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The rest of the day went by in a blur. I had taken Miles home with me because I didn’t want him to have to be there with nothing but his thoughts and police tape in his garden. The Castlefield Book Club had already stopped by with baked goods to cheer us up—and mostly for gossip. Not that they were being insensitive, but information was power and they wanted this murder solved just as much as I did. They probably already assumed I’d be looking into it and they were probably eager to offer assistance, as they had in the past. Well, assistance was a bit of a stretch, but they tried.
I still couldn’t help but wonder why Valerie had been killed that night, during a murder mystery weekend?
Plus, the way she had been killed implied that it was in a fit of anger. The killer literally grabbed what was closest at hand.
As the baker’s wife, Olivia always had access to comfort food and she had brought delicious pastries which she practically thrust on me since word had already gotten out that I had tripped over the body. Her hair was short and looked messy today while she also had streaks of flour on her cheek.
“I still can’t believe that poor girl actually died,” Eleanor said as she helped Nancy bring in the tea.
“I can,” Nancy said. “She enjoyed riling people up, that much was obvious.”
Miles, Eddie and I had all taken a pastry, and as soon as the plate went on the coffee table, the pastries slowly disappeared into the vacuum that was known as Poppy. She ate like a sumo wrestler who needed to store fat. Not that Poppy was fat, quite the opposite. How she managed it, I don’t know. If only I could adopt her metabolism.
“Not that she deserved to die,” Eleanor said.
“Of course not,” Nancy added. “I never said she did.”
“Some people do,” Ava said in her lovely Scottish accent. She always managed to make her blunt comments sound poetic. Well, almost.
“Ava,” Eleanor scolded.
She shrugged. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
“Not everyone has such a dark mind,” Lily interjected.
“So you say,” Ava muttered.
Jessica was sitting on the floor playing with Snowball. She had grabbed one of my balls of yarn and was pushing it towards Snowball while Phoebe observed it with a shaking head. She managed to look like a strict school teacher.
To my surprise, though, Snowball pushed around the ball of yarn with her little nose and hopped after it.
Conversation was beginning to drift away from the topic of murder as Lily tried to get Miles to go out with her single daughter while she used her latest invention: a tea spoon which doubled as a cookie holder. It was quite effective up until the part where you stirred and the cookie fell off.
I was relieved that they all provided a welcome distraction, but it was nice when they left and I was surrounded by a smaller group of people. The bigger the group of people around me, the more I would feel drained afterwards.
Funny that I didn’t have that with fictional characters.
Eddie and Christina showed up with pizza around dinner time and all four of us were watching Netflix while eating. I was in between Christina and Miles while Eddie was in the armchair. Snowball was lying on her side by the fireplace. Occasionally her whiskers twitched. I couldn’t help but wonder what she daydreamed about. Probably big carrots.
“Did you know that Eddie attended one of the Castlefield Book Club meetings?” Christina asked us with a grin.
“You did? Did you enjoy it?” I knew how weird those meetings could easily become. Half of the time they seriously discussed the books they’d read, but the other half was just...well, weird.
“I should have known what I was getting myself into,” Eddie said, “but it just so happened that I’d read the book they were going to discuss, and I was curious if it would be fun.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What book did you read?”
His freckled and pale skin turned red. “Shut up. Anyway,” he started.
“Why is he turning red?” Miles whispered to me.
“Probably because it means he’s read a really fluffy romance, but he doesn’t want to admit it.” This last part I said louder. “Even though romance is for everyone.”
“I said shut up,” he hissed at me. “Anyway, Phoebe and Jessica showed up first, but they were dressed as a block of cheese and a carton of milk.”
I had heard about that. And no, it hadn’t anything to do with it almost being Halloween.
“Why?” Miles asked.
“It turns out they were silently protesting,” Eddie said.
“Protesting what?” Miles frowned.
“Dairy,” I said.
He gaped like a fish, still not understanding.
“They like to protest things. It’s...don’t worry about it. Once you get to know them better, you’ll understand.” I flashed him a smile. The first time I had run into the neighbours, they were in fluorescent biking outfits with equally noticeable bikes and yelled at every car that drove by, trying to get people to cycle to work. Problem is, if you live in a remote village where people have to drive about fifty minutes to get to work, nobody is going to cycle.
“But...dairy?” Miles said.
“Then Eleanor and Nancy showed up with lemon tarts and Poppy followed not long thereafter and went straight for the food,” Eddie continued. “Which is all very normal, especially since everyone else then trickled in and took their seats. They all had the book with them, and I reckoned we were about to start when Olivia suddenly started crying.”
“Wait. Who’s she again?” Miles asked.
“The baker’s wife. Brown hair, always smiles.”
“Right.” We turned our attention back to Eddie, who was enjoying drawing the story out. At least, I guessed so, based on the glint in his eyes.
I hadn’t heard this piece of gossip yet, so I was actually very curious as to what could make the lovely Olivia cry. The woman could smile through a funeral. Not because she wouldn’t be upset, but because she always found beauty in everything. I admired that kind of strength.
“She said she suspects Stanley of cheating,” Eddie said in a low voice.
I actually gasped. “No way, he would never.”
“That’s what Eleanor said, but then Ava said something not so friendly about men in general, to which Lily piled on and that just made the crying worse.”
