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It was dark when Alistair walked me home. I assured him he didn’t need to, but he hadn’t taken no for an answer. We had avoided the topic of murder up until now, but I was itching to review the case so far.
“So, what are the clues we have?” I asked, but didn’t allow Alistair to answer. “We have a very flirty and manuscript-stealing Carl. We have a lover who desperately wants him back, a best friend who seemingly didn’t know about the affair and brought him an empty briefcase right before his murder, and a missing prize that was the murder weapon. Oh, and his half-sister was pretty much blackmailed into letting him stay in the Pembroke.”
“That pretty much sums it up, yes,” Alistair said.
“But we don’t have any evidence, and the motives aren’t strong enough. Not yet, anyway.” At that moment a pleasant breeze cooled the air significantly. I stopped and spread my arms as I enjoyed the feeling with my eyes closed.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeling the wind on my face always makes me feel alive.”
“And so you just stand here in the middle of the street?”
“Sometimes,” I said.
“What if someone sees you?”
“What does that matter? Really, the only thoughts I care about are from the people I respect and know respect me. Besides, you have to live a little. This feels nice. You should try it.”
“I’m good,” he said.
I lowered my arms and turned to him. “You should be more like Pandora and do what you want.”
“We can’t always do whatever we feel like. Or get what we want.” He gave me a look.
I stared at him, at a loss for words.
“Do you want me to throw a dictionary at you?” Detective Black asked.
“Some things take time,” I said. “And it will be worth it.”
He nodded. “Of that I’m sure.”
When we reached the door to my flat, Alistair gave me a swift kiss on the cheek. I went up with a grin that was hard to wipe off my face.
The flat was dark and Christina was clearly already sleeping. It was late, and I’d completely lost track of time at Alistair’s. I took a shower and then went to bed. I fell asleep within ten minutes.
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THAT FRIDAY MORNING Christina and I had breakfast together again. We discussed some general stuff about the Summer Festival. Today would be the water games. The village square had buckets filled with water balloons and water guns and people had free rein to grab them and target anyone they wished. Which meant that it was also the day that most elderly avoided the market and the village square.
It was not because they were afraid of getting wet or injured. It was simply that they got too competitive. Poppy had gone full Rambo last year and together with a few of the other older women, she had come up with an assault plan that had taken out dozens of kids and unsuspecting market browsers. In her enthusiasm she had even attacked Harold, a pregnant lady, and a puppy. When she had attempted to dive and roll, she broke her ankle.
She had been banned from the water games ever since.
I shared that particular information with Christina who managed to give me a smile. She had the day off from working at the Wicked Bookworm and was going to spend it outside.
I, on the other hand, was going to spend it indoors, working on my latest novel.
“Yay,” Detective Black said in a serious tone, which made him sound sarcastic.
“I’ll see you later then.” Christina left after we had cleared the table.
“Bye.” We would be okay, I knew. Though I was afraid to cheer too soon.
Just as I sat down at my desk, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Alistair. He had news and was on his way. I didn’t hesitate and grabbed a red handbag, since my dress didn’t have pockets, and rushed downstairs. Just as I opened the door to the bookshop, Alistair emerged from behind a bookcase and stopped when he spotted me.
He glanced around, knowing that people were always eavesdropping in public places. And even public places that were supposed to be private. Once, a phone call in the pub’s bathroom led to the rumour about someone having an STD. Never mind that the call had really been about SATs.
I held open the door and nodded for him to come over. I shut the door behind him. We could go upstairs to my flat, but I had the feeling we were about to head out soon.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Carl Scranton’s solicitor rang me in the middle of the night, due to the time difference, and told me that Gregor is the sole beneficiary of Carl’s will.”
My eyes widened. “Really? The friend whose wife he cheated with? Wow.”
“Yes, well, it gives Gregor a pretty big motive. Two, actually, since we know from the phone messages that his wife still wanted Carl. If Gregor found out...” his voice trailed off. “And we know that he got a message from Carl to meet him with the briefcase. We have actual evidence that he was the last to see him. Assuming he is the killer, of course.”
“So you’re going to arrest him?”
