Death in an Elegant City: Book Four in the Murder on Location Series

by Sara Rosett

  I swallowed. Did he have a gun? “That would rather blow the accidental death scenario you have planned,” I said, with my feet planted.

  “Yes, it would. I much prefer the storyline that you were so fascinated with catacombs that you explored them on your own and, stupidly, fell to your death, but I can work with anything. I prefer the quick bash on the head method. It worked so well with Cyrus. I couldn’t believe my luck when he followed me downstairs to complain about his room. It came to me in an instant. The cobblestone paperweight was right there and exactly the right size to fit in the palm of my hand—rather good, that bit, I think—I’m glad I get to share it with someone. I brought it down good and hard and that was it. Much better than using the knife. I won’t do that again. Too messy. But in the end, it doesn’t matter to me how you die. I can work with anything. I’m light on my feet, as they say. Besides, I won’t be around when they find you, so it hardly matters.”

  “I must disagree with you.”

  The voice came out of the darkness, and I turned toward it even though I couldn’t see anything.

  “I think you’ll be around a long while,” the voice continued. “But it will be in prison, of course.”

  Dominic whipped the flashlight in the direction I’d arrived from, illuminating Inspector Byron, who held a gun trained on him. Two police officers stood behind Byron.

  Suddenly, several spots of light appeared, all of them focused on Dominic.

  I saw that Dominic didn’t have a gun. But gun or not, I dived back behind the pillar, and watched as Dominic turned to run away. In the growing light, I saw a flash of blond hair, and realized Gadd was positioned behind Dominic. He was pinned down with officers blocking his path both in front and behind him. The deep pool hemmed him in on the other side.

  “I think you’d better come with us, Mr. Bell,” Byron said. “I’d hate for things to get out of hand.”

  Dominic glanced back at Byron then raised his arms. “Fine. Fine. I know when I’m beaten.” He turned and took a few steps toward Byron, then spun around and headed for Gadd, who was in position behind him, but Dominic’s foot must have hit one of the gaps between the uneven flagstones. He tripped and fell, landing with his shoulder on the edge of the pool, his head over the edge. He flailed there a moment, his broad shoulders tilting toward the depths of the pool, then he went over the edge into the darkness.

  I heard water spatter, and then Byron’s sharp voice calling for light. Byron and the rest of the officers rushed forward then halted at the rim of the pool. After a pause, he said, “Nothing we can do now, except see to Ms. Sharp.” Most of the flashlights swung away from the pool to me.

  I stepped out from behind the pillar as a voice said, “I’ll see to her,” and I didn’t need a flashlight to know it was Alex. Someone helpfully trained a flashlight on him, and I closed the distance between us, going into the circle of his arms.

  Even though it was three o’clock in the morning every light was on at the hotel. Alex and I could see the glowing blocks of light shining out from the hotel’s front windows from the end of the street where the car stopped, edging right up to the waist-high iron pylons that blocked off the street to vehicles.

  “Here you are,” said the constable who Byron had assigned to drive us back to the hotel. It was only a few blocks, but I was glad to accept the ride and avoid going back to the hotel through the darkness of the tunnels.

  Byron had said a few sharp words to Alex that I missed, mostly because I had my head buried in Alex’s shoulder. I had been in a daze, shaken at what I’d just seen—well, heard, to be specific. I’d kept my face turned away from the pool as Byron escorted us through the Baths to the main entrance, which was now unlocked. An officer had been stationed at the door, but at a nod from Byron, he’d let us pass and called for someone to take us to the hotel.

  “The inspector should be along shortly,” the constable added as we climbed out of the car. He made a u-turn, heading back for the Baths. Lights blazed there, too. We could see them from the street, and hear the shout of voices behind the tall stone wall as the police investigated.

  “How are you doing?” Alex asked. It was our first moment alone.

  I shook my head. “Amazed to think that a little while ago I was creeping around there in the dark, hiding from Dominic.” I shivered, and he wrapped an arm around me.

