‘OK, Riri, we’re going to spend today getting all of our interrogations done on The Clio Trio. Don’t be scared, OK? Yes, we’ll be looking a murderer in the eye. Follow what I’m doing. In fact, sit there and don’t talk. Make note of anything you find interesting but don’t worry, we will be recording everything.’
Riri nods.
‘Chloe implied that our investigation is silly. We’ll prove her wrong.’ I nod, more for myself than Riri. ‘The aim is to not be too firm. If I go in too deep, pull me out, OK? I can be persistent when interrogating.’
Riri nods again.
Before I can walk out, Dad comes in. I turn silent and can’t swallow away the lump in my throat. It’s been four days since I last saw him. His hair is messy. He has dark purple circles under his tired eyes. His face is shadowed with facial hair. He appears small. ‘Girls?’ His voice is weak. I feel like crying.
‘Dad, a-are you OK?’ I ask, my voice also becoming weak.
He tries to smile but it’s broken. ‘I-I thought you both had gone, you know, outside.’
‘Not yet,’ Riri whispers. ‘We were about to.’
‘Oh.’ Dad manages to smile this time but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I was going to tidy up your room while you were gone. Ani, I did it for you every day.’
My chest aches as if my heart has just shattered. Tears well up in my eyes and my vision goes blurry. Before I can buckle over, I run over to Dad and hug him tight. He crouches down and hugs me back tighter. He really is the World’s Best Hugger.
‘I love you, Dad,’ I say between sobs. I don’t care that I’m wetting his hoodie with my tears. ‘I’m sorry you’re going through this. Thanks for always cleaning my messes. I’ll fix the one you’re in.’
‘I love you too, Imani.’ I swear, I feel a teardrop of his run down the back of my neck. He loosens his hold and turns slightly away. ‘I love you, Noori.’
I nearly lose my footing when Riri joins the hug. ‘Love you too.’ Her words are muffled. ‘We know you didn’t do this . . . Right?’
The tears dry from my eyes and I step away. Glare at Riri for being so insensitive.
‘Imani, calm down,’ Dad soothes. ‘Noori, you have the right to question. But no. I would never hurt a fly. I was very fond of Mrs Kostas. Framed, I think I am.’
‘I knew it!’ I proclaim.
‘But it’s been tough.’ Dad’s words make me gloomy again. ‘Please, patience with me. Girls, I hate for you to be seeing me like this.’
I continue hugging Dad until his phone rings and he disappears into his office. Then I look at Riri. She has red eyes. ‘What are you waiting for?’ I ask with the aim of uplifting both of us. ‘Let’s go find the real murderer.’
We’ve headed over to our outdoor location, the part of the park that’s opposite Cafe Vivlio to meet our first suspect: Fred Hunt. Along the way, we pass people fanning themselves while eating ice-cream that dribbles down their arms. Wow, morning ice-cream. But there’s no time – we’re here now.
Flowers from the public line the cafe’s exterior, nearly three weeks later. Police tape is still at the entrance. This is tough to look at.
‘Supersleuth’s log,’ I say into my phone, removing my sunglasses. ‘The time is 8 a.m. Two days ago, we finalised our suspect list. Due to family obligations –’ I’m referring to Mom taking us to Yorkshire Wildlife Park and then Jorvic Viking Centre the day after. She ignored my tantrums and protests against joining her and Riri for a ‘good time’. It was unfair that Dad could stay home but I couldn’t – ‘we had to postpone our interrogations. The discovery of the victim’s body was made about two hours after the assumed time of death, to be exact.’
‘That’s not exact,’ Riri whispers to me. ‘Not if you can’t give a specific number of hours after the body was discovered.’
All I can do is sigh at her and roll my eyes to the bright blue sky. I continue, ‘Fred, you’re being recorded. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I consent to it.’
I kiss my teeth. Glare at him. ‘Why? You hiding something?’
‘No!’
‘Then let me record you.’
He huffs. ‘Fine.’
I clear my throat. ‘I am here with one of the three regulars who were at the cafe at the time of the incident –’
‘That’s me, Mimi and Derek. Right, Ani?’ Fred asks. He’s already sweating buckets and the sun isn’t even at its hottest yet. He knows he’s about to be interrogated by a masterful sleuth. ‘You’re a regular at Cafe Vivlio too. And you discovered Mrs Kostas’s body.’ He motions to the closed cafe, police tape flapping along the perimeter.
