The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [45]
‘And then the local priest stands up and tries to say a few words, but it’s just embarrassing. My father wasn’t a spiritual man, a Christian. The vicar had probably only met him a handful of times. He was just someone whose hand he might have shaken on Christmas Day.’
Alice put her arm around Ben and said: ‘You OK?’ but he was already pulling away. Something about Roth’s overdeveloped charm had annoyed him and he wanted to be outside.
‘Listen, Mr Roth…’
‘Sebastian, please,’ he said instantly.
‘I was just on my way outside to have a cigarette. Do you mind if I leave you two alone? It’s been difficult to get away.’
‘Of course not.’
‘It was really a pleasure to meet you. I’ll only be gone five minutes.’
If Roth was surprised by Ben’s attitude, Alice was more sanguine.
‘Sorry,’ she said, as Ben walked off into the kitchen. ‘He’s been like that since it happened. Off in his own world.’
‘I’m not surprised. This must be a very difficult time for him.’
‘Very.’
‘I’ve never lost a parent. You?’
‘No,’ Alice said.
‘The most awful feeling of emptiness, I should imagine. A complete void. Ben must be devastated.’
‘I think they both are.’ For the third time that day Alice found herself saying, ‘In a sense it’s worse for Mark because he’d built up a relationship with his father and now all that’s been taken away from him.’
‘Yes. And just as they were getting started.’ Roth was making what felt like a very concentrated effort to look Alice in the eye, as if someone had once told him that there was an advantage to be gained in making a woman feel like the only person in a room. ‘But I imagine Ben is in this awful limbo. He has no specific memories to draw on, just one all too brief encounter over dinner. It’s horrific. I wish there was more one could do.’
Alice needlessly straightened the collar of her shirt, but did not reply.
‘And what about you?’ he asked her. ‘I imagine it’s very hard being in your position. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say to Ben. I often think these things are just as painful for the partner of someone who’s grieving.’
This was her first proper glimpse of Roth’s reputation, of the cad’s talent for empathy. Alice could see how it might work; his manner was not overtly flirtatious, but thoughtfulness and self-confidence were always attractive in a man.
‘Well, we haven’t really had much of a chance to talk,’ she told him. ‘Ben’s been so involved with the police, you know? They’ve interviewed him, gone through every last detail of what happened…’
‘And they’re no closer to a suspect?’
‘No closer. A couple in the street remembered seeing a man sitting in a Mercedes about half an hour before the shooting, but they didn’t get a number-plate. There weren’t any security cameras outside the apartment or in the foyer. The police have hairs for DNA, but they could be anyone’s. It’s a lottery.’
‘Yes. Locard’s Principle.’
‘Locard’s Principle?’
Roth looked pleased to have sparked her interest.
‘A technique of forensics,’ he explained. ‘Everything leaves a trace.’
Calmly, he reached out and took hold of the sleeve of Alice’s shirt. She let her arm fall loose, but did not dislike the presumption of being touched. ‘If I come into contact with your clothes - even for a fraction of a second - I leave a mark, a record of myself.’ Roth released her, briefly taking the weight of her arm as it dropped. ‘It’s the same with footprints, or tiny fragments of skin. You can read books about it.’
Alice tooka quarter-step backwards.
‘That’s fascinating.’
‘And have Divisar been able to help?’ he continued, as if nothing had passed between them. ‘Do the police thinkit may be connected to his job?’
‘I really don’t know. Ben’s dad was in MI6 before working there. They’re looking into that.’
‘I see.’
Roth appeared to be on the point of asking a further question when his expression stiffened considerably. A guest had caught his eye, someone he had clearly not been expecting to see. For the first time his focus on Alice appeared to waver, like an actor forgetting a line. To trace