Maris continued to be obsessed with the contents of Peter’s trunk. She had dragged it halfway around the world and back again and still had not figured out what it meant. Whenever she had a chance, she read the stories by E. Sutcliffe Moresby, she studied the paintings of Chinese women by the mysterious AS, and she read the letters that were tied in bundles with blue ribbon.
It still baffled her why Peter had left these things for her. She picked up one of the first editions and started riffling through the pages. It was pristine, as if it had never been read. She picked up another and another; they were equally immaculate. Then she noticed one that appeared less perfect. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand. It was The Severed Edge, a book she had read years ago in school and one that Peter clearly had also read. She opened the book to Chapter 1 and an envelope fell out. It was addressed to her and contained a single sheet of paper. Peter’s stationery was instantly recognizable by its colour, a deep taupe, and its heavy, linen-like texture. The note was in his handwriting.
Dear Maris, she read, If you’re reading this letter, it’s probably because I’m not around anymore. I have bequeathed you this trunk and its contents in my will, which I hope will not be read for a very long time. (Maris looked at the date on the letter; it was written just two months before Peter’s death.)
I have made a disturbing discovery, he continued, and I’m not sure what to do. When I was unpacking a shipment the other day, I accidentally dropped a ceramic jug from China — one with a lid, traditionally used to hold herbs and dried medicines — and discovered that it was not empty, as I would have expected, but contained several dried artifacts. They appeared to be small animal parts: paws with the fur still on and possibly organs or dried snake meat. I’m pretty sure they’re not ancient, like the jug, but fairly recently dried.
I spoke to Angela about it and suggested that she talk to her supplier. He (or she, Angela doesn’t tell me who her contacts are) may not be aware that contraband is being shipped along with antiquities. He (or she) could be in a lot of trouble if these were discovered somewhere en route.
Angela thought it would be a bad idea to alert him (she admitted it was a man). She said it was probably a mistake and had been meant for another shipment. She felt it would be best to leave it alone and say nothing. She didn’t want her supplier to know that she knew he was dealing in contraband. Or, if it was a mistake and had happened further up the chain, she didn’t want to get her supplier into trouble. These were dangerous waters (her words) and it was best not to swim with sharks.
I have been uneasy ever since the discovery, and have decided to write it all down for someone else’s eyes (yours, in fact) should anything untoward (meaning, not favourable, adverse, or unseemly) happen to me. Not meaning to be morbid, but just cautious.
By the way, if you’re eighty years old and reading this, ignore all of the above.
With much love and affection, and many thanks for a true friendship (in case I forgot to tell you), I remain
Yours,
Peter
Trust Peter to be funny when he was obviously upset and disturbed by his discovery. It seemed that Angela’s warning about a possible Interpol investigation was not unfounded. But she hadn’t mentioned anything about her conversation with Peter. Well, that wasn’t surprising. Angela never told her or Dinah anything related to the business end of things. It was typical of her to keep something like this to herself.
Maris’s first impulse was to show the letter to Dinah and see what she wanted to do. It would have given her a lot of satisfaction to show it to Angela and watch her reaction, but somehow this didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Angela would probably want to destroy the letter, while Maris wanted to keep it. It was personal, in a way, and it was between Peter and her. Did it have any connection to his death? Should she show it to the police? Doing that would definitely involve the gallery in some kind of investigation — not something she relished, and nor would Dinah and Angela, she was certain. Peter hadn’t named any names in the letter and the police would surely want to know who the supplier was, at the very least. She knew this would infuriate Angela.
The next morning she took the letter into the gallery and showed it to Dinah. She watched as Dinah read the letter then closed her eyes to hold back her tears. When she opened them again, her lashes were wet, and she wiped them with the back of her hand.
“Well,” said Maris, “what do you think?”
Dinah thought for a moment, read the letter again, and said, “I think we should go to the police.”
“Really?” said Maris. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“But that would mean an investigation and Angela will be furious.”
“Too bad,” said Dinah. “I don’t care if Angela bursts into flames. This letter might help solve Peter’s murder. It could be a clue.”
“I agree. It could be a clue, but it’s pretty vague. I mean, he doesn’t name names and obviously the jug is long gone, as, I’m sure, are the contents. It’s pretty flimsy evidence. They could say that Peter was just being paranoid.”
“They could,” said Dinah, “but Angela knows who the supplier is. She would have to reveal him. It’s a start.”
“So I guess that means you want to show the letter to Angela.”
“I sure do,” said Dinah. “And I can’t wait to see her expression.”
“Wow,” said Maris. “You’re one tough cookie. I’d have bet money you’d want to keep the letter secret.”
Dinah looked at her. “I want to find out what happened to Peter,” she said. “And if someone killed him, I want them punished.” She paused for a moment. “Don’t you want justice for Peter?”
“Of course I do,” said Maris. “But I don’t want to see the gallery destroyed in the process. This gallery is your future, and possibly mine as well. It’s not about Angela; it’s about you and me.”
“No,” said Dinah. “It’s about Peter.”
They showed the letter to Angela with predictable results. She was dead set against going to the police.
“No, absolutely not,” she said. “That letter must be destroyed. Don’t you understand what it would do to my reputation and the reputation of the gallery? Just the mention of contraband animal parts and the stink will hang around us. We’ll always be suspect. My contacts will refuse to deal with me. We’d have to close the gallery. No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Destroy the letter. Right now, in front of me.”
“It’s my letter,” said Maris, “and I’ll decide what to do with it.” Even though she knew Angela was right and she didn’t want to see the gallery destroyed, it annoyed her that Angela was being so imperious. She didn’t like being told what to do, especially by Angela.
Dinah, on the other hand, disagreed with Angela for different reasons. She held to her belief that this was an important clue to Peter’s murder and that they owed it to him to find out who killed him.
“The police have been useless,” said Angela, “and this letter won’t make them any more efficient. Besides,” she said, “they can pull my fingernails out and I won’t tell them who my supplier is.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” said Dinah. “The police don’t have to resort to torture; they can probably arrest you for obstruction of justice or something and you’ll have to testify at your trial.” Secretly, though, she wouldn’t have minded if they tortured Angela. She was fed up with her management style. Angela had no right to tell them what to do.
Ultimately the choice had to be Maris’s. The letter was addressed to her. Peter had relinquished the information to her because he expected her to do the right thing. He could not have known what the future held, although clearly he feared that something might happen to him as a result of his discovery.
Maris thought about showing the letter to Axel. They had become intimate and she trusted him. She valued his opinion and would have liked his advice in the matter. But she wasn’t sure this was the right time to introduce something this emotionally upsetting into their relationship. On the one hand, it would test Axel’s commitment to her, but on the other hand, it could also drive him away. They were still in the early courtship phase of their relationship, she figured. Not the time for a big ordeal.
So what should she do? When in doubt, she thought, wait. Nothing was going to bring Peter back. There were a lot of things to consider and her decision would have consequences for all of them and the gallery. Would Peter have wanted her to bring about the end of the gallery? Something that had been his life’s work? Was there a way she could do this and not have it ruin the gallery? Was there any way to separate Peter’s life — and death — from the gallery?