  “Let’s get you back to the hotel where you can warm up.”

  I looked up at him as we walked. “Byron didn’t sound happy with you. How did you get into the Baths? And why are you even awake?”

  “Something woke me—I’m not sure what, but I heard several male voices then heavy footfalls tromping through the hotel. I went to see what was happening. Byron was in the hotel with several other officers. He said they’d let themselves in with the night latch code you’d given Gadd. Then Byron told me the highlights of the chat you’d had with Gadd from the catacombs. Byron was coordinating with several other officers, who were on their way to enter the Baths through the main entrance. He was going in through the tunnels and the other men were to go in through the Bath’s main entrance so they could trap Dominic. Byron ordered me to stay put in the hotel until you and Dominic were located.”

  “But you didn’t stay put.”

  “I gave Byron and his entourage a head start, then followed them through the tunnels.”

  “Oh, Alex—”

  “I wasn’t about to sit quietly, knowing you were down in the tunnels, and Dominic was somewhere down there as well.”

  “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I’m so glad you were there. I’ll admit, I was glad to see Byron, but seeing you—” I cleared my throat, and went on, “well, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see anyone in my life. I mean, I know that sounds like a huge exaggeration—”

  Alex said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

  A rectangle of light fell over us as the hotel’s door opened. Melissa stepped outside, her robe fluttering around her as she surged down the short flight of steps. “Kate! Are you okay? You look like you’ve been rolling around in dirt. And your hands—they’re freezing.” She threw a reproachful look at Alex, and dragged me inside.

  I blinked in the bright light and let Melissa guide me to a seat beside the fireplace. “Felix, you can get this started, can’t you?” Melissa asked.

  As my eyes adjusted, and I sorted out the figures moving around the crowded room, I realized everyone in the hotel was awake. Felix was already kneeling on the hearth, stacking wood. Paul, in a sweatshirt and flannel pants, stood looking a little bereft with his hands empty and no pencil or tablet to juggle. Even Elise was back, still in the cocktail dress she’d worn to the preview party, striding purposely back and forth across the room, her phone pressed to her ear, barking out sentences about disgraceful treatment and uncalled for allegations. As Elise whipped around and made her way back across the room, I saw Annie leaning heavily on her crutch, standing to one side in the archway of the darkened bar, her face pale and strained. Her gaze caught on mine, and she raised her eyebrows as she asked, “Dominic?”

  I hesitated, unsure what to say.

  It must have been enough of an answer for her because her good knee buckled, and she sagged against the doorframe. The crutch hit the floor as she pressed the fingertips of both hands to her lips. Alex went to her and guided her into a nearby chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, then refocused on me. “Is he…?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

  Annie made a whimpering sound, which drew Elise’s attention. She ended her call, noticed me in the chair, and raised her eyebrows in shock. “Will someone please tell me what is going on here?” Elise looked sharply at Paul, but he shrugged. Elise riveted her gaze back on me. “Well? I know I have a reason to be up at this time of the morning since the police just now seemed to get it through their heads that I’ve been telling them the truth—” I quirked an eyebrow at her, thinking of the underhanded method she’d used to get Cyrus’s
cell phone, and she added, “—about my gloves, but why is everyone else up?”

  “It has to do with Cyrus and Mia,” I said slowly, glancing at Annie. “Dominic…” I trailed off because Annie’s face was so white, I wondered if she was going to faint, but she drew in a deep breath.

  “I knew it,” she said, her gaze focused on the floor. “He did it. He murdered them. He murdered them both.”

  A stunned silence fell over the room, except for the crackle of the fire, which Felix now had going. Annie let out a shaky breath and looked at me. “I had no proof. I suspected, but you worked it out, didn’t you?”

  “Not until tonight.”

  The sound of the hotel’s door opening caused all of us to jump. Byron entered, glanced around the room, and said, “Well, perhaps it is better this way. With everyone up, I can get statements from you all. Mrs. Bell, may I speak to you alone for a moment?” Looking miserable, she nodded and gripped the side of the chair to lift herself out of it as if she weighed a great deal more than her petite frame possibly could. Paul rushed to hand her the crutch, and Annie slipped it under her arm then motioned for Byron to follow her to the back of the hotel to their private quarters.

