Never Apologise, Never Explain - James Craig [58]
The Ambassador listened intently as Carlyle explained the Mills case, as well as the story of William Pettigrew and the belated attempt to bring his killers to justice. After the inspector had finished, he pondered for a while.
‘It sounds as if you have already done a good job, Inspector,’ Orb said eventually. ‘What help do you need from me?’
‘I was wondering whether there could be any credibility in Henry Mills’s claims about his wife having had enemies in Chile.’
‘We all have enemies.’
‘Enemies who might want her dead,’ Carlyle clarified.
Orb knitted his eyebrows, making him look older. ‘But I thought that the matter had been closed. You have charged the husband?’
‘Yes,’ he said, omitting to mention that the suspect was no longer on this earth.
Orb looked at him carefully. ‘Don’t you believe that he did it?’
Carlyle wasn’t going to share his personal concerns about the investigation with a man he had only just met. ‘I am just tying up some loose ends,’ he said, as casually as possible. ‘This is a very serious matter and I would not want a cynical defence lawyer to suggest that we had been less than thorough.’
‘Of course. Of course.’ Hand on chin, Orb struck a thoughtful pose. ‘I don’t know the particular individuals, obviously, but it is true that the particular chapter in our history to which you refer has not yet been fully closed. Plenty of people disappeared at that time, not just priests. Many of them have still not been found.’ He looked at Carlyle. ‘Can you imagine the anguish that must cause their families?’
Carlyle said nothing. That kind of pain, he didn’t want to imagine.
‘If, as you say,’ Orb continued, ‘there is a case like this coming to court back home, old wounds may well have been reopened. How could it be otherwise? We Chileans are only human, after all. It was a very difficult time.’
‘I understand.’
‘Look at the passions the Civil War in Spain still arouses, for example. That occurred a lot earlier than our . . . situation. But so long as there are generations still alive who were touched directly, it will always remain a very emotive subject.’
‘Emotive enough for people to kill?’ Carlyle asked.
‘That is a very difficult question to answer.’ The Ambassador ran a hand through his hair. ‘Theoretically, yes. But, in my experience, theory and practice can often be far removed from each other. It is indeed possible, but that is a long way from saying people would take the law into their own hands in such a way – especially so far from home. Times are different now, but back then . . .’ Orb’s voice trailed off as he scanned the river, maybe looking for a distraction. Finding none, he turned back to Carlyle. ‘Well, back then I would not have been so happy about helping a policeman with his enquiries.’
‘People could kill and get away with it?’ Carlyle asked.
‘Yes, they could. People like you.’
Carlyle smiled to show that he hadn’t taken offence. ‘I’m sure that you are right, but what about people like you?’
‘People like me?’ Orb frowned. ‘Oh, people like me never have to get our hands dirty.’
‘So you got through it all unscathed?’
‘Of course. It was a terrible time, but life goes on. You go to work, you have dinner parties at home, you take your children to the zoo; the world doesn’t stop turning because some people are being murdered in a football stadium a few blocks down the road. Even if you know about it, even if you can hear the shots, what can you do? Nothing. So you get on with your life. Hard to imagine now, but that was the case.’
‘It’s not that hard to imagine,’ Carlyle remarked.
‘What?’ Orb raised an eyebrow. ‘Here in England? One of the most civilised countries in the world? And you, a man who has never known war or serious civil unrest?’
‘I know,’ Carlyle said. ‘I am very lucky. But at least I know how lucky I am. I also know how quickly it can all fall apart. The veneer of civilised society is thin.