Sophie got to her feet and put her arms round Lindsay. “Just because Alison thought she had something on Cordelia, it doesn’t mean there’s anything sinister in it. You said yourself that no one would ever believe Alex’s evidence. So why are you placing so much importance on it? He probably saw Cordelia there on a completely separate occasion and just got confused.”

Lindsay shook her head. “I don’t know what to think, Sophie,” she said dully. “A couple of hours ago, Cordelia said she’d never met Alison, and I saw no reason to doubt her. And now this! What am I supposed to make of it?”

“Lindsay, you can’t draw any conclusions till you’ve read this mysterious letter from Anisha, whoever she is,” Sophie urged. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

Lindsay moved like an automaton toward the piles of papers and sat on the floor. Sophie joined her and together they started working through the remaining letters and files from Alison’s boxes. It was Sophie who struck gold. She stared at a slim blue airmail envelope with a Zimbabwean postmark. The sender’s name and address were written on the back in a neat, flowing script. “I’ve found Anisha’s letter,” Sophie said, handing it over to Lindsay.

With a cold feeling of impending disaster, Lindsay pulled out the contents of the envelope. There were several sheets of thin airmail paper covered in the same hand. Lindsay closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know if I want to know what’s in this,” she murmured. “You know what I want to do? I want to burn it unread.”

“You can’t stop now, Lindsay. You have to know,” Sophie said gently. “Do you want me to read it first?”

Lindsay opened her eyes and shook her head. “No. You’re right. I do have to know.” She unfolded the pages and started to read. As she continued, her hands began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. At the end, she dropped the letter to the floor, saying only, “Dear God.”

Sophie picked up the scattered sheets. “May I?” she asked.

Lindsay nodded. “Go ahead,” she said bitterly, getting to her feet. “I need a drink, Sophie.” She stumbled from the room, leaving Sophie alone with the letter. Filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, Sophie began to read.

The letter was dated September of the previous year, weeks before Alison’s murder. My dear Alison, it began.