Where’s Nymphenburg?” Tozer demanded of Lawton the instant he ended his conversation with Carol. Harding was still waiting for some clarification of Hayley’s message, including why it had come via Carol. And it seemed for the moment that he would have to go on waiting.
“It’s the suburban palace of the old Bavarian royal family” Lawton replied. “Out to the west.”
“Ever been there?”
“Once or twice.”
“Is there a park behind the palace?”
“Yeah. Acres of it.”
“And a canal?”
“Er, yeah. I think so. An ornamental affair. Beyond the garden.”
“So, her directions made sense.”
“How about letting me in on them?” asked Harding.
“I’ll fill you in on our way back into town, Tim. No sense keeping our taxi waiting any longer, is there? And we’re done here, aren’t we?” Tozer looked at Lawton with an expression that suggested their host had suddenly become irrelevant-and that this was a welcome development.
“Hold on,” said Lawton, evidently no less confused than Harding. “That wasn’t Hayley on the phone.”
“No. But she’s left a message for me. We’ll meet tomorrow. And sort all this out. No need for you to worry about it anymore, squire.”
“Are you sure about this? She’s going to meet you at Nymphenburg tomorrow?”
“I’m sure. And like I said: you can leave it to us.”
“Was needling Lawton such a good idea, Barney?” Harding asked as their taxi pulled away from the house.
“Tit for tat. He’ll get over it.”
“And what did you mean about the message from Hayley? Did she phone Carol?”
“No. Nathan Gashry phoned Carol.”
“Nathan?”
“Hayley didn’t want to speak to any of us direct, apparently. Not over the phone, anyway. It has to be face to face. She got Nathan to pass the message on. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning, at Nymphenburg. We’re to take the path through the park along the north side of the canal. She’ll be waiting.”
“How did she know we were in Munich?”
“Maybe Ann Gashry told her. You didn’t leave her in any doubt you meant to follow Hayley here, did you?”
“No. But I never said you’d be coming with me. At the time, I didn’t know you would be.”
“Guesswork, then. Or a tip-off from someone at the clinic.”
“Something like that, I suppose. Or else…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” That was not quite true. The other possibility, in its way the most worrying, was that Hayley knew they were together because she had already seen them together. Which put her very much one step ahead. And meant she was likely to view Harding as Tozer’s friend, not hers. He had not abandoned her. But he was going to have his work cut out convincing her of that. “I just don’t know.”
Tozer did not share Harding’s disquiet-nor indeed the reasons for it. Over dinner and several drinks in the bar opposite the hotel afterwards he struck a confident note, apparently convinced that Hayley’s desire to meet them signalled a willingness on her part to admit she needed professional help in coping with the demons the past had left her with.
“I’m not a monster. Or a murderer. I think she’s coming round to understanding that. And she must realize the only reason we haven’t shopped her to the police is that we want to do our best for her-and draw a line under this whole bloody episode.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. According to Nathan she sounded humble, almost apologetic. She wants to put it all behind her, Tim. We just have to make it possible. And we will. Tomorrow.”
It was not yet eleven o’clock when Harding returned to his room. Tozer had called an early halt to their drinking session to ensure they both had a clear head in the morning. Harding felt far from sleepy, however. And he needed, for his own sake, to check Barney’s optimistic assessment of their situation with Carol. Her number was busy the first time he tried it. And the second. But not the third.
“Nice of you to call” was her barbed greeting.
“Have you just been talking to Barney?” he asked, ignoring the rebuke.
“Yeah. We’ve been saying goodnight, like the happily married couple we are.”
“How did he seem?”
“Fine. The way he tells, it, tomorrow gets the job done.”
“What about Nathan Gashry? How did he seem?”
“Grouchy and grudging. As you’d expect. He didn’t enjoy having to call me.”
“Why do you think Hayley went through him?”
“You tell me. You know her better than I do.”
“I have this feeling she may be more interested in confrontation than conciliation.”
“I’m sure you can handle that.”
“I’m doing my best on your behalf as well as my own, Carol. Remember that.”
“I’m trying to.”
“How did Hayley know Barney and I were both here? That’s what worries me.”
“Barney thinks she may have a mole at the clinic.”
“I doubt it.”
“What’s your theory then?”
“I don’t know. But…”
“Got an itchy feeling between the shoulder blades?”
“Sorry?”
“They tell me it’s a sign you’re being watched.”
Harding sighed. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Listen, Tim.” She sounded suddenly more serious. “Maybe Barney’s right. Maybe Hayley’s willing to come quietly. That’d be fine as far as it goes. But it doesn’t get us off the hook with Tony Whybrow, does it? What are we going to do about him?”
“I don’t know.”
“No. And neither do I. That’s what should be worrying you.”
Harding felt, if anything, less drowsy after his conversation with Carol than before. He resorted to Euromush television in the hope it might knock him out. But long before the rules of an Italian game show had become clear to him, his phone rang, only for the caller to cancel the moment he answered. The number had been withheld, which was suspicious in itself. A repeat performance a minute or so later convinced him someone was trying to tell him something.
It was the recollection of Carol’s crack about an itchy feeling between the shoulder blades that prompted him to go to the window and check the street outside. He had closed the shutter earlier. A surreptitious peek was hardly possible. There was nothing for it but to open the window and then the shutter to see if there really was anyone keeping watch on his room.
The figure on the opposite pavement was walking away. But Harding’s instinctive impression was that she had been stationary until the instant he opened the shutter. Her face was obscured by the brim of a hat. But he recognized the short, belted mac. She was Hayley’s height and build. In that moment, there was no doubt in his mind. It was her.
He only realized it was raining heavily when he burst out of the hotel. There were several groups of people making their way along the street, clutching umbrellas, and a couple of taxis dropping off passengers. His glimpse of Hayley in the distance, rounding a corner, was scarcely more than a guess. But he raced in pursuit.
There she was again, surely, rounding the next corner into the main shopping street. He was running headlong now, oblivious to the rain and the traffic and the passers-by. But she was running too, a twitch of shadow implying a backward glance. And the lights of Marienplatz U-Bahn station gleamed ahead. Suddenly, she vanished from sight.
Harding’s plunge down the steps to the station was slowed by a collision with a couple coming up. The male half fired some insults after him as he reached the concourse. He did not look back. His eyes scanned the escalators leading down to the platforms. There was no sign of Hayley. She could have taken any one of them. He could hear trains pulling in and out even as he stood there, hesitating. Every line on the system went through Marienplatz, to judge by the number of destinations on offer. He had no idea where Hayley was going. If evading him was her priority, she could have chosen the first train to anywhere, or even exited the station at the other end of the concourse.
He checked all the platforms in the end, futile though he knew the effort would be. The clocks of the city churches were striking midnight as he made his way back to the hotel. It had stopped raining and was growing rapidly colder. He was shivering, though whether the drenching he had received was the cause he could not have said.