Death in the Rainy Season Read online

  He found himself stifling a laugh. Listen to yourself. It’s as though you think you’re the master of the universe. Is that what you think?

  But he knew something in him had changed.

  THIRTY

  Mariko stepped off the treadmill and peeled off her T-shirt. It was soaked. She checked the treadmill’s monitor. Seven kilometres in thirty minutes. Her best performance in weeks. Her breathing remained controlled and within sixty seconds her heartbeat returned to its normal rate. She opened the little notebook where she kept track of her progress and jotted down the results.

  She stepped into the hallway and stood still for a moment, trying to guess whether Paul was still awake in the bedroom. It was quiet and she decided that he must have dozed off. He was sleeping a lot. Over the past two days, he had gone into work for an hour or two, then come home to lie down. She wondered whether he had even gone into the hotel or whether he was just pretending to. She had thought that he would want to throw himself into his work. Surely it would be better than moping about at home. But he seemed instead to be retreating further into himself. When he emerged from the bedroom, which wasn’t often, she could tell that he had been crying. His eyes and nose were red. He hadn’t showered for the past few days and his body gave off a sour odour. When he wasn’t sleeping, or crying, he seemed indifferent to what went on around him.

  When she suggested taking him to a doctor, he refused. Insisted he would be fine, he just needed time to properly mourn his friend. What was she supposed to do? For once in her life she felt helpless and afraid. Afraid of leaving Paul alone, afraid of what Nora might be doing or thinking. Afraid of the dark. She didn’t believe in spirits but, at times, she could almost believe that Hugo was still among them. At night, when the neighbourhood dogs started barking, she found herself dwelling on the local superstition, that barking dogs meant the presence of ghosts, moving silently amongst the living. It was absurd, she knew, but she couldn’t help it.

  And there was something else. She was annoyed with Paul for being so self-involved.

  She headed for the bathroom, peeling off the rest of her clothes as she went and throwing them into the laundry basket, before turning the taps and stepping into the shower. The water was scalding against her back. She tilted her face back and closed her eyes.

  Anger built up inside her, which was good – better than fear and helplessness. She should focus on the things she could control. The hotel. She had to step in. The previous afternoon, while Paul slept, she had called in there to sort out issues that should have been Paul’s responsibility. He would hate for her to take over like this; the hotel was his and he prided himself on running it without her help and advice. But given the current state of things, what choice did she have?

  Mariko gave herself another minute before stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. How long was it going to take for Paul to return to normal? Since Monday, he hadn’t picked up any of his phone messages. She had found his phone under the bed, where it had fallen from his pocket while he napped.

  She got dressed and brushed her hair. She should be the one having a nap. After catching up on her own work, she’d finally gone to sleep at two in the morning, then woken up three hours later when she’d heard the front door close. She’d got up to check who it was, and found that Nora had left the house.

  Where the hell was she going at that hour? Mariko was worried. Not so much about what Nora might be up to – she was too sensible to do anything stupid. She was probably at Lydia’s house, or with another friend. No, what worried Mariko most was that she had no idea what was going on in Nora’s mind. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sharing it with her mother.

  Mariko went across to their bedroom door and listened in. She heard Paul turn and mutter something unintelligible. She returned to the kitchen and stood in the middle of the room, wondering what to do next. All of a sudden she felt deeply claustrophobic. She couldn’t face another minute in this house.

  She opened the door and stepped out into the street. The Chinese neighbour was washing her Toyota and nodded her way. She didn’t know why the woman bothered. It would rain any minute and the car would get a natural rinse. She nodded back and headed towards a row of shops at the end of their street, thinking she would get a nice bottle of wine for her and Paul to share later. Maybe it would help lighten things up a bit. They might even have sex, something that hadn’t happened in weeks now.

  At the corner she stopped and stared at the man waiting to cross on the opposite side. It was the French detective. Morel.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said. She looked at his blue linen shirt hanging loosely over a pair of carefully pressed linen trousers, and found herself wishing that she had made more of an effort with her own appearance.

  ‘I’m sorry to drop by unannounced,’ he said. ‘I was heading out for a stroll, hoping to clear my head. Just sifting through paperwork, you know, can be deadening.’

  ‘You were heading out for a stroll and you ended up here?’

  Morel gave her a keen look. ‘I was thinking about you and Paul. I wanted to see how you were.’

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘You could have done that over the phone.’

  ‘You were on your way somewhere?’ he asked, ignoring her comment.

  ‘Just to the shops. I needed to get some air.’

  ‘It sounds like we wanted the same thing. Do you mind if I join you?’

  ‘As you wish.’

  They walked side by side without talking for a while. Morel was silent and Mariko was determined not to be the first to speak.

  ‘How is Paul dealing with his friend’s death?’ Morel said finally.

  ‘Not well,’ she said.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘At home, in bed.’

  Morel raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘He’s been sleeping a lot. I think he’s depressed,’ she admitted. It felt good to say it out loud.

  ‘Has he seen a doctor? Maybe he needs something to help him.’

