“Who is he? Where is he?” Gazing around the hall in excitement, Autumn felt hopeful that this mystery might soon be solved, and the killer caught.
“He’s over there.” Ben pointed to the far end of the function room, where a big group of guests was gathering. “His name is Marcus Granger. That’s what Fenella told me, anyway. Marcus Granger, blond hair, spiky beard, and an expressive way about him. Based on all of that, it has to be him.”
Autumn’s gaze followed his pointing finger, landing on a tall man, who was gesticulating in a confident way, while speaking to a woman in a shimmering, dark blue evening gown. His grandiose gesture toppled two glasses from the tray of champagne flutes that a nearby waiter was holding. The waiter had clearly seen this coming at the last possible moment, but hadn’t gotten his tray out of the way in time.
The glasses crashed to the ground, causing the woman to flinch and a few other guests to scatter. Marcus barely noticed. Whatever he was talking about, it was far too important to be paused because of a mere breakage.
“We need to get over there.” Turning around, Autumn picked up her glass again, realizing she had barely touched it. Telling herself she mustn’t waste the drink, she took another sip. Alcoholic though it was, it was pleasant tasting. “But what’s the bad news?”
“I don’t know how this has happened.” Ben’s voice dropped. A frown creased his forehead. “But when Fenella told me about Marcus, she also asked me about you.”
“What about me?” Autumn said, anxiety knotting inside her, because from Ben’s tone, this didn’t sound good.
“She said that she’d heard someone talking about the fact you seemed to be asking questions about Trevor Brewster’s death.”
“How did she know that?” Autumn asked in concern.
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone must have guessed, or seen, and told someone else, and now the word is spreading like wildfire.”
"I don't want people to know," Autumn shook her head in consternation. "The more people that know, the more likely it is that Officer Warring will find out that I've been asking questions, and then he'll be mad and stop me, and then I can’t help Willow.”
“I know. It’s very concerning,” Ben said. “I think that once we’ve spoken to Marcus, it might be a good idea to leave this event. Fenella said that Officer Warring called her a few minutes ago and said that he and an assistant policeman needed guest passes. So he’s coming – soon.”
“That means we have to wrap things up even sooner,” Autumn said.
Turning in Marcus’s direction, she wended her way through the crowd, with Ben alongside. Marcus had a booming voice, and it carried around the room, as two waiters rushed forward to sweep up the broken glass and mop the spilled champagne that he’d caused earlier.
Now, Autumn was close enough to hear what he was actually saying.
"I'm all in favor of fresh starts, you know, my dear," Marcus expounded to the woman in the glittery blue dress, nodding his bristly, blond chin as he spoke. "Sometimes, new beginnings are the best beginnings. You can ask me that. I'm something of an expert," he added in knowing tones. "Sometimes you choose them, and sometimes they're all but inevitable."
Tones that chilled Autumn’s blood as she sipped her drink again. Was he actually referring to his partner’s death? If so, had he purposely orchestrated the ‘inevitable’ that he was mentioning in such a bright and breezy way?
How was she going to get the truth out of him? At this stage, it looked like any conversation at all was going to come with a serious risk of breakage.
Another waiter ducked aside, as Marcus made another sweeping gesture with his arm. Champagne sloshed out, foaming on the tray as the glasses wobbled, but luckily, the waiter managed to keep them balanced, and avoid them actually falling over.
Now seemed like a good time to approach him, because the woman he was talking to had been distracted by that near-miss, rushing forward to grab one of the glasses for herself.
She didn’t recognize this man at all, and hadn’t seen him on the island. Her guess was that he was from the mainland, more of an investor than a hands-on partner. But why was he here now? Had he deliberately killed his partner when he saw the relationship was going sour? Did he intend to take over The Local Brew – even though he wasn’t a local, and keep it running?
She had so many questions, and it was time to get the answers. Autumn managed to orchestrate a quick jostle of his shoulder as he turned in the direction of the bar.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“No problem, my dear, no problem.” He was clearly the kind of person who called everyone ‘my dear’. Autumn guessed that might mean he was bad with names.
“I’m Autumn Ray, owner of Harbor View,” she told him anyway. “And this is Ben Hartley, who’s the local vet. Perhaps you know him?”
“I am Marcus Granger, and I unfortunately don’t own any animals,” he said. “I do love cats, but I’ve had a few house moves recently, and planned to get a cat when I’d settled down. Perhaps once all my furniture’s in place, I can think about that. It seems that everyone on this island owns a pet. Funny, I don’t recall it being like that a year ago.”
