‘What about other forensic evidence from the hotel suite?’
‘We found prints on some shards of glass on the bathroom floor. They must have come from the smashed champagne bottle used to whack him over the head. There were also hair samples. Six different types, but they could be from the maid, other guests, Nick and Sophie. Unless we have something specific to match it with, then I’m not sure how useful that is. We could go down the DNA testing route only to find it’s the housekeeper’s.’
Ruth began to pace the room.
‘How did Nick think he was going to make money from Sophie? A couple of phone calls and he’d find out her family had lost everything.’
They lapsed into silence as they ate, Ruth running the options over in her mind.
‘Did you get any leads from Nick’s phone or laptop?’
‘That’s part of the problem. There was nothing like that in his suite. I doubt a man like Nick wouldn’t have those things. So they must have been taken by his killer.’
‘Again, it gets Sophie off the hook. A crime of passion is one thing. A meticulous clean-up operation is another.’
It didn’t bring her any closer to answers, but her brainstorm with Fox had certainly had the desired effect: she had more questions.
‘Thanks, Ian,’ she said as she collected up the now empty plates and cartons.
‘What for?’ he said. ‘I should be thanking you for all this.’
‘For coming here and letting me talk it through. I know you didn’t have to – in fact, probably shouldn’t have.’
She met his gaze and felt . . . what? A connection, something she really hadn’t felt with a man for a long time. It was there for one shimmering moment, then he looked away and it was gone.
‘Well, I’d better go,’ he said, getting up.
He lingered, and for second Ruth thought about asking him to stay, but that was madness, wasn’t it? Besides, they’d both got what they wanted – just another of those little transactions between the press and the police.
She saw him to the door.
‘Thanks again,’ she said. ‘And sorry for dragging you so far north.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘Really.’
And then he was gone and Ruth was left standing in her hallway, wondering if she was ever going to be able to get to sleep.
36
The bus approached Manhattan from the north, passing down through the Bronx and across the Triborough Bridge. Manhattan was magnificent whichever way you came at it, and the sight of the Chrysler Building glinting in the lazy early evening sun made everything, even Sophie’s problems, pale into insignificance just for one glorious moment.
Jim had dropped them at a bus stop outside a Duane Reade where Josh and Sophie could just blend in among the shoppers. ‘Who pays any attention to some working stiff at a bus stop?’ he had said as he held open the pick-up’s door and Sophie had kissed him goodbye.
They made the final part of the journey to Andrea Sayer’s office by bus, calling her en route to tell her to expect them.
Sophie wasn’t sure if they should telegraph their presence, not when they had been so close to getting caught. What if this lawyer had called the authorities? So now with each jerking stop, each hiss of the bus doors, she felt herself tense, expecting to be swarmed by men in Kevlar or burly assassins. But each time, it was just more tired, sullen New Yorkers slowly going downtown.
Still, it was impossible not to feel a shiver of excitement. She was in New York. Everything about the streets was familiar from a million cop shows: the fire hydrants, the yellow cabs, even the shape of the delivery trucks. It was as if someone had created a huge film set just for her.
‘Next stop,’ said Josh, craning his neck to look up at the skyscraper to their left.
They stepped out of the air-conditioned bus on to the sidewalk right in front of the famous Miller Building, a soaring white-fronted 1920s facade dominated by a Frank Gehry sculpture of a bird in flight. The notoriously dense New York summer heat hit Sophie immediately; it was almost palpable, like being squeezed in a giant hand. It was only twenty paces from the sidewalk to the lobby, but she could already feel the cotton dress she’d picked up in Cannes sticking to her.
Josh announced them to the receptionist, then moved purposefully towards the lifts, but Sophie grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side.
‘What exactly are we going to tell this lawyer?’
Josh glanced around to make sure they weren’t overheard.