Chapter Twenty

“I suspect,” I said to Jayne and Tamara, “if you reveal the contents of this to anyone, you’ll find yourself incommunicado for a long time indeed.”

“I don’t even know who those people are,” Tamara said.

“Just as well.”

“I do,” Jayne said. “But my lips are sealed.”

“By Pippa,” Tamara said, “I assume you’re not referring to Pippa Middleton, sister of the Princess of Wales.”

“I am not.”

“Now that I’ve read the names, I can look them up. I promise not to do so on one condition only.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” I said.

She grinned at me. “You cannot leave me in permanent suspense. If you can, when you can, will you let me know who killed Paul? Presumably for possession of that letter. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but clearly it does to you and other people. People Paul shouldn’t have been messing with.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said. “Thanks for your help. For the moment, I’d prefer if you don’t tell Paul’s father, or anyone else, what we’ve been doing here today.”

“Not a problem. To be frank, Gemma, if I can’t work it into my dissertation, I don’t much care. Someday maybe, but right now, I have far more important things to concentrate on.”

With the aid of the pen, I slid the letter back into the book and then I stuffed it into my bag. We went downstairs, and Tamara locked the door behind us.

Standing on the pavement while commuters and tourists swirled around us, I texted Pippa: Found item of significant interest to you. Where are you?

Pippa: Out of office. Come straight to this address. Do not take public transit. Take precautions. The address she sent me was close to Guildhall.

“Should I leave you to it, Gemma?” Jayne said.

“Only if you want to. You’re involved so you might as well see it through. It’s not far to where we’re to meet her. Let’s go.” We hurried to the Strand. Traffic was heavy and moving slowly. I waited on the pavement and then darted out to dash between two cabs, causing cars to screech to a halt and the driver of a panel van to yell unprintable words at me. No one, other than Jayne, appeared to have followed me.

“Close one.” Jayne patted her chest. “If we have to take this letter to the hospital with us, Pippa won’t be pleased with you.”

I put up my hand and hailed a free cab. It pulled up to the curb, but I waved it away as though I’d changed my mind. The driver gave me a disapproving shake of the head. I beckoned for the next one, and we jumped in. I gave him the address Pippa had sent to me.

I tried to watch the cars and trucks and vans and scooters behind us, but I didn’t see anything that appeared to be sticking close. Not that I’d be likely to notice if we were being followed in a coordinated attempt.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Ryan: At Stanhope Gardens. Had great time. Where are U?

Me: Paid condolences on Paul’s mum. Going to Pippa for quick chat. Back soon.

Ryan:

Beside me Jayne was also checking her phone and typing.

“Andy?” I asked.

“Yes. The happy fishermen are back and he’s wondering what dinner plans are. I think it’s fair to say we don’t know yet.”

“That it is.”

As we approached our destination, I didn’t bother to get out prematurely or to tell the driver to circle the block a few times. If anyone followed us this far, they’d know I was going to meet with Pippa.

I paid the driver, and we got out on Gresham Street. The buildings were all tall and cream colored, with thin windows and heavy doors. Trees, their leaves yellowing, lined the street. The door of the address we’d been directed to was painted a solid black. I checked for CCTV cameras. I couldn’t see any, but I had no doubt our every move was being watched. A small bronze plaque, polished to a brilliant shine daily, announced that this was the offices of R & R Richmond and Associates. Next to the plaque was a discreet buzzer. I pushed it, and the door swung open almost immediately. A man stepped back with a nod. He wore a well-cut gray suit, a stiffly ironed white shirt, and a gray and blue striped tie, perfectly knotted.

“Ms. Doyle and Ms. Wilson,” he said. “You are expected.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Please, follow me.”

We did so. The carpet was thick, the lights strong but not too bright. Pleasant landscape paintings hung on the walls. Closed doors led off the hallway. The only sound was the rustle of Jayne’s bag. I felt the weight of the book in mine.

“I would have thought there’d be some sort of security, if this is a government building,” Jayne whispered to me.

“There is. Believe me, there is.”

Jayne sucked in a nervous breath, and her eyes darted around.

