by Alana Ling
‘Having breakfast with Ollie at Hotel Margot,’ she said with the innocence of a saint.
I stopped walking and looked at Alfie.
‘You’re where?’
‘Yeah, I’ve been telling him how great the breakfast is at the hotel and he wanted to try it for himself, so we came over.’
‘Is that all?’ I asked and started walking again.
‘Well, you know me,’ she mumbled.
‘I’m coming over. I’ve got so much to tell you.’
‘See you soon, then,’ she said and hung up the phone.
I was eager to tell her everything that had happened last night after we separated, but even my eagerness wasn’t helping me walk any faster, especially with an over-excited puppy who felt the need to explore every nook and cranny of the streets of Haven.
I was at the hotel something like twenty minutes later and found Sam and Ollie sitting at their breakfast table sipping tea. Sam was giggling when I joined them and all of a sudden it hit me. I had just crashed on their date.
Unable to save it now, I took a seat while Alfie made his rounds to both of them for his obligatory petting.
‘Nice to see you again, stranger,’ Ollie said and his blueberry flavour greeted me sweetly.
I leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the back and sat back down on the chair.
‘Well, if this one wasn’t keeping you in the basement, locked up, perhaps we’d see each other more,’ I said.
Sam pushed my arm and Ollie laughed.
‘It’s not her fault, to be honest. I’ve been busy with meetings and travelling back and forth to France and Germany.’
‘Have you seen your mum and dad at all? How are they?’
I remembered last time I’d seen them, his dad had decided to retire to the South of France with his wife so they could put the shoddy business of the political crime that took place in town last month behind them. After Patrick Gardner’s election as mayor, Harold, Ollie’s father and the previous mayor of Haven-on-Sea, had made his exit quietly and decently.
‘They’re fine, of course. Enjoying being far away from us all, just the two of them,’ he said.
‘Well, give them my regards when you see them next and tell your mother to pick up her phone so I can tell her myself.’ I chuckled and he raised his cup of tea to salute and drink.
‘What happened last night?’ Sam asked me.
‘Ah, yes,’ I started, back to the business at hand. ‘I visited Mathilde and got some very interesting things, none of which can help us solve the case.’
I told her about the incident at the beach with Valentino and Henry, and about Mathilde’s story and at the end both of us were staring at the teapot without a clue how to go on.
‘Follow the trail? What on earth does that mean?’ Sam mumbled.
‘Well, a trail in my job is usually an email trail, or a paper trail. Maybe she’s referring to the letters?’ Ollie said and wiped his mouth.
‘Paper? Of course,’ I said and stood up, startling Alfie who was lying quietly under the table. ‘I meant to check if Colton had any messages left at reception. Ollie, you’re a genius,’ I said and kissed his forehead before heading off.
Sam followed behind me.
‘Surely the police have checked already,’ she said.
I was glad to see Rosalind behind the desk and knew she would be helpful.
‘Well, maybe, but maybe they didn’t. Especially since they didn’t know about the letters until Ginny died. And by that point Daniel’s investigation was halted.’
‘Plus, they missed the letter in the rubbish, so what am I even talking about?’ Sam slapped her forehead.
We waited in line while Rosalind, with her rich dark chocolate flavour, was checking guests out, a task that, thankfully, didn’t take long.
‘Hi, Rosalind,’ I chimed as soon as we got to the front.
‘Miss Christie.’
‘Oh, call me Joanna,’ I said with a dismissing wave.
‘Okay. How can I help you today, Joanna?’ she asked with a gentle smile.
‘I was hoping you could. It’s about Mr. Harris’s and Ms. Brook’s deaths, actually,’ I said to pique her interest and make her collaborative, which seemed to work as she leaned forward to find out more. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me if Mr. Harris had any messages during his stay,’ I whispered.
She nodded and looked from left to right and then typed away at her keyboard to retrieve his reservation details.
Rosalind grimaced and clicked her mouse at something.
‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.
‘Interesting,’ was all she said and removed herself from the computer and disappeared into the back office.
I looked at Sam who started tapping her nails on the wooden surface.
‘Do you think she’s telling on us?’ she asked.
‘Nah, I doubt it. You think?’ I asked and tried to stand on my toes and look at the screen behind the counter.
Rosalind opened the door of the back office and I stood on the balls of my feet again. She was carrying a beige envelope, which she held on the counter with both hands.
‘There were no messages or calls to inform him of, but there was this physical letter to deliver to him, which is so unusual,’ she said.
‘Unusual why?’ I asked.
Rosalind huffed and rolled her eyes. ‘No one receives physical messages any more. We’ve all got emails and mobile phones so I haven’t had someone deliver a message like this for an overnight guest in years.’
‘When was that delivered?’ I asked.
Rosalind stretched her neck to look under her hands and on the computer screen.
‘Friday, the fifth of October,’ she said.
‘The day before he died,’ Sam said.
‘Can we?’ I asked her, gesturing at the envelope.
Once again, Rosalind looked around her and pushed the envelope towards me. Thanking her, we removed ourselves from reception and stood by the lifts where I proceeded to open the envelope and pull out the poison pen letter.