I smirk. ‘I’m not including myself as a suspect because that would be a conflict of interest, don’t you think?’
Riri sniggers at that. ‘Good one.’
‘Thanks. Now, developments in the case are unfortunate –’
‘It’s so sad, isn’t it, about your dad?’ Fred says. ‘I don’t believe he did it.’
I slit my eyes. He’s trying to build a rapport with his interrogator but I’m no fool. ‘Fred, this’ll be harder than it needs to be unless you answer honestly.’
‘You do know I’m not legally obliged to be sitting in this park at your mercy, don’t you?’
With gritted teeth, I say, ‘I’m trying to save my dad.’
‘Let the police do it.’
‘No! Because Mrs Kostas meant something to me and I have to try my best here. And obviously my dad is innocent and I have to prove that. Give me a chance.’
‘Yeah!’ Riri adds. Her nose is red. ‘And if you don’t tell us anything but lies then that means you’re hiding something.’ She sneezes.
‘Riri, pipe down now. And did you take your antihistamine?’ She shakes her head. There’s no time for this so I turn back to our suspect. ‘Fred, tell us what we want to know so we can eliminate you from our list of suspects. That’s all. Don’t make me get out my little pot of black powder, white paper, sewing measuring tape and magnifying glass,’ I threaten, remembering my unused sleuthing tools.
‘That’s good,’ Riri tells me. Nods at me like she’s grading a test. Like she’s the Director of the TUSC and I’m a SIT. Pfft.
‘Fine, whatever,’ Fred mutters to himself. ‘I’ve already said all this to the police but what do you want to know?’
‘We’ve pinpointed that Mrs Kostas –’
‘RIP,’ Riri whispers.
‘RIP,’ Fred echoes. He looks overly sad.
I work my jaw. ‘RIP. We’ve pinpointed that the time of death was roughly 4.30 p.m. the day she was found. I have confirmation that you were at Cafe Vivlio between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. Tell me everything you did within that timeframe. Spare no detail.’
Thirty minutes later, I’m brain dead. He doesn’t stop talking. Spares literally no detail. Talks about how he spent two and a half hours on one scene for his latest screenplay. Apparently he barely noticed the time go by. ‘I don’t need to know about your toilet breaks.’
‘Toilet breaks might be a diversion for when he did the deed!’ Riri whispers to me.
‘Oh yeah.’ Under my guidance, she’s getting good. ‘Fred, do you remember who else was in Cafe Vivlio at the alleged time of death?’
‘Around 4.30 p.m.? Yes, only because I had to remember hard for the police interrogation. That left me, Derek and Mimi inside. Rodolfo had gone out for a smoke break. Quiet day.’
Riri tugs my sleeve like a lost child. I widen my eyes at her, hoping to scare her. ‘Why didn’t we see Rodolfo on the CCTV footage? If he came out, the doorframe camera should’ve shown us him?’ she whispers.
That’s a good point indeed. I whisper back, ‘We’ll have to question Rodolfo and see what he says. The smoke break could’ve been a smokescreen for him to kill Mrs Kostas.’
‘Uh, excuse me?’ Fred snaps.
‘Shush, Fred,’ I snap back. ‘In this interrogation, you listen to us, OK? Now, do you remember anything else when Rodolfo was out?’
‘Not much. Same as I told the police. Me, Mimi and Fred don’t even talk to each other. I would say we’ve got nothing in common but we’ve never spoken long enough to find out.’
‘Huh, OK.’ He’s kinda got a point, based on what I know they’d be an unlikely trio of friends. Bar the slight similarities of their career paths – a vlogger, a wannabe influencer and an aspiring screenwriter – they don’t share the same interests and their personalities are so dissimilar they’re incompatible. Even when Derek and Mimi went out, I heard there wasn’t a lot of small talk that wasn’t shop talk.
I show Fred a rough sketch of our timeline and he verifies it. We need to add in his toilet breaks. ‘Where were you born, Fred?’
‘Sh-uh-Sheffield. Why?’
‘No reason. Where was Mrs Kostas born?’
‘. . . Athens, I think.’
‘Did you know Mrs Kostas by any other name?’
‘She never let me call her by her first name, that’s for sure.’
