Sam’s stomach drops. “Did you agree to allow someone to use your bank account, Andrei?”
“No comment.”
“Did someone offer you money to burn down—”
“No comment.”
“Andrei, think of Nadja.” Sam leans forward. “Please. Tell us the truth about the arson and the money from the sale of that book and I will personally speak to the CPS about—”
“No comment.”
Sam takes a deep, calming breath. “Do you know a man named Barry Brown?”
“No.”
“How about Betty Brown?”
“Betty from book. I wroteHow to Get Away with Murder.”
“But did you kill Betty?”
“No.”
“Did anyone ask you to confess to writingHow to Get Away with—”
Everyone in the room jumps at a sharp knock on the door. Harry’s head pops around it and says, “The search team have found something.” Sam doesn’t like the urgent excitement in his voice, but stops the recording, excuses herself and steps out into the corridor to find DC Chen waiting for her. The grin on Harry’s face makes her skin prickle.
“Jack Mathers and Denver Brady,” he says, beaming. “That’s how we’ll be remembered. Two in one week.” At Sam’s uncomprehending expression, he gestures to Chen, who hands Sam several evidence bags, and she turns her attention to the larger one first. At first glance it appears to be a ream of paper, but a closer look shows the sheets are covered in lines of typed text, with handwriting and crossings-out along the margins.
“From the Albescu property. We found these in a storage box, wrapped in bin bags. It appears to be a manuscript, ma’am—an early draft of a book,” Chen says. “We also have this laptop, which is running the dark web and contains only a handful of files, each named the same thing, with a simple numbering suffix.”
Sam swallows.
“Multiple drafts, ma’am,” Chen goes on. “How to Get Away with MurderVersion One, Two, Three and so on. And that’s just on the desktop. When I get done with this laptop, we’ll have—”
She turns her attention to the smaller bag. Something small and blue, a hint of red and silver. She shudders.
“Earrings and a ring with a sapphire gemstone, Sam,” says Harry, rubbing his hands together. “The proverbial nails in the Romanian’s coffin. This is it, Sam. This will make you.”
Sam struggles to breathe.
“Excuse me…” The lawyer is sticking his head around the door behind them, which he has opened just enough to do so. “We haven’t got all day and my client—”
“A moment, please,” Harry replies, dismissing the man, but the lawyer doesn’t close the door. Instead, his eyes linger on the laptop and the bin bags. His mouth forms a tight line, then he reenters the room where Andrei waits. “Get the jewelry to the lab and do your magic with the laptop, Chen. This isn’t a done deal, by any stretch, but I think you’ve got him, Sam. I’ll call the CPS myself.”
“Sir.” Chen nods, then he turns to Sam, adding, “Congratulations, ma’am,” before striding away.
“Andrei Albescu is not Denver Brady,” Sam cries, an itchy heat rising up her neck. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know in my gut that the man did not writeHow to Get Away with Murderand he certainly did not murder Betty Brown and Melanie Davison or—”
“Sam…” Harry holds his hands up, palms open. “We have the money trail, the CCTV from the petrol station and now, it seems, a lot more besides. We follow the evidence, not baseless theories.”
“He’s not Denver.” Sam stares him hard in the face. “I am certain. I have witnesses who—”
“Look, why don’t you take some time—”
“Harry!” Sam hisses, feeling a little spittle fly from her mouth. “It’s not him.”
“Is this really a hill you’re willing to die on, Sam?” Harry whispers.
