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By the time Alistair was on the phone with his colleagues, I was pale and trembling. Detective Black’s comments telling me to breathe didn’t help one bit. It wasn’t just because I had literally stumbled on a dead body, it was the fact that she had been strangled with my scarf.
At least, that’s what it looked like. She had bloodshot eyes, and the scarf was wound tightly around her neck. There were also scratch marks on her neck, as if she had tried to claw at the scarf and free herself.
Why would she be wearing my scarf? Or had the killer been wearing it? Either way, it was entirely possible that I would never wear a scarf again.
Alistair had to stay with the body, which meant that I had the unfortunate task of telling the others.
The only luck was that they were all still at the breakfast table, though Geoff and Brenda had just gotten up and were about to leave.
“Excuse me,” I said in a voice that was too high-pitched.
Miles got up. “What’s wrong? You look very pale.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you all this, but Valerie is dead.”
“We know that,” David said.
“What do you mean?” Miles asked.
“She’s been murdered outside. Alistair is calling it in as we speak and guarding the crime scene. I’m supposed to tell you all and keep you in the same room until he can question us all.” I swallowed, my tongue feeling like sandpaper.
“She’s really dead?” Miles asked. He inhaled sharply. “H—how did she die?”
“We’ll have to wait for the coroner, but it looks like she was strangled.”
David got up to his feet. “You’re lying. This is part of a joke, right? You’re lying.”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”
“Does Alistair need any help?” Warren asked, a defeated look on his face. “Can we do anything?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asked as he got up and put his arm around me.
“I feel a bit shaky.”
“Come on, sit down.” He helped me to the chair closest to me.
Miles squeezed my shoulder and then also sat down.
“Perhaps we should clear the table. I don’t think I can stand looking at this food,” Brenda said in her normal accent.
“No. Nobody leaves this room.” I sounded more bossy than I had intended.
“Why not?” Brenda asked, sounding a little offended.
“Because you’re all suspects.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone took that in.
“Oh,” she said meekly and sat down.
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ALISTAIR AND HIS PARTNER DC Daniels—Hugh—approached us an hour later, though it felt like an eternity.
Alistair had his detective face on, meaning he looked like nothing could shake him. He’d had that same serious expression the first time he questioned me about a murder, also in this room, though in the back.
The Pembroke was cursed.
“I’m DS Alistair Ashworth, and this is my colleague DC Daniels. I realise this is a big shock to everyone, including me, but I’m afraid there’s been an actual murder. Valerie Cooke was killed in the garden last night.”
Brenda gasped dramatically, despite the fact that we already knew this, and the others started firing questions at Alistair.
Eddie just squeezed my shoulder. His jaw was set.
I had promised him no more murders. I’d even found the body. Again. He must have been convinced I was going to start poking around. And he’d be right.
She’d been strangled with my scarf.
Alistair held up his hand. “I understand that you are all in shock and that you have many questions, but right now, I’m the one asking questions. Someone killed her and it’s my job to find out by whom.”
“Warren, let’s start with you. Where did you go after dinner?” Alistair asked, his voice level.
“I went to my room as soon as I was certain that everyone was settled in. I wanted to make sure I was ready for an early start today. I ran into Valerie in the kitchen before I went to bed, and I said goodnight to her. She seemed fine. That was the last I saw of her. I remained in my room until the next morning.”
“Can anyone confirm this?”
Warren shrugged. “No, of course not. I didn’t know I was going to need an alibi.”
“Err, speaking of Valerie being in the kitchen. I don’t know if it was her, but around midnight I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I made myself some tea downstairs. The French doors were partly open and I heard voices outside. They belonged to a man and a woman, but I don’t know much else. I didn’t see anyone and I can’t even be sure the female’s voice belonged to Valerie.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow as I saw the cogs in his head turn. The look he gave me made me believe he had just figured out why I had asked him about last night at the breakfast table.
I looked at my hands, unable to meet his eyes.
“Brenda, did you go outside at midnight?”
She startled visibly. “No, of course not.”
“If that is true, then we should assume it was Valerie. Which one of you was she talking to?”
The three men all shrugged or shook their heads.
“Which means either one of you is lying because that’s when you killed her, or it was someone else entirely,” Alistair said. He flipped a page in his notebook.
“What about you, David? Where did you go after dinner?”
