Frankie nodded in mute acceptance. What at first sight had seemed to be a couple of random murders was developing into something that had the power to change all of their lives, for the worse. “You’re aware that the two recent murders are linked. Do you have any idea who may be behind them?”

The editor and Josephine exchanged another of their mute glances. The editor answered. “At first we thought Oscar’s death was a suicide, until we received information that the mechanism found in the tree was similar to the one found in the church.”

“How did you know about that?” Frankie couldn’t help but interject.

Josephine smiled that same ingratiating smile that was beginning to grate on Frankie’s nerves. “We can’t identify our sources.”

“Never mind about that!” The editor spoke quickly. “Oscar and the minister, both killed apparently by the same person. We think that Oscar was hired as paid muscle to close down any potential leaks about the orphanage. It’s possible that both of them were seen as witnesses and dealt with by MI5 or some shadowy government agency.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Frankie replied thoughtfully. “I don’t believe any professional assassin would rely on such complicated bone clockwork mechanisms to commit murder. No, this has the feel of someone who has a personal involvement, someone who lives locally and knows the daily routines of these people.” She looked at them both carefully before continuing. “Someone who is out to avenge the death of June Stevens. Do you have any ideas who, apart from yourselves, could have such a link to June?”

Frankie left the Courier offices in a state of near panic. Far from providing another clue that would help them nail whoever was the murderer, the newspaper’s staff had dropped a bomb on the entire investigation. She had to get hold of Corstorphine before he began anything official into June’s death. The editor was right in one regard: if the names in June Stevens’ notebook were involved in child abuse and the ensuing cover-up, then the full weight of the British establishment would come falling down on them from a great height.

XX WEDNESDAY 11:18

XX
WEDNESDAY 11:18

Frankie drove into the police station car park, relieved to see Corstorphine’s car parked in its usual spot. She headed straight for his office, knocking smartly on the door. Something in her expression must have alerted him, as he beckoned her in immediately, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, Frankie? Have we made any progress identifying the murderer, or a motive?”

Frankie calmed herself down, taking a couple of deep breaths as she composed her response. “The Courier called me, said Margo had just handed in the dead reporter’s notebook.”

Corstorphine’s surprised expression said it all. “After all these years. Where has she been hiding it?”