The line went dead.
Chapter Thirteen
Clio
Clio searched the internet for mentions of Minxu Peng and found nothing. She tried the police databases and got a hit. Minxu Peng was a missing person. Just like Zofia. The difference was that Minxu’s body had recently been pulled out of the Thames.
She exhaled sharply. A job at this Institute in St. Andrews was starting to look like a poisoned chalice. When they were in the British Museum, Lillian had told her that one of the groups of women was likely embedded in academia. What if some of them were based in Scotland?
Something else was needling her. When they spoke at the British Museum, Lillian had also mentioned a “dear friend” who she’d lost.
She wanted to find out who this person was. Tim might know, but she hesitated to ask him. If she was to take Lillian’s advice seriously, she’d already said enough. Too much, possibly, though her gut was to trust him.
She thought back to Lillian’s funeral. The attendees had been a mix of former colleagues and a couple of distant family members. Clio’s grief had been overwhelming that day and she hadn’t lingered after the service. In fact, she’d barely spoken to anyone and sheregretted that now. But there was one person who might be able to identify this friend, someone who’d been working in their building longer than Lillian, someone Lillian had formed a bond with. Clio picked up the phone and asked the switchboard to put her through to the cafeteria.
Ethel was in. It didn’t surprise Clio. Ethel was always in. She ran the canteen and was a friend to everyone. Clio asked the question.
“What’s it worth?” Ethel cackled.
“A box of Ferrero Rocher?” Everyone knew they were Ethel’s favorite.
“Lillian palled about for years with Pippa Wade. You couldn’t separate them if you tried. But Pippa died.”
“What happened?”
“She was shot during a raid. Awful. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but Lillian was never the same after.”
Clio googled the name, found what she needed. Philippa Wade was buried with police honors in 2011. She had died in the line of fire during an undercover operation and was survived by her husband, Geoff, an engineer. No kids. It was easy to find Geoff. He lived in Chiswick. She grabbed her bag and headed out.
Geoff Wade’s house was in the middle of a well-kept Victorian row. She rang the bell. Geoff was dapper, gracious, and amenable to talking to her. His home was immaculate, but she felt as if loneliness was lurking in its nooks and crannies. The air was so still, the surfaces so clean. From the look of the décor, she’d have put money on the fact that this room had looked exactly the same the day Pippa died. Prominent on his mantel was a framed photograph of a beautiful young woman.
“Is this Pippa?” Clio asked.
“It is. It was taken on the day we got engaged. I miss her every day, even after all these years.” He fixed Clio with a stern look. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but if you’re truly a friend of Lillian’s then you’re a friend of mine. Otherwise, you can leave now.”
“Lillian meant the world to me. She was my mentor. I’m here because just before she died, she mentioned Pippa in the context of something she was working on, and I wanted to know if you could shed some light on it.”
“Why aren’t you asking your colleagues?”
She hesitated. Geoff didn’t seem like a man who suffered fools gladly. She chose her words carefully. “It’s sensitive.”
He looked interested. “Okay, let’s stop talking in code. Pippa was murdered by one of your own. I knew it, Lillian knew it. We could never prove it. The police claimed her death was accidental, unfortunate, you name it, but there were far too many coincidences that day for it to be true. Pippa was pulled onto an operation last minute. It was undercover. She’d never been undercover. She was put in the line of fire with inadequate briefing. In the debrief, it was implied that the so-called accident happened because she had a lapse in judgment, but if there was one thing she absolutely was not lacking in, it was judgment. Pippa didn’t have lapses. She was whip-smart, the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known. It was all a lie.”
Clio felt as if there was ice water dripping down her spine. “Why would they lie?”
“Because she knew something she shouldn’t. She’d been working on a case with Lillian. Two groups of powerful women, out to get each other. Pippa had told Lillian she’d made a breakthrough, but they needed to meet in person. It wasn’t something she was willing to say over the phone.”
“But Pippa never made it to the meeting,” Clio guessed.
He shook his head. “She was pulled onto this operation instead. She and Lillian were due to meet at the British Museum. Lillian said she knew, as soon as the meeting time passed and there was no sign of Pippa, that something was wrong. Pippa was never late.”
“Do you know where in the museum they were supposed to meet?” Clio asked, although she suspected she already knew.
“There’s a piece of medieval embroidery on display there. Doesn’tlook like much to my eyes, but it meant something to the case. Pippa never told me what. They were supposed to meet in front of it.”
Clio felt as though someone was walking over her grave. “Who was running the operation that Pippa was working on?”
Geoff’s face clouded as he fought yet more emotions. She was rattled by how fresh his anger and grief still were, even after all this time. “An asshole called Tony Axford,” he said.
