Angel of the Dark

When Matt finally finished, she said: “I’m not sure it’s the same man.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s the same man.”

“It may have been the same man for the earlier attacks. But I’m not sure the person you’re describing is the man who killed Miles.”

“What makes you say that?”

Lisa tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it pensively in her wine. “Little things. Like the giving-the-money-to-charity part. Miles didn’t leave a penny to charity, and I haven’t even begun to think about what I’m going to do with my inheritance. But more importantly, the whole thing smacks a little too much of some kind of Robin Hood complex, don’t you think? Taking from the rich to give to the poor?”

Bizarrely, this idea had not occurred to Matt. It seemed so obvious when Lisa said it now. “Possibly, yes.”

“Well, I know nothing about the man who raped me. But I can tell you this: he was no Robin Hood.”

At the mention of the word rape, a heavy silence settled over the table, an almost visible cloud of shame. Matt found himself wishing that he knew this woman better, well enough to take her in his arms and comfort her, to assure her that none of this was her fault. As it was, he changed the subject.

“Tell me about Miles. About your marriage.”

Lisa smiled, but it was a sad smile. “You mean tell you whether I married a man thirty years older than myself for love or for his money? What do you think?”

Matt blushed. That was what he meant, but he didn’t realize he’d been so obvious.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s all right,” said Lisa. “We may as well be honest with each other. I didn’t love Miles. That much is true. But I liked him. He was a kind man and he treated me well. I’ve reached a point in my life where I value kindness. I was lucky that he chose me.”

She speaks about it so passively, thought Matt. “He chose me.” As if it were an arranged marriage, and she had no say in the matter.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“At a conference in Shanghai about a year ago.”

“A year?” Matt looked surprised. “You hadn’t been together very long, then?”

Lisa played with her napkin under the table. “No. We were married for nine months. It all happened very quickly. Our romance. Miles was a brilliant man and very considerate toward me.”

“But not toward everyone?”

“He was in his later years. I think, when he was younger, he was probably a bit more ruthless, a bit more ambitious. He had a first wife, before I was born, and children. I don’t think he treated them very well. But by the time we met, he had mellowed considerably.”

Matt thought about Andrew Jakes. What a crappy husband he’d been to his mom, how he’d abandoned him and Claire without a shred of remorse, but how in later years he’d transformed into a doting partner to Angela.

“People change, I guess.”

“Yes, they do. But the past can’t be changed, and justice can never be outrun. We must all make atonement for the wrongs we do. We must all pay the price.”

It was such a strange thing to say, Matt wasn’t sure how to react. Was she saying that Miles Baring somehow deserved what had happened to him? Surely not. Her grief for her ex-husband seemed genuine, and she spoke of him with obvious affection and respect. But then what “price,” what “atonement,” was she talking about? Perhaps they’d both had too much wine.

Either way, Matt was grateful when the maid returned to clear away the plates, bringing decaf coffee and a slab of bright green pandan, a sweet Balinese rice cake to break the awkward silence. Sipping their coffee, they talked about other things, each of them evidently enjoying the other’s company. Lisa asked Matt a lot of questions about his childhood. She seemed fascinated by Andrew Jakes’s abandonment of his mother, and openly disbelieving that he, his mom and Claire could have gone on to have such happy lives afterward. Yet when Matt quizzed her about her own childhood, she was reluctant to talk. She grew up in New York but wasn’t particularly happy there. She had a sister but they’d lost touch a long time ago. That was the most he was able to get out of her.

Noticing Matt rubbing the back of his head, she said, “I’m sorry about that clobbering you took. I’d really like you to stay here while you recover.”

“What about the guards?” asked Matt, half jokingly. “Will they be watching me pee the whole time, or do you trust me to go by myself now?”

Lisa grinned. “I trust you. You’d be here as my guest.”

“Are you sure you don’t want your privacy?” Matt asked, more seriously now. “I’d be happy to find a guesthouse or a local hotel. I wouldn’t want to intrude. I mean, obviously technically I am an intruder…”

Lisa laughed. “I’m quite sure. I’m not planning on leaving here anytime soon. And I could use the company. And who knows? Perhaps, together, we’ll unravel this mystery, find the missing link that connects these terrible murders…if there is one.”