  As Byron left with another officer following him, he looked back over his shoulder at Sergeant Gadd, who had slipped into the room. Byron nodded to an unoccupied chair by the window, the one I’d sat in a few hours earlier as I waited for Gadd to arrive to collect the note I’d found.

  Gadd worked a pair of plastic gloves onto his hands, then ran them along the edge of the chair and removed something. “That’s the book I found,” I said, recognizing the cover as he examined it. “It was there in between the cushion and the side of the chair. It was put back…?”

  Gadd flipped through the book and nodded with satisfaction as the note appeared between the pages. “Just where our anonymous tip said it would be.”

  “ An anonymous tip…? Oh,” I said, as the truth dawned on me. “Dominic put it back. He called in a tip, telling the police where to find the blackmail note, hoping that because it was in Annie’s book it would implicate her.”

  Gadd said, “Yes, that’s what we think. We traced the call. It was placed from a landline at a bar one block away. The fact that the book and note were replaced after Mr. Bell discovered you with them, indicates that he replaced them so we could find them in the place where the tipster said they would be. We would have checked out the tip immediately—it came in earlier tonight—but we had Ms. DuPont to question, and we often get a lot of tips in cases like this that draw a lot of media attention. I think the inspector wanted to finish with her first, but then we got your message, Ms. Sharp, about the note. We knew we had to get over here quickly.” He pressed his lips together for a moment. “I came as fast as I could.”

  “I’m sure you did your best, Sergeant,” I said. A crystal tumbler appeared before my nose.

  “Drink this,” Felix said. “You look like you need it.” He had poured himself a drink as well and took a gulp without blinking. “I know I do.”

  My feet were warming up, and I wasn’t shivering, but I took the tumbler and sipped. I sputtered as the drink burned down my throat.

  “Will someone please explain to me exactly what has happened?” Elise demanded.

  “I’ll be happy to bring you up to speed,” Byron said as he reentered the room alone. “Dominic Bell was in a relationship with Octavia Blakely. She contacted me late this evening, to tell me that she believed Dominic killed Cyrus.”

  I glanced at Felix. Unlike his usual posture of languid aloofness, he stood tensely, all his attention on Byron. “Why? Did he confess?”

  “No. It was the news of Mia Warren’s death here at the hotel that made Mrs. Blakely suspicious. She said Mr. Bell had occasionally joked about doing away with Mr. Blakely, but that once a few months ago, he had seriously tried to convince her to contrive some sort of fatal accident so that she would be a widow—a very wealthy widow. Prior to that, Mr. Bell had tried to convince her to divorce Mr. Blakely, but she refused because it would put her in some financial difficulty. She was quite forthright with me about her financial situation.”

  “She didn’t want to be poor,” Felix said. He tossed back the rest of his drink, then set the tumbler on the mantle. “At least she’s honest about it. She probably gave Dominic the same speech she gave me years ago. She loved me, but she wouldn’t marry me. She couldn’t stand being poor, not when other…options were available. Of course, her definition of poor is rather unusual. If you only have one house, or only a rented flat, then you are impoverished.”

  Byron’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “You didn’t mention that your relationship with her was that close. You proposed marriage, and she turned you down?”

  “That’s about it. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think it was relevant. Happened years ago.”

  “But you spent time with her these last few days,” Byron said.

  “Watching me, were you?” His face flushed. “And me behaving like a lovesick youth. I thought Octavia and I might…well…never mind. I was wrong. Just goes to show that even a crusty old bloke like me can be daft when it comes to love. She was only passing time with me.” He cleared his throat. “But in any case, she never would have left Cyrus, I can tell you that. They had a prenuptial agreement. I assume that if she divorced him, she wouldn’t get anything—or not enough by her standards, which are extremely high. But if she were a widow…then things would be different.”