“Yes. I know you can’t come along to the station, but I figure you wanted to be there when I do it. I’m heading over now. I want to ask him some questions first.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
Alistair smiled. “I’m glad to see you so excited.”
“This could mean he confesses and then we’ll have solved a case together. That’s pretty cool, Watson.”
“It is, Sherlock. The game is afoot.”
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WENDY AND GREGOR WERE having breakfast in the B&B. Mrs Suzuki let us in with wide eyes and followed us with interest. It was clear that she knew something was up. Perhaps she could feel the tension emanating from us both. Or maybe it was just me. I’d never been this close to an arrest. Apart from the previous murder, but I had been fighting for my life, so I didn’t really get to enjoy that. Then there were the times that Nancy had been taken in, mainly for assault. Once for public urination.
They both froze when their gazes landed on us. They were the only ones having breakfast right now. I wondered if Sophie was having breakfast with Eddie or if she was still asleep.
“This is harassment,” Wendy started.
I was surprised to see them having breakfast together.
“It could be they’re dependent on each other. Some people want to suffer together, because they believe it’s the best they can do,” Detective Black said.
Was that why they had been close to Carl? He wasn’t exactly a good friend. Even if Gregor seemed to think—or act—like he was.
“Did either of you know anything about Carl Scranton’s will?” Alistair asked.
Wendy put down her spoon and shoved away her bowl of yogurt.
Gregor was still holding his fork and had a few sausages left on his plate. He had a defeated look about him. As if he was just going to go with the flow and didn’t have the energy to worry about stuff. Wendy, however, had an aggressive look in her eyes. She also looked like she hadn’t slept well in a while; she had dark circles around her eyes and her skin was paler than usual.
“No, of course not,” Gregor said. “I mean, I don’t even think he had one.”
“You think we killed him for his money?” she said. “We wouldn’t do that. We cared about him.”
Gregor eyed his wife. “Some of us more than appropriate,” he muttered.
She had the decency to look down at the table.
“So you would be surprised if I told you that one of you is the sole beneficiary of his will,” Alistair said.
Their heads shot up, their eyes wide. They stared at Alistair then at each other.
“Wh—who is the beneficiary?” Wendy asked softly, as if she was afraid the words would break as soon as they left her lips.
“Gregor is,” Alistair said.
Gregor dropped his fork. It clattered against his plate. He leaned back with his mouth open. “Are you serious?”
Alistair nodded.
“Considering the fact that he also texted you last, and your wife wanted him back, I’m arresting you for the suspicion of murdering Carl Scranton, and we will have a formal interview at the station.”
Wendy gasped. “No, please.”
Alistair motioned for Gregor to get up, and he did. Alistair read him his rights and even handcuffed him. That would definitely not go unnoticed. They went outside where Alistair had parked his Beetle.
Wendy and I followed them. I stayed behind, hoping I could chat with Wendy and find out some more information. I wanted to do something useful while Alistair was taking Gregor in. It was very possible that he was the killer, but it was equally possible that he was not. It all seemed a bit convenient. Also, what about the briefcase?
Wendy started sobbing while she scrunched up her face, but there were no tears. It was like she had all these emotions and no idea where to put them.
Mrs Suzuki hurried back into the B&B, quite possibly to phone in this new piece of gossip.
“Come on,” I said to Wendy. “Why don’t we sit in the garden with something to drink and chat?”
She looked at me as if she’d only just realised I was there. Her mouth became a harsh line and her eyes narrowed.
“If she tries to punch you, kick her in the shin,” Detective Black said.
I braced myself; she looked ready to strike.
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine,” she said. Her anger had left her body like air from a balloon.
Mrs Suzuki was not on the phone when we entered the kitchen, but instead had two mugs of steaming tea at the ready. “There, you go and relax in the garden.” She handed us the mugs.
There were some clouds that occasionally hid the sun, and it was two degrees cooler than the day before, but it was still warm, and it would only get hotter. Tea, it seemed, was always the go-to drink in a time of crisis, even in the blazing heat.
Technically, tea cooled the body temperature, but still, I wasn’t sure if I could swallow this.
We sat on the bench that we’d found Gregor and Wendy on the first time we visited. This time there was nobody else in the garden; it was still early.
