‘But surely if he remembered what Iris said that night, and it was nothing that got them all killed, he’d have told Imogen,’ says Emma. ‘Why would he have let Imogen make Iris into their murderer?’
‘I’m not sure he did,’ I say. ‘The way she tells it, he left her to it with the ending … ’
‘Yes,’ says Felix. ‘Because he’s never known what the ending was.’
‘Or,’ I say, ‘because he never imagined she’d pin it on me.’
‘Iris,’ says Nick.
‘What?’
‘Iris,’ he repeats. ‘He pinned it on Iris, not you.’
‘Right.’ I frown. (Did I really just sayme?) ‘Yes. Iris.’
‘He still could have asked Imogen to change it,’ says Emma. ‘I mean, she ran the book by him before it went to print, and he gave it the nod.’
I can’t argue with that. That Tim signed off on Iris’sdevastating revealhas been the card Imogen’s played over and again with the studio, resisting their endeavours to rewrite it.
Still, ‘Maybe he was worried to push back,’ I say. ‘Maybe he’s hiding something, and was afraid to let it go.’
Emma pulls a disbelieving face. ‘So he threw Iris under a bus?’
‘Hardly. She doesn’t exactly come off as a villain. Just really …sorry.Maybe Tim thought it would be all right to leave her like that … ’
‘Or maybe,’ Felix says, ‘hehas no idea what happened.’
‘I think he might.’
‘Even if he does,’ Emma says, ‘you do realise none of this willactuallychange anything, right? They all still went.’
‘Butwhere?’
‘Into the sea,’ Felix says with a sigh, ‘like thousands of others.’
‘What about Iris though?’
‘Maybe she really did drown herself.’
‘No way.’ I’m resolute on that. I’ve been turning it over, all week long, and the more I have, the more certain I’ve become that there’s no way she could have killed herself. ‘Think about it,’ I say. ‘The crew were certified missing presumed, but never confirmed, dead. Iris wouldn’t have taken her life, not whilethere was a chance of Robbie coming home. She’d have been hoping to hear from him, every moment.’ My voice shakes on the words, but I can’t help it.
I feel very, very strongly about this.
I think Felix must realise, because he doesn’t argue back.
In fact, he gives a slow nod of agreement.
‘I still don’t think you’re gonna get anything out of Tim,’ says Emma. ‘Maybe you are right about him hiding something, but I don’t see why he’d suddenly decide to open up.’
‘Nor do I,’ I admit. ‘But I have to at least try to get him to.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to weave into conversation,’ says Felix, draining his beer as the landlord approaches with a credit card machine. ‘It’s a straightforward enough question. Hey, Tim, have you been lying about how your friends all died?’
‘Funny,’ I say, ‘that’s exactly how I’ve been planning to put it.’
‘Excellent.’
‘How was the pudding?’ asks the landlord, reaching us.
