True Colours Part 20

The front pa.s.senger window of Alex's car had been smashed. Hit by debris perhaps, broken by one of the fire fighters maybe?

Unlikely.

Sebastian met Joe's eye as he took a step closer, his boots crunching on the gravel. Something really wasn't right here. Peering at the window, Sebastian could see that the gla.s.s was spidered, a central impact scattering tiny cubes, like pieces of ice, all over the interior of the car. Moving closer, throwing Joe an anxious glance, he looked inside the car.

On the front seat lay a rock, irregular, sharp-edged, around it a sugar frosting of broken gla.s.s.

Confused, Sebastian stared, trying to make sense of it. He turned back to Joe, hesitated, looked at the car again. 'What the...?'

Then he saw something else.

Alex's briefcase.

Lying on the ground beside the car, almost underneath it, the front flap was thrown open, the previously gleaming crocodile leather filthy, scuffed, punctured with small holes, like someone had pounded it with the rock in the car, or jumped on it, or both. Sebastian bent over, about to pick it up, but Joe's voice stopped him.

'Probably better not to touch that.'

Straightening up, Sebastian held out his hand, indicating the car, the window, the briefcase, somehow unable to find the words.

'Surely it wasn't vandals? So much damage?' And then, shaking his head as if he didn't believe it himself, Sebastian said, 'We're so far from the village here, we don't get trouble like that. It doesn't make sense.'

Joe cast an experienced eye over the car window, the rock on the seat, leaned over to look at the briefcase. 'Hmm, could be. Do you know anyone who might want to do this type of damage?'

Sebastian shrugged helplessly. 'Who on earth would want to do anything like this?'

Joe reached inside his jacket, pulled out a pair of pale blue latex gloves and a clear plastic zip-lock bag. He snapped the gloves on, 'Is the briefcase yours?'

Sebastian shook his head. 'No, it belongs to a friend, to a...to Alex Ryan, she's Tom's daughter.'

Joe eased his hand under the edge of the case, picked something up from the gravel, slipping it into the plastic bag. It was about four inches long, slim, dagger like, covered in bright green suede.

'What on earth's that?'

Joe shrugged. 'We'll let the technical team look at it will we?' He paused. It was one of those loaded pauses. Sebastian looked at him, his eyes widening. He knew something about all this. Before Sebastian could get the words out, Joe continued, 'I have to tell you we picked up a woman last night who reckons she knows you. She was driving erratically through the village, had a lot of drink consumed.'

'Knew me? Who...?'

'She said she was your fiancee.'

Sebastian looked at him in amazement, 'Caroline? Caroline was in Kilfenora last night? Why didn't she come to the house?'

Joe screwed up his face, working out the best way to phrase his answer. 'It looks to me like she might have done.'

Sebastian looked at him like he was mad, not following. 'She gave me this.' Joe flipped open the top pocket of his bomber jacket, and pulling out another plastic evidence bag, handed it to Sebastian.

Turning it over in his hand, Sebastian nodded slowly, his eyebrows knitted together, his mind clicking into gear. 'It's her ring. Well, the family ring. The Wingfield Sapphire.'

'She reckons she doesn't want it anymore. Seems to think...' Joe paused, looking uncomfortable like he was trying find a tactful way of putting his next statement. 'She thinks you've been cheating on her.'

'Me, cheating?' Sebastian shook his head as Joe moved on, more comfortable with the facts, 'She was pretty steamed up.'

Sebastian looked at him, disbelieving. 'Surely you don't think she had anything to do with all this?'

Joe shrugged, 'She'd had a few, was behaving pretty irrationally when we pulled her in. We do have a witness who reckons she left before the fire started though, a guy called Blake, Jackson Blake. Said he had to drop some papers down to you last night, came down but couldn't get an answer at the door. Said he left them in the conservatory. Saw her car leaving as he turned in the gate.'

'Jackson was here too?' Sebastian looked back at him, dazed, as Joe cleared his throat, 'I had a word with John Reilly, he was the Incident Commander last night. Our technical boys will have to run some tests, but he's pretty sure the blaze started at this end of the conservatory, near the drive.'

Sebastian screwed up his face. Jackson had been here? And Caroline?

