I saw that he was hurt; his pride in his judgement of men had been badly undermined. But then, he'd been taken in by an expert. 'He had a mind that would make a corkscrew look like a straight edge. You don't have to take my word for it, either. Geordie can tell you some tales.'
Geordie nodded. 'Aye, the boy was a twister. He caused the family a lot of grief.'
'All right. Supposing that Mark was as machiavellian as you make him out to be, it seems we're back where we started – all we have to go on is the diary.'
'And that's going to be a devil of a job, sorting out his scribbles. I can make a fair stab at the science, but the rest is a teaser.'
'We'll discuss it over dinner,' Campbell decided, to my secret relief.
We chewed over the diary and the dinner together. The dinner was digestible which was more than any of us could say for the diary. Clare asked if she could have it for bedside reading. 'I like that sort of thing,' she said. 'Puzzles, jigsaws.' And I also thought that she might have felt that her own knowledge of Mark's odd mind might be useful.
'You're welcome,' I told her. 'I want a break from it.' I was pleased that as the evening wore on she seemed to lose some of her reserve and her mouth began to lose its tight-locked caution. We were at the coffee stage when a waiter came up to the table. 'Are one of you gentlemen Mr Trevelyan?'
'I am.'
There's a lady in the foyer asking to see you.'
I looked around blankly. 'I don't know anyone in Panama.'
Campbell looked up at the waiter. 'An old lady or a young lady?'
'Oh, a young lady, sir.'
Campbell's eyes twinkled. 'If I were you I'd be in the foyer now. What's stopping you?'
I got up. 'It's probably a mistake,' I said, thinking that it almost certainly wasn't. 'Excuse me.'
There were several people in the foyer including more than one young lady, but no one approached me. I crossed to the desk and said, 'My name's Trevelyan. I understand someone wants me.'
The clerk pointed with his pen, indicating that I should come into the office behind the desk. The young lady was waiting all right, and I did know her, in a way; she was the singer who had been entertaining us in the lounge.
'I'm Trevelyan. You wanted to speak to me?'
She was nervous, I could see that. She was rather slight and looked, at close quarters, a trifle undernourished, with hollows under her dark eyes and a skin more weathered than tanned. There was an appealing quality about her – I think the best word would be winsome. I was intrigued.
'I'm sorry to trouble you – I saw your name in the register-but I wondered if you were any relation of Mark Trevelyan? From Tahiti?'
'He was my brother,' I said. 'I'm Michael. Obviously you -know Mark.' I didn't know if she knew of his death and I felt it would be unkind to throw it at her without warning.
She nodded, gripping her hands together. 'Yes, I knew him, very well. Have you just come from England?'
'Yes.'
'Do you know his – wife?'
'Yes.'
'Did she get the suitcase I sent?'
I stared at her now. 'Well, I'm damned! I thought you were a man. So you are P. Nelson.'
She smiled and some of the tension left her. 'Yes – Paula Nelson. Then the case did arrive all right?'
'It arrived, thank you,' I said. I didn't say that it had been stolen immediately afterwards because I didn't know just where this girl stood in the complexity of Mark's affairs. But I could try to find out.
'Miss Nelson, what about coming into the lounge and having a drink with me and my friends? We're all of us interested in Mark and in what he was doing out here.'
She shook her head. 'Oh, I couldn't do that, Mr Trevelyan. I'm one of the hired help around here – we're not supposed to drink with the customers. The manager says this isn't a clip joint.' Her nervousness now seemed to include a fear of the manager's imminent wrath.
I said gently, 'Perhaps we could go somewhere else, if you've the time. I would like to talk to you.'
She looked at her watch. 'I could spare half an hour. Then I've got another stint in the lounge. If you'll wait while I get my wrap?'
'It'll be a pleasure.'
I thought of sending a message back to the others but decided against it. I didn't have to account to them for all my actions. We went to a small bar a little way down the street, I bought a couple of drinks and we settled down in an alcove. The bar was deserted except for a solitary drinker. I said, 'You're an American, aren't you?'
'Yes. And you're from – Cornwall. You talk the same way Mark did. I used to tease him about that sometimes.'
Which of course put their relationship on a firmer footing.
'Where did you meet him?'
'In Tahiti. I was working a little joint in Papeete. Mark used to come in with his sidekick, and we got pretty – friendly.'
'Who was his sidekick?'
'A Swedish guy, Sven someone. But this was, oh, maybe two years ago when we first met.'
About the time he left Campbell, I calculated. I said, 'I'm interested in how Mark came to die. Can you tell me anything about it – if it doesn't distress you too much.'
'Oh, that's all right,' she said, but it was a tremulous voice. 'I can't tell you a lot. He died of appendicitis out in the Paumotus – didn't you know that?'
'Yes – but how did you know?'
'I didn't believe it at first, but they let me see the death certificate.'
'Who are "they"? Who told you in the first place?'
'A schooner came in with the news. And I went down to the Government bureau to see the proof. You see, I thought he might have – just – gone away.'
'Did the doctor come to Papeete himself, the one who operated on Mark?'
She shook her head. 'Not much point, was there? I mean, it's over two hundred miles and he's the only doctor out there. He wouldn't leave just to bring the news back.'
This clashed with Kane's story; according to him the doctor had dealt with the certificate and the authorities. Or had he? I thought back to what Kane had said – that he and his partner, Hadley, had left it all to the doctor. Perhaps it only meant sending the papers back on the next convenient transport.
I said, 'Did you know the men on the schooner?'
She was silent for a bit and then said, 'Why are you asking me all these questions, Mr Trevelyan?'
'I could say out of natural interest in the death of my only brother, but I won't,' I said deliberately. 'I think there's something very odd about the whole affair.' As I said it I suddenly wondered if she was a plant – one of the spies of Ramirez of whom Campbell so often warned me. If so I'd already dealt a hand I should rather have hidden, and I felt cold at the thought. But it was very hard to imagine this girl as a crook's agent.
'You think he was murdered, don't you?' she asked flatly.
I tightened my lips. Time for a quick decision, and I thought that I may as well continue. It was already too late to do otherwise. 'You think so too, Miss Nelson?'
There was a long pause before she nodded. 'Yes,' she whispered, and started to cry. I felt better, for some reason -she was ruining her makeup, and surely no spy would do that, not just before making a public appearance?
I let her run on for a little while, then took her hand in mine.
'You were living with Mark, weren't you?'
'Yes, I was. Oh God, I loved him,' she said. She was so intense, her grip tightening, that I felt I must believe her.
'Were you happy with him?' I asked. 'Was he good to you, Miss Nelson?'
Amazingly, a smile appeared. 'Oh, I was. Please – don't call me Miss Nelson. My name is Paula.'
'And I'm Mike.'
We were silent for a few moments, then I said, 'What really happened, Paula?'
She said, 'I suppose it all started when Sven was killed'
'Norgaard? Killed!'
'Yes. He was found out on the reef, outside Papeete, with his head bashed in. At first everyone thought it was the sea – it comes in with tremendous force against the reef. They thought he'd been washed off his feet and had his head smashed on the rocks. Then – I don't know exactly how – they decided he'd been murdered. It was something to do with what the police surgeon found.'