A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2)

by Joanne Phillips

  ‘Hey.’ Marshall squatted next to her and laid his hand on her warm back. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘Not great. It’s all been a bit …’ There really didn’t seem to be a word to describe it.

  But Marshall nodded, as though he understood completely. ‘It’s all over now. I’ve nearly finished packing. Good news is, Nick seems to have found his conscience. He’s going to pay us for the whole contract, not just the days we worked. And he’s paying Sidney for the gala dinner, the lot.’

  ‘That’s good. Sidney didn’t deserve to be screwed over like that. He’s got enough problems.’

  ‘And I suppose you know what those problems are?’ Marshall said, a smile lighting up his face.

  Flora nodded.

  ‘How do you do it? You always end up getting so involved with people.’ Marshall shook his head. ‘Ah, Flora. What am I going to do with you?’

  ‘Look, Sidney only confided in me because I was snooping around, trying to find a way to clear your name.’ She got up and glared down at him, her hands on her hips. ‘You could be a bit more grateful. I suppose any minute now you’re going to start ribbing me with the old Flora Lively Investigates routine.’

  ‘No,’ Marshall said quietly. ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘Anyway. It isn’t over. Not yet.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Marshall got to his feet too. Flora thought he looked tired, and she wondered how far he’d driven before he got her message to come back. She hadn’t even had time to ask him.

  ‘Where did you put the box?’ she said. ‘The one you brought in from the van.’

  ‘Celeste’s box? It’s under a table in the hall. Sidney’s keeping an eye on it for me.’ He regarded her thoughtfully, then shook his head again. ‘No, I’m not even going to ask. This is something else, isn’t it?’

  Flora said nothing. Marshall’s eyes bored into hers, but she kept her expression neutral.

  ‘Is this to do with –’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to ask.’ She stretched up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his cheek. ‘I’ll see you in the Nook in fifteen minutes. There’s something I need to do first.’ She looked away for a moment, tracking a bird that swooped over the tops of the sunlit trees. ‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’

  ***

  ‘Oh, Flora, come in quick.’ Celeste practically dragged Flora into her room as soon as she knocked on the door. ‘You can tell him the truth about all this, can’t you? Eduardo is so angry with me. I can’t talk to him when he’s like this.’

  Eduardo was pacing the room, raking his fingers through mussed-up hair and muttering in Spanish. Celeste looked at Flora and rolled her eyes. She whispered, ‘Did you bring the envelope?’

  Flora patted her holdall. She’d retrieved the brown envelope before the police sealed off the props room, and felt no qualms about it whatsoever. Celeste smiled and turned back to Eduardo, indicating with her finger for Flora to wait.

  ‘Mi amor, nos traen una copa – te sentirás mejor.’

  Eduardo glared at her, then swirled around and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Ah, actors,’ Celeste said with a sigh. ‘So dramatic.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’ Flora sat in a straight-backed chair next to the door and crossed her legs.

  ‘Oh, I just told him to get us a drink. Said it would make him feel better. Which it will,’ she added, laughing.

  ‘What about your minibar?’

  ‘Empty.’ Celeste gave a shrug. ‘I can offer you a glass of warm Chardonnay, though. It’s all I have.’

  ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’

  Celeste sighed again and dropped onto the bed, lying across it on her front with her chin resting on her hands. ‘You were amazing in there,’ she said. ‘A-mazing. How the hell did you do that? I mean, how did you ever work all that out?’

  ‘It wasn’t so difficult. Contrary to what a lot of people seem to think, I’m not actually stupid.’

  ‘Far from it. Listen, I’m sorry I did all that stuff in Alberto’s room. It was pretty dumb. And now I’m in trouble with Eduardo … You know, he’s even talking about not coming to Paris. Says he might just go home – without me! Can you believe it?’ Celeste didn’t wait for an answer. She shoved her fingers into her hair and carried on. ‘I can’t go without him, I needed his contacts. My friend won’t put me up for long if I’m not working. Oh, it’s such a bloody mess.’

