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“Unlike you,” Will said, “I own a conscience. I’d never betray Moira.” He patted Marie’s hand. “You convinced me where my loyalties lie. You also knew Moira never sent those lovesick emails to Davey.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Marie said. “Moira spoke perfect French. When it came to love, she always wrote in longhand and in French. It’s much more romantic.” She stroked Will’s cheek. “Isn’t that so, darling?”

“Those emails you gave me when you came to dinner?” Beth asked. “I took them to Moira, but she was ill and irrational, so I decided to wait until she felt better and could deal with the situation. It wasn’t until later that day that I realized the case containing the emails was gone from my bag. Knowing what a snoop Elise was, I believed she’d gone through my things, found the case, and put it aside to read the contents at her leisure. When I phoned to ask her about the case, she swore she hadn’t kept it.”

“That might be true,” Glen said. “Apparently the maid removed the case but returned it to the wrong purse.” He glanced at Judith. “Then the emails disappeared from Grimloch where they’d been taken inadvertently. Unfortunately, we don’t know who wrote them.”

“I do,” Will said grimly. “Jocko concocted the emails to prove that Moira and Davey were having an affair.” He ignored Jocko’s voluble protests and paused to give the other man a venomous stare. “You created those emails before fleeing to Greece. I found them in your safe at headquarters. You forgot that as chief financial officer, I know all the safe combinations. I also turned up some very interesting and imaginative figures intended to bloat the company’s bottom line.”

“Bloody parasite!” Jocko shouted, and had to be restrained by Glen. “You’d betray your own mother if you thought it’d line your fancy bespoke pockets!”

Renie smirked. “I didn’t think Jocko knew words like ‘bespoke.’ His own clothes look like he bought them at Rummage ‘R’ Us.”

Will’s gaze turned to Archie. “The police have found them in your garage. I learned from Moira that you, Seumas,” he went on, pointing a finger at the attorney, who had resumed his usual air of smug respectability, “went to Hollywood House to supposedly apologize for the dustup you and Jocko had with Patrick. Elise turned you away—but not before you managed to elicit the information that the maid had erroneously put the jewel case in Mrs. Flynn’s purse instead of Beth’s.”

“Please,” Seumas said with disdain. “Leave me out of this farce.”

“Are you taking notes?” Renie asked Judith.

“I don’t need to,” she said. “Beth is Kate’s daughter. The apple never falls far from the tree. I bet this whole mess is being taped.”

Will was still speaking: “Don’t play the innocent with me, Seumas. You relayed that information to Jocko, who had Archie steal the case from Mrs. Flynn when he came to Grimloch about Gibbs’s car.”

“Of course!” Judith whispered to Renie. “We knew Archie had been at the castle that day.”

“Your batting average on this one’s pretty high—” Renie stopped, looking startled.

Archie had set upon Will. Jocko broke free from Constable Glen to join his brother in the fracas. Glen blew his whistle, summoning Adamson from outside. Seumas and Matt argued loudly; Philip shielded Beth; Marie smashed a table lamp over Archie’s head; Peggy curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Where are our husbands?” Renie said suddenly. “Joe could shoot these people and Bill could ship the survivors to a mental home.”

Judith sighed. “Let’s not think about it. I’m getting a headache.”

Adamson and Glen had subdued the combatants just before DCI MacRae entered the drawing room, accompanied by Sergeant Ogilvie and two more constables. MacRae turned to Jocko Morton. “I’m placing you under arrest for complicity in the murder of Harry Gibbs,” he announced.

Jocko started to bluster but Seumas spoke up: “Don’t say a word! I’m your attorney, remember?”

Adamson cuffed Jocko, who glared at Seumas. MacRae faced the other Morton and recited the same charge to Archie. “You,” MacRae said to Seumas, “are a person of interest, and will come along, too.” He looked at Matt. “The Yard’s special unit will deal with you. Don’t leave the area.”

“What about Patrick?” Seumas demanded. “He’s already been charged with homicide and you let him get away.”

“Did I?” MacRae smiled slightly. “Careless of me.” He herded the group out the door.

A solemn Matt Gibbs went to his wife. “Get up, Peggy.” He shook her recumbent figure gently. “It’s over.” He sighed. “It’s all over.”

Peggy sat up slowly and let her husband ease her out of the chair. She leaned on him, her eyes half shut. “It wasn’t worth it,” she mumbled. “The price was too high.” Without looking at anyone, she let Matt guide her out of the room.

“My God!” Beth exclaimed. “I’m not sure I understand any of this!”

Philip held his head in his hands. “What is there to understand? A conspiracy of greedy people destroyed the lives of my Chuckie and Harry Gibbs, all for their own gain. The age of the robber baron never ended. It’s stronger than ever in big business these days.”

“But who actually killed Harry?” Beth asked.

Philip looked at Will; Will looked at Marie; Marie looked at Beth; Judith and Renie looked at all of them.

“I don’t know,” Philip finally said in a weary voice.

“I think I do.” Judith grimaced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t intrude.”

Everyone, including Renie, turned to stare at her. Feeling a bit foolish and worn out from worrying, Judith sank into the chair Peggy Gibbs had vacated. “First,” she began as Renie handed her a half inch of Scotch, “I have to ask you a question, Will.”

He looked surprised. “Well…of course.”

“Why did you really switch sides?”

Will put his arm around Marie. “It was my wife who insisted.”

Judith smiled slightly. “That’s not the entire reason.”

Will laid his head back on the sofa. “No. It was Jimmy. He desperately wanted to take over the company. The man is driven, eaten alive by resentment over his illegitimate birth and deprived of what he feels is his inheritance.” Will paused and sat up straight. “Jimmy is astute and competent, with an excellent head for business. Given Moira’s indifference to Blackwell, Harry’s meddling, and Jocko urging me to alter the company’s books to make him look better as well as richer, I believed it was in everyone’s best interests to have Jimmy in charge.”

“What made you change your mind?” Judith asked.

“Jocko came back from Greece,” Will explained. “Jimmy was furious. I’d told him about Jocko’s attempts at deception with company records. Instead of telling the police, he did nothing. I knew something was going on behind my back. It was the South American buyout.”

“Which,” Philip put in, “would’ve placed Harry in charge.”

Will nodded. “On the day of Harry’s murder, I ran into Jimmy at the Rood & Mitre. I thought it odd. He rarely frequented pubs, and when he did, he had a drink and left. Then I heard about Harry. I figured Jimmy was giving himself an alibi.”

“But,” Beth pointed out, “he was in the pub, so he couldn’t have committed the actual crime.”

“He didn’t,” Judith said. “But he put everything in motion, including connivance with Jocko and Archie Morton.”

“How do you know that?” Marie asked.

Judith shrugged. “All along, I felt jealousy was the motive. It caused Davey’s death, the jealous husband angle.” She saw the expressions of surprise and incredulity on the two couples’ faces. “Jocko goaded Harry into murdering Davey, hoping Harry would get caught and go to prison. But someone—Patrick, I suspect—put pressure on Hugh MacGowan to hold off with the investigation. Or was it you, Will?”