A mysterious 1940s’ portrait leads researcher Phineas Fox to uncover a devastating wartime secret in this chilling novel of suspense. Phineas Fox finds it impossible to refuse when his sport-loving neighbour Toby begs for his help in finding out what’s happened to his cousin Arabella, who seems to have disappeared without trace. The only clue to her whereabouts is an obscure 1940s’ portrait left in her flat, a gift from her godfather, Stefan. The painting depicts the mysterious Christa Klein, Stefan’s sister ― and an alleged murderess. Was Christa Klein really guilty of a monstrous crime? What exactly happened within brooding Wewelsburg Castle back in 1941? And what does it have to do with Arabella’s disappearance? As Phin delves further, he uncovers evidence of a lost piece of music and a devastating wartime secret: an atrocity whose repercussions reach to the present day. "To say I enjoyed this book is an understatement, I loved it. Mysteries where the solution is found by unlocking secrets in the past always fascinate me. This one is one of the best. A real page turner. Highly recommended." ― Mystery People "Rayne at first presents a murky, multilayered picture but masterfully draws out the suspense by progressively revealing the underlying truths." ― Kirkus Reviews "Will keep the reader guessing to the end." ― Publishers Weekly "Readers who enjoy sniffing out clues and trying to solve the mystery before the solution is revealed will have a fine time." ― Booklist Sarah Rayne is the author of many novels of psychological and supernatural suspense, including the Michael Flint and Nell West series. She lives in Staffordshire. Chord of Evil A Phineas Fox Mystery By Sarah Rayne Severn House Publishers Limited Copyright © 2017 Sarah Rayne All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7278-8741-2 CHAPTER 1 It was halfway through the party when Toby Tallis said, anxiously, 'Phin, I'm worried about my cousin Arabella.' Phineas Fox had not actually wanted to attend this party, but it was being given by his ebullient, rugby-playing neighbour, whose flat occupied part of the big North London house where Phineas lived. Since the party would certainly be loud and long, and would probably spill cheerfully out of Toby's flat into everybody else's, Phin had thought he might as well go to the centre of the storm and be part of it, rather than fume crossly on the outskirts or bang angrily on the walls. He had in fact started to enjoy himself. He was on his third glass of wine, somebody had handed him a plate of smoked-salmon sandwiches, and he had become involved in a lively argument with four complete strangers about the rival bawdiness of Elizabethan round songs as opposed to Victorian street ballads. A suggestion had just been made that Phin and Toby collaborate on a book about bawdy ballads, and Phin was trying to decide how seriously to view this. But Toby's cherubic face was uncharacteristically anxious, so Phin said, 'What's wrong with Arabella?' 'She hasn't turned up. And,' said Toby, 'she definitely intended to come tonight, because – wait a minute, the email's still on the phone ...' He fished in a pocket, flipped his phone to email, and passed it to Phin. Arabella's email said: Toby, I'm looking forward to your party, because I want to meet your intriguing new neighbour, the one I saw from the window of your flat that day – the one with the silver eyes and the look of remote and intellectual sexiness. Is he sufficiently remote that I'll have to call him Mr Fox, do you know? I hope not, because it sounds like something out of Aesop's Fables. Anyway, short of Armageddon or the bailiffs arriving, I'll be there. I'm disastrously broke again, in fact my entire wardrobe is currently on eBay, so don't be surprised if I turn up at the party wearing the drawing room curtains like Scarlett O'Hara. Lots of love. 'It's not like her not to turn up without letting me know,' said Toby. 'And her phone goes straight to voicemail. I know she's a bit scatty, but it's almost midnight and I'm really concerned.' 'What exactly were you thinking of doing?' 'I think I should just dash along to her flat,' said Toby. 'Now, d'you mean?' 'I can pick up a taxi and be there and back before anyone notices I've gone.' He waited, and Phin said, 'Did you want me to – to keep an eye on things while you're gone?' 'Actually,' said Toby, 'I wondered if you'd come with me.' 'Where does your cousin live?' asked Phin as they bucketed across London ten minutes later. Toby had summoned a taxi with remarkable efficiency and speed, considering he had been drinking alcohol with some gusto for the last three hours. Phin, for whom the cold night air had felt like a wall rearing up to smack him in the face, was not sure if he could have flagged down so much as a pushbike. 'She's got a flat in Pimlico.' Phin thought that of course Arabella would live somewhere like Pimlico. 'She likes the echoes of painters and writers and whatnot who've liv