Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(88)

‘It’s faded yellow on one side, but the back is white,’ said Moss. ‘But then again, only the side facing the window would fade.’

Erika examined the edges of the card. ‘There’s a slight overlap here, look, with this white side, and the other which has the yellower shade.’

‘It’s two pieces, they’ve been stuck together,’ said Moss. Erika gently moved her gloved fingers over the diamond print. Her fingers stopped in the centre.

‘There’s a slight ridge, here; it feels like there’s something inside. Oblong: could be folded paper, or an envelope which has been glued in between the two pieces of card.’



* * *



Erika and Moss bagged up the print and rushed it over to Lewisham Row station, where they took it into one of the sterile medical examining rooms. They donned gloves and masks, and using a scalpel Erika carefully cut between the two sheets of glued-together card.

‘Careful,’ said Moss, watching as Erika slowly pushed the knife up through the seam between the two pieces of card. Erika finally got the two pieces to part.

Inside lay a small brown envelope.

‘We should take this to forensics,’ said Moss.

‘I know,’ said Erika. ‘I won’t touch where the envelope is stuck down. Forensics will have to test for saliva… If it is anything that needs testing.’

She carefully slit along the top of the envelope with the scalpel, and she pulled out two pieces of folded paper. The first was a scanned image of a set of German identity papers, dating back to October 1942. They were of a young woman called Elsa Neubukov. The woman in the sepia photo was twenty-two, having been born in January 1920. There were three fingerprints in the identity papers: a thumb, and a right and left index finger. What chilled Erika was the stamp of the Third Reich, Nazi Germany: the eagle with wings spread, and underneath, the swastika. The woman in the sepia photo had short fair hair, a high forehead and a handsome face, staring almost defiantly at the camera.

‘This Elsa was born in 1920. She would be ninety-seven, almost ninety-eight, now,’ said Moss quietly. They turned their attention to the second piece of paper. It was another scanned-in image, this time of an Austrian passport. It was dated six years later, three years after the end of the Second World War. The photo was different, but it was the same woman. This time the name said Elsa Becher. It had the same date of birth and a set of fingerprints.

Moss and Erika looked at each other.

‘What is Elsa Fryatt’s date of birth and maiden name?’

‘We can soon find out,’ said Erika. She took out her phone and called up Elsa Fryatt’s address, and the council tax records. ‘Date of birth is the same. We’ll need to check out her maiden name.’

‘Elsa Fryatt has been living under another identity?’ started Moss.

‘But these are scans, where are the originals?’ asked Erika. She turned over the first German identity papers scan, and she saw that on the back was a phone number written in pen. It was long, and Erika didn’t recognise the code. There was also an obscure web address ending in the .de German domain.

‘You think this is Marissa’s handwriting?’ said Moss.

‘We’ll soon find out,’ said Erika, already dialling the number.





Sixty-Nine





Two days later, after following up several leads, Erika and Moss arrived at Elsa Fryatt’s house. It was a grey morning, and the street outside was empty and quiet. Moss glanced nervously at Erika as they opened the gate and started up the path to the front door. They were about to ring the bell when Mrs Fryatt appeared at the gate behind them, carrying bags of shopping.

‘Good morning, officers. Can I help you?’ she asked, taking a key from her coat pocket. As she walked toward them, Erika thought how sprightly she was for a woman of ninety-seven.

‘Morning, Mrs Fryatt. We’ve come to return the diamond earrings my colleague took away for forensic examination,’ said Erika, holding up a small evidence bag containing the small velvet box.

‘And it takes two of you to do this?’ said Mrs Fryatt, putting the bags of shopping down and opening the front door.

Erika gave her a disarming smile. ‘We understand they are very valuable, and we just need you to sign a couple of forms to confirm that we are returning your property, and everything is in order.’ There was a moment when she thought Mrs Fryatt wouldn’t invite them in, but she relented.

‘Very well,’ she said. Moss went to pick up the shopping bags for her, but Mrs Fryatt batted her away. ‘I can manage.’

They followed her into the house and down the long hallway to the kitchen. Charles was filling the kettle, and he went very pale when he saw Erika and Moss.

‘Charles, would you make these officers some tea? They are here to return my earrings.’ She gave him a look and he nodded. She took off her coat and hung it over a chair. ‘And put my shopping away.’

They left Charles in the kitchen and followed her through to the large living room. Mrs Fryatt showed them to a sofa, and took the armchair opposite.

‘Okay. Here are your earrings,’ said Erika, placing the small clear evidence bag on the polished coffee table in front of her. ‘Please can you check them over.’

Mrs Fryatt put on a pair of glasses, took the box from the bag and opened it. The earrings nestled, sparkling on the small blue cushion.