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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHELMSFORD, ENGLAND

MONDAY, MARCH 27, 2023

9:00 P.M.

At nine o’clock Monday night, Howard Wallace sat in his office, staring disconsolately at the phone on his desk. Camille Lee was due to fly home on Tuesday. Unfortunately, since the investigation into Adrian Willoughby’s homicide was going nowhere fast, he had no reason to have her hang around any longer.

Days in, DI Wallace and DS Frost had yet to identify a single viable suspect. Under questioning, Camille Lee had pointed the finger at someone named George Smythe, but she had done so without supplying a scintilla of actual evidence. Smythe was evidently a highly respected member of the UK’s cybersecurity elite. Although Wallace and Frost had done a good deal of research on the guy, they’d come up empty. Camille Lee’s finger-pointing didn’t qualify as anything close to probable cause. As for bringing someone that prominent in for random questioning when Howard didn’t have anything to back up his suspicions? That was a surefire recipe for disaster.

They had also looked at Willoughby’s wife, but like Camille Lee, she, too, had an airtight alibi. Mrs. Willoughby had been in Wales with a group of girlfriends at the time of her husband’s murder. In other words, it was time for the investigators to go back to square one and start over.

Knowing he was admitting defeat, Howard picked up his phone and dialed. “DI Wallace here,” he said when Camille Lee answered.

“Any news?” she asked.

“Not so far,” he said without going into any further detail. “I wanted you to know that, as far as the Essex Police are concerned, you’re free to fly home.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Camille told him. “That’ll give me time to pack and notify the front desk that I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I hope you catch him.”

No doubt she meant that she hoped they’d catch George Smythe. Howard was glad she didn’t actually speak the name aloud because he might have been forced to reply, “Not bloody likely!”

When the call ended, DI Wallace left his desk and turned off the lights in his office before closing the door. He was feeling defeated, yes, but he’d be back in the game tomorrow.