Page 41 of The Love Letter

‘Alec.’ She leant over the desk and put on a winning smile.

‘Not now, love. We’re behind deadline and Sebastian hasn’t rung in from New York with his report on The Redhead. I can’t hold the front page for much longer. The Ed’s wetting himself as it is.’

‘Oh. How long before you’re finished? I’ve got something I want to talk through with you.’

‘Midnight do, will it?’ he said, not removing his eyes from the screen.

‘I see.’

Alec glanced up. ‘Is it important? Like world-threateningly, we’re gonna sell another hundred thousand copies of the paper type thing?’

‘It might be a previously uncovered sex scandal, yes.’ She knew these were the magic words.

Alec’s expression changed. ‘Okay. If it’s sex, you get ten minutes. Six o’clock in the local.’

‘Thanks.’

Joanna went back to her desk and spent the next couple of hours dealing with the correspondence in her in-tray. At five to six, she walked round the corner to the pub, favoured by journalists only because of its proximity to the office. It certainly had nothing else to its credit. She sat on a stained bar stool and ordered herself a gin and tonic, careful not to lean against the sticky bar top.

Alec strolled in at a quarter past seven, still in his shirtsleeves, even though the night was bitterly cold. ‘Wotcher, Phil. The usual,’ he called to the barman. ‘Okay, Jo, shoot.’

So Joanna went right back to the beginning, to the day of the funeral. Alec drained his glass of Famous Grouse in one gulp and listened intently until she had finished.

‘To be honest, I was going to give up on the whole episode. I was getting nowhere and then suddenly, today, out of sheer coincidence, I discovered who the letter was written to.’

Alec ordered another whisky. His tired, red eyes appraised her. ‘There might be something there. What interests me is that someone has obviously gone to great lengths to make your old dear disappear, along with her tea chests. That screams cover-up. Bodies don’t just vanish into thin air.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘Joanna, just out of interest, did you have the letter on you that night your flat was turned over?’

‘Yes. It was in my rucksack.’

‘It hasn’t struck you that it may not have been a chance burglary? From what your mate said, there was a high degree of needless destruction. They knifed your sofa and your bed, didn’t they?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Maybe someone was looking for something they thought you might have hidden?’

‘Even the police seemed shocked at the devastation,’ Joanna murmured quietly. She looked up at Alec, realisation dawning. ‘Oh God, you might be right.’

‘Christ, Jo, you’ve some way to go before you become a suspicious old cynic like me. In other words, a great news-hound.’ He grinned, showing his nicotine-stained teeth, and patted her hand. ‘You’ll learn. Where’s the letter now?’

‘Simon took it to work to have his forensic lab run some tests on it.’

‘Who’s Simon? Is he a copper?’

‘No, he’s something in the civil service.’

‘Damn it, Jo! Grow up!’ Alec slammed his glass onto the bar. ‘I’ll bet a pound to a piece of pig shit you’ll never see that letter again.’

‘You’re wrong, Alec.’ Joanna’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘I trust Simon implicitly. He’s my oldest and best friend. He was only trying to help, and I know he’d never deceive me.’

Alec shook his head condescendingly. ‘What am I always saying to you? Trust no bugger. Especially in this business.’ He ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. ‘All right, so the love letter’s gone, but you say you have a photocopy?’

‘Yes. And I made another one for you to keep.’ Joanna handed it over.

‘Thanks.’ Alec unfolded it. ‘Let’s have a look-see, then.’ He read it quickly then studied the name at the top. ‘Could definitely be “Siam”. Yep. The initial at the bottom is illegible. But it doesn’t look like an “R” to me.’

‘Maybe Rose changed her name, or maybe the letter isn’t from her. There’s definitely some kind of theatre connection, but neither Rose nor Sir James are listed anywhere in that programme.’

Alec checked his watch and ordered another whisky. ‘Five minutes and I’ll have to scoot. Look, Jo, I honestly can’t say whether you’re on to something or not. When I’ve been in these situations, you know I’ve followed my gut. What is your gut telling you?’