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As we headed in the direction of the B&B, we spotted Wendy crossing the street. We stopped and watched her buy a muffin. When she sat down on a bench in the shade, we made our way over. The muscles in her neck and shoulders tensed as soon as we made eye contact.
I sat down next to her while Alistair remained standing.
“What is it now?” she asked.
Alistair took a picture out of his breast pocket. It was a printed screenshot of the text message she’d sent Carl.
She turned red. “So what? I had a desperate moment. It happens to the best of us.”
I almost snorted.
“It gives you a motive,” Alistair said. “And I don’t like being lied to when conducting a murder investigation.”
She sighed and looked deflated. Some of her hostility had apparently been let out along with her breath. “I’m sorry. It was just embarrassing to admit, especially in front of Gregor. It was supposed to be a fling, which is what I kept telling myself, but I found that Carl’s sweet lies were getting to me. I liked hearing I was beautiful, sexy, and somewhere along the line I started craving the feeling that Carl gave me. The feeling that I mattered. I know it was all pretend for him, which is why it was so stupid. He turned me into a pathetic excuse of a woman.” She sighed. “It would be easy to blame Gregor, but we’ve both been bad communicators.”
“Did Carl ever respond to your text messages?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not if you include him very obviously flirting with other women in front of me. I was a nuisance to him, I’m sure. And I can’t blame him. Men like him want the chase, they don’t like it when women make it too easy.”
I said nothing, certain she was right. About Carl, anyway.
“Did you go and see him that night?” Alistair asked.
Wendy looked up and shook her head. “I took my sleeping tablets. It took me a while to find them. My insomnia had gotten worse ever since Carl broke up with me. Gregor saw me take them.”
“She could have spat them out later,” Detective Black said. “It doesn’t rule her out completely.”
Or Gregor, I thought.
“And did Gregor go to bed at the same time as you?” Alistair asked, knowing the answer already.
“No, but I can’t be certain how long he stayed up. Look, DS Ashworth. I really think you’re barking up the wrong tree. Gregor would never do such a thing, nor I.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t take your word for it. People who are capable of murder are also very capable of lying.” He flipped his notebook shut. “Thanks for your time, Miss Cohen.”
We left her with her muffin that was dangerously close to falling out of her hand. She didn’t even seem to notice, as she stared off in the distance.
“If she took those sleeping tablets, it means that Gregor doesn’t have an alibi. Then again, she could have pretended to take the tablets and that means she doesn’t have an alibi either,” I said. “Technically, they could have been in it together.”
“I know, but let’s see what Gregor has to say about the briefcase. It’s not like Gregor texted Carl, and I can’t imagine what Carl needed an empty briefcase for so late at night.” We headed to the B&B where Mrs Suzuki informed us that Gregor had gone off to the pub.
I could hardly blame him for wanting some alcohol considering the fact that his whole life had just been turned upside down.
Although, he’d get no sympathy from me if he turned out to be the killer.
It was early and hot, so the pub wasn’t busy. Gregor was in a dark corner, nursing a beer. He looked like he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. Alistair and I exchanged a look before approaching him.
“Mind if we sit?” I asked with a smile, hoping to bring some brightness in his gloomy corner.
He grunted, which we took as an affirmative.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, thinking a little interest would do no harm.
Gregor scoffed. “My only friend in the world got murdered, my wife cheated on me with him, and I keep thinking that this would make a great story. What is wrong with me?” He rubbed his face.
“That’s just your writer’s mind. They are always very weird. Don’t worry about it.”
He looked up at me and managed a small smile.
Alistair cleared his throat. “During our first chat you said you had seen Carl last at the pub. But we know that he messaged you, asking for your briefcase.”
“So you found his phone? Well, I—yes, he did ask me for that. My briefcase, but emptied out. He said he needed it for something, but wouldn’t say what.”
“And you brought it to him?”
“No, he came to the B&B.”
“So you saw him then?”
Gregor looked down. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but yeah. It was just so weird, and he swore me to secrecy.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“I figured he had knocked someone up and had to bribe her or something.” Gregor blushed.
“Had that happened before?” I asked.
“Yes. Two years ago. He bribed the woman to—err—take care of it.”
“Honourable guy,” I said.
“I know. He told me after it had happened, so there was nothing to be done. But the woman wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t want to get rid of it too.”
“Why were you friends with him?” I asked. I just couldn’t comprehend it at all.
“He was a really good guy. He was funny, supportive, smart. I know you’ve seen the worst of him, but he’s actually charming.”
“Serial killers are charming,” I said. “It sounds to me like he was good at manipulating people.”
Gregor sighed. “I’m starting to think that too.”