The fact that Wendy had seemed convinced that Gregor hadn’t done it made me wonder if she knew who had. Also, their relationship was odd. She had an affair, pretended not to care, yet at the same time, she clearly still loved Gregor. So what exactly was the deal?
“You were having breakfast together,” I said and hoped that was enough to get her to start talking.
“A few comments here and there should do the trick. She has nobody else to talk to. She’s probably desperate.” Detective Black was beside me.
She nodded and blew on her tea. “It was probably a good thing that Gregor found out. Usually we don’t talk about our feelings. We just go on and on, taking each other for granted. Taking everything for granted. Carl made me feel special and beautiful. He was good at saying exactly what you wanted to hear.” She took a sip of her tea.
“After Gregor found out, we had a huge fight. It wasn’t pleasant, but I think it was good. We got everything out in the open. Not even just recent things, but also things from way back. We laid it all out on the table. Afterwards, we were both relieved. Things were different, but not necessarily worse. We’ve been communicating ever since. Of course, he hasn’t forgiven me, yet. But we’re working on it.”
She scrunched up her face again. “And now he’s gone.”
“Do you think he killed Carl?”
“No, no, not at all.” She grabbed my wrist. “He’s not the kind of guy to do something like that. Even if he had known, which he didn’t, then he would never have done something so awful.”
“What would he have done, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think he would have gone over to talk about it with Carl, but then lost the nerve and ended up pretending everything was fine.” She smiled wryly. “That would be typically Gregor. Or at least, the Gregor before we started talking about things.”
“Someone killed Carl,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “I realise that, Margie, but it’s not Gregor. I really think it’s Sophia. She was always following him around like a puppy.”
“It’s Maggie,” I said.
“Who is?”
“I am.” I did my best to give her a stern look.
“Right, Maggie,” she said in a slightly annoyed tone. “Just go sniff around Sophia, and I’m sure you’ll find something. You’re helping the police, aren’t you?”
She was close to adding ‘make yourself useful,’ no doubt.
“Fine, I’ll look into it. But if her following him around like a puppy is the only thing you’ve got—” I said, my voice trailing off.
“Well, I can’t do your work for you. Although, maybe I should.” She raised her eyebrows.
“That is too dangerous,” I said.
“You’re doing it.” She looked at me as if I couldn’t even tie my shoelaces on my own.
I folded my arms. “I’m a trained professional.” Sort of.
Detective Black snorted. “In what? Getting papercuts?”
“Look, do you have any other suspects? Or reasons why you think it’s Sophia?” Which I really hoped it wasn’t. Eddie would be heartbroken.
“I did once hear her over the phone. Sophia, I mean.” Wendy tapped her chin as she recalled the event. “She was talking about not pursuing a lawsuit of some kind. She didn’t want to go after someone. Instead she had convinced him to work with her. She wouldn’t say who ‘he’ was, though.”
“Do you think it was Carl?”
She shrugged. “Either she was running from someone or running towards someone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed impatiently. “She always gave me the impression that she was either hanging around because of some sort of mission, or that she was there to hide from someone. Like, she was never truly herself. I can’t explain it. Perhaps it makes no sense.”
“Wendy may be a complicated woman, but I don’t think she’s a nonsensical one,” Detective Black said.
Sophia had dyed her hair. Perhaps it was so she wouldn’t be recognised. My eyes widened as I recalled the bruises. What if she had an abusive husband she was running from? What if Carl had been taking advantage of that and played the protective hero? What if that had gotten him killed? Or what if Sophia had realised he was using her and snapped?
Still too many possibilities, but it was an angle worth pursuing.
“Thanks, Wendy. I promise I’ll look into it.” She still had her hand on my wrist, so I gave it a squeeze and then put her hand on her own knee. With a polite nod, I got up and walked around the side of the B&B, leaving through the gate.
For a second I thought she’d call after me, but she didn’t. She had to be lonely, but I hoped it wouldn’t mean she’d go snooping on her own. She was not the type to ask veiled questions.
I looked down at the tea mug I was still holding. It was not my proudest moment, but I simply put it down outside the gate and hurried off. I had some serious digging to do.