The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Russian Fingers

"And that's all that happened!" Poppy said and burst into tears. "I don't know what to do now!" she bawled and wiped her cheeks and nose with the sleeve of her oversized jumper. "If the ones who wrote to me are the burglars you've gotten arrested, they'll tell the police! If not, someone else knows about what we did!"

"Perhaps, you should wait for the second letter," Imogen said softly. "It might clarify your–"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Imogen," Viola said, "but I don't think that it's Carolina Viviani and her accomplices who are responsible for the letter. It just doesn't seem like their style."

Imogen discreetly gave the doctor a questioning look, and Viola slightly lifted one eyebrow, as if saying 'bear with me.'

"This letter seems more like something that a sort of a cheeky, mischievous sort of a criminal would do," the doctor continued. "A criminal, still. They clearly have the insight into it. They've distinguished your attempts from the ones committed by the Portuguese. So, it is someone who understands burglary, but on the other hand, since they didn't make any blackmailing statements or–"

"It's Guthrie!" Poppy hollered.

Imogen's jaw slacked, while the doctor's face remained just as calm and inexpressive as before.

"Angus Guthrie, the gallerist!" Poppy sharply leaned towards Imogen and grabbed her hand. "He's a former cat burglar! And he deals in art! He has connections all over the country, and he must have sussed out that it was my sister and me who'd done it!"

"That does appear plausible," the doctor drew out, tapping her perfectly manicured, short-nailed finger to her chin a couple of times. "I've only met Mr. Guthrie a few times, and only socially, but he certainly seems the type."

Poppy's hand painfully squeezed Imogen's fingers. 

"Imogen! What do you think?! Is it him?!"

The girl's begging eyes fixed on Imogen's face. The latter had nothing to do but to nod weakly.

"It's not your worst option, if you think of it, Ms. Fitzroy," Viola continued, sounding quite blasé. "Allegedly," Viola intonated pointedly, "Mr. Guthrie has been reformed. And a letter like this–" Viola gestured nonchalantly towards the piece of paper on the coffee table between them. "It's hardly threatening. He doesn't demand anything. There isn't even any 'or else' in it."

Imogen hid behind her cup of tea, thanking Heaven above they'd followed Fiona's suggestions and kept the letter concise.

"But what could he want from me?!" Poppy whined. "He's not even asking for money."

"Perhaps, the patronage of the Fitzroy Art Fund?" Viola asked, and Imogen choked on her drink. "Aren't you the active CEO of it? As far as I know, your stepmother has refused to deal with the Fund, and it was left in your care."

"But–" Poppy's eyes boggled. "Oh! Wait! He approached the Fund a few months ago with an idea for an exhibition of the local artists. But we've rejected it!"

"Have you?" Viola took a mannerly sip of her tea.

"Well, we simply didn't have any available funds for it at the time," Poppy mumbled, "and there was a sort of– an aggro with donations– and–"

That was when Imogen understood that - just as she'd initially assumed - it hadn't been Rhys Holyoake or Erika Bjornsson who'd made those donations to the Fleckney Children's Hospital, the Fleckney Youth Theatre, and the Bjornsson Cancer Society. Imogen had no doubt now that the payments could be traced back to the Fitzroy Art Fund.

"I'm sure there's something you could still do, if Mr. Guthrie asks for your cooperation," Imogen blurted out and then bit her tongue, asking herself whether duping Poppy into supporting Fleckney's local artists would be too self-serving.