Turning, Joe waved in the general direction of what had been the Palm House, 'they found the remains of a paint brush on the lawn and the lid of a paint tin. The brush had been cleaned. They reckoned they might have been blown away from the house by the first explosion. Did you have anyone working here?'

Sebastian's face creased in confusion, 'Painters. Yes. Doing the Palm House. But...?'

'Did they clear everything away? Could they have left a tin of paint behind, maybe some turps?'

Sebastian shrugged, he still wasn't getting it.

'It's just they found some cigarette b.u.t.ts and a screwed-up packet near the front door. Gauloises I think they call them. They're French.' His tone was loaded 'But surely Caroline didn't...?'

Joe shrugged, finis.h.i.+ng the sentence for him, 'Surely she didn't vandalise your cars, smash up that laptop and then somehow set the place on fire?'

Sebastian looked at him aghast, a s.h.i.+ver running up his spine, his mouth dry, 'Surely not?'

'I don't know, honestly. It might have been an accident. Maybe she came back after your guy Jackson was here he didn't mention the damage to the cars. Maybe something was smouldering and he didn't see it. A glowing cigarette thrown in the wrong direction, a spark carried on the wind. The painters will be able to tell us if they left anything flammable behind.'

Before he could say anything, Joe's radio crackled into life. He grinned an apology, turned his back on Sebastian, turning down the sound, speaking into his lapel.

'Yes I'll tell him, see what he wants to do.'

Joe turned back to Sebastian, taking his time. 'That was the station, the hospital have been in touch with a message for you.' But he didn't get any further, Sebastian interrupted him, 'My grandfather?'

Joe nodded, 'He's conscious. They're keeping a close eye on him. '

Sebastian stared blindly at the gravel feeling a surge of emotion he didn't quite know how to control. Running his fingers through his hair, Sebastian's voice caught as he spoke.

'So what's the story with Caroline?'

'She's up before the District Court after lunch for the drinking and driving. We'll have another chat to her after the hearing about all this.'

FORTY FOUR.

'Okay mate, that's you wired for sound. It's only a temporary line but it'll do until you get the place back up and running.'

Sebastian prefaced his grin of appreciation with a nod as the telephone engineer dumped his toolbox with a clatter into the back of his distinctive white van, the orange and blue livery streaked in brackish mud. 'Jesus I thought I'd seen it all mate, but this tops it. Best of luck. Hope you're insured mate.'

Sebastian rolled his eyes. The statement was almost worn out.

It was almost lunchtime. And Kilfenora might have been silent this morning, desolate, weeping, but now it was a hive of activity.

First the Garda Technical Bureau team had arrived. Two enthusiastic lads in their thirties, pulling on their white Tyvek suits, already beginning to sweat in the unseasonable heat as the shorter guy pulled a huge steel toolbox from the back of their van. Standing at the top of the steps, his hands thrust into the pockets of his borrowed jeans, Sebastian watched them, fascinated, as they photographed the area from a hundred different angles the cars, the house, Alex's briefcase. Then, as they produced a row of mysterious steel pots, balancing them on the top tray of the box, he watched silently as they set to work on the cars. It was a painstaking process, detailed, laborious. And just a little bit creepy. Sebastian rubbed the tops of his arms. Despite the suns.h.i.+ne, he felt chill, s.h.i.+very right to the core.

The two guards worked quickly, going over his car first, dusting with retractable brushes that s.h.i.+mmered and s.h.i.+vered like those weird fibre optic lamps, but, weighted with magnetic powder, they looked more like miniature chimney sweeps' brushes; lifting prints from the handles and bonnet with broad pieces of sticky tape, leaving a fine film of silver dust. Next, Alex's car, black powder this time, switching to silver for her briefcase, back to black for her laptop.

'Someone's had fun with this.' The taller of the two held up Alex's laptop to show his colleague, its lid dented as if a maniac with a hammer and blunt-nosed chisel had being trying to create a work of art. 'We're going to need to take it with us.' He glanced up at Sebastian who gave a nod, not that he could have stopped them he was sure.

