Arthur hovered over the shoulder of the forensic palaeographer, his nervous breath dusting the hair on the back of the man's head.

"This is very delicate work, Arthur, and your breathing down my neck is not helping."

"I know, but what do you think?"

"I just started, Arthur! There is a lot of work to be done comparing the inscriptions with our database. This isn't TV, where a screen suddenly shows all the answers at once. Just buzz off and let me work."

"You'll call?"

"Maybe. I might just crumple it up and toss it in the wastebasket!"

"I'm going, I'm going. Will it be long-?"

"Arthur!"

***

Keith sat holding Barbara's hand, trying to calm her down and convince her all was well.

"How can you say all is well, when that- that delivery man had a gun?"

"We caught him, and he isn't a danger anymore is what I meant."

"Until the next delivery man or visitor or-"

"Barbara, take it easy. That's why I had a man watching out for you. He kept an eye on the guy and when he heard the message he took him down. Look, we've got people watching the two Frenchies. There are more keeping track of Badali and his known contacts. You'll be fine."

"What about you?"

"I'm a cop, Barb, I'm surrounded by police."

"I don't know - look what happened to Snelgrove. Do you have any idea who did that?"

He let go of her hand and stood up. The question was one that had his whole department asking. It made no sense at all for JP to have done it without getting the scroll first. The mysterious other party was a puzzle.

"No I don't." He gave her a forlorn look. "The only other person we know of, connected to this, is Tewksbury, there isn't anyone else . . ." He stared at her a moment then took out his phone and walked away to her kitchen.

A few moments later he came back and said there were some things at his office he had to follow up. He would call later, and she was not to worry; his man was downstairs keeping a sharp eye.

***

Edward Tewksbury sat brooding as he stared out the plane window. He had erred badly. The Canadian policeman was a blindside, never even on his radar. He replayed the events over in his mind leading up to this point, as the flight attendant served the late supper, smiling and fussing as trained.

The moment Edward had seen what Maurice Frossard was offering for sale, he knew he had to have it. Even from the photograph, Edward realized the potential value and then when Frossard added letters of provenance to the mix, his mouth watered.

He realized right away when the courier was killed and the papers stolen, that other, dangerous players were in the game and that kicked him into another gear; he could be a dangerous player too.

The flight attendant set a drink on Edward's tray and offered him a newspaper, breaking into his thoughts. There was nothing about the killing in the paper, so no progress had been made, but then the Canadian cop in Nice suggested perhaps that wasn't quite true.

Shooting Snelgrove at that moment was an ill-considered act, the result of relying on others. How the idiot he hired thought that might prevent the scroll from falling into the policeman's hands he couldn't fathom. Now he had nothing to look forward to but the possibility of being a suspect.

He signalled for another drink and hoped once he was home any interest in him might be forgotten.

****

Keith sat with his chief and went over everything that happened in France. Explaining Barbara's presence took a little more creativity and he made a mental note to coach her in case there were formal questions.

"So two weeks and we have what exactly?" The chief asked.

"Boss, I just went over it all! We know who killed the courier and stole the papers – which were fake. He also killed Frossard, the guy who began the whole scam. We managed to get the original item and send it back here for authentication. . . ." Keith held out his hands.

"But our suspect was also murdered."

"Not a suspect, he confessed."

"To you, and this uh," the chief looked at his file. "Ms Scott."

"Right. Just before he was shot."

"Perhaps you could explain her being there again?" He lifted some papers from the file and passed them across to Keith. Expense forms.

He read them over and saw a few places where suspicions might be stirred and began his rehearsed accounting, desperately hoping his face didn't give away the dance.

****

"Get a good reaming?" Keith's fellow detectives teased as he flopped into his chair. Obviously, knowledge of his travelling companion had been gleefully announced by the team that met him at the airport.

"I think the boss understood. I just have to solve the rest of the case before dinner."

"It was fun knowing you!" One of the men said, drawing laughter from the others.

"What do we have on Tewksbury, anything?"

"Solid alibi for the courier and then a trip to Marrakech."

"We know who did the courier, he was hit himself in France. Marrakech? Why, anyone know? Is he still there?"

"Rosenthal was watching him. He's home with ulcer trouble."

"Did he give the file to anyone?"

"You just had a date with him." Another round of chuckles.

Keith marched back to the chief's office and asked for the file.

"What do you want with Tewksbury?"

"He's a principal in the case and he left town right after the killing."

"You have your killer, you told me."

"I just want to be thorough."

"I noticed." The slur was not lost as the file was handed across the desk.

****

Barbara entered the building where she worked and paused, looking around for the policeman who was supposed to be watching her. She saw nothing to indicate she had any protection and as she hurried toward the elevator her phone rang.

"Ms Scott. This is Detective John Purcell. I am observing you getting onto the elevator in your building. I saw your concern and thought I should check in."

"Oh! Oh, thank you, Detective. I looked around but-"

"That's the whole point, ma'am. You aren't supposed to notice."

"Right, well thank you, Detective." She put her phone away and sighed with relief.

Janet was on her feet the minute Barbara entered the office.

"You have to tell me everything!"

The chatter kept up all the way to her desk and when she turned to go to Arthur's office, Janet blocked her path like an eager puppy waiting for a stick to be thrown.

"Jan, for heaven's sake. I have to report in to Arthur."

"You did already when you first got back! You promised!"

"I know, and I will tell you. Just let me speak to Arthur for a few minutes."

She gave her friend a kindly smile and eased her aside so she could get past and hurried to her boss's office.

Arthur was standing, holding his phone to one ear, his free hand ploughing the shallow field of hair he had left. When he saw Barbara he waved her in and pointed to a chair.

"That was the lab!" He said, hanging up and coming around to stand in front of her. "You won't believe it!"