by Sara Rosett
As we shook hands, Octavia said, “So you were under Cyrus’s thumb as well? You have my complete sympathy.”
“I’d only just met him.”
“Lucky you,” Octavia said.
Alex returned with our drinks, saving me from coming up with a reply. As introductions were made again, a burly figure moved through my peripheral vision. It was Dominic, dressed in a dark suit, making his way to the table next to us where he joined Annie. Annie smiled at him perfunctorily, and he smiled back just as automatically, but there was no warmth between them.
Felix noticed as well. “So Dominic did show up, despite his grousing.”
“Who, darling?” Octavia asked before tilting her glass for a sip.
“Dominic.”
Octavia took a long drink, then scanned the room. “Really?” Her voice caught as she spoke. She patted her throat and coughed into a napkin. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. I should say hello.” She craned her neck as she scanned the room. “Where is he?”
“Right behind us,” Felix said with a tilt of his head. “With Annie.”
“Oh.” The enthusiasm drained from her tone. “No, they look as if they’re in deep conversation. I’ll wait.”
We talked about the costumes and some of the sites we’d visited around Bath, then the conversation flagged. Finally, Octavia said, “Since you’re all involved, I suppose you’ve heard that the inquest is scheduled for Monday?”
“No,” Alex said, speaking for all of us. “We hadn’t received word.”
“I’m sure Elise decided to keep it back until after the party tonight,” Felix said.
I wondered if the police had come to some conclusion about Cyrus’s death and about who did it. In mystery fiction, inquests were completed without all the questions being answered, but I wondered if that would be the case here.
“I wonder when Mia’s will be?” I said, “I’m sure Inspector Byron will want us to stay on here in Bath until after that one as well,” I said.
Tiny frown lines appeared under Octavia’s fringe of bangs. “Mia?”
“The maid who was killed,” I said.
Octavia blinked and the lines became furrows as she raised her eyebrows. “Someone else has been killed? Here? In Bath?”
I glanced from her shocked face to Felix’s. He sent me a subtle shake of the head, his face suddenly looking as if his dinner didn’t agree with him.
I hesitated, and Octavia shifted her attention to him. “What’s this? What’s happened?”
Felix swallowed. “She was a maid at the hotel. She was killed yesterday.”
Octavia put her glass down carefully. “At the hotel? At your hotel?”
“Yes, the Bath Spa Hotel. I should have said something, I realize that now,” Felix said, his words rushing out, “but I didn’t want to worry you. You have so much—”
“You said she was killed,” Octavia said sharply. “That means…how did she die? It wasn’t an accident?”
“No,” Felix said. “It was—well, her throat was cut. We don’t know what happened. There’s a chance it’s not linked at all to Cyrus’s death. It could be random, just some horrible coincidence…” Felix trailed off, looking more miserable. Octavia wasn’t looking at him.
“The police didn’t contact you?” I asked her, thinking that if they hadn’t contacted her it might be a slight confirmation that the crimes weren’t linked.
“There was a message today,” she said in an uneasy tone as she looked toward Felix, “from that horrible pushy police person. I didn’t return his call.”
Octavia switched her gaze to the table. Above the decorative beading of her cocktail gown, I could see the pulse at the base of her throat beating rapidly. She was breathing in and out quickly, too. “Are you all right?” I asked, concerned at the abrupt change in her manner. She had gone from carefree and chatty to withdrawn and upset in seconds. “Can I get you some water?”
“No,” she said, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze swiveled toward Felix. “No, there’s nothing you can do.”
Chapter 19
“I SAW HER FACE,” I said. “She was scared.”
“She did look shaken,” Alex agreed as we walked back to the hotel after the preview party. The restaurants and bars were busy, but the shops had closed, giving Bath a late-night feeling even though it was only a little after nine. We passed the colonnaded entrance to the square in front of the Roman Baths and the Abbey. The surrounding coffee shop and souvenir shop were dark, but the Abbey was brightly lit, a splash of soaring stone in the darkness. We paced on, our footfalls echoing along the cobblestones as we turned onto the street where the hotel was located.
Alex punched in the code to the night latch and pushed the door open. “What’s worrying you?”
“So many things,” I said as I went through the entry area where crime tape still sealed the reception office. I paused in the parlor. “Octavia was looking at Felix.” I instinctively lowered my voice, even though the room was empty. The rest of the hotel was probably empty as well since Annie and Dominic had been at the event along with all of our group.
“I don’t understand.” Alex loosened his tie. “The news obviously frightened Octavia, but how does Felix come into it…other than being the one person who intentionally kept the news from her?”
“Once she heard the news, she changed—her whole manner.”
Alex nodded in agreement. Octavia had left immediately without saying another word. Felix had gone after her, but returned to the room within a minute or two, looking as if his world had fallen apart.
“It’s more than she was just generally scared,” I said. “She looked at Felix…oh, I don’t know how to describe it—frightened and horrified, I guess is the closest I can come to defining it. I think she’s afraid of him.”
Alex said slowly, “So you think, that somehow the news about Mia’s death made Octavia think Felix is the murderer?”
