. The Globo. I’ll leave you the number. Get Sarah to call me there as soon as she can. Or she can call the Consulate direct if she prefers. Either way, get her to make contact.”