Found Wanting by Robert Goddard Page B

Aunt Lily after he died. When I eventually got round to visiting her, she said I ought to have it. She thought I’d be able to make sense of the contents. I took a look. I couldn’t work out what they amounted to. So, I . . . asked her to hold on to the case for me. She made a point of locking it and giving me the key. She had an inkling, I think, that it was . . . important. I couldn’t see how at the time, but I do now. So does Werner.’
    ‘What did it contain?’
    ‘It’s a long story. And I’m dog-tired. Neither of us is thinking straight. There might be a way, if you help me, to get at the truth, despite losing the case. I’m just not sure. The Foreign Office would have to do without you for a while, though. You’d have to . . . make a commitment. So, sleep on it. There’s a single bed in the spare room. As the invalid, I’m claiming old Mother Straub’s double. Let’s get a few hours’ kip. Then, in the morning, if you still feel the same way I’ll tell you everything.’ Marty summoned a weary grin. ‘Every last incredible detail.’

NINE
    Eusden woke with a start. Dawn had broken, grey and grudging. Its dusty light revealed the anonymous furnishings of a room he did not immediately recognize. For a moment, he could not even have said where he was. Then the events of the previous day avalanched back into his mind. And the prevailing silence expanded ominously.
    He threw on his clothes, calling Marty’s name as he did so. But the call went unanswered. The flat was small. It took only a few seconds to confirm he was alone.
    Then he noticed the envelope full of money still lying on the coffee table in the lounge. If Marty had taken any of it, he had certainly not taken much. Was that, Eusden wondered, his idea of an honourable parting? A debt settled. But a secret kept. He could only repeat what he had said when his friend had jumped bail, forfeiting his surety. ‘Fuck you, Marty.’
    ‘Nice greeting,’ said Marty, coming through the front door just as Eusden spoke. ‘A simple “Good morning” would have sufficed.’ He was wearing a parka and carrying a travel bag. Though pale, gaunt and unshaven, he looked absurdly cheerful and was munching a pretzel. ‘You didn’t think I’d run out on you, did you?’
    ‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ Eusden responded defensively.
    ‘What it is to have a reputation.’ Marty hung up his coat and strolled into the lounge.
    ‘Where’ve you been?’
    ‘The hotel I was supposed to check out of yesterday morning. Werner had paid my bill, considerate fellow that he is, and had them pack my stuff to await collection. So why don’t you make coffee while I put some of my own clothes on? After breakfast you can take second turns with my toothbrush and shaver. Can I say fairer than that?’
    A mug of black coffee was ready and waiting for Marty when he entered the kitchen five minutes later, in clean sweatshirt and jeans and eagerly peeling the cellophane off a pack of Camel cigarettes. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said, catching Eusden’s wince. ‘I’m not going to die of lung cancer, am I?’ He lit up, sat down at the formica-topped table and took a sip of coffee. ‘Why can’t I smell bacon frying?’
    ‘Because there’s none to fry. The menu’s cornflakes – without milk.’
    ‘OK. We’ll breakfast out. Meanwhile—’
    ‘Meanwhile you’ve got some talking to do.’ Eusden sat down at the other end of the table, theatrically fanning away the cigarette smoke as he blew on his coffee.
    ‘Does that mean you’re in?’
    ‘I guess so.’
    ‘I’m looking for something more definite than that, Richard.’
    ‘What did you have in mind?’
    ‘Phone the office and say you’re taking the rest of the week off. Personal emergency. Compassionate leave. Your budgie’s died. Whatever. Tell the FO to FO.’
    ‘There won’t be anybody in yet. They’re an hour behind, remember.’
    ‘Leave a recorded message. All the better. No