Christ, thought Sebastian, hoping still worked. If it was anything like his laptop, it probably had Alex's whole life on it...her whole life...Sebastian moved his thoughts on quickly. Today wasn't the day to go over old ground.

'We'll need you to make a statement. Can you get down to the station? You could collect it then.'

Sebastian nodded again. He definitely needed to get out of here for five minutes, to get a pint of milk and The Irish Times. Not that he'd have time to read it he was sure, but his grandfather had gone down to the village for it every day of his life, and breaking the tradition felt wrong. All wrong. Sebastian sighed deeply. If he could find his phone, he'd be able to pick up his messages when he got to the village with a bit of luck too, a.s.suming the wind was blowing in the right direction and he could get a signal, see if anything urgent was happening in the real world. And Joe had said Caroline was due in court this afternoon...

'It'll be later on, is that okay?'

'Grand, we'll let them know.' The guard went back to inspecting the briefcase.

'Can you get anything off that rock in the front seat?'

'I doubt it, it's a poor surface. But this is ideal, leather, nice and s.h.i.+ny. Should get some good prints off it.'

Sebastian could feel the dull ache of worry working its way up from somewhere deep inside him, was that good news or bad news? If they found Caroline's fingerprints on Alex's laptop what would it prove? The laptop had been in his apartment, Caroline could say she picked it up then. If her fingerprints were on the car it would be different, might prove that she'd done the damage; but the fire? He still couldn't believe she'd started the fire at least not deliberately. Sebastian ran his hands over his eyes, still gritty, red-rimmed and sore. The media would have a field day when she went to court. He could see her now in a demure Chanel suit bought for the occasion, standing like Marlene Dietrich in the witness box, flicking her hair over her shoulders. 'I don't know what happened your Honour, someone must have spiked my drink...'

'That's us done here.' The tall guard stuck the last piece of tape to a card, slipping it inside a plastic bag and flipped the lid of the box closed. 'We'll need to take a few samples around this end of the conservatory, inside and out if that's okay.' Sebastian nodded, sighing inside, why did everyone keep calling it a conservatory? Outwardly trying to sound enthusiastic, appreciative of the thorough job they were doing, he nodded again: 'Work away.'

The taller guard went over to inspect what had been the low brick outer wall of the Palm House. Looking up, seeing that Sebastian was still watching him, he nodded at the brickwork, 'If paint or an inflammable liquid like white spirit or turpentine became an accelerant, there will be residues left in the fibres of the wood surrounding the area. It's the vapour that burns. Leaves the incriminating evidence behind.'

Sebastian nodded, his stomach performing a ma.s.sive flip...'incriminating evidence.'

'Do you think that's what it was?'

The guard shrugged. 'We spoke to your painters this morning. They reckon they could have left some gear on the sill at this end. One of them was finis.h.i.+ng up when his phone rang. He can't remember putting it all back in the van. He was using an old paint tin half full of white spirit and a rag to clean his brush, left a full tin of paint next to it. Can't even remember putting the lid on, but reckons he would have done. He had a hot date apparently, wasn't concentrating.' The guard's tone was sarcastic. 'Circ.u.mstantially, it's a strong possibility that that's what it was, especially with the cigarette b.u.t.ts and the packet found nearby, but we can only be absolutely sure if we find corroborating evidence.' He paused, shrugging, 'But even then we might not have enough to prove whether it was accidental or malicious.'

Sebastian felt sick. He'd heard enough, turned to go inside, his hand on the still warm stone of the wall.

'Thanks. You're doing a great job...' Sebastian meant it, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

'Now what's this?'

The other guard was bending down on the far side of what had been the Palm House door. He straightened up, something in his hand.

'Recognise this?' he held it up. It was covered in a layer of grime. Sebastian didn't have a clue what it was, he shook his head. The guard blew off a layer of ash and held it up again.

Caroline's BlackBerry. Dear G.o.d. There was no question about it. Sebastian could see the rose gold surround glinting in the sun despite the layer of carbon.

'It's Caroline's.' The words stuck in his throat as he spoke.

The guard deftly slipped it into a brown paper evidence bag.

FORTY FIVE.

