“Which I can highly recommend,” said Mr. Nakamura, as he rose from his place, “but I fear I must now leave you, Arabella, if I am not to be late for my meeting.”
Jack put down his knife and fork for a second time, as everyone left the table to join Mr. Nakamura in the hall.
Andrews was standing by the front door, organizing the packing of the red box into the trunk of a Toyota limousine, when Arabella and her guests walked into the hall.
“I think,” said Mr. Nakamura, turning to face Arabella, “that to describe my short visit to Wentworth Hall as memorable would be a classic example of English understatement.” He smiled, before taking one last look at Gainsborough’s portrait of Catherine, Lady Wentworth. “Correct me if I am wrong, Arabella,” he continued, “but isn’t that the same necklace you were wearing at dinner last night?”
“It is indeed,” replied Arabella with a smile. “Her ladyship was an actress, which would be the equivalent today of being a lap dancer, so heaven knows from which of her many admirers she acquired such a magnificent bauble. But I’m not complaining, because I certainly have her to thank for the necklace.”
“And the earrings,” said Anna.
“Earring, sadly,” said Arabella, touching her right ear.
“Earring,” repeated Jack as he looked up at the painting. “I’m so dumb,” he added. “It’s been staring me in the face all the time.”
“And what exactly has been staring you in the face all the time?” asked Anna.
“Leapman wrote on the back of a photograph of Fenston shaking hands with George W. Bush: This is all the evidence you need.’ ”
“All the evidence you need for what?” asked Arabella.
“To prove that it was Fenston who murdered your sister,” replied Jack.
“I fail to see a connection between Catherine Lady Wentworth and the president of the United States,” said Arabella.
“Exactly the same mistake I made,” said Jack. “The connection is not between Lady Wentworth and Bush, but between Lady Wentworth and Fenston. And the clue has always been staring us in the face.”
Everyone looked up at the Gainsborough portrait.
After a long silence, Anna was the first to speak.
“They’re both wearing the same earring,” she said quietly. “I also missed it completely. I even saw Fenston wearing the earring on the day he fired me, but I just didn’t make the connection.”
“Leapman immediately realized its significance,” said Jack, almost rubbing his hands together. “He’d worked out that it was the vital piece of evidence we needed to secure a conviction.”
Andrews coughed.
“You’re quite right, Andrews,” said Arabella. “We mustn’t keep Mr. Nakamura any longer. The poor man has suffered quite enough family revelations for one day.”
“True,” said Mr. Nakamura. “However, I would like to congratulate Mr. Delaney on a remarkable piece of detection.”
“Slow, but he gets there in the end,” said Anna, taking his hand.
Mr. Nakamura smiled as Arabella accompanied him down to his car, while Jack and Anna waited on the top step.
“Well done, Stalker. I agree with Mr. Nakamura, that wasn’t a bad piece of detective work.”
Jack smiled and turned to face Anna. “But how about your efforts as a rookie agent? Did you ever discover why Tina—”
“I thought you’d never ask,” said Anna, “though I must confess I also missed several clues that should have been obvious, even to an amateur.”
“Like what?” asked Jack.
“A girl who just happens to support the 49ers as well as the Lakers, has a considerable knowledge and love of American art, whose hobby was sailing a boat called Christina that had been named after the owner’s two children.”
“She’s Chris Adams’s daughter?” said Jack.
“And Chris Adams Jr.’s sister,” said Anna.