‘Meet us at the bar after midnight or everyone will know the truth,’ I read. ‘Signed B. Again.’
* * *
‘I can’t believe Daniel or Nick didn’t find this letter.’
‘This is why Colton didn’t do anything about the threats. He didn’t pick up this letter, so he never turned up for his rendezvous, and so Ginny and Mathilde took it as a sign he didn’t care about their threats, so they decided to go ahead with their plan to destroy him.’
‘Quite literally,’ Sam said. ‘The sad thing is I think he didn’t pick it up because he was too busy. We’d gone shopping that day, remember? To get him a new pair of shoes and find some of the gifts he wanted to give to his clients.’
I nodded. ‘And then that crisis with the batch delivery in London? He had to deal with that too, I remember. He would have been exhausted by the end of the day and gone straight to his room. No time to check at reception. If someone wanted to get him, they could email him.’
‘Good morning, Mrs. Brown,’ we heard Rosalind greet Harper. ‘Checking out today?’
Sam and I both turned our attention to reception where Mrs. Brown stood in front of the receptionist, her Sauvignon Blanc flavour stronger than it had ever been.
‘Yes, I can finally get out of this sordid town. You should tell those villagers that live here, they need to learn how to do business if they want to take on big clients from another continent.’
Rosalind raised her eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid there are no villagers in this town to tell that to, but thank you,’ she said and took Harper’s key card, then typed something on the keyboard.
‘Did you know I have met with exactly three “supposed” suppliers since Mr. Harris’s death who thought they could sell my wine and they couldn’t even bother to shower for our appointments?’ she shook her head. ‘No, no, I’m telling you. Colton was the only half-decent businessman around these parts. Check
me out right away.’
Harper put on a poignant show of letting everyone around her know how she felt about Haven-on-Sea, complete with shrieks, tears and snuffles.
‘And Mr. Brown? Is he with you?’
‘Yes, he should be down any moment now.’
‘Splendid,’ Rosalind replied with the widest smile I had seen her master in the last few days. ‘Then I can pass him his letter when he comes down.’
‘Letter?’ she shrieked. ‘What letter? I can pick it up for him. I’ve got his key card so he’s leaving straight away.’
‘No problem,’ Rosalind said and she disappeared into the back office.
‘What’s happening?’ Sam whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ I said and started walking towards reception.
Rosalind came out holding an envelope the same colour as the one we were holding and handed it over to Harper.
She ripped through it, but not before we approached her.
‘When was this delivered, Rosalind?’ I asked, making Harper jump.
Rosalind check her computer for a mere second. ‘It was delivered this morning.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Harper shrieked. ‘Isn’t your job finished? You don’t have to herd us around anymore,’ she said, pulling the letter to her side, her camera strapped around her neck. The blue cheese flavour of the camera became so intense in my mouth it completely wiped Harper’s alcoholic taste.
And then it hit me. It was like having the final piece of the puzzle at last and I could see the image it was trying to portray clearly.
‘Oh, my God!’ I said. ‘It was Stephen, wasn’t it?’
Harper looked from me to Rosalind and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Stephen found out about his lover’s affairs and decided to kill Colton—’
‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about, woman? Have you gone crazy?’ she whisper-shouted.
‘You took a picture of him dropping the poison in Colton’s drink and you deleted the picture so you wouldn’t incriminate your husband. But you weren’t the only one who saw, were you, Mrs. Brown? Someone else saw it as well and started sending letters to your husband, threatening him.’
‘This is absolute nonsense. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
I smirked.
‘Rosalind, can you check if any other letters were delivered for Mr. Brown during his stay?’
Rosalind smiled. ‘Most certainly can,’ she said and clicked away on the computer.
‘I demand you stop this nonsense now. This is private information and you can’t share it with members of the public.’
Sam stepped between Harper and me and raised her finger.
‘Technically, she’s not sharing it with members of the public, but with people who are assisting with the investigation, as you mentioned earlier. And also, she’s not sharing the contents of the message, but the number of them, which isn’t really private information, is it?’
‘There were four letters delivered in total since he checked in. And two more were addressed to Mrs. Brown.’
‘Just as I thought.’ I said. ‘Ginny and Mathilde saw Stephen poison Colton so they started threatening him. Somehow he found out and he killed Ginny.’
Harper’s eyes widened and from the corner of my eyes I could see Rosalind biting her lip excitedly.
‘Where is your husband, Mrs. Brown?’ I asked.
She didn’t reply. There was no need. We could start with their room and keep on searching.
We called the lift and took it to the sixth floor. Sam, Alfie and I burst out of the cubicle and speed-walked towards room 615 where Sam started knocking on the door anxiously.
I joined her in knocking, but no reply came from the other side.
‘Maybe she’s warned him and he’s already made his escape,’ Sam suggested.
‘Damn it,’ I shouted. ‘One of us should have stayed with her.’
We heard a groan from the other side and we stopped to listen. When we went quiet, we couldn’t hear a thing. I knocked, gently this time.
‘Mr. Brown, are you okay?’ I asked.
Another groan came from the other side and I pushed the door handle, trying to open it, which was a futile attempt, naturally.
