Bright Air - Barry Maitland [11]
‘I haven’t got long before I have to get back to work,’ she said, checking her watch. ‘Let’s talk over a sandwich, then you can drop me at the station.’
We found a café not far from my car, and sat at a window table. She ordered turkey on Turkish with a mineral water, and I a large cappuccino and a ham sandwich.
‘Did you get a chance to read the cuttings?’
‘Yes, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. It seems to me that Curtis and Owen felt that they’d been negligent in some way. Maybe they persuaded Luce it would be easier if she unclipped her harness, or maybe they had an argument about something that made her go off on her own. I don’t know, it could have been a dozen things, but when she fell they blamed themselves. They were ashamed and didn’t mention it at the inquest, and so, in his dying moments, Owen felt compelled to say that they’d killed her, and that it hadn’t happened exactly as they’d said. But they didn’t murder her, for goodness’ sake. Nothing like that.’
She stared at me for a long moment, considering this, and then she said quietly, ‘Are you really sure about that, Josh?’
I had a sudden feeling that I’d underestimated Anna all those years; that, from within the shadow of more glamorous friends, she’d learned to observe and become rather more perceptive than I’d given her credit for.
I shrugged. ‘I just think, maybe that’s the best thing we can believe.’
She frowned, then shook her head. ‘I want to know the truth. I owe that to Luce. I think we both do.’
I winced, bowed my head. ‘Yes.’
‘The thing is, if we can’t rely on what Owen and Curtis said afterwards, then we really have no idea at all what happened to her. All we can say for sure is that she disappeared.’
I was struck by her choice of words, disappeared rather than died. ‘But is it possible to know the truth now? What can we do? If you go to the police with your story of Owen’s last words, I’m sure they’ll just tell you to forget it.’
‘I know.’
‘Tell me, why didn’t you speak to Damien about this?’
She looked uneasy, poking at her food. ‘Maybe I’ve been letting my imagination run away with me, I don’t know. But if we can’t rely on what Owen and Curtis said, can we believe Damien and Marcus either? They all stuck together at the inquest, told exactly the same story. Perhaps … there was some kind of cover-up.’
I gaped at her. ‘A conspiracy? Oh, come on now, Anna. That is getting a bit wild.’
‘Yes, probably.’
We ate in silence for a while. When we were finished I wiped my mouth and said, ‘So, what can we do?’
‘I was thinking—the police prepared a very detailed report of the case for the coroner. It contained transcripts of all the interviews they conducted, diagrams, timelines, everything. I saw it at the inquest, a big fat document, the coroner referred to it all the time. If we could get hold of that, we might find something.’
‘Okay, yes, we could try.’ I was trying to sound encouraging, just to satisfy her, but it sounded pretty hopeless to me. ‘Any idea how we could get hold of a copy? Do we apply to the coroner’s office or something?’
‘I thought we might ask Damien to get it for us. I thought it might be a sort of test.’
I laughed. ‘You devious …’
‘Only it won’t work if I see Damien on my own. He’ll just laugh at me and brush me off with some condescending remark.’
I thought she was probably right about that. There had always been a slight undercurrent of antagonism between them, something to do with Damien’s rather cavalier approach to the opposite sex, I assumed.
‘He gave me his card.’ I reached into my pocket and showed it to her. She nodded and looked expectantly at me. I hesitated, then decided that Damien was probably the only one who could reassure her. I took out my phone and dialled his mobile number.
‘Stokes.’
‘Damien, hi, it’s Josh.’
‘Oh, hi, Josh.’ I could hear the surprise in his voice.
‘I met Anna at the funeral, in fact I’m sitting having a cup of coffee with her now. We’ve been talking things over and there’s something we’d like to discuss with you.’
‘Oh yes? What is it?’