  “Oh, yes,” Byron said. “Quite different. As Mr. Blakely’s widow she will inherit a hefty sum. We looked into it.”

  “So at the party it was Dominic that Octavia was staring at when she looked so frightened,” I said as I looked at Felix. “He was standing a little distance behind you, and I thought it was you she was scared of. When she heard about Mia, she was so unnerved.”

  “And I thought she was upset with me for keeping the news from her,” Felix said with a shake of his head.

  Elise’s sharp voice cut across Felix’s melancholy tone as she said to Byron, “So you kept me up half the night, when you knew his wife had a motive to kill him?”

  Byron’s face remained impassive. “A glove embroidered with your initials and traces of blood on it was found in the drain a short distance from this hotel. We had no physical evidence to tie Mrs. Bell to either death.”

  “But I told you, I lost those gloves. Someone else—Dominic it seems—picked one up and used it.”

  “Yes, but it was physical evidence, which must always be investigated.”

  “If it was in the drain, why wasn’t it swept away with the water?” Alex asked.

  “We were fortunate that it hasn’t rained for the last few days. Mr. Bell also helpfully wrapped the glove in a plastic carrier bag before shoving it down the drain, probably so that he could carry it through the street unnoticed. It protected the glove for us quite nicely and kept it from being contaminated by any other materials.” He turned away from Elise and looked at Gadd. “Speaking of physical evidence…was it there?”

  “Yes, sir.” Gadd, who had been waiting on the side of the room, stepped forward and handed Byron the Jane Austen book and note.

  Byron pulled on gloves, then separated the note from the book, put both in different clear plastic evidence bags, and sealed them, making notes on the outside of the bags. Then he leaned close under the light to look at the ragged edge of the note where it had been torn. He took another plastic bag from the inner pocket of his jacket, which contained a piece of paper. He aligned the two notes, and even with them encased in plastic, you could see that the rough, angled tear across the bottom of one note matched the tear across the top of the other piece of paper. “I believe it is a match,” he said, then looked around the room. “Did anyone here, see these pieces of paper? Except Ms. Sharp, of course.”

  Byron walked slowly around the room, holding the papers so that everyone could see them. He had already moved by Paul, when Paul suddenly straigh
tened from his position leaning against the wall. “Wait. Let me look at it again.” He bent his head over the plastic bags. “When I left the dining room after breakfast on—Friday, I guess it would have been—I bumped into Dominic as I turned toward the stairs. He was ripping a paper in half, and I jogged his arm. He dropped one of the pieces. I picked it up and handed it to him. I think it was this one.” He tapped one of the plastic bags. “I didn’t read it, but I do remember it had a couple of words in blue ink.”

  “Excellent. Thank you. That is helpful.” Byron put the plastic bags away and began to give Gadd and the other officers instructions.

  “Well, aren’t you going to tell us what it means?” Elise demanded. “I think we have a right to know.”

  Chapter 24

  BYRON RAISED HIS EYEBROWS AT Elise’s tone, but he said, “It is a blackmail note that Mia Warren wrote to Mr. Bell.” He recited the words without taking the papers out of his pocket. “‘You think no one knows, but I figured it out. I’ll tell, if you don’t pay.’ I believe Mr. Bell must have been in the process of destroying the note when Mr. Alexander ran into him. Mr. Bell must have decided to keep both pieces of the note. We found half of the note on the floor of the office where Mia was killed. It must have fallen out of his pocket.”

  “That’s why you wanted a sample of handwriting from each of us,” I said, “to compare to the note.”

  Byron nodded. “At that point in the investigation, we weren’t sure if the paper was a blackmail note or simply some other stray bit of paper. You think no one knows, but I figured it out does tend to cause one to think of blackmail but it could possibly have been something else, something unrelated to the crime. Having a sample of each person’s handwriting allowed us to quickly determine it was probably Mia who had written the note. We are still waiting for the official analysis of the handwriting on the note, so gathering samples allowed us to move forward.”