‘Sam, go grab a key from Rosalind. Now,’ I said but Sam didn’t move. Instead she scavenged her bag and retrieved a card.
‘What is this?’ I asked her.
‘You didn’t think I’d return a master key when we were in and out of this building every day during a murder investigation, did you?’
‘You’re a genius,’ I said and snapped the card out of her hands to open the door.
What we found was the opposite of what we were expecting.
Stephen was hanging from the ceiling, his feet dangling a few feet in between the room’s desk and the bed, his face red and swollen.
Alfie barked at him.
‘Jesus,’ I shouted and dropped both my bag and Alfie’s lead, wrapping my hands around Stephen’s legs and trying to hoist him up.
‘Sam, get a chair, get some scissors, something,’ I said, hyper-ventilating.
Suddenly, Stephen dropped onto the bed and I lost my balance. A quick glance at Sam showed she had untied the rope from the window handle where it had been secured.
Stephen coughed and massaged his neck as Sam handed him a glass of water. His passion fruit taste was so subtle I momentarily thought I’d lost my synaesthesia.
‘Why didn’t you let me go?’ he asked.
I pulled myself off the bed and put my hands on my hips, looking down at our killer.
‘You think this is the easy way out? Killing yourself so you don’t spend time in prison?’
His voice came out croaky and hoarse. ‘I can’t live with myself after what I’ve done.’
‘You could have handed yourself in,’ Sam said and stood next to me.
‘Are you not listening to me?’ he tried to shout but choked on his words and cleared his throat again. ‘I took a life. The life of the man I loved. A life in prison didn’t seem a fitting punishment for my crime.’
‘You mean the lives,’ I said.
‘What?’
Sam sat down on the bed next to him. ‘We know you killed Ginny, Mr. Brown. You took two lives.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Is that what who told us?’ Sam counteracted, but I knew what was happening.
‘Your wife. She killed Ginny.’
Seventeen
Stephen laughed, but the pain in his throat cut the laugh short. ‘She killed them both. Only, one of them she did through me.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Sam asked.
Again, I cut in before Stephen could explain. ‘Your wife found out about Colton and you and was livid, you said so yourself. She also found out about what you did with the shares and wouldn’t stand for it, right?’
Stephen nodded.
‘He did what with the shares?’ Sam turned to me, not catching on yet.
‘How much of your wife’s company did you sign away to Colton, Mr. Brown?’
His chin touched his chest; his eyes focused on the bed hung in shame. ‘Forty per cent,’ he replied.
‘What?’ Sam exclaimed and Alfie tried to climb on her lap.
‘She couldn’t have that, so she told you the only way to make amends for what you did was to hurt him, didn’t she? Get him out of the picture so his shares reverted back to you. What did she threaten you with? Leaving you penniless?’
I took his response for confirmation.
‘So she took advantage of your hurt and asked you to poison him while she distracted everyone with her pictures. But someone else saw what happened and started threatening you, didn’t they?’
‘Ginny Brooks was asking us for a million pounds with a quarter payable in cash,’ he said. ‘So I withdrew the money from the bank and left it for her to find. I didn’t know my wife was going to be hiding at
the drop-off point.’
‘So Ginny comes in and picks up the bag, and your wife poisons her and leaves her for dead.’
Stephen huffed. ‘I should have known Harper wasn’t going to let anyone walk away with her money. The woman goes through my expenses as if I’m Al Capone. I’m so stupid.’
‘Only, the letters didn’t stop coming with Ginny’s death,’ I said and Stephen looked up.
‘What?’
‘You had another letter at reception this morning, Mr. Brown. Because, you see, Ginny wasn’t alone in her scheme. She had Mathilde Minuit helping her. Well, actually, Mathilde was the mastermind behind it all. They were both sending you the letters. Mathilde checked out under everyone’s nose and Ginny was meant to meet her at their rendezvous with your money so they could make their escape. Ginny of course never arrived. But you thought no one would know about the letters. Only when Detective Anderson released Mathilde she left another message for you, thinking you had killed her best friend. She didn’t realise Harper was in on it. And Harper realised she had another person to get rid of, before anyone could destroy her.’
Stephen shed tears on his lap and I had seen enough. I had to find his wife before she made a run for it.
‘Sam, call the police and explain everything. I’m going to find Harper.’
She smiled and lifted her phone, revealing a direct line with Daniel. ‘The police has been listening for a while now, isn’t that right Detective Anderson?’
‘Right indeed, Ms. Tully,’ Daniel echoed from her mobile.
I didn’t know what I would do without her. I wanted to hug her, but I settled for a gentle smile and a nod and then ran off to the lift, with Alfie excited about going on a new adventure. If only he had half the brains to know how big of an adventure he was in already.
* * *
The lift doors slid open on the ground floor and I saw Harper getting into a cab.
I ran, and so did Alfie. I pushed the front doors open and shouted.
‘Harper Brown. Stop!’
She turned to look at me, panic in her eyes, and then hurried inside the cab. The cab sped off.
‘No!’ I shouted.
As if on cue, an armada of police cars blocked the taxi’s way, sirens flashing and echoing across the street. Pedestrians stopped walking and watched the events unfold in front of them.
