“Will you quit grinning? We’re rushing to see one of our friends who was hurt.” Olivia swatted him on the arm. “It’s obscene.”
“What? I owe him a beer. He got me away from wedding planning insanity. What happened to keeping things simple?” Osian caught his sister when she stumbled over an uneven patch of pavement. “We asked for your help because we wanted less madness. Not more.”
“Have you tried getting our mum and Dannel’s to listen? When they’re together thinking about the wedded bliss of their beloved firstborn sons?” She poked him in the side. “Not one word of complaint. You threw me to the wolves.”
“What happened to ‘I’m Princess Olivia, and I rule the world’?”
“Princess Olivia was slain by the dragons.”
“I’m telling Mum you called her a dragon.” Osian danced away from his sister when she went to punch him. “Now who’s being obscene on the way to the hospital?”
“Can you pretend you’re thirty and not three? For once?” She caught up to him and looped her arm around his. “I have an idea about the wedding.”
“Okay?”
“You two sneak off to get married at the register office. Mums and immediate family attending. Then we’ll book some venue and throw a massive party.” Olivia sounded far too confident.
“You’ve already booked a place, haven’t you?”
“Just make plans for a spectacular cosplay wedding reception, all right?” She patted his arm with the air of someone who controlled the universe. “I’ll manage everything, even the dragon mums.”
“Is it sneaking off to get married if everyone knows the plan?”
“Don’t rain on my dramatic parade, Osian Garey.” She winked when he grumbled under his breath at her. “Hey, see, he’s obviously okay if he’s outside the hospital.”
Following her gaze, Osian noticed a bandaged-up Chris in an argument with Abra. He didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was happening. Abra was in full paramedic mode dealing with a difficult patient.
“I am fine.” Chris spoke each word with increasing irritation. “I didn’t require stitches or a scan of any sort.”
“They hit you over the head with a brick.”
“Glancing blow.” Chris waved off the concern. He nodded at Osian and Olivia when they stepped closer. “Hello, you two.”
“How do you receive a glancing blow from a brick?” Abra glowered at him.
“Abs makes a most excellent point.” Osian decided to intervene before the conversation went from entertaining to heated. “Who grazed your noggin?”
“Not a clue.” Chris began to walk away. “Come on. We’ve parked down the street. Wayne sent a text inviting us to his place. Roland and Dannel are meeting us there. We’ll tell you about our adventure on the way there.”
On the drive over, Chris gave an abbreviated version of what happened. Abra immediately interjected with a fuller picture. Osian tried not to laugh at their bickering with each other.
Like an old married couple.
The two had struck out with Abra’s godmum. She’d had nothing to share. Chris had then suggested they stop by Edgar’s place of employment. They’d been on their way back to his vehicle when someone quite literally chucked a brick at him, catching Chris on the side of the head and his shoulder.
“You’re bloody lucky they didn’t have better aim.” Abra still sounded put out.
“‘Bloody’ being the operative word?” Osian could see dried blood along Chris’s hairline and on his shirt. He reached up to put a comforting hand on Abra’s shoulder. “Easy there, Abs. I’m sure our James Bond can dodge bullets, so he’ll be just fine.”
“Well, he couldn’t dodge a brick.”
“Ouch. Brutal.” Osian grinned. “Are you saying he’s—”
“Whatever terrible joke you’re about to share, maybe don’t?” Abra pinched his hand, causing him to yank it back. “I can hear it now. Something about being one brick short of a load?”
“Okay, rude. Also, spooky mind-reading skills are cheating.” Osian rubbed his hand. “Aren’t we supposed to avoid causing pain in others? Paramedics and all that? Dedicated to healing?”
“Did you find anything out before someone bashed in your skull?” Olivia interjected. She sent a warning glare in Osian’s direction. “Anyone at Edgar’s willing to chat?”
“Without the side of brick?” Osian couldn’t help adding.
No one had been willing to talk. Chris claimed even his friends at the private security firm had clammed up. They’d closed ranks around Edgar.
Maybe they weren’t aiding in his escape, but they also had no interest in sharing information.
“Wayne wants to know if we’re in a pizza or Nando’s sort of mood. They’re going to stop by to pick up whatever we decide on.” Abra held up her phone. “I’m voting for pizza.”
“Same,” Osian agreed. He kept thinking about what Mattie had said.
I can’t let this go. Mattie saw a woman being chauffeured around. If Edgar did kill Barnaby and handled disposing of the body, who was driving her vehicle? It had to have been someone he trusted not to tell the police.
Who can help us figure out which woman was involved?
Digging through his backpack for his phone, Osian decided to message Ian. He might be able to find a way to meet up with Judie Sharrow and Clarissa Allsop. People of their sort were always going out for drinks.
Ian: Oh, Darling, Are we going on an adventure again? I’ve just the scarf for a night of intrigue.
Osian: How soon can you set something up?
Ian: Would this evening be too soon? I’ve theatre business to discuss with the lady Allsop. She’s quite a patron of the arts. I’ll see if she’s willing to meet up with us somewhere.
Patron of the arts?
Yes, but has she been a patron of murder as well?
“Can you drop me off at home first? I’ve got to chat with Ian about something.” Osian tapped Chris on the shoulder, who nodded. “I’ll meet everyone at Wayne’s after.”
