Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Also by Philip Kerr
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
She went out of the room and returned with a small Beretta and her green dress in a carrier bag. She handed me the key, which had a small paper label on it that helpfully read “Spinola,” and I slipped it into my pocket.
“What are you going to do with those?”
“The gun and the key I’ll throw in the sea, probably. The dress I’ll burn in the incinerator at the hotel.”
“I suppose you want something for your silence. Is that how this works?”
“You think I’m going to blackmail you?” I smiled and shook my head. “I am not going to blackmail you, Julia. Most murderers only ever do it once, but blackmailers do it all the time. Which is why blackmail is a worse crime than murder. This is the first and last time we’ll ever speak of this, Julia. The next time we see each other we won’t even mention this evening.”
“But why? I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? I don’t understand. We’re acquaintances. But we’re not really friends. I’ve never even thought that you liked me very much. You don’t owe me a thing.”
“You’re no murderer, Julia. I knew it the minute I looked in your eyes. Take it from one who knows about these things. Besides, the law of murder doesn’t mean the same as it used to. Not since murder became the continuation of politics by other means. That’s von Clausewitz. Well, it is since nineteen forty-five. Nothing would be gained by sending you to prison. And certainly not in France. And it won’t bring back my bridge partner, either.”
“What about the police?” she asked.
“The police? Listen to me, Julia. The police are just ordinary men. It’s only with the gun and the dress and the key that the impossible becomes possible and the possible probable, and the probable ever stands up in court. Not even the police can perform miracles, no matter how long you wait to see one. They need evidence. Without evidence there’s nothing. Nietzsche said that. Clearly he wasn’t nearly as mad as a lot of people make out.”
TWENTY
Somerset Maugham is being blackmailed,” I told Anne French over a late dinner at her house. “And not for the first time, I think. Previously it was just a few injudicious love letters. But this is much more serious. There’s an old photograph of him and various naked men, some of them now quite well known, I believe. And a tape recording. I can’t give you any details but it’s all very compromising to the old man. There’s a lot of money involved, too.”