  ‘Just as well Marshall came back with your stuff then, isn’t it? Otherwise you’d have to have it all shipped back from Calais.’

  Celeste was still for a moment. Then she sat up and folded her legs underneath her on the bed. ‘Yes, why did he come back when he did? I thought he would have been well on his way by now.’

  ‘He was. I asked him to turn around.’

  If Celeste noticed the ice in Flora’s voice she didn’t show it. ‘I suppose you called him back because of what you’d found out about Jack. God, can you believe it? We’ve known him all these years and all the time he’s been capable of that. Killing two people in cold blood. It makes me shudder to think about it.’

  ‘People can surprise you,’ Flora said. ‘Even people you’ve known for years.’

  ‘Well, I was terrified, I can tell you. Back there, in that room, I was so stressed. And Eduardo was glaring at me, and I knew you’d found the envelope but you were acting so strangely, and I was –’

  ‘You know, I’ve never really noticed it before, but you are really self-obsessed, aren’t you?’ Flora sat calmly, her hands folded on her lap. She kept her voice even, as though they were discussing what to have for dinner. ‘It’s all you, you, you, isn’t it? Marshall has been trying to tell me all this time, but I wouldn’t listen. I stuck up for you, over and over again.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I stuck up for you because I felt like I owed you something. Because I thought the way you treated me, the way you spoke to me, didn’t mean anything. I thought our friendship went deeper than that. But it looks like I am stupid after all, because you don’t give a damn about our friendship. Never have, never will.’

  Celeste frowned, then scooted to the edge of the bed. ‘Flora, don’t be such a bitch. I’ve had a real shock – this hasn’t been easy for me, you know. Alberto was my boss, he was –’

  ‘Blackmailing you? Yes, I know all about that. Photos, wasn’t it? Photos of you in a compromising position. Except, those photos don’t exist, do they? You made it up. You made it up to draw me in, to make me want to help you, to feel sorry for you.’ Flora’s nose turned up, like she could smell something disgusting. ‘You lied to me. You told me your dad was sick. You said that to me, to someone who lost her own father less than two years ago. That’s sick, Celeste. You’re the one who’s sick.’

  ‘How dare you talk to me like that.’ Celeste threw back her hair. ‘My dad is sick. Well, he was. And anyway, you shouldn’t have needed convincing. If you were any kind of friend you’d have wanted to help.’

  ‘To help you find these?’ Flora stood up and reached into her bag. She pulled out the envelope and threw it on the floor. The contents spilled out, a fan of papers and receipts and documents, some stamped and official-looking, others handwritten or typed on white A4 paper. There were no photos. Flora’s fists clenched at her sides, and she forced herself to sit. She looked at Celeste, waiting.

  ‘You said you hadn’t looked,’ Celeste said, finally. She made no move to clear up the papers.

  ‘I hadn’t. Not then. But now I have.’ Flora’s eyes were a challenge. She knew exactly the move she wanted Celeste to make next.

  Celeste shrugged. ‘So now you know. Big deal. Alberto’s dead, there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  Flora got up and went to the door. She grabbed the box she’d left outside and carried it into the room, placing it carefully on the floor. Then she re-took her seat by the door. She felt calm, calmer than she’d expected to feel. Celeste, on the other hand, was clearly rattled. She walked over
to the box, knelt down next to it, then turned to face Flora.

  ‘You haven’t opened this.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘I’m not interested in opening it. I don’t want to see what’s in there. But I can guess. Handbags, shoes, maybe some perfume. That kind of thing. All designer, of course, all expensive and exclusive like your cute little bag over there. Designer stuff, but with one important difference. It’s all fake.’ Flora stood up and walked over to her friend. ‘Completely fake,’ she said. ‘Just like you.’

  It hadn’t come to her in a flash, like Jack’s guilt had. Celeste’s game had opened out to Flora over the past few days like the petals of a flower, one thing after another, adding up like beads on an abacus, finally revealing a picture that fitted the facts better than Celeste’s lies ever could.

