"Maybe at first she just meant to talk some sense into Kristin," she said. "Ellen's Mercedes was in for repairs, so she might have had the Land Rover out for a small errand, then parked near the house rather than in the lockup-"
Kincaid picked it up. "But the car had no plates-from the records I'd guess it's an old mud car from their country place-and that might have occurred to her while she was sitting in front of Kristin's building, waiting for Kristin to come home. And Dom's news about Erika coming forward would have raised the stakes enormously. It meant not possible ruin, but certain ruin. She must have realized that if Erika came forward, it wasn't just reputation, but the possibility that the Millers and their business assets could have faced a lawsuit. There are enough precedents. There have been both individuals and corporations sued for profiting from atrocities committed against Jews during the war."
"And then she saw Kristin walking down from the bus stop, alone." Gemma watched the leaves of Erika's fig tree move in the breeze. "And she knew Kristin would have to cross the road-"
"And Ellen would have guessed that she could risk the CCTV, because the car had no plates, and the camera would never get a clear view of the driver's face." Kincaid paused, and when he went on, his voice held a hint of awe. "What a risk she took. But she couldn't stop there. She still had to try to get the brooch removed from the sale. So the next morning, she sent Dom to see Harry Pevensey. That was the row Harry's neighbor heard. But Harry refused as well-even a percentage of the reserve on the brooch would have been a godsend to him-"
"And Dom had no proof of ownership, not without doing the very thing he was trying to avoid." Gemma couldn't help but feel pity for Dominic Scott. "And then when he went home to tell his mum Harry wouldn't cooperate, we were there to tell him Kristin was dead, murdered. No wonder he fainted on us. He must have realized his mother had killed her."
Kincaid finished the thought for her. "And then, because Dom had failed in his mission, that night Ellen killed Harry, too."
Gemma felt ill, not only for the vicious deaths of Kristin Cahill and Harry Pevensey, but for the brutal choice Ellen Miller had forced on her son. "And Dom-Dom had to decide whether to inform on the mother who had bullied him his entire life, in the process ruining his family's-and more important, his grandfather's-name-"
"Or let his mother get away with murdering two innocent people. No wonder the sad bugger decided it was easier to top himself."
"Or three people," said Gemma. She looked through the conservatory window at Erika, still sitting in the kitchen, and told him that Erika had seen a car waiting in her street last night, its lights dark, and that she had described it as looking like a Land Rover. "If her cabdriver hadn't waited until she got in her door-" Only then did the enormity of what might have happened really hit her.
"Bloody hell!" Kincaid swore so viciously that Gemma jumped. "Of course. Erika. Erika is the last, and the most vital, link. You were right to have been worried about her. Listen-" He stopped and Gemma heard Cullen's voice in the background, and Kincaid responding with "No, hang on to the warrant. We're not going to search the garage yet. We don't want to tip Ellen Miller-Scott off. I have a much better idea."
"I will not let you put another young woman's life in jeopardy." Erika crossed her arms, looking as stubborn as Gemma had ever seen her.
Gemma sat once more in the chair opposite and studied her friend across the small kitchen table. Although when Kincaid had explained to her what he meant to do, she'd agreed reluctantly, she knew that he was right. Now she just had to convince Erika.
"I know you don't want to do that," she said earnestly, meeting Erika's gaze. "But you don't want to see Ellen Miller-Scott get away with two murders, not to mention what she did to her son. And we can't place her at the wheel of that car at the time of the collisions, any more than we could have placed Dominic."
"But if you find evidence on the car-"
"It doesn't matter. Any good lawyer would make mincemeat of it, and Ellen will have the best. All she has to do is say her son was driving, and that he took his own life because he felt guilty over what he'd done. She could even say Dom was drink-driving and both deaths were tragic accidents, and we couldn't prove otherwise. But"-she leaned forward, pushing her empty teacup and plate aside-"we believe she's going to give us the perfect opportunity to prove intent to commit murder.
"I think she waited for you to come home last night. I suspect she rang first to see if you were in-we'll check your caller ID-and when you didn't answer, she took her opportunity, and if not for your cabbie, she might have succeeded. We'll need to be prepared for her to ring you again," Gemma added, "because if you are at home, she'll need some ruse to get you out of the house."
"But her son is dead! How could this woman go on with-"
"I don't believe for one moment that Dom's suicide will stop her from trying again. Ellen doesn't know how much we know, so as far as she's concerned, if she silences you, she removes the threat to her way of life and preserves her father's legacy."
Erika gazed out into the garden, and the slight movement of air from the open window moved a feather of white hair against her cheek. She sighed. "Gemma, I'm not disagreeing with any of that. No one wants to see this woman caught more than I. But I want to do it myself. I don't believe that a decoy will convince her, and it's my right to take the risk. If I hadn't kept silent all these years-"
"Her father would have killed you the way he killed David," Gemma said brutally. "Joss Miller must have been sure David hadn't told you what he'd learned, and decided that killing you after he'd murdered David might cause unnecessary interest. But now you have a chance to close the books, and you need to let us do our job. And our job is to protect you as much as it is to catch a killer."
There was a long moment, in which Gemma heard the neighbors who rented the flat upstairs from Erika scraping furniture across the floor. And then, in the following silence, a faint thread of music, the theme of an afternoon show on the telly.
"All right," Erika agreed at last. "But I don't like it. And I still don't believe anyone can play me convincingly."
Gemma smiled, her relief making her flippant. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were a bit full of yourself. Give us a bit of cred-"
The door buzzer sounded, making them both start. When Erika started to rise, Gemma motioned her back with a hand. "No," she said softly. "Let me get it." She grabbed her phone, her heart thumping, and went quietly towards the front of the flat. They had assumed Ellen Miller-Scott would stick with the tried and true, keeping her hands clean, but assumptions were just that. They had no assurance that she wouldn't try to attack Erika in her flat in broad daylight.
But before she could peek out the bedroom window, she heard Melody's voice calling out, "Boss, are you okay in there?"
"Melody!" Gemma unlatched the door and urged Melody inside. "What are you doing here?"
"Your mobile's not picking up. I was worried about you."
"Damn," said Gemma, wondering if she'd missed other calls. Her signal had been patchy when she talked to Duncan.
"And I had something to show you," Melody went on. She pulled a sheet of paper from her bag, and Gemma recognized it as another copy made from the Guardian archives.
Gemma took the page and moved farther into the hall, where she could hold the picture under the wall sconce, and stared at it, trying to take in what she saw.