The man opened a door, gestured to us to go in, and we did so. He closed the door behind us. It was a conference room, much like any other. Wide, mass-produced wooden table, various communication and projection devices set into the center of the table; eight ergonomic chairs; credenza containing a pitcher of water, empty glasses, and nothing else; a 72-inch TV, turned off, mounted on the wall opposite the head of the table. No windows. No doors but the one we came through. No paintings or pictures on the walls.

My sister was the only person in the room. She sat at the foot of the table, facing the door, her phone and a small notebook and pen on the polished surface in front of her.

She did not bother to exchange friendly greetings. “Have a seat, please, and let’s see what you have.”

“Hi.” Jayne cautiously dropped into a chair.

Pippa smiled at her. “Jayne, how are you? I hope you’re enjoying your visit to London.”

“It’s been interesting, I’ll say that.”

“I trust Gemma told you about the special visit we’ve arranged to Hampton Court Palace tomorrow. Private tour.”

“I was saving that as a surprise.” I gestured to the room around me, taking in the entire building. “Is this where you have your office?”

“No. I was attending a meeting in a more secure facility, not far from here, and I decided this would be convenient. Water? Or I can call for tea?”

“No, thank you. Let’s get to it, shall we?” I sat down. Goodness, but this chair was comfortable. I might ask Pippa for the name of the supplier so I could get one for my own office. Then again, unlikely I could afford it. “I believe we’ve found what Paul died for.” I opened my bag and took out the book.

“Raymond Chandler?” Pippa said. “I must say, that comes as a surprise.”

“Not the book, but its contents.” I explained what I’d learned at Paul’s mother’s house, the thought process that led to us going to the bookshop and searching the used stock on the shelves.

I opened the book and revealed the letter tucked inside. I will confess I put a bit of a flourish into it. Not often I got a chance to show off to Pippa. “Ta-da,” I said.

“How did you get into the shop?” my sister asked.

“I phoned one of the clerks, and she met us there and let us in.”

“Her name?”

I told Pippa, and she jotted it in the notebook.

“And yes, before you ask, she read the letter at the same time as Jayne and I did. I told her, for what it’s worth, not to discuss it with anyone.”

“More like Gemma put the fear of the law, or perhaps more to the point, of you, into her,” Jayne said.

The edges of Pippa’s mouth curled up ever so slightly.

I slid the open book across the table. Pippa took a pair of tweezers out of apparently nowhere and used them pick up the piece of paper and unfold it.

I watched her face as she read.

“Not the errant son, Lawrence, but the father,” I said.

“The father’s misdeeds caused by the son. Thank you, Gemma. I’ll have the handwriting confirmed, but I’ve little doubt it’s that of Alistair Denhaugh.”

The letter was handwritten, dated eight years ago. From Alistair Denhaugh to a teacher at a highly prestigious private school, asking the teacher not to reveal that Lawrence Denhaugh and another boy, unnamed, had been caught cheating on their exams. It would appear this was not the first instance such had happened, but this time it would be the last. If it was disclosed. Meaning Lawrence would be expelled and would not graduate. In not quite so many words, Alistair suggested that in exchange for a suitable amount of money, the matter need not be reported to school officials.

“Foolish to commit that to paper,” I said.

“He might have thought it worse to use electronic communication,” Pippa said. “Foolish to agree to the idea in any event. I assume the bribe was paid, and considering Alistair had been notified before the matter was brought to the attention of the school authorities, such was the original intention of this teacher in contacting Alistair.”

“Would this be enough to ruin Alistair?” I asked.

“Unlikely, but this is not a good time for his reputation to be under question. Lawrence did finish at that school, barely, and he went on to uni. Where he didn’t last out his first year. Alistair should have saved his money. I wonder if Genevieve knows about this. Irrelevant. I’d be interested to know how your Paul came into possession of this letter.”

“He wasn’t my Paul. Paul was several years older than Lawrence, and he didn’t go to that school, so he can’t be the other boy mentioned, but it’s possible the family of the other boy also got a letter from this teacher, and somehow Alistair’s reply made its way into their hands. I would have thought the teacher would have destroyed the letter. He’s not named, but easy enough to find out who he was, and he himself is severely compromised by its existence.”