  ‘You and Alberto were in business together,’ she said, looking down at Celeste. ‘Smuggling counterfeit goods into the countries you visited, all under cover of Rojo Producciones.’ Flora said it in Spanish, mimicking Celeste’s clumsy accent. ‘Going on location for filming was the perfect cover. It bothered me from the outset – there seemed no good reason to be shooting that movie here, in England. The Spanish backdrops, the clumsy storyline – why not just do it in Spain? But of course, there’s a big market over here for this kind of stuff –’ Flora kicked the box with her foot ‘– and you and Alberto knew you were on to a good thing.’

  Celeste didn’t move. Flora could only see the top of her head and her curved back, the tangled blonde hair, the elegant line of her nose.

  ‘Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Aren’t you going to try and lie your way out of it?’

  ‘No.’ The word was barely audible. Celeste looked up again, her face pale. ‘No, I’m not. You’re right, clever, clever Flora. Alberto had already been at it for a while when I joined Rojo. It was his baby, not mine. He gave me a bag, as a gift, just after we met. And I couldn’t tell it was a copy at all. The quality of his stuff was amazing. I … I got involved. It was just business, just a way to make a bit of extra money. God knows, acting barely pays enough to eat, let alone live.’

  ‘I don’t want to know the details. I just want to know why you had to involve me in it, why you had to involve Shakers – my father’s business, his pride and joy. I’ve looked this up – this is a really serious crime. If customs had seen what was in those boxes, Marshall could have been arrested. Did you even stop to think about that? No one would have believed I knew nothing about it, not after I’d been working here with you, sneaking around for you. I helped you load them onto the van, arranged for Marshall to make the trip. I could have lost everything.’

  ‘I wanted out! Alberto was blackmailing me, forcing me to carry on. He had evidence –’ she took in the scattered papers with a sweep of her hand ‘– and he was using it to keep me in line. But after I met Eduardo, I just wanted to leave it all behind me, start afresh. Eduardo knows nothing about this, Flora. No one does. Please, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.’

  Celeste reached for Flora’s hands, but Flora snatched them away. She walked to the window and looked out. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything. Her legs felt like lead.

  ‘I’m not keeping your secrets anymore, Celeste. I don’t owe you anything. You’ve used me, like you use everyone. Alberto, when it suited you, then me and Marshall, and now Eduardo too.’

  ‘No! I love Eduardo. And … and I really do care about you. It was just –’

  ‘Save it. Really. You’re wasting your breath.’ Flora’s anger ebbed away as quickly as it had flooded through her. She raised her chin and looked back over her shoulder. ‘Marshall kept trying to point out to me what you’re really like, but I wouldn’t listen to him. You’re not my friend, Celeste. I’m not sure you have it in you to be a friend to anybody. And I’ve been too blind – or maybe too desperate and lonely – to see it. Until now.’

  Celeste got to her feet, her movements deliberate and slow. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Whatever. Just give me back the rest of the boxes and I’ll get out of here. Get out of your hair, leave you and your precious Marshall to your little love-in.’

  Flora stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I’m not giving you back the boxes. They’re full of counterfeit goods. I’m going to tell Marshall to hand them over to the police.’

  ‘What? Are you insane? I’ll be arrested – I might go to prison!’

  ‘I know.’ Flora looked away. She laced her fingers together, aware that they were trembling. Her stomach turned over. This was even harder than she’d thought.

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to me.’ Celeste’s voice was so definite, so certain, she almost had Flora convinced. ‘Fine, you don’t owe me anything, not even your friendship. But you wouldn’t do that to anyone. Not you. Not Goody-Two-Shoes Flora Lively.’

  Flora said nothing.

  Celeste laughed, but now she sounded less sure.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ she said again. ‘Would you?’

  ‘You’ve committed a crime, Celeste. Two crimes – you tampered with a murder scene as well, remember. The police are going to want to question you about that. You can’t just skip out of the country with your little stash and start again. You can’t walk away from this, no matter what I do or don’t do.’

