We sipped our espressos. They were very, very good.
‘So let’s start again,’ I said to Epstein. ‘Tell me what you know about the woman who provided the list.’
‘Her name was Barbara Kelly.’
‘Was?’
‘She died last week.’
‘How?’
‘She was cut repeatedly with a blade, scourged with a belt of some kind, and partially blinded. Her killer or killers then set fire to the house, probably in an effort to hide the evidence of the attack. They were very careful in how they approached her torture. There were no broken bones, and she was still alive when the fire was started in the kitchen, although probably unconscious. She had quite a sophisticated alarm system, with recessed smoke and heat detectors independent of the main system but running parallel to it. It was also raining heavily, which helped arrest the progress of the conflagration. Nevertheless, by the time the fire department arrived, the blaze had consumed part of the kitchen and spread to the living room, but somehow Kelly had managed to crawl into the hallway. She was badly burned, and died on the way to the hospital. The post-mortem revealed the extent of the injuries she had received prior to burning.’
‘You learn anything more since then?’
‘She claimed to be an independent consultant. She had very little in her bank accounts, and appeared to be just about keeping her head above water. Her income came from a variety of sources, mostly small businesses. Appearances would suggest that she worked very hard for a modest return, barely enough to cover her mortgage and living expenses.’
‘Except?’
‘We’re looking into the companies, but already two have been revealed as no more than names on mailboxes. We believe there were other sources of income, and other accounts.’
‘Did the police find anything at the house?’
‘A laptop mentioned in her insurance submission is missing and has not been traced. The hard drive had been removed from her desktop, and her personal files seem to have been carefully harvested.’
‘A dead end.’
‘We’re still looking. And there is an added complication.’
‘Isn’t there always?’
‘We believe that we were not the only ones to whom she sent material. She had cancer, and she felt that she was running out of time. She wanted to make reparation for her sins. She needed to know that the process had begun, that her offer of information was being taken seriously.’
‘Who would she have sent it to? The newspapers? A DA somewhere?’
Epstein shook his head. ‘Don’t you understand? The whole point of this conspiracy was to acquire influence and favors, either now or for the future. From the two extracts we’ve seen, we know that they own politicians and reporters. Don’t you think that they’ve also wormed their way into the lives of police officers, lawmakers, prosecutors? She couldn’t send the list through the usual channels. She had to be more selective.’
‘Then how did she decide upon your lawyers?’
‘She knew of us because we were her enemies.’
‘And she gave no indication of the other recipients?’
‘Recipient. There was just one other. The only clue she gave was to warn us to act quickly, because if we did not another less scrupulous than ourselves would take vengeance into his own hands, and through him she would earn her salvation.’
I knew the man she meant. So did Epstein. There was only one individual who fitted that description, who had the resources and, more importantly, the vocation to do as this woman wished.
He called himself the Collector.
22
The envelope had arrived at the offices of the lawyer Thomas Eldritch in Lynn, Massachusetts, by standard mail. Lynn was known in local parlance as ‘the city of sin’, in part due to its reputation for high crime rates during the peak of its industrial boom but mostly because of the ease of the rhyme. Nevertheless such taunts have a tendency to get under the skin not only of individuals but of entire cities, and at the end of the twentieth century it was suggested that Lynn should change its name to Ocean Park, which gave fewer opportunities to amateur poets for unkind rhymes. The proposal was rejected. Lynn had been Lynn for a very long time, and altering its name would be tantamount to a bullied schoolchild admitting that the bullies had won, and moving to a different school to avoid further confrontation. Also, as any schoolchild will tell you, the more you protest about name-calling, the louder the catcalls become.
Eldritch was not troubled by the conjunction of the words ‘Lynn’