Page 291 of Troubled Blood

“It’s not a lie!” said Douthwaite loudly. “I told you Julie and I had an argument a couple of days before she died, I told you that, because I felt so guilty after! This man, this—what did you say his name was? Oakden?—yeah, he turned up, saying he was writing a book about Dr. Bamborough disappearing. Went round all the other Redcoats talking to them about me, telling them all I’d been a suspect and how I’d changed my name afterward, making me sound dodgy as hell. And Julie was really pissed off with me because I hadn’t told her—”

“Well, you really learned that lesson, didn’t you, Steve?” said Donna. “Run and hide, that’s all you know, and when you’re found out, you just sneak off and find some other woman to whine to, until she finds you out, and then—”

“Mr. Douthwaite,” said Strike, cutting across Donna, “I want to thank you for your time. I know it’s been a shock, having all this raked up again.”

Robin looked up at Strike, astonished. He couldn’t be leaving the interview here, surely? The Douthwaites (or Diamonds, as they thought of themselves), looked similarly taken aback. Strike extracted a second card from his pocket and held it out to Douthwaite.

“If you remember anything,” the detective said, “you know where to find me. It’s never too late.”

The hourglass tattoo on Douthwaite’s forearm rippled as he held out his hand for the card.

“Who else’ve you talked to?” Douthwaite asked Strike.

Now that his ordeal was over, he seemed curiously averse to it ending. Perhaps, thought Robin, he feared being alone with his wife.

“Margot’s husband and family,” said Strike, watching Douthwaite’s reactions. “The co-workers who’re still alive—Dr. Gupta. One of the receptionists, Irene Hickson. Janice Beattie, the nur—”

“That’s nice,” piped up Donna, “the nurse is still available, Steve—”

“—an ex-boyfriend of Margot’s, her best friend, and a few other people.”

Douthwaite, who’d flushed at his wife’s interjection, said,

“Not Dennis Creed?”

“Not yet,” said Strike. “Well,” he looked from husband to wife, “thanks for your time. We appreciate it.”

Robin got to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly to Donna. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Donna.

As Strike and Robin reached the top of the stairs, they heard shouting break out again behind the door of Lochnagar.

“Donna, babes—”

“Don’t you dare call me babes, you fucking bastard!”

“No point carrying on,” said Strike quietly, setting off down the steep tartaned stairs as slowly as the obese old lady had moved. “He’s not going to say it with her there.”

“Say what?”

“Well, that,” said Strike, as the Douthwaites’ shouts echoed down the stairs, “is the question, isn’t it?”

65

Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde

Directs her course vnto one certaine cost,

Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,

With which her winged speed is let and crost,

And she her selfe in stormie surges tost;

Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,

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