Finlay’s great,great grandfather was a top Nazi. Morton wondered when the best timewould be to break that particular piece of news to Soraya. ‘And Marlenewas one of those women? Sent to link up with the Windsor-Sackvilles?’
‘I've alwayspresumed Eberhard's daughter was involved but she disappeared without trace.Looks like you might have found her. The fact that the Regional AdvisoryCommittee released her a week after being deemed internable suggests that somehigher authority pulled some strings.’
‘FrederickWindsor-Sackville?’
‘Thatwould need evidence, my dear boy.’
‘Hmm,’ Mortonconcurred. He thought about the copper box being created for a marriagebetween David Windsor-Sackville and an unknown person. ‘Do you know if theKoldrichs had a family crest?’
‘Yes, theydid.’
‘Any chance youcould email me a copy of it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thankyou. Do you know what happened to Eberhard and Gaelle?’
‘He wasexecuted at Nuremberg in 1945, Gaelle died in 1962. Marlene was theironly child, so the family line has ended.’
Morton wasabout to explain that the family name lived on in a new, anglicised form but atthat moment the front door banged shut and Juliette casually strolled into thekitchen. She had that characteristic look in her eyes that spoke ofhaving something to say. Everyone had something to say to Morton at themoment, yet nothing that seemed to make any sense. He tried to recall asingle moment in his life that was as confusing, personally and professionally,as the last two weeks. Nothing even came close. Morton thanked theProfessor and hung up. He would send a follow-up email to him once thecase was closed.
‘Good day?’ heasked Juliette.
She leant onthe worktop and stared out into the garden. ‘Curious,’ she answeredcryptically. He hoped that her curious day had something to do with hisparentage. Perhaps she had the name of his father. ‘Just after Ispoke to you on the phone, the door opened in the basement and in walked OliviaWalker.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah, that’swhat I thought. According to the schedule, I was telling eight-year-oldsnot to wander off with strangers and there I was actually rooting around insemi-darkness among closed case files. But Miss Walker didn’t say a wordabout it. She said she’d looked at my application for the police forcelast year and couldn’t fathom why I’d been turned down.’
‘What did yousay?’
Julietteshrugged. ‘Not a lot I could say really. She implied that if I wereto apply again it’d pretty well be guaranteed. The whole time she waseyeballing the files I was looking at.’
‘Could she haveknown what you were looking at?’
‘No, noway. I didn’t find anything. I’m sorry, Morton, but we’re going toneed more to go on to find out who your dad is.’
‘I’m still notsure that I need to know anything beyond that he was a rapist.’
Juliette filledthe kettle and turned to face him. ‘So, are you going to tell me whereyou disappeared off to in the early hours this morning?’
So he toldher. Everything.
‘That was quitepossibly the most stupid thing you’ve done since – oh, let me see, you brokeinto Charingsby,’ she said. ‘What’s got into you lately? You’vebroken the law more times in the last two weeks than in the entire time I’veknown you.’
She had apoint. But his crimes were fairly pathetic and piffling, all thingsconsidered. It barely even registered as a felony to walk into an openhouse and scrape some dandruff into a bag. In Juliette’s eyes, though, acrime was a crime.
He suddenlyremembered the memory of the lipstick mark on the wineglass in Dunk’s house andwhat Guy had said about Daniel Dunk having a wife or girlfriend who had onceworked at Charingsby. He turned back to his laptop, ignoring Juliette’sadmonishing glare.
He opened upAncestry and ran an online marriage search for Daniel Dunk. There wasonly one possibility:
Daniel Dunk. May 2005. Hastings andRother. Vol. 456. Page 100. Ent. C22.
Morton clicked the ‘Find Spouse’ button.
‘Shit,’ Morton said.
Chapter Nineteen
Thursday
It was the endgame. Morton couldn’thelp but lie in bed, conjuring up grandiose descriptions for how the day wouldpan out. He’d had so little sleep and when his eyes did finally succumbto the acute tiredness weighing down his body, he dreamt of today. Thistime tomorrow it would all be over, he hoped, as he stared fixedly at the stainon the ceiling, as if it might generate further inspiration for the conclusionto the Coldrick Case. Not that he needed inspiration; he had aplan and it was almost time to put it into effect. He glanced over at thered digital clock display: 2.04 a.m. There seemed hardly any point tryingto go back to sleep for fifty-six minutes.
There was a noise. A repetitivesound that Morton couldn’t place in his dream. What was it? Aplague of killer bees? No. He sat up in bed and opened hiseyes. It was the heart-stopping shriek of the alarm. He stumbledout of bed like a new-born giraffe and whacked the stop button.
‘You’re reallygoing through with this…’ Juliette’s croaky voice mumbled from under the duvet.
‘Absolutely,’Morton answered, surprising himself at just how agile he felt on so littlesleep. It had to be the adrenalin which had begun circulating his veinsthe moment the alarm sounded.
‘Go and wakethe boys, then,’ Juliette said, barely managing to lift her head from thepillow.
Morton went towake the boys, as they were now regularly being called. It was anappellation that rendered them permanently youthful, which he supposed theystill were. Unlike him. Old and crotchety.
He gentlyknocked, then pushed open the door. ‘Morning!’ he said brightly, asthough he was waking a pair of six-year-olds. Jeremy and Guy were spoonedtightly together, sleeping soundly. His topless brother and his toplessbrother’s topless boyfriend. It almost seemed a shame to wake the boys. The sight of them evoked a strange, envy-tinged parental pride in him. Itwas good to see Jeremy so comfortable with himself. Morton would bemortified if his father walked in to see him and Juliette spooning. Was he uptight? He was fairly sure that he was. He needed torelax. ‘It’s time to get up, boys,’ he said a little louder.
Finally Jeremystirred. ‘Oh crap,’ he muttered, as the reality of the day dawned onhim. His return to Cyprus was looming. He leaned over
