But the most relevant was a carbon copy of a letter to Bobby’s father.

June 13, 1969

Bob Prescott:

Hey mate, thanks for the GREAT job, you’re the best engineer, we mean it. Loved working with you. So, in appreciation for all those sleepless nights the tapes to those songs we did playing around after ‘Abbey Road,’ are yours, all the rights, everything. The list’s below. Cheers!

“Wait,” O’Neil said. “Are those …?”

Dance said in a whisper, “I think they are. My God, I think they are.” At the bottom of the letter were the titles of four songs. None of them was a known Beatles song.

She explained that the composing and recording of the songs on the Abbey Road album began in the spring of 1969. It was the group’s last studio album. Let It Be was released a year later, though that song was finished by January of ’69.

Dennis Harutyun—the “librarian of the FMCSO,” as Madigan dubbed him—had indeed done some impressive research into the life of Bobby Prescott and his family to see if anyone other than Edwin might have a motive to kill him. The deputy had found some rumors, buried on the Internet, that his father might have had some outtakes of Beatles songs he’d helped engineer in London years ago.

But these weren’t outtakes; they were complete songs, original and unreleased, never heard in public.

“And the Beatles just gave them away?” O’Neil asked.

“The band was breaking up then. They were rich. Maybe they just didn’t care about them. Or maybe they just didn’t think they were any good.”

“The letter’s not signed by any of them.”

Dance shrugged. “A handwriting expert could verify which of the four wrote it. But they talk about ‘after “Abbey Road.”’ Who else could it be? They must’ve stayed around the studio afterward and just thrown a few songs together. Doesn’t matter; they’re still Beatles songs.”

“Bobby got the tapes from his father.”

“Right,” Dance said, gesturing at the shelves. “The perp found out and has been waiting for a chance to kill him and steal them.”

“Waiting for Edwin or somebody like him to show up as a fall guy.”

“Exactly.”

O’Neil said, “So it’s somebody who knew Bobby and his archives and would have heard the rumors about the Beatles songs.” He regarded the lyrics. “Could the perp sell them, though?”

“I’d think at the least he could work out a finder’s fee in the millions. Or maybe he could sell them to a reclusive collector—like that Japanese businessman who got busted for spending fifty million for a stolen Van Gogh. He was going to keep it in his basement, never let anybody see it.”

O’Neil pointed out, “Well, we know the motive. The second question is, who’s the perp? You have any ideas? I don’t know the cast of characters here.”

Dance thought for a moment, looking round the trailer.

A to B to Z …

“I need you to do something.”