"Ellen Miller-Scott and Harry Pevensey knew each other? She said she'd never heard of him."
"I'd guess it was more a case of knowing in the biblical sense than a casual acquaintance," said Melody. "I did some more research. Six months after this photo was taken, Ellen Miller married Stephen Scott, who was tall, blond, and blue eyed. It was a society wedding, and they made a very handsome couple. The next year, Ellen and Stephen's son, Dominic, was born a bit prematurely.
"I looked up some background on Harry Pevensey as well. His mother was Indian, from Calcutta. Even though she apparently came from a well-connected family, I doubt that would have cut any ice with Ellen Miller's father."
"So when Ellen got pregnant, he found a more suitable candidate?" Gemma looked back at the photo, saw in the young man's smiling face the dark good looks of Dom Scott. She handed the pages back to Melody and wiped her fingers against her trousers, as if she could erase the imprint of Dom's face from her mind. There was no way Ellen Miller-Scott could not have known whose child she had borne.
"Boss-"
"That was the one connection we couldn't make, between Harry and Dom." Gemma swallowed. "Ellen Miller-Scott killed her son's father."
CHAPTER 22
It is not merely of some importance but is of fundamental importance that justice should not only be seen to be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.
Lord Hewart, Rex v. Sussex Justices, 9 Nov. 1923 (King's Bench Reports, 1924, Vol. I, p. 259)
The decoy arrived well before dark. Her name was Wendy Chen, and she was a detective sergeant with whom Gemma had worked when at the Yard. Not only was she as slight in stature as Erika, but Gemma had remembered that she had a flair for amateur dramatics.
Now, with a white wig and some of Erika's clothes, they would have to hope that in the dark she would pass for Erika.
Melody had left to liaise with Kincaid and Cullen, and Gemma couldn't blame her for wanting to be in on the action. But even though there was now another police officer in the flat, Gemma had no intention of leaving Erika alone until this was over.
She had rung Wesley Howard and asked him to take the boys to his mum's for the evening-Kit would object to being assigned a minder, but she didn't feel comfortable leaving them on their own. She had no way of knowing if Ellen Miller-Scott had realized she had a personal connection with Erika, but she was taking no more chances with her family's safety.
And she had rung the hospital and spoken to the charge nurse, who told her that her mum was resting comfortably and had started instructing the aides in how to care for the patient in the next bed-a sign, Gemma thought, that her mum was feeling at least a bit perkier.
When she tried to check in with Cyn, her sister's phone went straight to voice mail, and her dad answered neither flat nor bakery. Like Harry Pevensey, her father refused to carry a mobile phone, and his stubbornness irritated Gemma no end. Hanging up, she came in from the garden feeling worried and aggravated in equal parts.
As Gemma didn't want anyone to go out, just in case Ellen was watching the flat, they made do with a supper of salads and meats that Erika had on hand from the deli. Neither Gemma nor Erika, however, had much appetite.
As dusk fell, Wendy put on a pair of Erika's trousers and one of the long, colorful jackets Erika favored, then fitted the wig and pulled the thick white hair up into a twist.
At Gemma's insistence, Erika had drunk her usual before-dinner glass of dry sherry, and now her cheeks were flushed pink against her pale skin. "That's not right," she said, and made Wendy sit at her dressing table while she redid the wig, but after two attempts she dropped the brush in frustration. "It's like a man trying to tie a necktie on someone else. My muscle memory isn't cooperating. And that awful wig doesn't look a thing like my hair," she added, her nose wrinkled in distaste.
"Let's try movement, then," suggested Wendy, leading her into the sitting room. "That's the most important thing. Walk across the room for me."
When Erika complied, Gemma saw that she was holding her spine stiffly upright, and moving more slowly than usual. "No, just relax," said Gemma. "Talk to me while you walk. Pretend you're going to the shops."
"That woman will never fall for this," Erika muttered as she took another few turns around the room. "She doesn't make mistakes."
"Let me try." Wendy demonstrated, holding her shoulders forward just a bit, changing the angle of her head, and adding a very slight halt to her step. The transformation was amazing.
"I don't look like that," protested Erika, incensed.
"Oh, but you do," said Gemma, laughing. "That's very good. It would fool me, at least from a distance."
"The eye sees what it expects to see," explained Wendy. "Miller-Scott had a chance to watch you last night, Erika, and maybe other times as well, so she'll have a visual imprint. That's all it takes for most people to make a quick identification if you give them the right cues."
Gemma sobered instantly at the idea that Ellen Miller-Scott might have watched Erika more than once, and nerves began to get the best of her. The time seemed to pass like treacle dripping from a jar, and she had to stop herself checking the clock every other minute. "You'll be all right, won't you?" she whispered to Wendy when Erika had gone into the kitchen. "If she believes you're Erika, she won't hesitate to run you down."
"I was a gymnast," Wendy assured her. "I can drop and roll like a champ."
When it grew so dark that Gemma could see her reflection in the garden window, she drew the shade. It would have to be soon, or Ellen wouldn't believe she could lure Erika out.
Kincaid had rung to tell her they had the unmarked cars in position, two at the bottom of Arundel Gardens-one either side of the Kensington Park Road T-junction, and two at the top end-either side of Ladbroke Grove. They believed Ellen would come down the curve of Landsdowne Road and cross Ladbroke Grove. Her car had been facing down the street when Erika had seen it the previous evening, and that route would give her the best visibility as well as the best chance to get up speed.
But how, Gemma wondered, did Ellen intend to get Erika out of the house and into the street? She couldn't drive the car up on the pavement, as she had with Harry Pevensey-the cars parked either side of Arundel Gardens would block her access.
"Erika-" The burr of the phone made them all start, even though they'd been prepared.
They looked at one another, then Gemma nodded. "Easy now," she whispered to Erika. "And whatever she says, agree."
"Hello?" Erika clicked the phone on, sounding only a little breathless, as if she'd had to cross the room to answer. "Yes. Yes, it is," she said, then listened intently, and Gemma heard the faint sound of a woman's voice issuing from the handset. "You do?" Erika sounded a little befuddled, and Gemma thought Wendy Chen wasn't the only one with a flair for drama. "But that's-Well, it's rather late, but-Are you sure you won't-Yes, I see." She nodded, as if the caller could see her. "Yes, all right. Five minutes, then. Across the street. Thank you," she added, then disconnected.
"Of all the bloody nerve," she said, turning to Gemma and sounding not the least bit confused. "She said she worked at Harrowby's and knew something about my brooch, but that if anyone knew she'd spoken with me, she'd get into trouble. She said she'd be waiting in a red Fiat across the street."
"Is there a red Fiat?" Gemma asked Wendy.
"Yes. She's scouted."