Payment in Blood

“It didn’t take long to work it out, Inspector,” he finally replied. “As Joa

“You assaulted him in his dressing room the other night?”

Sydeham smiled bleakly. “It was the only part of this bloody mess that I truly enjoyed. I don’t like other men stuffing my wife, Inspector, whether she’s a willing participant or not.”

“But you’re more than willing to have another man’s wife, if it comes down to it.”

“Ah. Ha

“What happened that night with Ha

Sydeham brought his eyes to Lynley. “We met at the mill. She was some forty minutes late, and I’d begun to think-to hope, actual-ly-that she wasn’t coming. But she showed up at the last in her usual fashion, hot to make love right there on the floor. But I…I put her off. I’d brought her a scarf she’d seen in a boutique in Norwich. And I insisted she let me put it on her right then.” He watched his hands continue their play on the white cup, fi ngers pressing upon its rim. “It was easy enough. I was kissing her when I tightened the knot.”

Lynley thought about the i

The payoff he was looking for came without a pause. “I’d lost the touch with her. Each time we met, it was becoming more diffi cult.” Sydeham laughed shortly, an expression of contempt that was self-directed. “It was going to be Joa

“The beautiful woman who rises to fame, who’s the object of every man’s steamy fantasy, whose own husband can’t service her the way she wants.”

“I’d say you’ve got the picture, Inspector. Nicely put.”

“Yet you’ve stayed with Joa

“She’s the one thing in my life that I did completely right. My unmitigated success. One doesn’t let something like that go easily, and as for me, I’d never have considered it. I couldn’t let her go. Ha

Useless. That must have been what started my…trouble. Then when Ha

“Until she wanted to become an actress like your wife?”

“And then it was history repeating itself. Yes.”

“But why on earth kill her? Why not just break it off?”

“She’d found my London address. It was bad enough when she showed up at the theatre one evening when Jo and I were setting off with the London agent. After that happened, I knew if I left her behind in the Fens, she’d show up one day at our flat. I would have lost Joa

“And Gowan Kilbride? Where did he fit in?”

Sydeham placed his coffee cup back onto the table, its rim caved in all around, entirely useless now. “He knew about the gloves, Inspector.”

THEY COMPLETED their preliminary interview with David Sydeham at five-fifteen in the morning and staggered, red-eyed, out into the corridor where Sydeham was led to a telephone to make a call to his wife. Lynley watched him go, feeling caught in a fl ood of pity for the man. This surprised him, for justice was being served by the arrest.Yet he knew that the effect of the murders-that stone thrown into a pond whose surface ca

There were other things to contend with, among them the press, finally eager for a statement, materialising from nowhere, shouting questions, demanding interviews.

He pushed past them, crumpled into nothing a message from Superintendent Webberly that was pressed into his hand. Nearly blind with exhaustion, he made his way towards the lift, caught up at last in only one conscious thought: to fi nd Helen. In only one conscious need: to sleep.

He found his way home like an automaton and fell onto his bed fully clothed. He did not awaken when Denton came in, removed his shoes, and covered him with a blanket. He did not awaken until the afternoon.

“IT WAS HER EYESIGHT,” Lynley said. “I noticed nearly everything else in Ha

“Did Joa

Lynley shook his head, taking the proffered cup of tea from Deborah with a faint smile. The three of them sat in St. James’ study, dividing their attention among cakes and sandwiches, tarts and tea. A misty shaft of late afternoon sunlight struck the window and reflected against a mound of snow on the ledge outside. Some distance away, rush-hour traffic on the Embankment began its noisy crawl towards the suburbs.

“She’d been told by Mary Agnes Campbell-as had they all-that Joy’s bedroom door was locked,” he responded. “Like me, she thought Davies-Jones was the killer. What she didn’t know-what no one knew until late yesterday afternoon-was that Joy’s door hadn’t been locked all night. It was only locked once Francesca Gerrard went into the room to look for her necklace at three-fi fteen, found Joy dead, and, assuming her brother had done it, went down to her office for the keys and locked the door in an attempt to protect him. I should have heard the lie when she told me the pearls were on the chest of drawers by the door. Why would Joy have put them there when the rest of her jewellery was on the dressing table on the other side of the room? I’d seen that myself.”

St. James selected another sandwich. “Would it have made a difference had Macaskin managed to reach you before you left for Hampstead yesterday?”

“What could he have told me? Only that Francesca Gerrard had confessed to him that she lied to us at Westerbrae about the door being locked. I don’t know whether I would have had the common sense to put that together with a number of facts that I had been choosing to ignore. The fact that Robert Gabriel had a woman with him in his bedroom; the fact that Sydeham admitted that Joa