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“Throwing it onto my burn pile.” Bob Morton looked irritated.

“Can I have them, please?” she asked. The note on the back of the envelope was explosive, and this man would have tossed it on his burn pile. Destroyed it forever.

Morton frowned. “Why?”

“Because they’re likely evidence from the post office robbery that happened on Thursday last week.” She tried to keep her tone polite.

“Wait here.” Morton stomped off, and returned a few minutes later with five letters.

Some had the south London address on them that she’d found the day before, some had the astonishing note she’d just read, some were blank. All had a Holland Park postmark.

“There might have been more, but the wind blew them off the pile,” Morton said.

“If you find them in your garden, please keep them aside for the police or myself,” Gabriella said. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Morton.”

She turned back the way she’d come, heading straight for the high street.

“What about my complaint?” Morton called after her.

“I’m off to speak to the police right now, Mr. Morton,” she called.

“Well, you could have said,” he muttered.

She reached the first road to the left, and stopped on the corner. If she turned here, rather than continuing straight on to the high street, she could walk past the Jamesons’ house and see if it looked like there was anyone at home.

She was headed for a telephone box, because she planned to call Mr. Greenberg at headquarters and follow the correct steps. She did not want anyone to dismiss the information or find an excuse to delay.

There was, however, also a telephone box on Holland Park Avenue. It would only add a few minutes to her journey and being able to let the police know if anyone was inside the house was surely worth the extra time it would take her to get to the Holland Park one.

She turned down the street, and then left again.

Mrs. McKenzie wasn’t in her garden, which wasn’t surprising as the rain looked imminent.

The Jamesons’ house looked as neglected as ever, with no lights on anywhere.

The thought that Jerry had been right there every time she’d walked down the street was infuriating.

Mrs. McKenzie had been right all along.

The rain suddenly started with a burst, flinging icy, hard drops in her face, and she got her umbrella out. It gave her a good excuse to stand on the pavement outside the house, and as she shook the umbrella out and opened it, she looked across as casually as she could.

She saw a furtive movement at the side of the house, and her heart jumped in her chest.

She took a step down the street to give herself a better view, and was just in time to see Teddy Roe as he rounded the back of the house.

She stood, rain hammering down on her umbrella, trying to think things through.

If she’d found an envelope with the message on it, and so had Mr. Morton, Teddy Roe, patrolling up and down the streets looking for Jerry, certainly could have, too.

Shit. She was going to have to go after him.

She glanced up and down the street and then eased the squeaky gate open and ran around the side, toward where she’d last seen Teddy Roe.

She reached the corner and peered round, and found Teddy Roe right in front of her, with a garden rake raised in his hands.

“Gabriella!” He lowered the rake. “What are you doing here?”

“I found an envelope, and I was walking past this place on the way to telephone the police to see if anyone was home when I saw you skulking about.” She glared at him. “Come away now. Let’s wait for the police.”