The drive through Covent Garden took long enough that Osian considered simply getting out and walking. Traffic in London was always such a beast. He eventually got out and waved off his friends.
He sent a text to Dannel, explaining why he’d be late. Chris (and probably Abra as well) would’ve attempted to change his mind. Dannel understood his desire to want answers immediately.
An hour later, Ian and Osian were in a Rolls-Royce being driven across London to meet with Judie Sharrow and Clarissa Allsop. He managed to catch a sneaky photo of the chauffer to message to both Mattie and Chris. The former, unfortunately, couldn’t say for sure if he was the driver he’d seen the night of the murder.
No matter how hard Osian tried, he couldn’t quite shake the sense of trepidation. One of the women had definitely been involved in the murder. They had to be; nothing else made sense at all.
“Here we are, darling.” Ian tapped Osian on the arm. They’d pulled up outside the Allsop home not far from Regent’s Park. “How long do you think this has been in the Allsop family?”
“Long before either of us were born, my dear.” Ian led him up the steps toward the front door, which a butler had already opened. “Theirs is a whole other world.”
Clarissa Allsop was the epitome of grace and refinement. She welcomed them into a luxurious drawing room, offering tea or wine. Ian accepted the latter; Osian politely declined. “Now, how can I be of assistance?”
Settled onto the most uncomfortable sofa in history, Osian tried to find a subtle way to weasel answers out of her. He glanced over at Ian, who immediately nattered on about an upcoming theatre charity event. Bless him. He is adept at the conversation game, isn’t he?
The two chatted cordially like old friends who had secrets to hide. Osian found his opening into the conversation when she mentioned her husband’s absence. Busy? Busy with the small matter of a police interrogation because you set him up for murder?
“Did you know Edgar Smith well?” Osian kept his tone innocently curious.
She turned pale blue eyes in his direction. Her mouth tightened slightly before lifting into the ghost of a smile. “The security chap? He drove my Rolls several times before Hamnet poached him and my vehicle for his own use. So I’ve another driver now.”
Do you?
Were you out with him the night of the murder?
“What do you drive now?”
“Me? Drive?” Clarissa scoffed. She took a delicate sip of wine. “My vehicle is a lovely Mercedes of some sort. I’ve never bothered with names.”
A Mercedes?
Really?
“Were you close with the Sharrows?” Osian decided they’d tiptoed around the tulips for long enough. They needed a more direct question. “Barnaby and Judie?”
Clarissa carefully set her glass on the little round table beside her chair. “I’m acquainted with them. Everyone knows everyone. Don’t they?”
“They do.” Ian smiled while subtly nudging Osian’s shoe with his own.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” She got to her feet and exited through a side door that Osian hadn’t noticed earlier when the butler had directed them into the room.
With a second to themselves, Osian took a moment to snoop around the elegantly decorated drawing room. It looked like something off the set of a period drama. Something out of a magazine. Not a home but a museum dedicated to a different time.
How do people live like this? Vapid, empty mansions with nothing surrounding them but uncomfortable wealth.
“What do you think, darling? Is she the one?”
Osian stopped his perusal of a painting on the wall to glance at Ian, who remained sitting on the couch. Is it a couch? Do toffs have a fancier name for it? Probably. “I’ve no idea.”
Part of him wanted to say yes. Clarissa Allsop had definitely reacted when he’d mentioned Edgar and Judie. Just a slight twitch of her lips. A tightening around her eyes. Nothing massive but enough for him to want to know why.
Continuing his snooping, Osian moved to the bookshelf across from the painting. He found a series of photos in gilded frames. None had the happy couple together. One, in particular, drew his attention.
Why would there be a photo of Clarissa being escorted into an event by Edgar Smith? Shouldn’t it be her husband? Intriguing. What exactly was going on with these people?
“Osian, darling?” Ian’s voice was suddenly filled with tension.
It reminded him of the night down the well.
Osian turned away from the painting and found Clarissa pointing a double-barrelled hunting rifle at them. “You planned the murder with Edgar Smith.”
“Clever boy. We’ve watched you. Tried to warn you off.” She shook her head at him.
Osian shifted away from the bookcase to get closer to Ian, who sat frozen on the sofa. “Why turn Edgar in if you’d planned it together? And why frame Wayne?”
“The solicitor wasn’t supposed to even be involved. Edgar had disliked him; something about an argument about how he handled security at the office once, but I told him to blame Hamnet and his strumpet. Then the little fool went and fell in love with her,” Clarissa spat the words out as if they hurt her. “I refused to allow him to get away with it.”
Little fool.
Edgar?
Tall bloke built like a rugby player?
Maybe I should be paying closer attention to the homicidal toff in front of me.
“Edgar fell in love with Judie Sharrow.” Osian wanted to keep her talking. She might be less likely to shoot them with her antique rifle, probably a family heirloom left over from hunting days gone by. “He double-crossed you.”
“In a manner of speaking. I couldn’t allow them to escape unpunished.” She shifted the weapon in her arm slightly. “Imagine the humiliation.”
I’m imagining something.
How have I dragged Ian into yet another life-threatening situation? We barely survived the last one.
“And now I have to deal with you both. Pity.”