“I don’t like thinking it. In fact, I hate all this suspicion, wondering if one of our group did it, but,” I sighed and said, “he doesn’t have an alibi.”
“For either death,” Alex agreed.
The night latch rattled, then someone pounded on the door. We both moved to the bow window and looked toward the hotel’s door. Paul stood in front of it with his phone pressed to his ear, alternately rattling the door handle and pounding on the door with his free hand.
Alex unlocked the door, and Paul hurried inside. “Thanks, mate.” He crossed the parlor and looked around. “Hold on, I’m inside now,” he said into the phone. “I’ll talk to Dominic. He’ll know someone…well, at this point you can’t be choosy,” Paul said, his voice unusually blunt.
Alex and I exchanged a surprised glance. Paul ended the call and peered into the kitchen. “Where’s Dominic?”
“I don’t think he’s here,” I said.
“I’ll try their living quarters,” Paul said over his shoulder as he walked through the bar to a short corridor on the far side of the room. He disappeared from view, but we could hear him as he pounded on a door and called Dominic’s name. After a few tries, Paul returned to the parlor, looking completely baffled. “I have no idea what to do. I can’t just Google solicitors and pick someone.”
“Why do you need a solicitor?” Alex asked.
“Not me. Elise. A bloke came up to her at the party and asked to talk to her privately. She went off with him, and the next thing I know, people were asking for her, and I couldn’t find her. But the party was breaking up anyway, so it wasn’t critical. I figured she’d gotten tired and headed back here, so I left. When I was about a block away from here, I got a call from her. She’s with the police.”
The door opened again, and Felix came in, his expression the human equivalent of a basset hound’s melancholy face. He didn’t say anything, just lifted his chin a few millimeters by way of greeting.
“The man who came to the party and asked for her, was it Inspector Byron?” I asked, a bad feeling in
my gut.
“No, it wasn’t him,” Paul said. “I would have recognized him. It was someone else. He was in a suit, but he did have the look of someone with the police.”
Felix paused on his way across the room with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders rounded. “What’s happened?” he asked in a disinterested way.
“Apparently Elise has been taken in for questioning,” I said. “And she didn’t say anything else on the phone?” I asked Paul.
“Oh, she said plenty,” Paul said. “She’s held them off, saying she’d be happy to answer their questions—something about a glove she lost and both murders being linked—as soon as her solicitor arrives. Then she went and called me,” Paul scraped a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t have a solicitor—she’s delaying, trying to put them off.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“Because she’s Elise,” Paul said. “She’s furious with them, and she’s not going to give them an inch, but I don’t know any solicitors at all, and I especially don’t know any solicitors in Bath. That’s why I need Dominic.”
Felix said, “He and Annie left before I did. They must have stopped off somewhere for a nightcap.”
“You know Elise,” Paul said, his eyes looking a little wild. “She won’t understand that. She wants a solicitor, and she wants one now.”
Felix heaved a sigh. “Let me make a call.” He took out his cell phone and moved into the bar area.
“So the police are interested in a glove?” I asked with a glance at Alex.
Paul nodded. “Yes, as far as I can tell. She wasn’t clear on that point. Something about it had turned up and was causing trouble.”
“Didn’t she mention that she’d lost her glove the other day?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” I said. “We were leaving the pub, I think. She couldn’t find her gloves and said she must have left them in the hotel. Maybe Annie or Dominic saw it somewhere—”
While I was speaking, the door opened again, and Annie made her way across the entry and into the parlor, her crutch swinging slowly. The party must have tired her out, I thought. Dominic followed her in.
“Saw what?” she asked.
“A glove. One of Elise’s. It would be black, of course,” I said. “She thought she lost it in the hotel.”
“Oh, in that case, we should check the lost and fou—” Annie glanced at the entry and the crime scene tape. “Normally, if we find things like that, they go in the lost and found, but it’s…” she gestured at the entry area, “…sealed off at the moment. I don’t remember seeing any gloves lying around, though.”
“Nor do I,” Dominic said then added in his usual effusive tones, “Of course, we can find a spare set of mittens, if someone is in desperate need.”
Felix’s voice, which had been rumbling in the background, fell silent. He rejoined our group as he put his phone away. “That’s sorted. Friend of mine lives not too far away from here. He says he’ll come in.”
“Everything all right?” Dominic asked, his gaze moving from one tense face to another.
“Elise needs a solicitor,” Paul said and went on to explain.
Annie looked stricken. “Oh, that’s terrible. They don’t think—surely it couldn’t be her, could it?”
Dominic went quiet. “Elise,” he said in a thoughtful manner, which was a contrast to his usual hearty way. He sucked in a breath. “Well, you never know about people.”
Dominic and Annie offered to help in any way possible, but there didn’t seem to be much we could do except wait. They offered to bring us hot chocolate or a nightcap, but none of us took them up on the offer. The reality of what was going on had hit us all. If Elise was guilty…of either murder…then the production was done. With the director murdered and the producer accused of murder, the production would fold. We would all be out of work—a trivial thing compared to two lives cut short, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. From the subdued air in the parlor, we were all pondering the same thing.
