“Be patient, thereismore!”
Phyllis reached into her bag again, and despite herself, Nova found she was holding her breath. Then Phyllis withdrew her hand, and Nova exhaled in disappointment when the woman placed what looked like the contents of a rubbish bin on the table.
“Did you steal all of this?” Nova said, not really wanting to know the answer.
“It wasn’t theft. I was simply doing some recycling.”
“Is that a used tissue?” Arthur said, his nose wrinkled.
“Ignore that. It’s these we’re interested in.” Phyllis pushed several pieces of paper toward Arthur.
Nova stepped forward to get a closer look. “Is that a torn-up envelope?”
“Exactly!”
“How does that help us?”
“At the wake, my source told me that on Wednesday, shortly before Eve was murdered, he heard Michael and his mother arguing about a letter. Initially I thought they might have been fighting about the credit card bill, but then I found these ripped up in the bin.”
“But what good is this to us?” Nova said. “We can’t even see who the envelope was addressed to, half the pieces are missing.”
“It’s not who the letter wastowe’re interested in,” Phyllis said. “It’s who the letter wasfrom.”
She picked up another scrap of paper from her pile and passed it to Nova, who glanced at the words on it and frowned.
“Ham pie…pudding. Phyllis, this isn’t a clue, it’s a bit of old shopping list.”
“No, I believe it’s a return address on the back of the envelope. Look, you can see a bit of the sealed flap here. And look again at what it says next to pudding.”
Nova reread the scrap. “It says 3 Pudding, but I can’t read anything else as it’s been ripped.”
“Do you see now?” Phyllis’s face was alight.
“See what?”
“It’s an address,” Ash said, and when Nova looked over at him, he was staring at his phone, his thumbs moving fast across the screen. “According to this there are two Pudding Lanes in the UK, one Pudding Street and one Pudding Road.” He looked up from his screen. “One of the Pudding Lanes is in Port Gowan.”
“I knew it!” Phyllis crowed. “Whoever that letter was from, this is where they live. My guess is it’s someone Michael owes money to, perhaps a dodgy loan shark. Either way, I believe if we trace this—”
“It’s not a loan shark,” Ash interrupted, and Nova saw his eyes were bright with excitement too. “It’s a man called Graham Pierce who owns a company called Pierce Security.”
“Ham pie,” Arthur said, smiling in admiration at Ash’s detective skills. “But why would Cynthia and Michael need security?”
“It’s not just security. Here, look at the website.”
Ash held out his phone and they all crowded closer to see.
“Read it aloud, I haven’t got my glasses on,” Arthur said.
Ash cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed at having to speak in front of them all.
“Graham Pierce has worked in security for ten years, following a career in the British Intelligence Service.”
“British Intelligence Service!” Phyllis interrupted. “You know what that means? The man’s a spy, a trained killer.”
“He can provide a range of services from personal security tosurveillance and private investigation work,” Ash continued. “If you’re interested in using his services then call the number below to arrange a meeting. Competitive rates, discretion guaranteed.”
Phyllis was bouncing up and down, barely able to contain her excitement. “Cynthia must have employed this private investigator to help get her hands on Eve’s money. Maybe Eve found the letter and told Michael what Cynthia was up to, and that’s what they were arguing about? And then Cynthia realized her secret was out, so she killed Eve and made Michael disappear!”