After the guards, the insurance a.s.sessor had arrived in a brand new BMW, silver, leather interior, his first words 'Oh my G.o.d' slipping out before he realised what he was saying. But despite his s.h.i.+ny suit and pink s.h.i.+rt, he'd moved quickly.

His mobile phone clamped to his ear, half-speaking to Sebastian, half to whoever was on the other end, he'd walked as he talked.

'Scaffolding. We need some steel props on this side of the building until we get some tests done on the stonework. The external walls look pretty solid but we can't take any risk that they might collapse.'

Sebastian turned away from him, looked down towards the lake, the words giving him a physical pain. He was making the house sound like a disaster area, like there had been an earthquake, or a volcano had erupted. Well maybe it was a disaster zone, where the Palm House had been, charred beams lay as if they were trying to s.h.i.+eld each other from the heat, the gla.s.s shattered, the whole structure unrecognisable as anything other than burnt matter, a thick layer of ash coating everything. Bitter. Acrid. Dead.

An hour after the insurance a.s.sessor, a squad of builders arrived in a flat-bed white truck, their foreman young, focused, standing back, rubbing his navy knitted hat, pulled low over cropped black hair. The rest of the gang his father apparently and a couple of brothers plus about six more following in a Ford Transit van, set about their work quietly and efficiently, boarding the damaged windows, hauling the charred beams to one side, each one like a bone, it seemed to Sebastian, a precious part of the skeleton of the building, each one charred beyond recognition. And whatever about the insurance a.s.sessor's insensitivity, Sebastian's impression that he believed all old houses were potential firetraps, the builders seemed to understand that this was an old lady of a house and deserved some respect. You had to be thankful for small mercies.

'How's it going?'

Sebastian jumped at the voice behind him, turned, his brow furrowed. Joss. She was the last person he'd expected to see here today, knew she would be up to her eyes keeping the office going, fielding the inevitable calls from journalists.

'What on earth are you doing here?'

Jocelyn looked at him, shaking her head like he was a cheeky child, pulling a face at him.

'I came down to see how you're getting on, to make sure you're okay. And before you ask the office is fine, everything's under control for a couple of hours at least.'

Sebastian held up his hands in surrender and smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry. Honestly.'

He felt like hugging her. Almost did, stopping himself, one arm in the air. Embarra.s.sed, he waved it like he had every intention of throwing out an expansive gesture. But Jocelyn threw him a consolatory smile, her eyes caring, concerned. She'd been around a long time, felt like giving him a hug herself. Maybe she would later.

'So, how can I help?'

Sebastian's face was stoic, 'Any good with a paintbrush?'

Jocelyn threw him a sympathetic smile 'Show me.'

Sebastian paused before answering, searching her face. A strand of her hair fell from the knot on top of her head. She brushed it away.

'Well? What are we waiting for?'

'Are you sure you want to?'

Fighting to control a shaky breath, Jocelyn held out her hand to him. He grasped it, gave it a squeeze. He knew she was putting on a brave face, literally.

'It was a long time ago.' The words caught for a moment, 'Different place, different time. Can't let my past interfere with your life too.'

Sebastian rolled his eyes, 'Don't be daft - but it's pretty awful, and everything inside is covered in carbon from the smoke. I don't want it to give you nightmares.'

A smile flicked across Jocelyn's face like a bird flying in front of the sun, 'I've already got those maybe my imagination needs a bit of reining in with the real thing.'

Sebastian nodded, his face grim. His grandfather had met Jocelyn after a fire like this. Not a fire in a house, but in a warehouse he owned in Cherry Orchard on the outskirts of Dublin. A fire that had claimed the life of her husband, a fire officer who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, trapped when the building collapsed. She had been twenty-five, madly in love, her world shattered by his death. Guy Wingfield had been deeply impressed by her inner strength, by her dignity, by her ability to deal with her young son and the people around her, despite her grief. But, Sebastian knew, that sort of grief never went away. It didn't get better you just learned to live with it.

'The fire fighters managed to contain it to the Palm House. It's a huge loss, but thank G.o.d the house is okay.'

Standing back, surveying the ruins, Jocelyn nodded, 'Will you be able to restore it?' She caught the grimace that crossed Sebastian's face. It was a ma.s.sive job.