Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

Roberts had been in the interview room, he would have put his arms around her, but he could do nothing for her now, other than find the person who had killed her daughter.
    ‘One final question,’ he said.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Did Kelly ever receive any letters after she left for Mexico?’
    Stan stopped doodling.
    ‘She had her monthly statements from the bank. Tom closed her account a year or so after she disappeared. The statements were just a reminder.’
    ‘What did you do with her mail?’
    ‘After a while, we just boxed it all together and put it in the attic.’
    ‘Is it still there?’
    ‘It is. Yes.’
    ‘Can you remember if she ever received any mail from anyone in Scotland?’
    ‘I’m not sure. I was always looking out for another postcard. But none arrived.’
    Of course not, thought Gilchrist. He thanked her and, as her voice broke again, pressed the button to end the call.
    He raked his hair. Kelly’s mother had kept her hopes alive for all these years. Even her voice at the beginning of their call had soared with hope.
    Have you found her?
    Yes
, he should have said.
Yes, we’ve found her and I regret to inform you . .
.
    Stan switched off the recorder and closed his notepad. ‘What’s with the mail from Scotland?’ he asked.
    ‘Just a thought,’ Gilchrist said. ’Email a copy of the computer image to Saratoga County Sheriff ’s Office, and have them visit Mrs Roberts for an ID and a DNA sample. Put some heat under them. Tell them it’s urgent, and that we need to move fast.’
    ‘Got it.’
    ‘And find out where Rita Sanderson lives.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Jack’s flatmate.’
    When Stan left the room, Gilchrist played the recording back. He paused it when he came to the postcards. Postcards? Two of them? Sent by the killer to make Kelly’s parents believe their daughter was still alive, doing well, learning more about life by flying to Mexico? Even though she had not been on the flight, the manifesto confirmed otherwise. Which meant that whoever had taken the cudgel to the side of her head was not a crazed killer but someone with a clever mind, smart, devious.
    Intelligent enough to be a doctor?
    His earlier worries as to how Jack’s lighter had found its way into Kelly’s grave could now be readily answered. Jack could have given it to her, or Kelly could have taken it from him and forgotten to return it. Now that conundrum was out of the way, Pennycuick’s face shimmered once again in his mind’s eye. Calm, controlled, with the foresight, mental acuity and brazen nerves to write two postcards to Kelly’s parents. But how could he have faked the flight manifesto? Could that have been done back in the sixties?
    All of a sudden, Gilchrist’s mind filled with an image of Pennycuick’s wife taking her seat on a plane. Could she have flown to Mexico under Kelly’s name? Was that possible?
    Gilchrist clicked on the recorder and listened to some more.
    Did Kelly ever receive any letters after she left for Mexico?
    Stan had seemed puzzled by that question. But Gilchrist knew Jack had written to Kelly. He had seen him in his bedroom, eyes red-rimmed, hair ruffled, unkempt, a student struggling with the difficulties of imminent exams. But Gilchrist had known, even at the age of twelve, that Jack was pining for his lost love, his special girl, his lost American girlfriend. Were Jack’s letters to Kelly now lying in the box in the attic? What would the local police make of them if they found them? Kelly’s disappearance had been reported by her parents, and nothing had come of it. If the local police had taken on the case with any determination and had contacted Fife Constabulary with their suspicions, they might now find something in the local files. But so far, they had not.
    So, what had happened?
    Was the answer to Kelly’s murder in her mail?
    We just boxed it all together and put it in the attic
.
    Which really left Gilchrist with only one option.
    He would have to fly out and see for himself.

CHAPTER 14
     
    After checking flights to the States and hotel vacancies in Saratoga Springs, Gilchrist decided to tie up some loose ends in the morning, then fly to the States the following day. He tried calling Nance about Fairclough’s car, but ended up leaving a message on her mobile telling her to meet him in Lafferty’s. By the time she arrived he had finished his burger and was on his second Eighty-Shilling.
    ‘The usual?’ he asked her.
    She glanced at her watch, shook her