“I took a shower and was on my tablet for a while, then went down to the kitchen for a drink around ten and went up again. And no, I didn’t run into anyone.” His shoulders were tensed, and he avoided eye contact with Alistair.
“And we were rehearsing a couple of moments we’d act out for this weekend,” Brenda said before Alistair could even ask. “Weren’t we, darling?”
“Yes. We pretty much stayed in our room all night.” Geoff nodded at Alistair.
“How convenient,” Detective Black whispered in my ear.
“Aren’t you all part of the same acting group?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
They all looked at me as if they’d forgotten I was there.
Geoff cleared his throat. “Well, yes. We’re The Dramateers. Valerie was part of our group. She was a good actress.”
“So you knew Valerie well,” I said.
“We rehearse twice a week and we’ve done some performances,” Geoff said again. I was guessing he was the leader.
“You weren’t friends?”
His eyes widened. “Of course we were. She was a good friend to all of us.”
I studied them. None of them looked terribly convinced of that. It could be because they were all in shock, but considering Valerie’s behaviour, I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Is it true she was strangled?” Warren asked.
Alistair was quiet for a moment. His eyes met mine. “We’re not sure yet, but it appears so.”
I winced.
“Oh, dear.” Brenda touched her own neck as her nose wrinkled.
“That poor girl,” Geoff muttered. “Her husband will be heartbroken.”
“She was married? I didn’t notice a ring,” Alistair said.
“She was. His name was Johnny Cooke.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but for now I want you all to remain here. I still want to question you all individually over on the sofa by the fireplace. Miles, I’ll speak with you first. And Maggie, after that I want to talk to you.”
I nodded.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asked me quietly while the others were either lost in thought or chatting amongst themselves.
I leaned closer to him. “She had been strangled with my scarf,” I whispered.
Eddie’s eyes widened. “That’s terrible.”
“I know. Anyone could have grabbed it easily, but it really freaks me out that my scarf was the...murder weapon.”
“Of course, it would freak me out too.”
I glanced around at the members of the Dramateers. They looked worried and gloomy, but that didn’t mean they were innocent. I knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving.
“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them,” Detective Black said.
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WHEN IT WAS MY TURN, I walked all the way to the other side of the long room. Alistair had spoken with Miles, who briefly touched my arm in passing. It was now my turn to face the music.
Hugh was right next to Alistair, also with a notebook.
“Hey,” I said, as I sat down opposite him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked me, concern mixed into his warm voice.
I shrugged and looked at my hands. “She was strangled with my scarf.”
Hugh gasped and Alistair glared at him. “I just told you that,” he said.
“Oh, right,” Hugh said and checked his notes. “You did. Sorry.”
Alistair turned his attention back to me. “Do you have any idea how that could have happened?” His voice was gentle, and I knew he didn’t mean to imply anything, but I still felt a fresh wave of guilt.
“No. Warren took my coat and scarf just like he did for everyone, I assume. I haven’t touched it since our first stroll in the garden.”
“Could you go through what happened last night again?” he asked.
“Of course.” I swallowed. “I woke up at midnight and couldn’t sleep and decided to go to the kitchen and make some tea. I noticed it was cold and saw that one of the French doors was ajar. I heard two voices. A man’s and a woman’s. I couldn’t tell who they belonged to and the kettle was making a lot of noise. I figured it was none of my business and left. I wouldn’t have done that if I had any reason to think someone was in danger.”
Alistair stopped writing and looked up at me. “We know that.” He even added a smile.
It made me feel a little better. “Thank you.” Then I glanced behind me at the dining room table where the others were.
“Friday night I saw Valerie in the garden with David. I don’t know why, but if that was a regular thing with them, then maybe it was him she was talking to last night as well.”
Alistair nodded slowly and wrote it down. “We’ll take it into consideration.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, this is a police matter, so please do not concern yourself with this murder. If you remember anything helpful, don’t hesitate to let us know.” He had adopted a more professional and distant tone.
Detective Black popped up right behind him and shook his head. “Too late. She’s already concerned,” he said to Alistair, even though he couldn’t hear him.
Eddie and Alistair had been—and still were—very worried for my safety, and I understood why they wouldn’t want me to get my sleuth on, but still—this murder would haunt me until the killer was caught.