“Are you going to simply let her walk away?” Tamara said. “She openly confessed to killing Paul.”
“I don’t know what else we can do,” I replied. “Ryan?”
He took out his phone. “I’ll call the police. We can tell them what she told us, but she’s right that a confession like that won’t stand up in court. It’s not even enough to have her arrested. They’ll question her about it, but if she sticks to her guns … nothing they can do without physical evidence.”
He placed the call.
“Do you still have the letter?” Tamara asked me. “Can you hold it over her and make her confess?”
“I don’t, and I wouldn’t do that in any event. As you know, and are still bound to secrecy about, the letter has more significance than any minor indiscretion regarding Faye’s son.”
“Seems to me,” Tamara said, “she killed Paul over nothing. Even if the letter was made public, who cares about some schoolboy cheating that happened years ago?”
I wasn’t so sure. Greg Forgate was on the verge of becoming a rising star in political circles. The British gutter press were notoriously vicious. With a letter like that in hand, proof Greg had cheated at the fancy school where he’d been a scholarship student, even if his own cheating had been to help a friend, they’d go after him with all they had, all they could imply, and all they could make up. Yes, if the letter was released on a slow news day, he could have been ruined. Politically anyway.
“What do we do now?” Jayne asked.
“We wait for the police,” I said. “Fortunately, we have plenty of reading material at hand if they’re delayed.”
We didn’t have to wait for long. I was still surveying the stacks of books, trying to make up my mind about what to read to occupy my time, when DI Patel and her crew arrived. One by one, she took Ryan, Jayne, Tamara, and finally me into Paul’s office for a chat.
When it was my turn, I told her exactly what had happened here earlier, and the thought process that led me to the conclusion that Faye had killed Paul and why. I gave a brief description of the contents of the letter, not mentioning any names. She let me talk, without interrupting, and when I finished, she leaned back in Paul’s office chair and studied me.
“Anyone else, I’d think that was a whole lot of nonsense. But Henry Doyle tells me you’re … astute.”
“Praise from a parent is always nice to hear.”
“I never take the word of a father about his child, so I’ve been in contact with the police in America. Do you recognize the name Estrada?”
“I certainly do. I trust you sent Louise my regards.”
“I can’t say she has warm and fuzzy feelings toward you, but she did admit you’ve occasionally been of help to them in the past.”
“By which she means I solved cases for them. Although honesty forces me to admit they would have figured it out. Eventually. Probably. Maybe.”
“She said you don’t know how to draw boundaries between helping and interfering, but never mind that now. I also checked into your friend Detective Ashburton. He’s got a good record and a solid reputation. He says the same as you as to what went on here earlier. As do Jayne Wilson and Tamara O’Riordan.”
“Because we’re all telling the truth.”
“I have one question. Where is this letter everyone mentions but no one seems to have?”
“Beyond your reach. I gave it to … someone above your pay grade. They might not be willing to hand it over.” I still had a photo of the letter on my phone, but I decided not to mention that. Let Pippa decide if the police would be allowed to see it.
“I suspected so. Tamara clammed up mighty fast when I asked her if she’d seen this letter, as did Jayne Wilson. Ashburton claims to have never seen it and only knows what you told him. Which is precious little. I’ll ask my bosses to try to get it or at least have a peek at it. If they can’t … yet another reason we’ll have trouble building a case against Faye Forgate. If I can’t produce it in court or even tell the jury what’s in it.”
“I doubt this will be the first time you know for sure who the guilty party is but can’t prove it,” I said.
“It won’t be. Catch your flight home on Sunday, as planned. If I need anything, I know where to find you.”
I stood up. “Thank you.”
“One other question. Perhaps not relevant, but I would like to know. Assuming this mysterious letter exists …”
“Which it does.”
“Buried in the depths of a vault deep beneath government offices, somewhat like the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
“Movie buff, are you?”
“I can be. Before you ask, my favorite Sherlock Holmes is Basil Rathbone. Which is, clearly, beside the point. How did Paul Erikson get his hands on the letter? He’s not one of the parties involved, is he? I believe he was older than Faye’s son so they would not have been schoolmates, and as far as I know, he was never a teacher. Did he meet Alistair Denhaugh when you and he were married? And yes, Tamara did let slip that the letter we’re talking about was written by Alistair Denhaugh, the Earl of Ramshaw. She immediately attempted to swallow the words, I might add. You put the fear of the powers-that-be into that girl.”
“The fear of my sister, which is much the same thing. As for your question: again, I speculate, but I believe Paul simply found the letter in a book someone sold to the shop.”
In my internet search for pictures and reminiscences about Greg and Lawrence’s schooldays, I was able to arrive at a good idea as to the identity of the teacher who’d blackmailed Alistair. That teacher, I discovered, died about six months ago. He’d been an English teacher. Chances were he was a keen reader. Chances also were his heirs simply packed up all his books and sold them to a used bookshop for whatever they could get. Once they’d been obtained by the shop, the books had to be unpacked, sorted, their condition checked, and then put on the shelf. Had Paul discovered the letter? Had he kept it? In case he ever had the chance to use it, or only as an item of interest? And then Alistair Denhaugh suddenly became relevant again, and Paul, desperate for money, decided to try to take advantage of what he’d found. Unlike Faye, Paul was a regular consumer of the news; he would have seen mention of Alistair in reports of the Australian freighter incident.
“The night he died,” I told DI Patel, “Paul said to me, ‘You never know what riches can be found in old books, do you, Gemma?’ At the time, I thought he was speaking metaphorically. Now I believe he was specifically referring to the letter.”
“I’ll be in touch,” she said.
“One minor thing before I go. You might want to have another look at the fingerprint analysis of this room in particular. Faye Forgate, like the rest of the staff, could and did go pretty much everywhere on the premises and was permitted to touch everything. With one minor exception.”