CHAPTER 20 #2
His use of the present tense was odd. But Pat persevered. ‘I was a friend of his.’
‘You were?’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said, and watched his face for his reaction.
‘Very sad,’ said Derek. ‘Very, very sad.’
His expression appeared to dim for a second as if overwhelmed. Pat was confused. He was clearly a much better actor than she’d thought.
‘How long have you known him?’ Derek asked.
‘A while. You?’
‘A while too.’ He nodded.
‘I can’t believe he did that, can you?’ Pat didn’t take her eyes off his face.
‘Well, I can, actually. He was seeing someone for his mental health, I knew that. Some old woman. He’d been seeing her for a while. I’m not sure she helped at all, otherwise he wouldn’t have killed himself, would he?’
‘Well, no,’ Pat agreed with the tightest of smiles. Was that what everyone else was thinking?
‘He really enjoyed talking to her, I think. But maybe, well, once you’re going to do that, once you’ve decided to kill yourself, you’re going to do it and no one can stop you.’
‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Pat said. ‘Otherwise what’s the point of psychotherapy?’
‘Well, exactly,’ said Derek with a click of his teeth as he shot her with his index finger and drained his glass of champagne. ‘Pointless waste of time if you ask me. Top-up?’ he asked, waving his empty flute at her.
Dinner was an excruciating affair. Fi had gone all out with as much themed aphrodisiac food as possible; they had oysters and salmon and asparagus and chocolate mousse, and strawberries dipped in chocolate with their coffees and their birdbaths of Baileys.
There was laughing and joking about bondage and S his blue eyes were not quite so bright, his cheeks had dropped and he was slack around the jawline.
‘Weren’t you with Henry the night he died?’ Pat asked as she bent down to load the dishwasher.
‘Why d’you say that?’ He took a step back.
‘Weren’t you supposed to be with him at Fin du Monde?’
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Pat.’ She put her hand out. ‘Pat Phillips. I knew Henry well.’
‘Sounds like you knew him very well, Pat Phillips.’ He slowly shook her hand, his grip soft. ‘But there was a change of plan.’
‘You let him check into the Airbnb on his own?’ Pat locked her jaw. Had she gone too far? She had to be careful, not scare him off.
Derek opened the fridge. ‘Did Fi say that the white wine was in here?’
‘Did Henry check in on his own and you came to collect him a little later? Were you the last person to see him alive? Did you know all his money is missing from his bank accounts?’ She couldn’t help herself; perhaps she had drunk more wine than she’d realised.
‘No.’ He slammed the fridge door and stared at her.
His slack cheeks were flushed. ‘I did not know that. I did not know all his money had gone. That is a surprise! I wasn’t there at Fin du Monde, or whatever it’s called.
I’m not sure if he checked in on his own.
I was busy. Something else came up. So I didn’t see him that night, and the next thing I know is that my flatmate is dead, found on the beach, having topped himself.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some wine to pour.
’ His eyes glistened; was he about to cry?
Before Pat could press him any further, he’d walked out of Fi’s expansive, expensive kitchen and back into the dining room.
‘Ladies!’ he announced to the room. ‘I have wine!’ There was a small cheer of delight.
Pat poured herself a glass of iced water from a fridge the size of a wardrobe and sat down in the kitchen.
Her hands were shaking as she cupped the glass and listened to the general hilarity next door.
Was Derek telling the truth? Did he not know about the money?
Did he really not see Henry on the night he died?
He certainly looked upset, emotional, or maybe that was just the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.
Who could say what his relationship with Henry had really been like?
Pat knew one side of the story. There were irrefutable facts, but everyone’s angle was different.
She hoped she hadn’t gone too far with her questioning.
‘Pat?’ She looked up as Fi weaved her way into her own kitchen and clasped the central unit with her slim, manicured hands. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘Sure,’ said Pat, taking another sip of her iced water.
‘Like a proper word.’ Fi gestured towards the utility room.
‘In there.’ She walked ahead of Pat very precisely.
She was clearly the worse for Baileys but was making an effort to keep it together.
‘Right,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips and leaning heavily on the tumble dryer.
‘Derek tells me you’ve been asking questions about us. ’
‘About you? No. I’ve been asking him some questions about his friend Henry.’
‘The one that died?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, the reason why Derek didn’t meet his friend in that B&B place on the cliff …’
‘Fin du Monde.’
‘Whatever it’s called … is because he was sleeping with me.’ Pat didn’t respond. ‘Having sex with me.’ Fi’s words were slurred and there was plenty of spittle in her mouth. ‘Sex,’ she repeated. ‘We were having a bonk.’
Pat hadn’t heard that word in a while. ‘Good,’ she smiled.
‘It was, actually.’
‘That wasn’t a question.’
‘Since you asked, I thought I’d reply.’
‘Right, OK.’ Pat nodded, keen to leave the Persil-scented confines of the room.
‘Malcolm knows, so there’s no point in spreading the gossip around. And he’s happy for me!’ Fi waved a boozy finger in the air.
‘Your private life is your private life,’ said Pat as she worked her way out of the room.
‘And another thing.’ Derek was standing in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine, which he swung gently by his side in a manner that felt oddly threatening.
‘Yes?’ said Pat. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her heart was racing a little. Surely he wasn’t about to knock her out among the sheets and dirty towels and Malcolm’s Calvin Klein underwear?
‘I’d watch it if I were you, Dr Phillips.
Oh yes,’ he nodded with a flash of his pale blue teeth, ‘I know who you are. If I were you, I’d let sleeping dogs lie.
I really would. You need to stop digging.
Quit while you’re ahead, love. Otherwise you’ve no idea how big the hole will be.
And little old ladies are fragile things, aren’t they?
Accidents happen all the time! Don’t have a fall.
There’s nothing worse than a fall. Especially at your age. ’