Page 68 of Triple Jeopardy (Daniel Pitt)

Jemima remained at the table, almost oblivious of her surroundings. Why had she come here? What did she expect this woman could do, however skilled she was?

If there were any single fact to uncover that would make a difference, maybe Patrick could find it through the connections he kept wiring in Washington. It was police work, not something a doctor would find over here!

She watched the seconds tick by on the clock and felt more and more foolish. Why was it taking Miriam so long to get ready?

It was nearly half an hour later when Miriam reappeared, smartly dressed in a navy-blue costume, with her hair tidy, temporarily at least.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said. “I made a telephone call to my father, so he could begin inquiries.”

Jemima felt a wave of guilt run through her. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she started.

Miriam smiled. “Of course you did! Nothing short of trouble is going to get the truth out of this! And even if it turns out the wrong way and Sidney is guilty, at least you will know it, and it will not have gone by default. Is that not what you want?” Her stare was very direct.

“Yes, it is,” Jemima acknowledged. “Thank you.” She stood up, and they went out of the house together and found a taxi almost immediately.

* * *

—

THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER they were in Marcus fford Croft’s chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, accepting tea from Impney and waiting for Marcus himself.

He came in a few moments later. He was not very tall, overweight, but full of energy, white hair flying, hands gesticulating with energy and delicacy. “Mrs. Flannery, good morning. How do you do? Young Daniel’s sister, heh? Married an American. Live there, do you? Bring us this apparently hopeless case of young Sidney? Pity.” He smiled, a singularly charming gesture. Immediately he turned to Miriam. They did not resemble each other at all, and yet there was something alike in the intensity of their manner, their attention, even their hand gestures. Hers were so much more restrained, even delicate, but they were the same as his in meaning.

“Abigail May Trelawny,” he went on. “Sit down.” He indicated the chairs and then continued. He had several pieces of paper in his hand. “Born in Cornwall. As she ought to be, with a name like Trelawny. Good family. Old. Grandfather had a lot of land. The father was his second son. Not got a lot of it, but made his own fortune. Did well. She bought a place in Alderney. Do you know that?” He looked at Jemima with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Jemima said immediately. “One of the smaller Channel Islands and—”

“Yes,” Marcus cut her off. “Right. Jersey and Guernsey are the big ones. Fewer live on Alderney. Very few on Sark. Lovely place. She had a large house on Alderney. Lived there. Loved it. Left the house and land to Rebecca Thorwood. Not a lot of money.”

“What is a lot, Father?” Miriam asked. “That’s very relative.”

“Relative to the Thorwood fortune, almost nothing at all,” he replied.

“Why to Rebecca?” Jemima asked. “Was there a family connection? I thought all Rebecca’s family were American? Her father’s family has been respected in Washington for generations.”

“Possibly,” Marcus agreed. “But her mother’s family isn’t American. She was a debutante in London. Quite lovely, according to all accounts. I can recall reading about a love affair that went badly. Can’t remember the name of the fellow but it was all a bit of a drama, and then she married well. Nice fellow, but a bit of a bore. Change from the one she fell for, who was apparently a bad lot but had charm.” Marcus said it sadly, as if it were a pattern he had seen too often. “I wonder what appeals to women in such men.”

“We don’t want something that’s too easily available,” Miriam answered immediately. “And some of us are daft enough to think we can change them…redeem them, if you like.”

“I don’t think, from what I hear, that Tobias Thorwood needed redeeming,” Marcus observed. “Anyway, May Trelawny was a delightful woman who never married, wisely or in any other way, and she was happy to be Rebecca’s godmother and leave her whatever she possessed. Can’t see what this has to do with Philip Sidney. Except that he was born in Cornwall and his mother was a friend and relation of Miss Trelawny. Not such a big place, when you come to think of it in terms of society, so it may be entirely a coincidence.”

“They could have met,” Miriam answered. “Or they might never have heard of each other. Didn’t you say Bernadette met Thorwood in London?”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed.

“Something else we need to know,” Jemima said. “Is the pendant diamond or crystal?”

“Did you see it?” Miriam asked with sudden intensity.

“Yes.”

“Describe it. How big is it? How is it faceted? Color…I mean shading, shadows, lights, flaws? Does the light move in it? Glitter? How is it set? Gold? Silver? Platinum?”

Jemima tried to picture it in her mind. Exactly how big had it been? A half inch across? Almost. Color? Plain white, but it glittered, it shone. The setting? White, not gold. Was it silver? She tried to describe it.

“The cut?” Miriam asked.

“I don’t know much about cuts, but it had a large, flat front.”

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