  ‘I’ve said the same thing to him, but he doesn’t seem to want to.’ She stumbled over the jagged footpath but Morel grabbed her elbow and she quickly recovered. ‘He doesn’t listen to what I say. He doesn’t seem to want to do anything really.’

  ‘How is Nora?’

  ‘How should I know?’ The tone of her voice made Morel stop and look at her.

  Mariko shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know what goes on in Nora’s mind. She doesn’t let me in.’

  They reached the shops and Morel waited near the entrance while Mariko went inside. She came out empty-handed.

  ‘I can’t remember why I wanted to come to the shops in the first place,’ she said, looking lost.

  ‘Take your time. We can stand here for a while, chat about other things till it comes back to you.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I can come back later.’

  They retraced their steps, at a leisurely pace. Mariko seemed in no hurry to get back.

  ‘There’s something I haven’t asked you yet,’ Morel said.

  ‘What is it?’ She was looking at the ground before her, matching her steps to his.

  ‘What did you think of Hugo?’

  She said nothing for a while, then looked at Morel. ‘He was a charmer,’ she said, echoing Julia de Krees’s words. ‘He could seduce anyone once he put his mind to it. And he was funny and smart.’

  ‘But?’

  Morel was pleased to see her smile. She had seemed so tense earlier.

  ‘He changed his colours a little too easily for my liking,’ she said. ‘And he didn’t do intimacy very well.’ She seemed preoccupied, as if thinking how best to translate her thoughts into words. ‘Hugo was careless with his affection,’ she said finally. ‘Does that make sense?’

  Morel nodded. ‘Yes, it does.’

  They started walking again, while Mariko spoke.

  ‘He changed, you know. He was good at what he did and his success went to his head. It was
an unfortunate combination: intelligence, idealism, and ambition. Idealism is a dangerous thing to have when you’re working in the aid sector. I’ve worked in that area myself for a while. You have to remain grounded.’ She gave a sharp laugh. ‘At the end Hugo was anything but grounded. He was in his own world. Thinking he was some sort of superhero. Above making mistakes. Above being judged.’

  It was a curious choice of words. Morel reflected that Mariko had actually disliked Quercy, but was reluctant to admit it because he had been her husband’s friend.

  ‘I cared a great deal about the old Hugo,’ she said, as if she knew what he was thinking. ‘He was warm and giving, funny and smart. I was sad to see him change. Paul chose not to see it. He believes in loyalty above all else. Hugo came from a rather sterile environment, you know,’ she continued, as if talking was a relief. ‘His father died a long time ago and his uncle, the politician, was wrapped up in his career. His mother was a cold and forbidding woman.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ Morel said, thinking about his brief conversation with Madame Quercy.

  He added after a moment, ‘You and Florence Quercy are close?’

  ‘He couldn’t have picked a better partner, someone who accepted him as he was and was prepared to give herself up completely,’ Mariko said.

  Morel smiled. ‘You sound like you don’t approve.’

  ‘Florence is a good person,’ Mariko said.

  ‘You care a lot about her?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mariko nodded. ‘I don’t think Hugo deserved her.’

  They had reached the Arda home. Morel stopped at the gate and waited for Mariko to open it and let herself in.

  ‘Did you fall for Hugo as well? In the beginning, I mean,’ he asked, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t being serious.

  ‘I don’t think I was ever blind to his shortcomings,’ she said. Morel waited for her to say more, but instead she took a remote from her pocket and pushed the button that unlocked the gate.

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Morel said, as the gate slid slowly open. ‘Hugo had a folder containing information about land evictions, including a number of interviews which he seems to have conducted himself. I wondered whether you and your husband knew about his interest in these matters.’

  ‘Hugo was interested in so many things, Commandant. The land grabs are possibly the biggest problem this country faces. So if you’re saying Hugo was looking into this, I can’t say I’m surprised. If he was interested, he would have pursued it in his usual dogged fashion. So did you want to come in?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s OK. I won’t trouble you anymore. Please give my regards to Paul.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And call me if there is anything else you remember, that you think might be relevant,’ he said.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I mean it. Call me whenever you want to talk,’ Morel said, wondering as he spoke why he was insisting. Maybe because she looked so unhappy, he thought. Like she had no one left to turn to.

  As he walked away, it also occurred to him that Mariko hadn’t answered his question, about whether she’d ever fallen under Hugo’s spell.

  Back in the house, Mariko checked to see whether Paul was still asleep. She was surprised to find him missing.

  Maybe he had gone into work after all. The thought made her hopeful.

  She poured a cup of coffee and warmed it up in the microwave. While she waited, the maid entered the kitchen to ask whether she wanted any lunch. Mariko shook her head.

  ‘I can just heat something up,’ she said. ‘Did Monsieur Paul leave?’

  ‘Yes. Just before you came back.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’

  The maid shook her head.

  ‘Never mind.’

