“Yes, of course she has, but I think there’s more to it than that. I think she’s brooding about Weiner. She was never completely convinced that he died accidentally.”
“I thought she had got over that.”
“I’m afraid she hasn’t.”
“Who’s with her now?”
“Van.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Conrad said, realizing this might be the opportunity he was waiting for. If he could only break down the barrier. If he could only get her on his side and keep her there.
He went along to Frances’s room, noting the alertness of the four guards who paced the long corridor. He paused outside the door, tapped and entered.
Van and the two police women were reading novels. Frances stood before the open bay window that overlooked the sea.
She didn’t look around when Conrad came in. He made a sign to the others to leave. When they had gone, he shut the door and joined Frances at the window.
Far below was the rock-strewn beach. The tide was going out and the stretch of sand was golden in the sunshine.