By unspoken agreement we’d all stayed together in the parlor, waiting for news after Dominic and Annie said goodnight and retired to their private living quarters at the back of the hotel. I had dropped into one of the club chairs by the bow window and the rest of the scouting party was scattered around the room. Melissa had to stay after the party to pack away the extra costumes that had been displayed around the Tea Room. She’d told me that those items weren’t part of the exhibit and had to be returned to the individuals who had lent them for the party.
She arrived about an hour later and looked delighted to see Paul. He threw her an answering smile, but once we’d told her what had happened, she plopped down on a chair beside me, clearly stunned. “Elise? They think Elise murdered Cyrus and Mia?” She shook her head. “I just don’t see it.”
“Elise and Cyrus didn’t get along. We all heard them argue on the drive down here,” I said. “And Cyrus opposed practically every single thing Elise wanted to do. With him out of the way…”
“But someone would replace him,” Melissa said. “And that’s not even taking into account that his death put the whole production in jeopardy.”
“If it was a crime of passion she might not have thought it through,” Alex said.
“When have you known Elise to be anything but strategic?” Melissa said, looking around the group. “She might not like certain things, but she is practical. Like the thing with Cyrus. She didn’t like him. He didn’t like her, but she saw that having him on the roster would be a boost to getting the next set of episodes made, so she went with it. It’s true, fighting him all the way, but no matter how much Elise despised Cyrus or his ‘vision,’” she made a face as she made air quotes, “she wouldn’t murder him.” She threw a hand out toward Paul. “If anything, she’d delegate the task to Paul.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “That I could almost see.”
“And what earthly reason would she have to kill Mia?” Melissa asked.
I said, “I suppose that if the police think the crimes are linked…?” I looked toward Paul, eyebrows raised.
He shrugged. “She wasn’t quite coherent. She said something about her lost glove and blood and then said something like, ‘it’s nonsense to think that I—or anyone in our group—would murder both Cyrus and Mia. Utter nonsense to try and link both crimes to us.’”
Melissa leaned back. “I wonder—”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It may be completely unrelated, but earlier this afternoon, I had to rush back here and pick up a set of labels that I’d left here by accident. As I came down the street, some workers were setting up barriers and chatting with a couple of police.”
“Alex and I saw them, too.”
“Well, I heard them talking. One guy was complaining about having searched every dumpster and wheelie bin in the area and now they were moving on to the drains, looking for a bit of bloodstained cloth.” Melissa shrugged. “Maybe they found Elise’s glove, and it had blood on it.”
“That would explain them wanting to talk to her so late at night,” I said.
Melissa tilted her head to the side. “I know I don’t read Agatha Christie like you, Kate, but if Elise lost her glove and it was in the hotel’s lost and found in the office, then anyone could have slipped it on when they…you know…killed Mia. Then, later they could shove it down the grate in the street.”
“That’s true,” I said slowly, thinking of the wide metal spaces in the grate that had been resting on the ground as the men searched. The spaces were certainly wide enough that a small piece of material, like a glove or scarf could be shoved through. I didn’t voice the rest of my thought—if Elise didn’t use the glove to protect her from getting blood on her hand, then who did?
My gaze strayed to Felix, who was pacing back and forth in the confines of the bar area. He didn’t look good. His skin was pasty. His slicked back appearance—his neatly combed hair and smooth shirt—was disintegrating. He’d run his fingers
through his hair, and it now fell forward over his brow. His tie was askew, and his shirt was rumpled. His phone rang, and we all started. He listened for a few moments, then said, “Yes…of course…thank you for letting me know.”
“My solicitor friend has arrived. He had a word with both Elise and Inspector Byron. He, the solicitor, I mean, says that it will be sometime in the early hours of the morning before anything is resolved and for us to turn in. He’ll see that Elise gets back here…if the police release her.” He shrugged. “I suppose we should turn in. Tomorrow may be…quite trying. We should all get some rest.”
I certainly didn’t think I would get a good night’s rest, but I couldn’t think of anything more productive that I could do. As I stood, the cushion of the club chair shifted, and a paperback book that had been shoved down between the edge of the cushion and the arm of the chair fell to the ground. A square of paper slid out of it.
It was Annie’s copy of Northanger Abbey. I picked it up along with the paper, which I assumed was a bookmark, automatically glancing at it as I stuck it inside the book. I had a half-formed thought that I’d have to tell Annie tomorrow that I’d knocked her bookmark out of the book, but then the words on the paper registered, completely erasing those thoughts.
I’ll tell, if you don’t pay.
Chapter 20
“KATE?” ALEX’S VOICE SEEMED TO come from a long distance.
I looked up. Everyone was ahead of me, going up the stairs to the rooms, but they had all glanced back at me.
“Are you coming up?” Alex asked, giving me a questioning look.
I shoved the note into the book and tucked it under my arm. “Yes, of course, but I know I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Neither will I,” Melissa said, “but sitting around here won’t do Elise any good. We’ve done all we can for now.”
I joined the group and went up the stairs, the book under my arm, my thoughts churning. I’d instinctively hidden the book from everyone’s view the second I realized they were watching me, and I kept it hidden as I climbed the stairs.
