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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHELMSFORD, ENGLAND

TUESDAY, MARCH 28, 2023

11:00 A.M.

The next morning, as expected, DI Wallace and DS Frost went to work. They spent the morning going back to the very beginning of the Adrian Willoughby case, searching through their notes and interviews and combing for some tiny detail that might have been overlooked. DS Frost had just gone to fetch coffee when the desk sergeant showed up.

“Someone’s out front asking to see you, sir,” he announced. “Says her name’s Angela Baker. She’s a solicitor.”

Wallace frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”

“She was all over the news last week after she took that MP to court. The guy thought he had his divorce agreement all tied up in a neat little bow, but she found out he had been stashing money away without his wife’s knowledge. Angela Baker made mincemeat of him.”

Since Howard Wallace had suffered a similar fate in his own divorce proceeding years earlier, Angela Baker’s reputation for demolishing divorcing husbands wasn’t a stellar recommendation.

“What does she want?” he growled.

“Claims she has information about the Willoughby case.”

“Sure she does,” DI Wallace muttered, “but go ahead and bring her in.”

The woman who appeared in front of him a few moments later certainly looked the part of a high-powered solicitor. She was a pencil-thin older woman, dressed in a designer suit, wearing very high heels, and carrying a monogrammed briefcase. With her silver hair cut in a perfectly angled bob, she looked as tough as her vividly manicured nails.

“DI Howard Wallace?” she inquired.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, getting to his feet. “And you’re Ms. Baker?”

Nodding, she took a seat without waiting to be invited.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I understand you’re investigating the Adrian Willoughby homicide?” she inquired.

“That is correct.”

“In that case, I may have some pertinent information for you.”

Just then, DS Frost appeared in the doorway carrying two cups of coffee.

“This is my partner, Detective Sergeant Frost. Do you mind if he joins us?”

“Not at all.”

After making the introductions and offering their guest one of the two cups of coffee—which she refused—they settled down to business.

“You have something for us about the Adrian Willoughby case?” Wallace prompted.

Angela Baker nodded before hefting her briefcase up into her lap and using a combination lock to click it open. Instead of removing any of the contents, she leveled a green-eyed stare in DI Wallace’s direction.

“I’ve been retained by a woman named Maggie Smythe to represent her interests in a divorce proceeding against her husband, George.”

Wallace’s whole body stiffened as he made the connection. If Angela noticed the reaction, she ignored it.

“You may recognize the name,” she continued. “His company, Cybersecurity International, is one of the top cybersecurity firms in the country.”

“Yes, I know,” Howard said.

At that point he was reasonably sure of the identity of Angela Baker’s so-called anonymous source. Camille Lee’s fingerprints were all over this. Unfortunately for him, by now she was probably in the air and headed home.

“The divorce is not exactly amicable,” Ms. Baker continuued. “The couple had done mediation and had come to what we believed was an amicable agreement. However, as a result of this anonymous tip, I’ve recently been made aware that Mr. Smythe has been accumulating funds offshore and concealing them not only from his wife but also from Inland Revenue.”

“Not a good idea,” Howard said.

Angela Baker actually smiled at that.

“Indeed,” she said. “Not at all. As I said, the information came to me on Sunday. One of my associates spent all day yesterday verifying it. If this were information concerning my client, it would, of course, be entirely confidential.”

“But this concerns her husband,” Howard offered, “so client privilege doesn’t apply.”

Angela Baker smiled again. “Correct,” she said. “The divorce decree was due to be granted tomorrow. Since this new information is clearly a game changer, I’ve requested an urgent meeting with the judge in charge to delay the proceedings until these allegations can be investigated more thoroughly. Because Mr. Smythe’s actions seem to be indicative of criminal behavior, I’ve taken the liberty of reporting our findings to Inland Revenue. I suspect they’ll be more than happy to follow up.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Wallace objected.

“No, it doesn’t,” Angela Baker agreed, lifting the lid to her briefcase and removing several oversized computer printouts. “I was just getting to that. My anonymous source suggested that some of the wire transfers listed here might be connected to your investigation. Again, as an officer of the court, I feel obliged to pass them along.”

With that, she handed the papers over to DI Wallace. The first page was a record of a wire transfer made a month earlier from one of Smythe’s cryptocurrency accounts to one belonging to Adrian Willoughby. Howard scanned down the page until he found the amount.

“Three hundred and fifty thousand pounds?” he exclaimed. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is,” Angela Baker agreed. “I believe it may have been an advance payment for services to be rendered at a later date. I suspect that an examination of Mr. Smythe’s electronic devices might reveal exactly what those services entailed, but of course you’d need a warrant to access those.”

“Of course,” Wallace acknowledged.

“In that regard, although the amounts are much smaller, the names on these next two wire transfers might also be of interest.”

She handed over two additional pieces of paper. DI Wallace scanned them long enough to spot the names—Richard Hernandez and Ed Scoggins—and the amounts. The one to Hernandez was in the amount of ten thousand dollars. The one to Scoggins was for ten thousand pounds.

“Who are they?” Wallace asked.

“Mr. Hernandez lives in California in a place called San Bernardino. Mr. Scoggins lives in Tilbury, which, I believe, is very close to where Mr. Willoughby’s body was found.”

“And this last one?” Howard asked, holding up the final print-out.

“That one is actually from Mr. Willoughby’s cryptocurrency account. It’s to the account of a Bulgarian national named Bogdan Petrov who, as I understand it, is also no longer with us. I believe he was recently found deceased near San Bernardino, California.”

After dropping that remark, Angela Baker snapped her briefcase closed and spun the lock. “Helpful?” she asked, rising to her feet.

“Very,” Wallace replied. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Angela said with a smile. “I thought it might be, and now I’ll be going. I’m off to have a long chat with Margaret Smythe. I’ll want her with me when I speak to the judge tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you will,” Wallace said.

He waited until she passed the desk sergeant and was on her way to the lobby before he turned to DS Frost. “I want everything there is to be found on Ed Scoggins of Tilbury.”

“On it!” Frost replied.

“With the evidence found in these money transfers, having probable cause is no longer an issue—not even for George Smythe. Once you finish looking into Scoggins, we’ll drive up to London and invite Mr. Smythe in for an interview. I want to blow that sod out of the water before Angela Baker does.”