“Blackmail rarely ends with a single payment. The teacher would have had to keep the letter if he was considering using it again. Criminals tend not to be terribly smart sometimes, and he might have simply had too many irons in the fire and lost track of it. Or it was stolen, which is also entirely possible. Another boy is mentioned although no name given. We can assume the other boy’s family received a similar request for payment to keep the matter undisclosed. This teacher, and you can be sure I’ll have him looked into, has put himself in danger of being blackmailed because of this sort of thing. He would certainly lose his position over it.”

“Regardless of how this letter came into Paul’s hands, he intended to use it. It makes me sad to realize he was reduced to doing such a thing. The Paul I knew might have been lazy and he might have been a philanderer, but I never thought he was dishonest.”

“Why do you think he was intending to blackmail Alistair?” Jayne asked me. “He had the letter, but he hid it.”

“He kept it under wraps at his mother’s neighbor’s house, yes, but then he was told he had to move it. It’s possible he’d forgotten about it, but reclaiming it reminded him. And then, in one of those coincidences that make life interesting, he saw mention of Alistair. Alistair’s been in the news, hasn’t he? About his consulting on the business of the Australian freighter.”

“He has. The Foreign Secretary was at her own home in York when the incident first happened, and she went to Garfield Hall to consult with Alistair. Reporters met her at the gates as she was leaving, and she mentioned that Alistair’s assistance would be vital in establishing effective communication channels with the parties involved. The following morning, Alistair, along with Genevieve and Lawrence, traveled to London for my wedding that afternoon.”

“Paul must have heard that news item. He realized he was in possession of something which Alistair Denhaugh, Earl of Ramshaw, would not want to be made public. He intended to use it all right. He was waiting for Alistair at your wedding dinner, not me. He had the letter with him, tucked between the pages of Farewell, My Lovely, as proof.”

Pippa nodded.

“I speculate he’d stuffed the letter into the bottom of a drawer in his office when he reclaimed it. He didn’t know what to do with it, but he didn’t want to throw it out. But now that he was using it, or hoped to, considering that the guilty run where no one pursues, he was afraid Alistair would send thugs to the bookshop to get it. After getting back to the shop Saturday night, he hid it in the forest.”

“A forest? I thought this shop is on Villiers Street?”

“She’s speaking metaphorically,” Jayne said.

“I do wish she wouldn’t do that,” Pippa said. “Complicates everything.”

“Paul must have found out that Alistair would be at your wedding, and he thought a public venue would be a great place to confront him, tell him what he had, and make the initial demand. And then who pops up but me, leaving early.”

“Why did Paul tell you he wanted you to see a book then?” Jayne asked.

“He needed a reason to explain his presence at the hotel, but mainly, if I may be so vain, he genuinely still had feelings for me. He couldn’t talk to me right there. Not only because I was leaving, but because he was waiting for Alistair, and he didn’t want me to see them together. On the spur of the moment, he thought of inviting me to see a book the next day. There never was any book.”

“Are you saying Alistair killed Paul?” Jayne asked. “To get the letter?”

“If so, that would be most unfortunate,” Pippa said. “Unlikely Alistair, if he wanted to, would have done the deed himself. He’s not a young man. No, I don’t see it. I’d say it’s more likely people who want Alistair compromised were after the letter.”

“They killed Paul, but they didn’t get it,” Jayne said.

“No. Because he’d hidden it as Gemma says. Maybe they didn’t have time to search the entire shop. Maybe they intended to ask Paul to hand it over, but something went wrong and he died. I do not know.” Pippa pressed a button under the table. She stood up.

The door opened, and a young woman in an immaculate business suit stood there. Her hair was folded into a knot at the back of her head, and her makeup was so subtle as to be unnoticeable. She looked several years older than she had at Pippa’s wedding.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Nice to see you again. How’s your mother? Millicent, isn’t it?”

She gave me a barely disguised look of fury. I assumed she’d been reprimanded for letting herself be spotted at the wedding. Maybe opening doors to visitors was a punishment.

“Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention,” Pippa said.

“What happens now?” Jayne asked.

“I earlier asked Gemma to ensure this matter didn’t involve my office in any way. Unfortunately, it would seem we are forced to get involved. I’ll see that this letter is handled properly. If certain people who wish to impede the negotiations Alistair is involved in were attempting to get blackmail material, they need to be discovered and steps taken. Cheryl will see you out.”