22

After breakfast, I took a luxuriously long shower. While I washed and dressed, Liam cleared our plates. We’d arranged to meet downstairs in the library at ten, and my long shower didn’t leave me much time to play around with. After a good sleep and a hearty breakfast, getting dressed was less cumbersome than it’d been yesterday. My wrist still hurt, but it was improving every day. Once I was clean and clothed, I swallowed a painkiller and made my way down the winding tower stairs to the library.

Liam and Con were already there when I arrived, ensconced in high-backed armchairs. Liam held a coffee cup while Con clutched a whiskey glass. The director had aged ten years overnight. He looked haggard and unshaven. “Morning, Maggie. Come and take a seat.” He gestured to the sofa next to Liam’s armchair. “Can I offer either of you a whiskey?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks, but I’d love a coffee.”

“No whiskey for me either,” Liam said. “I’m on duty, even without my uniform.”

Con flinched at this reference to Liam’s profession. “I can’t believe this happened. I never thought someone would die on one of my sets.”

“But you thought something would happen?” Liam pressed, not missing a trick. 

“Yeah. That’s why I hired Maggie.”

Not that my presence on the set had prevented Gretchen’s fall or Theresa’s death. The words hung in the air, silent but acknowledged.

After the director handed me my coffee, he refilled his whiskey glass from the decanter on the library desk. He slumped back into his armchair, nursing his glass. “She must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with her. Did she have allergies?” The man oozed desperation, seeking reassurances we couldn’t provide.

“We’ll know more after the autopsy,” Liam said. “It’s scheduled for this afternoon.”

“Autopsy?” Con’s voice was hoarse, and his hands shook around his whiskey glass. I wondered how many whiskies he’d drunk this morning. “Don’t be ridiculous. The woman died of a heart attack. Or maybe she choked on her food. Was she chewing gum while dancing? It must have been some kind of accident. Or an illness.”

Liam and I let the director babble on in this fashion for a couple of minutes. Eventually, the man ran out of steam and returned to brooding over his whiskey.

“An autopsy is standard procedure in the case of an unexplained death.” Liam’s voice was quiet but firm. 

Con ran an unsteady hand through his hair, disarranging his silver locks. “I’m telling you, the woman died of a heart attack.”

“She was pretty young for a heart attack,” I pointed out. “She can’t have been older than late forties.”

“Heart attacks can happen at any age,” the man insisted. “My uncle dropped dead at thirty-seven. One minute, he was tap-dancing on stage. The next, he was toes up.”

Liam shifted position on the sofa and clicked his pen. “Heart attack or not, we need to talk about the accidents that have occurred during your film shoot.”

Con blinked for a moment, unseeing. His eyes eventually came into focus on Liam. “I told you all about those last night.”

“You gave me a very abridged version of events,” Liam corrected. “Maggie filled me in over breakfast on what she knows, but I still have questions.”

The director rubbed his eyes. “Fire away, but make it quick. I’m due back on set in fifteen minutes.”

From the hard set of his jaw, Liam was struggling to keep his cool with Con. “Why didn’t you inform the police the moment you suspected you had a saboteur on the set?” he demanded.

Con groaned. “We’ve been over this already. I didn’t want the press getting wind of the accidents.”

“They might’ve heard rumors from a cast or crew member,” I interjected. “People on this set love to gossip.”

“Yes, but if I called in the cops, then everyone would know I was taking the accidents seriously. I didn’t want trouble from my backers. And as for the insurance company…” The director let his words trail off and drowned his sorrows with a slug of whiskey.

“If you thought people were in danger, you should’ve called the police.” Liam brimmed with disapproval. “Hiring a one-handed private eye isn’t good enough.”

“Hey,” I waved my good hand. “I’m sitting right here. You do have a point, though. I told Con I wasn’t muscle for hire.”

“I didn’t think anyone would get hurt.” Con’s voice devolved into a whine. “Until this weekend, no one had. And we don’t know that the death had anything to do with the trouble on the set. It might be a separate issue. Or, like I’ve been saying all along, the woman died of a heart attack.”

