Alex listened as she explained that she liked Gordon but that she understood that she had to be objective.
“And your objective assessment?” asked Alex.
“My objective assessment is that there’s probably nothing to worry about with him, other than …”
He looked interested. “Yes?”
“I wondered whether he was the writer of the letter. I think he’s ambitious and might have wanted to compromise the other two candidates. I can’t say why I feel that—I have no evidence.”
“So it’s just a feeling?”
“Yes. He knew who was on the list. So he would have both motive and ability.”
Alex thought about this. “But there were others who knew.”
“Who?” asked Isabel.
“Miss Carty. And another woman in the office. That’s where the list was typed up.”
Isabel waited a moment. “By?”
“Miss Carty, I believe. She’s the one who passed it on to me to pass on to you.”
“So she knew I was going to see it?”
He nodded. “And I think I told her about what we were asking of you. I trust her, you see. She’s in on everything here, but she’s the soul of discretion.”
And she misled me, thought Isabel. But that was not what she wanted to talk about. “May I speak to you in absolute confidence?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know of any relationship between Mr. Slade and Miss Carty?”
“Beyond an employer and employee relationship?”
“Yes. An affair.”
His eyes widened. “My goodness! Highly unlikely, I would have thought. I just can’t see him getting involved with her.” He seemed amused by the idea. “Nor she with him.”
Isabel was insistent. “Why should it be so unlikely? Mr. Slade is a good-looking, even rather charismatic man. His wife, if I may say so, is hardly exciting.”
Alex looked embarrassed. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just don’t see it.” He paused. “Why would you even suggest it? Have you heard something?”
Isabel hesitated. She did not like to lie. But one does not have to answer every question one is asked. So she said, “One should always be prepared to consider every possibility.”
He shrugged. “Yes. But some possibilities … Still, what about Gordon Leafers? You have your suspicions about him. You think he might be capable of doing something underhand, such as writing an anonymous letter in order to strengthen his chances. Well, maybe, maybe not. I can’t see it, frankly.”
He poured more tea. “There is, however, something I heard about Gordon that makes me think that he might not be our best bet. I heard, in fact, that he’s not a serious candidate at all—and never was.”
She waited for him to continue.
“I heard from a very reliable source, somebody at the school he’s currently teaching at, that his application is intended purely to enable him to show an offer—if he got one from us—to his existing employer and ask for promotion. Apparently he confessed to a colleague, and it got out. He doesn’t want to move at all. He’s using us, as people sometimes do in these job competitions. So we’re going to tell him that his application is no longer shortlisted. We are certainly not going to let people make use of us like that.”
Isabel hardly knew what to say. All three candidates were out of the running now, which made her wonder why Alex Mackinlay had wanted to see her. Did he think she had nothing better to do with her time than investigate a list of non-candidates?
She drew in her breath. “I’m surprised that you didn’t tell me about all this earlier,” she said. “I’ve rather wasted my time, haven’t I?”
He looked immediately apologetic. “I’m very sorry,” he said. “I would hate you to think that. In fact, I have remained very keen to hear what you have to say.”
She looked at him reproachfully. “But nothing I say has any relevance.”
“But it does, Miss Dalhousie. It’s the letter I’m really interested in. Who wrote it? Can’t you see that this is in a way a more important issue for us? Is there somebody here who can’t be trusted? That’s a very important question for me.”
She understood. An anonymous letter was an acutely destabilising thing. It bred distrust and suspicion; it weakened the normal bonds between people.
He suddenly turned and reached for a file on the table behind him. Taking out a single sheet of paper, he held it out towards her. It was the letter. She saw the green ink and the handwriting—which had been disguised in childish capital letters.
“This bit of paper is potentially very destructive,” he said. “And I was hoping that you might be able to help us find out who wrote it. Have you any ideas?”
She stared at it. Miss Carty and her assistant knew who was on the list, but so did the other members of the board. She had no means of knowing what they thought about the candidates and she doubted if she would have the time or opportunity to find out. Any one of them might have written the letter.
“I’m not sure. But perhaps we should consider the obvious suspect.”
