Gladstone’s statement was discouraging, but Isabel wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet. “If the letter can’t be found, you’ll have to go to court and start the process of straightening this out, won’t you? It could take years, and by then Harcus will have made himself king of the manor, drive everyone off the land, and make a deal with the Patterson vultures to build hotels and water slides and only God knows what else.” Turning in all directions she scanned the office. “We have to find it.”
“If MacCarthy hid it, chances are it’s with the instructions that were given to Ferris,” Michael said.
He didn’t know how much Gladstone had been told about the flash drive his friend Craig Walsh had slipped into Isabel’s pocket. He gave him a quick summary and then said, “We believe MacCarthy kept the original kill order, but we can’t look through the client files. You can. And, while you’re looking for the letter Compton wrote Isabel, you could also look for the instructions MacCarthy gave the killers.”
“My God, what was that depraved man into?” Gladstone asked as he pushed his chair back and stood. “Fortunately, I know that MacCarthy didn’t have many clients. Most of them moved on to other solicitors, so this shouldn’t take long.”
Shouldn’t take long? Had he been inside MacCarthy’s office lately? Isabel wondered.
No matter what, she was determined to stay positive. Maybe Gladstone was right. Maybe it wouldn’t take long to find what they were searching for.
Gladstone and Nessie immediately set about searching through files while Michael and Sinclair went back upstairs to complete their examination of MacCarthy’s personal records. Isabel couldn’t go through client files, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. As soon as Nessie finished checking all the stacks on the floor, Isabel put them in boxes and labeled them.
“Why was he shredding all those papers?” she asked Nessie as she closed the lid on the last box.
“Most are old reports he didn’t use anymore. From comments Mr. MacCarthy made I got the feeling he was expecting a windfall and was going to retire. I don’t believe he liked the law much.”
At that moment Michael walked in and heard what she said. “He sure knew how to manipulate it.”
Isabel looked at her watch and was shocked at the time. They had been there all day. She stood by the door and watched two officers carry out the remaining boxes. Where hadn’t they looked? The desk was completely empty; every paper in the file cabinet had been examined, and even the papers in the shredder had been bagged and tagged. She’d done that on her own. Her thought was that maybe someone would take the time to tape the shredded pieces back together. She’d do it if no one else would.
Isabel realized she was becoming desperate. She couldn’t help it. She had such a strong feeling those papers were hidden somewhere in this office. Where else could they be?
Reality eventually smacked her upside her head. All of this searching could be futile. What they were looking for could be in any of a hundred places. MacCarthy could have mailed them to someone
to hold for him. He could have placed them in a security box at the bank. He could have buried them in his backyard. The He could have went on and on.
Sinclair seemed to be as frustrated as she was. “Maybe he did shred them.”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t think MacCarthy destroyed the kill order or the envelope with Compton MacKenna’s letter. Keeping them gave him leverage.”
Gladstone picked up a pile of folders. “I’ll take these and put them in my file cabinet. I have a client coming in for a late appointment, so I’ll be in my office.”
Nessie stood and brushed the pieces of shredded paper from her skirt. “I’ll be going home, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Sinclair said.
Isabel took Nessie’s hand. “Thank you so much for your help. We couldn’t have looked through any of this without you.”
Nessie blushed at the praise. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Isabel stayed with Michael and Sinclair in MacCarthy’s office. She wasn’t quite ready to give up.
“Did you look behind the bookcase? Were there any loose panels he could have tucked the papers behind?”
“We looked,” Sinclair assured her.
“What about the empty office? Did anyone look there?”
“Yes,” Michael answered. “It’s empty. No built-in cabinets. No safe.”
“What about the desk? Any false drawers or hiding places?”
“I checked,” Sinclair said.
Feeling defeated she said, “I don’t know where else to look.”
Michael could see that Isabel was wilting. Disappointment showed on her face.
“I think we’re done here,” Sinclair conceded with a resigned look around the room. “Are you hungry? I’d like to take you to dinner.”
The mere mention of food made her stomach grumble. She and Michael hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Michael was apprehensive. “Whoever wrote the kill order is still out there. We’ve been pushing our luck, Isabel. It isn’t safe for you to go into a pub.” He rushed to add when she started to interrupt,
“By now everyone knows you’re here.”
“I couldn’t be safer,” she argued. “I’ve got you and Inspector Sinclair protecting me.”
Sinclair agreed with her. “I have a couple of officers at the pub now, so that’s four watching out for her, and when you leave, I’ll make sure no one follows you. You’ll be as safe there as anyplace.”
He turned to Michael. “I think you’ll want to be there when Archie Fletcher shows up.”
“Who’s Archie Fletcher?” Isabel asked.
Sinclair explained. “Fletcher is the man who called Donal Gladstone to tell him you were in danger. He used his cell phone. We tracked the call and have been trying to talk to him, but thus far he’s been avoiding us. He hasn’t answered any of our calls and he hasn’t been at his house when we’ve gone there, but we know his habit is to go to Jolly Jack’s on Wednesdays. It’s their Cullen skink night.”
“Cullen skink?” Michael questioned.
“That’s a fine fish chowder. And Jolly Jack’s is known to make the best in all of Scotland.
Fletcher’s friends say he never misses, and we are likely to find him there tonight.”
Michael gave in, but once again went over the rules.
Isabel knew them by heart now. “I’ll stay by your side. I won’t go anywhere without you, not even the washroom, et cetera.”
“Et cetera?”
Smiling, she said, “I’m saving time.”
“Fletcher usually comes in around eight and stays for a couple of hours, according to two different sources,” Sinclair said.
“That gives us a little more time to search,” Isabel said.
“Search where?” Sinclair asked. “Where haven’t we searched?”
Isabel circled the room, inspecting every surface, every crevice, searching high and low. When she stopped at MacCarthy’s desk, she turned to Sinclair. “Did you move the desk and look under the rug?”
“The desk weighs a ton,” Sinclair said. “It’s going to take the movers a full team to get it out of this office. I’m not sure where it will go. MacCarthy didn’t have any relatives or a will.”
“Nessie told me MacCarthy wouldn’t let anyone vacuum the rug. I think he may have put something under there. It’s worth a look, don’t you suppose?”