Chapter 8

 

 

 

 

 

The wall clock read five fifteen and I was drooping over the police reports. The firm’s business hours ended at five, and I could freely go home. The few colleagues who were still there were all getting ready to leave. But the trial for Crown v. Hayworth was to begin the next day, so I had to read through my part of the witness accounts and police reports at breakneck speed. Michelle and I had divided them equally between us.

I had already closed the deal for that damned medieval castle and now the murder case was my only task. The day before, I’d had Yester Castle’s sale documents notarized and received the key to the property’s gate. Somerset came by in the afternoon to pick everything up. He was visibly pleased when he told me, “Thank you, Miss Roseburg, for meeting the deadline. Ella will be quite pleased, I do believe.”

“Send her greetings for her birthday on my behalf,” I presumed to say. “But I wonder why… well… why she chose the ruins of a thirteenth-century castle? And those legends that accompany it. Isn’t it a little spooky?”

He chuckled and explained, “Personally, I agree. I would have never chosen to buy it on my own, but Ella wants it because of Yester House next door. Or, rather, because of the owner of that mansion.”

“And who’s he?” I asked, curious.

“She,” Somerset corrected me, “is ‘the Monster,’ Lady Gaga.”

 

I went down to the parking lot and started my Toyota. It took me about half an hour to arrive at my apartment in Battersea. Immediately upon entering, I threw my keys on the kitchen table and poured myself a glass of white wine. Without further delay, I began to read the remaining accounts. Whenever I had such a “class A” case, my mind was focused solely on it.

I was absorbed in reading Mrs. Stubbings’ account when I saw a black shadow slide by the half-open door that separated the room from the corridor. I didn’t move an inch. However, I didn’t feel threatened – in fact, I felt strangely calm. Within a few moments, the shadow had become flesh — a man, in an impeccably tailored black suit, but seeming relaxed, standing there with his hands tucked in his pockets. He was between thirty and forty years old and had a classically handsome face. In short, exactly my type of man.

“What do you want, Alice?” He was standing by the door, immobile.

“What do I want?”

“Yes. Tell me what you want.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and his lips stretched into an ambiguous smile.

I glanced down at the witness accounts in front of me. Well, to start with I want to win this case, I thought.

When I looked up at the door again he’d disappeared.

 

The continuous ring of my cell phone woke me up.

“Hello?”

“Alice, I’ve got something!” Hearing the private investigator’s voice brought me wide awake.

“I spoke with a student worker at St. Mary’s church. It turns out that Miss Torres would often do volunteer work at that church, as she was a very devout young lady. Each Sunday she’d help organize the church lunches. About six months ago, she’d also started attending self-help groups. At those meetings she became acquainted with Lee Helsbee — a troubled young man, about twenty years old. The worker described him as an introvert, inclined to self-harm, and said I could learn more about him from the special project administrator. But she isn’t answering her phone at the moment. I’ll have to call her again tomorrow.”

“Have you found out anything else?”

“About Helsbee? He has no record at Scotland Yard. When I went to the address listed for him, his mother opened the door. She told me he wasn’t there but I didn’t really believe her.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking hard. “Well, keep trying to get in contact with the administrator and see what you can get out of her. If we can connect this Helsbee to Torres’s murder, we can keep Hayworth from ending up in jail.”

I ended the call and dialed Seagoe’s number. He answered after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Robin, I have some news from the private investigator. Where are you?” I heard the clink of glasses and distant conversation.

“City of York, 22 High—”

“High Holborn. I’ve heard of it.” I paused for a second. “Look, the PI just called me.” I relayed the information I had just received. We needed all the ammunition we could get and there was no time to lose. The trial was set to begin the next day.