“So, you were the last to see him,” Alistair said, drumming his fingers on the table.
“No, the killer saw him last. Not me. I handed him the briefcase, tried to get more information, but he turned around and left.”
“And then what did you do?”
“I went up to bed.”
“And your wife was there?” Alistair asked.
“Of course she was there. She had taken sleeping tablets. I saw her take them.” Gregor shifted in his seat. “Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.” Alistair got up, and I followed suit. “I’ll be in touch.” Then he turned and left, with me on his heels.
“Come on, this way,” he said to me, and we went to the park to find a bench that overlooked the pond. It was partially covered by the shade of an oak tree. Alistair let me sit in the shade, even though he was wearing a suit. My objections didn’t change his mind.
“Suck-up,” Detective Black said.
Clearly my detective had something to learn.
“So, Sherlock, what do you think?” Alistair asked and put his arm on the back of the bench as he turned to me.
“I think Gregor is the most likely suspect of them both. Even if Wendy didn’t take sleeping tablets, she would have had to leave the bed after Gregor returned. Although, technically, if he was a heavy sleeper, she could have pulled it off.”
“But Gregor seemed genuinely surprised about the affair, and what else could his motive be?” Alistair asked. “Besides, we can speculate all we want; we need proof.”
“Do you know anything else about Carl? Did he have a will?”
“His lawyer is on holiday, we left a message for him. He should get back to us soon. If he did have one, I’m curious who he left everything to. He didn’t seem to have anyone who cared for him.”
“Except Gregor.”
“Yeah, but he had an affair with his wife. He clearly only cared about himself.”
“True. So what’s next?” I asked.
Pandora shot off towards a couple of ducks, chasing them away from the edge of the pond. She stopped, turned her head and looked right at us.
“Oh, boy. I hope she doesn’t want a rematch with you,” I said.
“I can handle her.” He stared at her.
She stared back.
Tumbleweed rolled by. Oh, wait, that was just in my imagination.
She started drawing back her one foot like a bull, ready to attack.
Alistair grunted. “It’s too hot to fight a chicken.” He glanced at me. “Wow, never thought I’d say that.”
She advanced.
I pulled my legs up on the bench, though I was sure she could jump up if she fluttered her wings hard enough.
Alistair got up and casually strolled her way. He clearly had a death wish, the daredevil.
They met halfway when Pandora abruptly came to a halt and nearly tripped over herself. They just stared at each other and then, as if hit by a bolt of thunder, she dashed off.
I started clapping. How did he do that? Only Nancy had that kind of power. Well, until now. I had to start practising my death stare in the mirror soon. I couldn’t be left behind.
“Very impressive,” I said as he returned.
“You pick up a thing or two when dealing with murderers.”
“I bet.”
He sat back down next to me.
“You know, I could use your intimidation skills.”
“You could?”
“Meet me outside the Wicked Bookworm at six this evening.”
“Should I be wearing a ski mask?” He grinned.
“It’s nothing nefarious, I assure you.”
“We could have dinner afterwards? At my place?” His eyes searched my face.
I swallowed.
“Just say yes,” Detective Black said. “Don’t even pretend you don’t want this. You’re practically drooling.”
“Okay,” I said. “As friends.”
“Of course. Friends. I’ll even give you a high five after dessert, if you want.”
I smiled. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight. I gotta go back now. Detective Black is getting jealous.”
“Oh, we don’t want that, do we?”
“No, he’ll not listen to a word I write otherwise.” I chuckled.
“Damn straight,” Detective Black said.
When I returned to the Wicked Bookworm, Christina was just ringing up a customer. It was otherwise quiet in the shop, and when the customer left, I decided to see if she was ready to strike up a conversation. As I approached, my palms got sweaty, and it had nothing to do with the weather.
“Hey,” I said to her. Mainly because I couldn’t think of anything else.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s the murder investigation going?”
Nice, we were talking.
“I sort of feel like I’m following clues around, always chasing facts or hunches. But I suppose that makes it interesting,” I said. “That’s what Detective Black goes through as well.”
“But with less heart-shaped eyes directed at a certain detective,” he said.
“And you’re investigating with Alistair?” she asked. There was no tone, but it was still a dangerous question.
“Yes, though we’re not—I mean, I’m basically just asking people some questions, that’s all.”
She nodded slowly as she observed my face. “It seems to make you happy. Spending time with him.”
Before I could react, she headed over to a new customer, whom I hadn’t even seen entering.
Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Was she just stating something?
I rubbed my temple and headed upstairs so I could write.
“Finally,” Detective Black said. “I’m in the mood for fictional murder and mayhem.”