  Mariko gave the woman instructions, then she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop. There were more emails to sift through. It seemed ridiculous to her now. How many of these actually mattered? She started looking through them and the words made no sense to her. Work seemed like it belonged in a different universe. All she could think of was Paul and Nora and how unreachable they both were. Everything was coming apart before her eyes and she tried to make sense of it, to think back to the days and weeks before Hugo’s death. When would her husband pull himself together? She couldn’t cope with another prolonged breakdown. I want you back, Paul. Don’t fall apart.

  With effort, she thought about Morel’s question. She hadn’t been entirely honest with him, about her own feelings. But she had done her best to describe Hugo’s character.

  ‘Maybe I’ll write a book,’ Hugo had said once, over dinner at their house. Neither she nor Paul had paid much attention. Not that they didn’t believe he might. But you couldn’t keep track of everything Hugo did or wanted to involve himself in. Florence had been there too. She had smiled as she always did, looking at her husband with an intensity that Mariko found both irritating and fascinating. Florence had gone along with Hugo’s whims, not because she believed in the same things as he did but simply because she loved him. She was indifferent, at first, to anyone who wasn’t her husband. Mariko had seen it straight away, the first time the couple had come over. Florence’s adoring eyes had never left her husband’s face. It was unsettling, the way she had given herself up.

  The baby might help her lessen her obsession, Mariko thought. Otherwise, Florence would probably spend the rest of her days in quiet devotion of her dead husband, like a nun wedded to her abstract maker.

  THIRTY-ONE

  ‘What do you want?’

  They faced each other across the doorway to his room.

  ‘You didn’t come in to work today,’ Kate said.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘I was worried.’

  ‘Well, I’m fine. You can go now,’ Adam said. He started closing the door but Kate held her hand against it.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It must have been you. Why else would Morel have asked me about the folder?’

  ‘What folder? What the hell are you talking about?’

  Adam realized his mistake. It was too late now to take back what he’d said.

  ‘Never mind. Just leave. Please.’

  She pushed past him and shut the door behind her.

  ‘I’m not going till you clarify what you’ve just said. You’ve no right to be angry with me for something I didn’t do. I think I deserve an explanation.’

  ‘So you broke into his house and took the folder. Why?’ She was sitting on his bed and he’d taken the chair.

  ‘I’ve told you. I don’t know. It was there; I opened it and didn’t know what I was looking at. I was curious. Why was he looking into all that stuff? I took something else too. A stone.’

  She didn’t say anything. He noticed, though, that she didn’t seem that surprised. To her it wasn’t strange that he should have wanted something from Hugo this badly. Badly enough to sneak through his house and frighten the living daylights out of Florence the next day.

  ‘You realize I’m a suspect now?’ he said with a forced laugh. ‘I was there, in Hugo’s hotel room. Who’s to say I didn’t kill him? Doesn’t that worry you?’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she said. She gave him a look filled with disdain and something else. He could see her grappling with her emotions, wishing she hadn’t come, yet reluctant to go. He could have told her he knew exactly how she felt. He wanted her to stay and he wanted her to go, the two sides of him engaged in a furious tug of war.

  It puzzled him that he should feel this way. She was nothing like the girls he usually brought back to his flat. Soft and yielding and eager to please. Girls with dark, velvety skin. Slim and small, with firm, pert breasts. Then there was Kate, with her big, curvaceous body. Full of flaws and excesses. She didn’t seem to care what he thought of her when she took her clothes off, and she took her pleasure first, which wasn’t what Adam was used to
. The girls he slept with made sure he was happy, they never asked for anything, and if he was attentive, they were grateful. Kate seemed to know this, and she had teased him about it.

  ‘You don’t know what to do with me, do you?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he’d said tetchily, but she was right.

  Today she was wearing her usual cargo trousers and a grey T-shirt that was too big, the words ‘Tintin in Vietnam’ printed across it. Something she must have picked up at the Russian market, where they sold hundreds of them. Come to think of it, her shapeless trousers were probably from there too. Picked from the piles of factory rejects from the likes of Calvin Klein, Old Navy and Gap. It occurred to him all of a sudden that Kate hadn’t once left the country for a holiday or to go home. Not, in any case, during the time he’d known her. She must be as penniless as he was, or maybe she had nothing to go back for.

  She looked around the room with distaste and turned back to him. ‘Well, are you going to offer me a drink?’ she said.

  He saw that she was half-hearted about staying. She might just as easily turn around and leave. He was also aware that if she left now, he would be alone again.

  ‘I only have beer,’ he said roughly.

  ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘It’ll have to be warm beer.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘You’re not too demanding, are you?’

  ‘Maybe because I can’t afford to be.’

  He looked at her curiously. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her sometimes.

  He sat beside her on the bed and they drank their beers in companionable silence. When she had finished hers, she placed it on his bedside table. He was about to offer her another one when she spoke.

  ‘I want us to be friends, Adam,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  She laughed and he realized how rude it had sounded.

  ‘I mean, why bring that up now?’

  ‘Because Hugo is gone. And I feel that it’s just you and me now. We both want what’s good for the organization. We want the same things he did. It’s really important that we’re on the same side. Work as a team.’