Page 20 of Stripped

He looked over her shoulder. "Does someone else have a key?"

"No, I should be the only one besides my grandfather." She headed into his office.

"Are you sure Graham Rankin doesn't have one as his solicitor, or a housekeeper perhaps?"

"I'm sure. I let Graham in the other day. It's why he wanted me here, and the housekeeper was given the week off after everything happened." She picked up her notebook on his desk. "My eulogy's been moved."

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation," he said, scanning the bookshelf. "Do you mind if I look around in here?"

She shook her head. "Go ahead. Graham already looked on Sunday. I'm going upstairs to check the bedrooms." She took the stairs two at a time to the second story. Her grandfather's bedroom was at the end of the hall. Giving it a cursory look from the door, it appeared as if everything was in order. She couldn't bring herself to go in. It was still too emotional, and she needed to remain strong for today. The other bedroom was hers. He had it set up for her after her father died and her mother moved. She popped her head in. The large, four-poster bed was unmade, the pale pink duvet pushed down to the bottom. Someone had slept there. She looked around, opening the closet and drawers. Everything seemed to be in order until she got to the bathroom. The floor of the bathtub was still wet, and a damp towel hung from a hook.

* * *

Wraith picked the lock on Angus' desk, flipping through the papers. Most, were to do with his corrupt businesses, deeds to properties, titles, and bank drafts organized in files. He closed them and continued to search. At the back, he found what he was looking for, the police report for Andrew McNeil. He pulled out his phone and took pictures of the papers as he quickly glanced at them. At the back was a stack of photographs. To describe them as violent, wouldn't do them justice; they were brutal and savage. He imagined Pim looking at them as a young girl and shook his head. No one should remember their father this way. He closed the folder and put it back, pulling out another one. This one was labeled Natasha. Inside, was a picture of a young girl. It looked like the same girl from the viewing yesterday. She was wearing a traditional Russian sarafan folk dress and her blonde hair was in two braids. The only other thing in the file was a bank draft for twenty thousand pounds. Wraith stuck the photograph in his pocket and put the rest back, shutting the drawer.

"Someone's definitely been in the house," Pim said, standing at the door. "My bed has been slept in and the bathtub is still wet."

"Show me," he said, following her upstairs.

She opened the door to the room. "It doesn't make sense. If you were going to break in, why would you spend the night? I can't find anything missing."

Wraith ran his hand over the bed. She was right; someone had been here and not just one person, but two. He could see the imprints of their bodies where they lay on the sheets. He looked at his watch. "We need to get going. We can come back after the funeral."

Pim nodded, her brows pulled together in a frown, clearly troubled. Wraith put his hand on her shoulder, guiding her downstairs. He put his coat on and sent Gabriel the pictures and a text, while Pim set the alarm.

Found the file. Andrew McNeil was murdered. He was found with his wallet and car keys. Definite cover up.

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