“Why does she think Stanley is cheating on her?” Christina asked. Apparently she also hadn’t heard this part yet.
“She said that a few times this week he left late at night and when he came back he simply said he went for a walk.” Eddie shrugged. “Could be true, right?”
“Yes, of course. Stanley loves her to bits.” But with all the murders going on, I realised it was difficult to truly know someone. Maybe he was cheating. “What days did he go and what time?”
Eddie laughed. “I knew it. I knew you were going to look into it. Are you sure you can fit a suspected cheating case into your new murder case?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“I—I never said I was investigating Valerie’s murder.”
“We all know you’re going to do it,” Eddie said.
“Yeah, we do,” Christina said. Even Miles nodded.
“I promised you I wouldn’t,” I said to Eddie.
“But you want to anyway. I can see it in your eyes. Look, I’ll help you.”
My mouth dropped open. “What? But you’re the one who said it was too dangerous.”
“Not if I’m with you. I know how to kick ass now. I’ll be your assistant.” Eddie grinned.
“And I will help too. I need to do something,” Miles said.
Yeah, I totally got that. I glanced at Christina.
She held up her hands. “Oh, no. I already had to cancel my date, and I’m not doing it again.” She winked at me. “You kids have fun chasing a murderer.”
Okay, she didn’t have to say it like that.
Detective Black was in front of the fire. “Ooh, I feel tingly all over. This is going to be exciting.”
I sighed. “Okay. We’ll start tomorrow. Tonight, we relax.”
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long before we got to unwind again.
––––––––
AFTER ALISTAIR HAD finished his questioning and did his due diligence, the actors were allowed to go home. They had to leave their details and obviously had to remain available for follow-up questions, but it meant they were able to resume their lives. This was beneficial to us because all their drama rehearsals were open to the public, and I also knew they had a performance next month. Rehearsals had already started before this weekend. Their next meeting, however, wouldn’t be until Monday night, which meant that this weekend was reserved for some basic research.
AKA Facebook stalking.
“You know,” Detective Black said, “If you make me a bit more inclined to use technology, I could use the Friendbook to gather clues.”
“It’s Facebook, and your apprehension towards technology is endearing and ensures that Mary can come up with some useful information. You’re not a private detective, after all. You have colleagues.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I suppose. It would be a lot easier if I was a private detective; there’d be less paperwork involved.”
“I doubt that.”
“Although you seem to have acquired colleagues as well.” Detective Black smirked at me. He was looming over me while I was on a meditation cushion next to the coffee table in the living room. I had on a snug orange jumper and warm, grey jogging trousers. Next to me was a steaming mug of tea and no biscuits (yay, self-control!) while Snowball was running around. Christina was downstairs working at The Wicked Bookworm but only until lunch time. Then she had her date with the guy she hadn’t told me anything about yet.
I would cover her afternoon shift, which meant I only had this morning to do some snooping. I did welcome the distraction that working at my bookshop provided.
In my notebook, I had written down all the names of the people involved in the murder mystery weekend apart from myself. Then I crossed out Alistair, Miles and Eddie. I mean, Alistair was definitely out, and I knew Eddie well enough. I could choose to be paranoid and leave him on the list, but I was pretty damn certain Miles would never strangle someone with my scarf.
I started with Geoff Jones. His personal Facebook page pretty much consisted of posts from the Facebook page for The Dramateers. I clicked on it. He and his wife Brenda had started their little acting group The Dramateers. They met at a theatre in Woolfield on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It seemed they were all very passionate about acting if they met that many times.
“Check the photos,” Detective Black said. “No doubt we’ll be able to spot lingering gazes, spiteful glances and even worse than that: food pictures.” He shuddered. “Food should be eaten, not photographed.”
I wholeheartedly agreed, but it seemed that the pictures for the drama club were exactly what I was looking for. There were a lot taken on nights they had performed, but also during rehearsals. I was more interested in the behind the scenes photos. That’s when people lowered their guard.
They looked like normal pictures of actors rehearsing. Valerie was only in the background in some of them, writing in a notebook. There were a few pictures that stood out to me because in two separate ones, Valerie had her hand on David and Geoff’s arms and was laughing at something they’d said. It looked like she had been flirting with both of them. There was also a picture where Valerie was being silly and everyone else was smiling as they watched her. Everyone but Brenda.
“Jealousy doesn’t have to be about love,” Detective Black said as he leaned forward.
I frowned and went back to check out the posts. After some scrolling, I found what I was looking for. Valerie had the lead role in their upcoming play called Worse for Wear. Well, obviously not anymore.
I clicked on a link that led to the website for The Dramateers. “Bingo,” I said as I scrolled through the info on their last four plays. “Every lead role went to Valerie. I’m fairly sure Geoff decides on the roles, so Brenda wouldn’t be too happy about that, I reckon. Hell, maybe even the guys weren’t too happy about it. It was, after all, a man she had been talking with.”
“Still. It is possible that the man she spoke with left quickly after you did and the killer showed up after that,” Detective Black said.
I pursed my lips. He had a point. It was unlikely, but very possible. There could have even been a total of three people there. Just because I had heard a woman’s voice and a man’s, didn’t mean they were the only people.
“And the plot thickens,” I said as I scribbled in my notebook.