Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [57]
‘And the difference is . . . ?’ she asked.
He sighed. ‘You are a good detective – in your own way almost as good as Pitt – but Special Branch work is very different from ordinary domestic murder.’
‘Domestic murder isn’t always ordinary,’ she contradicted him. ‘Human love and hate very seldom are. People kill for all sorts of reasons, but it is usually to gain or protect something they value passionately. Or it is outrage at some violation they cannot bear. And I do not mean necessarily a physical one. The emotional or spiritual wounds can be far harder to recover from.’
‘I apologise,’ he responded. ‘I should have said that the alliances and loyalties stretch in far more complicated ways. Brothers can be on opposite sides, as can husband and wife. Rivals can help each other, even die for each other, if allied in the cause.’
‘And the casualties are the innocent as well as the guilty.’ She echoed McDaid’s words. ‘My role is easy enough. I would like to help you, but I am bound by everything in my nature to help my husband, and of course myself . . .’
‘I had no idea you were so pragmatic,’ he said with a slight smile.
‘I am a woman, I have a finite amount of money, and I have children. A degree of pragmatism is necessary.’ She spoke gently to take the edge from the sting in her words.
He finished spreading his marmalade. ‘So you will understand that Fiachra is my friend in some things, but I will not be able to count on him if the answer should turn out to be different from the one I suppose.’
‘There is one you suppose?’
‘I told you: I think Cormac O’Neil has found the perfect way to be revenged on me, and has taken it.’
‘For something that happened twenty years ago?’ she questioned.
‘The Irish have the longest memories in Europe.’ He bit into the toast.
‘And the greatest patience too?’ she said with disbelief. ‘People take action because something, somewhere has changed. Crimes of state have that in common with ordinary, domestic murders. Something new has caused O’Neil, or whoever it is, to do this now. Perhaps it has only just become possible. Or it may be that for him, now is the right time.’
Narraway ate the whole of his toast before replying. ‘Of course you are right. The trouble is that I don’t know which of those reasons it is. I’ve studied the situation in Ireland and I can’t see any reason at all for O’Neil to do this now.’
She ignored her tea. An unpleasant thought occurred to her, chilling and very immediate. ‘Wouldn’t O’Neil know that this would bring you here?’ she asked.
Narraway stared at her. ‘You think O’Neil wants me here? I’m sure if killing me were his purpose, he would have come to London and done it. If I thought it was simply murder I wouldn’t have let you come with me, Charlotte, even if Pitt’s livelihood rests on my return to office. Please give me credit for thinking that far ahead.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I thought bringing someone that nobody would see as assisting you might be the best way of getting round that.You never suggested it would be comfortable, or easy. And you cannot prevent me from coming to Ireland if I want to.’ He was not Pitt’s superior any more: he was simply a clever and dangerous man who had been a good friend, and was now in trouble of his own.
‘I had to tell you something of the situation, for Pitt’s sake,’ he said. ‘For your own, I cannot tell you all that I know, of Ireland or anywhere else. I don’t know any reason why O’Neil should choose now. But then I don’t know any reason why anyone should. It is unarguable that someone, with strong connections in Dublin, has chosen to steal the money I sent for Mulhare, and so bring about the poor man’s death. Then they made certain it was evident first to Austwick, and then to Croxdale, and so brought about my dismissal.’
He poured more tea for himself. ‘Perhaps it was not O’Neil who initiated it; he may simply have been willingly used.