Peter leans forward. “And is that something you’d be likely to do?”
Elizabeth leans forward too. “Not if you come and see us tomorrow, sit down with Jason and the police, and tell them what you just told us.”
81.
Would you like a walnut?” asks Ibrahim.
Bernard Cottle looks at him and then down at the open bag of walnuts he is being offered. “No, thank you.”
Ibrahim withdraws the bag. “Very low carb, walnuts. In moderation, nuts are very healthy. But not cashews; cashews are an exception. Am I disturbing you, Bernard?”
“No, no,” says Bernard.
“Just enjoying the view?” Ibrahim can sense that Bernard feels uncomfortable sharing his bench.
“Just taking the weight off.”
“What a place to be buried,” says Ibrahim. “Wouldn’t you think?”
“If one has to be buried,” says Bernard.
“Well, it comes to the best of us, doesn’t it? However many walnuts we might eat.”
“I mean no offense by this, but I’m very happy to sit in silence,” says Bernard.
“That’s not unreasonable,” says Ibrahim, nodding. He eats a piece of walnut.
The two men sit, taking in the view. Ibrahim turns and sees Ron walking up the path, trying to hide his limp. He has a cane, but he won’t use it.
“Well, this is nice,” says Ibrahim. “Here comes Ron.”
Bernard looks; there is the slightest pursing of the lips.
Ron reaches the bench and sits on the other side of Bernard. “Afternoon, gents,” he says.
“Good afternoon, Ron,” says Ibrahim.
“So, Bernard, old son,” says Ron. “You keeping guard?”
Bernard looks at him. “Keeping guard?”
“Of the graveyard. Sitting here like a gnome, ‘None shall pass,’ all that. What’s up?”
“Bernard wants to be left in silence, Ron,” says Ibrahim. “That’s what he tells me.”
“Fat chance of that with me around,” says Ron. “So come on, mate. What are you hiding up here?”
“Hiding?” asks Bernard.
“I don’t buy all this grief stuff, son. We all miss our wives, with the greatest respect. Something else is going on here.”
“I think grief affects people in different ways, Ron,” says Ibrahim. “Bernard’s behavior is not unusual.”
“I don’t know, Ib,” says Ron, shaking his head and looking out over the hills. “Geezer gets killed the other day, when all he wanted to do was dig up the graveyard. Bernard sits here by that same graveyard all day, every day. That changes things for me.”
“Is that what’s happening here?” asks Bernard, voice calm and level, refusing to look at Ron. “You’re talking to me about the murder?”
“That’s what’s happening, Bernard, yeah,” says Ron. “Someone down there injected the guy and killed him. We all had our hands on him, remember? Any one of us could have done it.”
