Page 110 of The Dead Come to Stay
“If you mean Trisha, you’re wrong. And you still have Sophie at the station. And frankly—” Ava’s eyes wandered till they found Green’s “—if he had a lover, I wouldn’t be likely to know, would I?”
MacAdams had messaged the officers; they’d start the search soon, and that would likely put Ava off. He knelt to be nearer her level.
“Do you think he might have?” he asked.
“No. But until this morning I didn’t know about Dmytro’s theft, or that this Foley person was—doing whatever he does. Or that Maryam’s papers only got authenticated a month ago.”
“Wait...” Now Green was kneeling, too. “Maryam’s papers. You mean she wasn’t legally here?”
“Oh. She isnow. Funny, I thought bureaucracy was to blame. That’s what Stanley told me; just messy paperwork. But no.”
“She wasn’t sponsored by Fresh Start?” Green asked.
Ava shook her head. “She applied for azslm—excuse me,asylum—instead. It’s—It takes a long time.” She swallowed wine in a gulp. “And s’not guaranteed. But we could have appealed, for fuck’s sake.”
MacAdams had missed something. He backtracked.
“Are you saying her asylum status was rejected?”
“Yes—no. I don’t know.” She rifled through the papers on the coffee table. “I just knowthisis new.” She handed him a document MacAdams didn’t understand, but the date was clear enough. Maryam might be legal now, but Burnhope had done it through the back doors. Had he greased the wheels?
“Why would he lie to you about her status?” he asked instead.
“Apparently, that’s what he does,” Ava muttered bitterly. Then she seemed to think better of it. “Not to worry her. Not to worry me. Or—he knew I wouldn’t let him take a shortcut.Pisser.”
“Ava,” MacAdams interrupted. “I know this is a lot all at once. But please think back. How often did Stanley travel for Hammersmith?”
Ava picked up the glass, saw that it was empty and put it down again. “He didn’t. Practically lived in his office downtown,” she said... and MacAdams felt another puzzle piece click into place.
“Ava, have you everbeento the Hammersmith building?” he asked.
“Not—not since the kids,” she said.
“Not for five years. Why might that be?” he asked.
Ava clasped her hands in front of her, forearms leaning on her knees.
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have told you I wasn’t interested in architecture—or that I was busy with the kids and the charity work. Just separate spheres and all that. I’d have said it, and I’d have believed it, too.”
“And what’s your answer today?” Green asked.
“I just don’t think he wanted me there. And I can only think of terrible reasons why not.”
MacAdams could hear the officers as they made their way through the house: footfalls upon the stairs and in and out of rooms above them. But they were in the wrong place.
“Green, back to the car. We need to get to Hammersmith—now.” He’d already run for the door, nearly colliding with forensics coming through.
“Why there?” Green asked as they made it outside. “You don’t think it’s the scene of the crime, do you?”
“Both crimes,” MacAdams said. “That’s why I asked if he traveled.”
“I don’t follow,” Green said. They’d made it back to the car and MacAdams belted in and started the engine in a single motion.
“Burnhope never gets his hands dirty. Foley is the one who does the deals—he’s a liability. But there’s a paper trail somewhere, and Burnhope must know we’re getting close to a warrant.”
“He’s going to destroy the evidence,” Green said, smacking her thigh. “Shite.”
MacAdams couldn’t agree more. He’d largely retraced their earlier route, though they needn’t go as far as the station. He could already see the round glass sides of Hammersmith’s tower above tree-lined street. There were lights on up there, glowing sodium yellow against the haze of rain.
