The man beside Helen's car was Benjamin Hale.
Relf recognised him before the officer finished describing him. Grey hair, a dark coat, two missing fingertips on his left hand.
He stood beside the passenger door with a key between his fingers.
The officers had asked him to step away. He had given them his name and said he was collecting the vehicle for a friend.
Relf crossed the departure area towards them.
Hale watched him approach.
"Arthur."
"Put the key down."
"It's not my car."
"I know."
Hale placed the key on the roof.
"Where's Helen?"
"Somewhere you can't speak to her."
A family passed behind them, the father steering two tired children towards the toilets. Hale waited until they were clear.
"You've read Adrian's letter."
Relf did not answer.
"He always did write too much."
Relf told him he was under arrest, cautioned him and asked the officers to search him.
Hale offered no resistance.
When one officer took his arm, he said, "Careful. That shoulder's been repaired."
The officer adjusted his grip.
Relf looked through the passenger window. Beneath the seat, the edge of a brown document wallet was visible.
He left it there for the scene examiner.
"Did you come for that?" he asked.
Hale looked towards the ferry.
"I came because she was frightened."
"Of you?"
"Of what she'd found."
"Did you tell her to leave the car?"
"Yes."
"And arrange another crossing?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
Hale said nothing.
Relf checked his watch.
23:33.
"Was anyone waiting for her?"
"I'd like a solicitor."
Relf nodded to the officers.
"Take him in."
As they led him away, Hale turned.
"Arthur. You'll find my signature on a great many things. That won't make all of them crimes."
"No," Relf said. "We'll read them."
Eleanor had not moved Bull's letter.
Helen sat opposite her, rubbing the damp paper cup between her palms.
"Why did you bring the records?" Eleanor asked.
"Adrian wanted them."
"After he was dead."
Helen looked at the envelope.
"I thought Margaret might have come across."
"Did you arrange to meet her?"
"Not directly."
"What does that mean?"
"I sent a message through David."
Eleanor waited.
"He said he'd tell her."
"When?"
"After Claire delivered Adrian's envelope."
Helen put the cup down. It had begun to leak onto the table.
"I didn't know she was dead until today."
"Who told you?"
"David."
"What did he say?"
"That she'd taken too much medication. That she was ill and had been under strain."
"Did he tell you how he knew?"
"No."
Eleanor reached for a clean sheet of paper.
"Write down the calls. Dates, times, what you remember. Don't try to make it tidy."
Helen stared at the blank page.
"There are messages on my telephone."
"Keep them."
"I deleted some."
"Then tell Arthur which ones."
The door opened.
Relf came in with an officer carrying a fresh cup of water.
"We have him," he said.
Helen's face changed.
"David?"
"Yes."
"Did he have the wallet?"
"No. It's being recovered from your car."
She closed her eyes.
Eleanor watched Relf sit.
"What else is supposed to happen at eleven forty?" he asked Helen.
"I don't know everything."
"What do you know?"
She took a breath.
"There's an account in my father's company records. It holds money for the British arrangements. David asked me to approve its closure."
"When?"
"Last month."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Where was the balance going?"
"To another company. I thought it was a reorganisation."
"Can you identify it?"
She nodded.
"And the records?"
"He told me the originals would be collected tonight. That I shouldn't retain copies because they contained clients' personal details."
Relf placed a telephone on the table.
"You're going to give that information to someone who can act on it. Start with the account."
At 23:40, the ferry began its departure.
Through the window Eleanor could see only part of it, a lit section of upper deck moving beyond the buildings.
Nobody in the room watched for long.
Helen was speaking to an officer about names she had previously treated as clients and companies. Relf stood beside her, asking her to distinguish what she knew from what she had assumed.
The first pages recovered from the car arrived as photographs.
There were invoices, letters and payment instructions. Some carried Helen's father's signature. Others had been signed by Mercer.
Eleanor recognised names from Bull's notes.
Hart.
Sayer.
Wycliffe.
The amounts beside them varied. The descriptions were mostly unhelpful: consultancy, relocation, professional services.
Relf enlarged one page.
"Here."
Michael Vale's name appeared halfway down.
No sum of money beside it. A reference number, a date and a handwritten instruction.
Contact to be restricted. Refer D.M.
Eleanor looked at the date.
It preceded Michael's death.
"What does 'restricted' mean?" Relf asked Helen.
"I don't know."
"Who wrote it?"
She examined the screen.
"I think David. I'd need the original."
Relf passed the image to the officer.
"Get the related correspondence. Everything under that reference."
Eleanor kept looking at Michael's name.
This was the first document they had found that placed him inside the company's records. It did not explain his fall. It gave them someone to ask about it.
Relf turned to another page.
A payment to Margaret Sayer had been entered shortly before she left her house. Beside it was the number she had called after Claire's visit.
Helen leaned forward.
"That's David's."
"His usual number?"
"One of them."
"Can you show us a message from it?"
She unlocked her telephone.
Relf handed it to the officer.
It was after midnight before Helen was taken to another room to give a full statement.
Eleanor stayed where she was.
Her shoulder had begun to ache again. She had been sitting too long in a chair that tipped her towards the table, and the water in her cup tasted faintly of paper.
Relf returned carrying the sealed envelope and Bull's letter in separate evidence sleeves.
"I'll need these," he said.
"I know."
"We'll give you copies."
She nodded.
"What about the money?"
"The relevant authorities have the account details. They're working on it."
"And the people?"
"We're maintaining the protection. We don't assume arresting Mercer ends it."
He sat opposite her.
For the first time that evening, he looked tired.
"He helped you look for Wycliffe," she said.
"Yes."
"And tonight he came to collect the records himself."
"He trusted Helen."
"Enough to think she'd still follow his instructions."
Relf looked towards the door through which she had left.
"She nearly did."
Eleanor glanced at the evidence sleeves.
"What changed her mind?"
"I'm not sure she's finished telling us."
He rubbed his forehead, stopping short of the healing cut.
"You should go back to Marsh View."
"So should you."
"I have an interview to arrange."
"Will he talk?"
"He's asked for a solicitor."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Relf stood.
"I know."
At the door he paused.
"We didn't lose the records."
"No."
"And he didn't leave."
Eleanor looked at the chair Helen had occupied.
Neither of those facts would bring Margaret back. But they meant that, this time, Relf had someone to question and something to put in front of him.
She reached for her coat.