“It’s too late to worry about unwanted publicity now,” I said. “Theresa’s death will be all over the papers.”

“Her accidental death,” Con insisted. “It had nothing to do with our movie.”

“Given the way she died, I’d have thought an illness would be the first option to occur to you.” Liam’s voice was deceptively smooth, but I recognized the glint of a bloodhound on the hunt in his eyes. “Yet when you arrived on the scene, the first thing you asked was if she’d had an accident.”

“Well, of course I thought of an accident. With all the funny business we’ve had on set over the last few weeks, I was concerned. But obviously, this woman’s death has nothing to do with my movie.”

“Obviously.” Liam’s sarcasm didn’t appear to register on Con. My boyfriend tapped his pen against his notebook. “For a man who was worried enough to hire a private investigator, you seem mighty sure that Theresa’s death had nothing to do with your saboteur.”

“Alleged saboteur,” Con said quickly. “Maggie wasn’t able to prove anything.”

“Dude, please. I wasn’t able to narrow down a suspect, but I told you Gretchen’s fall was no accident.”

The director rocked back and forth in his chair. “I can’t have the media learn of foul play on my set.”

I exchanged an exasperated look with Liam. “I understand you have a lot riding on this movie’s success, Con, but one woman is injured, and another is dead. We need to know if the incidents are linked.”

“The woman who died—what was her name again?”

“Theresa Crawley,” Liam supplied.

“Theresa was an extra, only here for the weekend. Even if we have a saboteur on the set, why would they kill an extra?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Liam said. “As for Theresa not being part of the permanent cast, maybe the saboteur’s goal is to shut down the shoot. If that’s the case, who they hurt is irrelevant.”

I shivered at this thought.

Con knocked back the rest of his whiskey and poured himself another. “If Theresa’s death wasn’t an accident or a bad heart, what was the murder weapon?”

I glanced at Liam, who gave me a barely perceptible nod. “What about poisoning?” I suggested. “Her symptoms just before her collapse would fit with that.”

Con’s jaw dropped. “Poison? I’m shooting a romantic comedy, not an Agatha Christie rip-off.”

“Depending on the poison used, symptoms appear quickly. If the poison had been in one of the last shots Theresa drank before she assembled for the dance, the timing would be right for several possible poisons.”

The director scoffed. “That’s crazy talk. Coco barely adds alcohol to her shots, never mind poison.”

“Anyone could’ve tampered with the drinks,” I said. “There was a crowd present, and people were busy admiring one another’s costumes. The shots were quick to drink. I can’t say how many Theresa had for sure.”

“Who was with her in the marquee?” Liam asked. “Did you notice?”

A frisson of fear snaked down my spine. “Theresa arrived at the same time as my sister and Judd and then attached herself to them.”

“Did you see them drink shots?”

I nodded. “I don’t think Judd had any, but my sister tried at least one, and Theresa was downing them two at a time.”

“Did you notice anything unusual while Theresa was drinking?” Liam frowned at his notebook. “Did anyone sidle up to her? Or block her from your view?”

“And slip poison into her shot glass? They wouldn’t have had time. Theresa drank them the instant she picked them up.”

“So she grabbed a shot glass and knocked it back right away?”

“That’s about the size of it. If someone spiked a shot glass with poison, they were taking a huge risk. Anyone could’ve taken it, including me.” I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t recall Theresa drinking a non-alcoholic shot, but what if one of the kids had picked up the wrong glass? The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

“Who was near Theresa when she chose her shot glasses?” he asked.

I screwed up my forehead, replaying the events of last night in my head. “My sister and Judd, of course. They were at the same table as Theresa. Then at the table next to theirs, I recognized Dolly O’Brien. Oh, and Coco strode down the aisle to chat with one of the waitresses. I wasn’t able to hear what they said, but they were nowhere near Theresa.”

Con slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “Sorry, guys, but I have to get moving.”

Liam raised an eyebrow but didn’t try to stop him. “Fair enough. I’d still like to take a look around the set in daylight and ask a few questions. Is it okay if I commandeer your security team if I need help?”