With a flicker of amusement, Autumn realized that, killer or not, Marcus had just identified a key trend among the locals. She didn’t think Ben was aware of it. He had no idea that he was the draw card, and she wasn't going to enlighten him in case he was embarrassed when dealing with all the enthusiastic new pet owners.
“Yes, it is definitely a trend these days to adopt animals,” she said briskly. “But that must mean you’ve moved to the island yourself?”
“It’s a very recent move. I wanted to be more hands-on in the running of my business,” he said, causing all Autumn’s suspicions to be on high alert.
“What business is that?” Ben asked.
“I co-own a coffee shop, and I am planning to expand,” he said proudly. “At any rate, until recently, I co-owned it. Now, I guess I’m going to be the sole owner, which is tragic yet fortunate, considering the exciting changes I’m going to be making.”
“Which shop do you own?” Autumn asked. She felt strangely short of breath, and her heart was pounding. She knew the answer, of course, but now she needed him to say it.
“I own The Local Brew. You’ve probably been there.”
She’d expected him to look triumphant, but instead, his face seemed glum.
“The Local Brew? Yes, I know it well.” Autumn took another sip of her drink. Was it more bitter than it had been when she’d started drinking it? It tasted rather weird. Maybe the sugar in the cocktail had all gone to the top, and the bottom tasted different?
"It's been a terrible shock to me to hear about the death of my partner."
"Were you and he getting on well at the time?" Autumn got the question out in a rather slurred voice. She was feeling very strange. Her heart was pounding, but she was having difficulty in keeping her eyes open. And why was she sounding so strange? Had she forgotten how to talk? It wasn't just her because she saw Ben give her a worried look.
“No, I must admit, we were not.” But to her surprise, Marcus sounded genuinely sad about this. “We were not getting on well at all, and I blame myself.”
“You do?” Ben asked, putting an arm around Autumn as she leaned against him. Why was the room spinning in such a strange way?
She looked at her glass. Gosh, she'd nearly dropped and spilled it. Maybe it would be better to just finish it so she could put the glass down?
Autumn raised the glass to her lips, but at that moment, a large, beefy arm knocked her off balance. Instead of drinking the drink, some of it spilled onto her chin and her dress.
“Oh, excuse me,” Marcus said. “I have this terrible habit of talking with my hands.”
“Let me take your glass,” Ben said, as Autumn tried to use her sleeve to mop up the sticky, coffee-smelling drink residue. With Ben holding her glass, it was easier, but not by that much. She seemed to have lost all her coordination. What on earth was wrong? Maybe that cocktail had been stronger than she’d thought.
“So you blame yourself?” she asked.
Focus on what he's saying! Why were her eyes wanting to swoop closed? It wasn't as if this was a boring conversation. And it was only about eight p.m., Far too early for her to be tired.
Autumn had the unsettling feeling that she wasn’t thinking straight, and the even more disturbing certainty that she no longer knew what ‘straight’ was. There seemed to be no other option than to focus carefully on Marcus, as he explained his predicament with his ex-partner.
"We wanted to choose such different paths forward," Marcus said. "Trevor seemed to think that because he was running the business hands-on, he should have full control over its running and not take any input from me. The problem was that I started realizing he wasn't running it well. I heard that he was cutting corners and that he wasn't paying his creditors on time. Also, he was making some business decisions without consulting me. I had no idea about some of the changes that were happening in the shop over the past couple of weeks. That was very disturbing. I had planned to speak to him after the festival and suggest buying him out. Now, he’s died, and I must say the way it happened, it’s going to be a serious setback to the business.”
He shrugged in an expressive way, causing two waiters and one guest to duck for cover. Autumn leaned against Ben harder, using every ounce of her will power to try to keep herself upright, and looking coherent.
“A setback?” Ben asked.
“Yes. You know, having a death like this, with us having had an acrimonious relationship, reflects badly on me. I was already interviewed by the police. Luckily they cleared me as I had an alibi for the time of the crime, but I can’t help feeling that it’s placed the business, and me, in a bad position with everyone living here.”
Autumn wanted to ask him what else he’d done, but the words wouldn’t come out. Now, she didn’t just lean against Ben, but actually sagged. Grabbing her, he stared at her in consternation.
“Autumn, you don’t look well. Are you okay?”
“Miss Ray! Something is wrong! She needs fresh air!” With one sweep of his hand, Marcus had cleared a path, and Ben was trying to walk her along it. But Autumn’s legs wouldn’t work anymore, and the entire hall was getting dark.
Had she been poisoned? That was her last, terrified thought, before her eyes drooped closed, and her consciousness slipped away.