‘Oh, George . . . George! It’s so good to see you. Why didn’t you ring me and let me know you were coming? Where’s Elaine? How’s everything back home?’

The words were tumbling out, tripping over each other as Edith led him into her house. Her heart was bursting with happiness. She had experienced so much with George, he was her closest relative. Her childhood confidant. The only part of life in England that she regretted leaving. Now he was here with her, her happiness knew no bounds.

George held her arm tightly as they walked into the beautiful house, a lump of emotion in his throat.

There was nothing like family.

Patrick and Willy were driving back to Grantley.

‘I’m telling you, Pat, she was nuttier than a squirrel’s posing pouch. And that bloke Joseph weren’t much better.’

Patrick nodded absently. It had been a waste of time. They had known nothing.

But the man had to be somewhere. If he used his credit card then Patrick would be on to him. Oh, he knew all the faces that could help him. He wasn’t a repoman for nothing. He could find just about anyone, given time.

But time was something he didn’t have.

If Kate found out who the Ripper was, then the police would be looking for Markham as well. He could still get to him in prison, but it wouldn’t have the personal touch. And Pat wanted to do this job himself.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Patrick answered the telephone. A female voice came down the line.

‘Mr Kelly?’

He yawned. ‘Speaking.’

‘I’m Louella Parker from Colmby Credit. I have some information regarding a Mr George Markham.’

Patrick felt a surge of excitement.

‘Go on.’

‘Subject to the usual terms, of course.’ The woman’s voice was crisp. ‘I do rather put myself out for these things.’

‘All right, all right, don’t make a meal of it. If you tell me what I want to know you’ll get the dosh.’

The woman cleared her throat delicately and he was glad for a moment that she was on the other end of a phone line, otherwise he would have grabbed her throat and shaken the information out of her.

‘George Markham booked a flight to Orlando by credit card on the twentieth of this month. He was due to leave on the twenty-third. The company he travelled with was Tropical Tours.’

Patrick was stunned.

The dirty bastard had outwitted him!

‘Mr Kelly, are you still there?’

‘What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.’

‘I trust that’s what you wanted to know?’

‘Oh . . . yes. Yes. You’ll get the money, Miss Parker, in the usual way.’

While the woman thanked him, he put the phone down gently and stared out of the library window.

He’d gone to the States?