“Sure, sure.” Con was already at the door, itching to flee. “Whatever we can do to help.”

“Am I still due to film today, Con?” I asked before the director had a chance to make good on his escape plan.

He drew his eyebrows together. “Are you feeling up to continuing your investigation, Maggie?”

“Yes,” I lied, ignoring the insistent throbbing in my wrist. “After witnessing Theresa’s collapse, I’d welcome the distraction.” And it gave me an excellent excuse to keep asking questions.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you both later.” Con scurried out the door as if he was afraid we’d delay him further with awkward questions.

“That was an exercise in frustration,” I said after the door shut behind the director. “Con’s the dictionary definition of cagey.”

“I agree. He’s hiding something.” Liam took my hand in his. “Are you sure you’re up to nosing around the film set all day? There’s no shame in bailing and going home. Lenny’s still here, after all. He can take over the investigation. And I’m on Dolphin Island regardless. I can help him.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I want to keep going. I’m worried that Theresa’s death is somehow connected to those letters.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I should’ve followed my gut and confided in you, with or without Theresa’s permission.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Maggie. We don’t know that she was murdered. And even if it turns out she was, you’re not responsible for her death. Theresa was an adult. If she was receiving regular death threats, she should’ve gone to the police months ago.”

I drank the last of the coffee and got to my feet. “Seeing as I’m sticking with Con’s case, I’m due on set in just over an hour. I’m going to use the time between now and then to tour the Poison Garden again.”

“Rather you than me.” Liam pulled a face. “My one and only time in there, I couldn’t get out fast enough.”

“Really?” I laughed. “But the plants look deceptively innocent.”

“That’s what I mean. The garden’s way too peaceful for my taste. It’s like a scene in a horror movie, just before the killer plants come alive. I can understand why the caretaker keeps it under lock and key.”

My eyes widened. “The gate wasn’t locked when I was there yesterday.”

“That’s odd.” Liam blinked. “Noel Tate, the castle’s caretaker, is responsible for lending the key to visitors. I don’t know if the film crew members have extra keys. We’ll need to talk to him and ask why the gate was left open.”

“Tate? Any relation to Cormac Tate, the school principal?” Cormac was my cousin Julie’s boss, and his son, Oisin, was her former crush.

“Noel is Cormac’s older brother.”

“Maybe Noel gave the key to Judd and Merry yesterday,” I suggested. “In the heat of their argument, they might’ve forgotten to lock the gate after them.”

Liam nodded slowly, deep in thought. “Yeah, that’s possible.”

“Do you know where Noel’s office is? I’ll ask him about people who’ve borrowed the key when I ask for it this morning.”

“Noel doesn’t have a fixed office in the castle yet. The renovations are only recently completed, and the film company has taken over the entire premises for the weekend. Until they leave, Noel is still working out of his cottage near the bird sanctuary.”

I made a quick calculation of the distance between the castle and the bird sanctuary. “Well, that torpedoes my cunning plan. I won’t make it there and back in time for my scene.”

Liam glanced at his watch. “I have an idea. How about we commandeer one of the movie crew’s golf carts, and I drive us over there?”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nah. We need to reshoot the wedding scene, this time without last night’s unscripted drama, but that won’t happen before this evening. I can use my clout as a police officer to get out of our next rehearsal.”

“If you can make it work, I’d appreciate the ride.” I cast a mournful look at my sling. “It’s not as if I can drive myself at the moment.”

“Why don’t we meet outside the main entrance in ten minutes? I have to tell Coco I won’t be available for the rehearsal, and I need to corner a security guard to get a key for one of the golf carts.”

“Sounds good. See you in ten.”

After Liam left, I stepped outside the castle and basked in the morning sunshine. Despite the awfulness of Theresa’s death, a stirring of excitement lent a spring to my step. Brain fog or no, we were on to something. What that elusive something was remained a mystery. But I had a tingling feeling that our conversation with Noel Tate would prove to be enlightening.