  ‘But you don’t have to tell them about the other business.’ Celeste crossed the room and stood in front of Flora. Her height suddenly made her seem gauche and clumsy, not graceful and superior. ‘You could get rid of the boxes – yes, do that if it makes you feel better. But don’t turn me in. For … for old times’ sake. Please.’

  Flora shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Celeste.’

  ‘Oh, suit yourself.’ Evidently tired of begging, Celeste threw back her shoulders and strode to the door. ‘Well, just go, then. Get out. Make your choice, Flora. Our friendship or doing the right thing.’ This last she said with her fingers making quotation marks in the air, her face twisted with sarcasm.

  Flora pushed herself away from the window. She looked down at the papers on the floor, then at the unopened box. She could pick them up right now and take them downstairs. The police were still down there, and it would take maybe half an hour to fill them in on Celeste’s involvement. Celeste would probably try and make a run for it, but she wouldn’t get very far. She didn’t, Flora realised with a flash of insight, have many friends she could turn to. Celeste was a loner, someone who operated for themselves only.

  It was a shame Flora hadn’t seen that sooner.

  She walked over to the box and ripped it open. White tissue and polystyrene packaging burst out onto the carpet. Flora reached inside. She pulled out the first thing her hand touched – a clutch bag, the label pronouncing it to be Chanel. Well, of course. It was good, no doubt about it. It was beautiful and elegant and perfectly proportioned. Flora carried it over to the door. She paused next to Celeste.

  ‘I might not be able to tell the difference between a fake and the real thing when it comes to handbags,’ she said, ‘but I can when it comes to people. And by the way, don’t be so sure no one else knows about this. Nick said you were “a fake in more ways than one”, and now I know exactly what he meant. Here.’ She shoved the bag into Celeste’s hands. ‘You should keep this. You two were made for each other. I prefer the real thing.’

  She opened the door, practically shouldering Celeste out of the way, then walked down the corridor, heading for the stairs, her eyes momentarily blinded by tears.

  ***

  Some silences were comfortable, others not so. Flora watched Marshall’s back as he moved around the yurt, straightening the blankets and the rugs, pulling their bags towards the entrance. She’d told him about Celeste, unable to hold it in any longer, and he’d listened – in silence – before nodding once, then offering to go up to the house and get her a cup of tea and something to eat. Was that the best he could do? Tea and a sandwich? After everything they’d been through this week. After everything.
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  Probably he was disappointed in her. She should have done what she threatened to do and told the police everything. Instead she asked Marshall to unload the boxes into the props room and say nothing. Let the police find them and draw their own conclusions. But at least he hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t think she could bear it if he did.

  ‘Penny for them?’ he said, sitting down by her side on the bed. ‘And I bet they are worth a penny this time.’

  She looked down at her hands, at the stubby, chewed-looking nails, the skin tanned from being outdoors all summer. ‘Do you think I did the right thing?’ she said. ‘I really want to know. It … it matters to me what you think.’

  Marshall sighed. He pursed his lips. Then he said, ‘You know what, it doesn’t matter what I think at all. You did the right thing for you, and that’s what counts.’

  Flora slumped a little. ‘So you think I should have turned her in. Well, that’s okay. You’re probably right. I just … Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t that I felt sorry for her, not at all! And I was going to. All along that was my intention. To do the right thing. She mocked me for that, in typical Celeste style.’ She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry, and no amount of tea seemed to make any difference. ‘That’s what I’d intended to do, but then, just as I was about to leave and come down here to get you and the boxes and go tell the police, I just felt so tired of it all. Sick of it. Sick of her and this place and all the drama and the blackmail and the grubbiness. I figured that the police will question her anyway, about Alberto’s room, what she did in there, and maybe they’ll work the rest of it out too. But I didn’t want to get involved, Marshall. I just wanted to wash my hands of it.’ She glanced at him sideways, trying to gauge the reaction in those deep, hazel eyes. ‘Can you understand that?’