I exchange a curious look with Riri. ‘Fred, can you answer the question?’
Fred pauses, all pale with a wrinkled forehead. ‘I –’
I repeat the question. He’s clearly hiding something. In my peripheral vision, I see Riri eagerly jotting down notes.
Fred still doesn’t say anything. But he does fidget about.
‘Fred –’ I say, smoothly – ‘I know of her by at least two other names now. Did you too?’ An interrogation technique I’ve learned from crime shows I’m too young to watch is to show the suspect your soft side. Make them think what they’re about to say is all right.
Fred finally caves in. He keeps dipping his head in a weird nod like it’s repeating on a broken loop. ‘Yes. Fine. I knew who she really was. Anastasia Dimas, art thief on-the-run.’
‘Fred, we have reason to believe that your motive for killing Mrs Kostas was to write a killer – excuse the pun – screenplay. Finally get your big break. What do you think?’
He grimaces. ‘Very creative but no. I know I’ve said I’d do anything for my big break but not that. What kind of a person do you think I am?’
‘Well, you’re in debt, Fred. I heard you telling my dad. And apparently you know Mrs Kostas’s real identity. That’s an expensive secret and yet you’ve only written a school play. You want to write award-winning indie movies and Hollywood blockbusters. Fair to say you have big dreams. You’ve been trying so hard for years and it hasn’t been paying off.’
Fred pouts. ‘Look, I was inside the cafe between the times you said. I swear. I didn’t kill Mrs Kostas.’
‘How can you prove that? Don’t answer that – it’s a hypothermic question.’
‘Hypothetical question,’ Riri obnoxiously corrects in a whisper. What’s her problem?
I focus on Fred. ‘Prove it by going to the properties of the folder where your most recent screenplay is saved. “Previous versions” will show us if you made any progress fifteen days ago, at the date and time of the murder. You could’ve had it open but not typed a word. You know, while you were off murdering Mrs Kostas.’
‘That could check out,’ Riri says, ‘because you mentioned that he’s a slow writer.’
‘See? I know him – we were friendly before. Now talk, Fred, tell us everything.’
‘No!’ he shouts. ‘I don’t owe you anything. I’m entitled to my privacy!’
‘OK, fine.’ I hold up one hand and put down a finger as I count up the facts. ‘Fred, here are the facts: one, Mrs Kostas was found dead in The Secret Garden. Two, it looks like she was pushed to her death. Three, she didn’t really like you.’ Of course, we’ll get the actual cause of death when the autopsy report is done – but that’ll take weeks or even months.
‘That’s mean,’ he mumbles.
‘Well, it’s true. Four, the only way to The Secret Garden is through Cafe Vivlio and you’re one of the only people who knows that. Five, you knew who she really was.’
‘. . . So what? That is all coincidental, because I didn’t kill her!’
I lean forward. ‘Did she know that you knew who she really was?’
‘No.’ He’s more animated now. ‘No, she did not.’
I don’t believe him. ‘Out of curiosity, who would you kill for?’
‘Hypothetically.’ Riri adds with a shaky voice.
‘My grandma or my mum.’ But Fred’s never, ever mentioned any family.
‘OK, thank you for your time.’ I stand. So does Riri.
‘Ani, are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘That he told Mrs Kostas/Dimas that he knew she was an international art thief and bribed her? Yep.’
We head to the next stop.
‘Mimi lives close by,’ I say as I speed-walk over the cobblestones. The sun burns down on us. My sunglasses slide down my nose. ‘Try to keep up!’ I chide Riri. ‘So far, we’ve got Derek’s compromising audio recording and Dad’s DNA tying him to the crime scene. We can’t eliminate Fred from our suspect list. He’s acting too weird and he knows about Mrs Kostas’s secret past. It’s not enough to go on . . . yet. What will we find from Mimi?’
I march toward a little cottage-like house.
‘Wow,’ Riri whispers. ‘This looks like a smaller version of Barbie’s Dreamhouse.’
I sigh. ‘What did I say about being objective?’
‘What? I can’t admire her house?’
‘No! Because then you’re going to be lenient with her in the TUSC notes. Like, “Oh, the suspect with the nice house totally killed the victim but I’ll disregard that because her rug is awesome”.’ I ring the doorbell. ‘You’re questioning her, by the way. Let’s throw you in the deep end and see what you’ve got.’