by Fiona Grace
She glanced again at the frosted glass window but realized she could no longer see the marks. Whether that was because they weren’t visible through the frosted glass from the outside, or because they’d now faded, Lacey couldn’t be sure. Maybe the temperatures between the outside and inside had now reached an equilibrium, rendering the marks invisible. Or maybe, Lacey considered, she’d just imagined them in the first place. Maybe Hugh really had just died of the flu and the antique statue had nothing to do with anything.
But in her heart, Lacey suspected she just wouldn’t be so lucky.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A dead body. A talk with the cops. It wasn’t exactly how Lacey had hoped her day would start.
She drove on autopilot back to Wilfordshire, so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t even hear her cell phone ringing, nor Chester’s secondary bark alert system. It was only after she’d found herself suddenly parked around the side of the store that she realized she’d missed several calls from Suzy—some from her personal cell number, some from the Lodge.
The thought of listening to the bright and cheery voice of her friend right now didn’t appeal, so Lacey decided to defer calling her back until the evening.
Heavy-hearted, she got out of the car and headed back inside her store with Chester at her heels.
As she entered, the jolly tinkle of the bell seemed to be mocking her. The happy customers cooing at her vintage stock felt intrusive. Normally she’d be happy to have customers in the store but right now, all Lacey wanted to do was lock herself in her dark back office and block out the world. She needed some peace and quiet. Some cold air. She could feel a stress headache coming on.
Gina set upon her the moment she noticed her crossing the shop floor toward the back rooms.
“What is going on, Lacey?” she demanded, abandoning the customer she’d been chatting with and following her as she continued heading for the back room. “Where have you been? What makes you think it’s okay to just leave me here to manage the store alone? Suzy’s been trying to get hold of you, as well, though she wouldn’t tell me why. Lacey. Lacey, are you even listening to me?”
Lacey halted and turned on her heel. She rubbed the deep furrow that had formed between her brows. “Can you just give me one second? Please,” she said testily. “I have a pounding headache.”
Gina softened immediately. “You don’t look so great, dear. Has something happened?”
Lacey faltered. She couldn’t exactly tell Gina she’d found a dead body with all these people in the store watching them. Hugh had already started the rumor mill’s motors; the last thing Lacey wanted was to get it churning. It would eventually, she knew that. But if she could delay it for as long as possible, she would.
“I’ll explain everything later,” she told her friend. “Just give me five minutes, okay?”
Gina looked worried. But before Lacey had a chance to retreat to the privacy of her office, the door was pushed open with such force it bounced off the wall stopper. The bell let out an angry jangle, making every customer in the store turn their head.
In marched Oxana.
There goes my peace and quiet, Lacey thought wearily.
The snappily dressed businesswoman stopped at the counter, her lips pinched into a look of disgust.
“Give me the address of Hugh Buckingham,” she demanded in her loud Ukrainian accent. Her aggressive tone was enough to make every single person in the store stop what they were doing and pay attention, dividing the store immediately into tourists and out-of-towners who stared, and discreet Brits pretending they were suddenly extremely interested in whatever piece of antique pottery they were holding while watching the unfolding scene out of the corner of their eye.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Lacey said. “What do you even need it for?”
“He is a thief,” Oxana declared. “He stole my statue.” She drummed each word onto the countertop with her fingertip.
“The Isidore Bonheur?” Lacey exclaimed. The thought of a thief taking off with the precious antique statue filled her with revulsion. “It’s been stolen?”
“Yes,” Oxana replied brusquely. “By that snotty man Hugh Buckingham!”
Lacey frowned. She exchanged a skeptical glance with Gina. Something here stunk and she could tell from her friend’s dubious expression she was thinking so too.
“Are you sure it was him?” Lacey asked.
“Who else would it be?” Oxana screeched. “That sweaty oaf came to my hotel and stole it right out of my room while I was sleeping!”
“The Lodge,” Gina said, looking over at Lacey with sudden realization. “That must’ve been what Suzy was calling about.”
Lacey nodded in agreement. Oxana was a guest at the Lodge; Suzy must’ve been trying to give Lacey a heads-up that she was on her way over. That’d teach her not to call her friends back.
Lacey was still unconvinced by Oxana’s accusation. Dead men weren’t particularly known for breaking into hotel rooms and stealing statues after all.
“What makes you think it was Hugh?” she questioned Oxana. “If you were asleep when it happened…”
Oxana scoffed. “You saw how he acted at the auction! His hissy fit at being beaten by a woman. He is a brute. The sort of man that doesn’t accept defeat. Especially not from a woman. You saw it with your own eyes, did you not?”
Her beady eyes went from Lacey to Gina and back again, shooting accusations from them like laser beams.
Lacey had indeed been on the receiving end of Hugh’s angry cry of vengeance. He was a brute, that much was true. But a thief?
“Do you have any evidence, though?” Lacey pressed Oxana. “A witness? A clue?”
Oxana let out a sneer of mocking laughter, like a bark. “What is this? Are you Miss Marple?”
She looked around at her audience as if for approval. Thankfully, most of them were politely averting their eyes and pretending nothing was happening, a peculiarly British behavior Lacey had witnessed more than once since moving here.
Oxana looked back at Lacey. “No, Miss Marple, I have not got a witness! And sadly, he did not leave his calling card.” She scoffed again. “But it was him and I am sure of it. So give me his address.” She held her hand out, palm up.
“Now look here,” Gina began, but Lacey held her arm out to hold her back. Gina wading in wasn’t going to help this situation one bit. She had much more faith in her own ability to defuse the situation. As much as she loved Gina, and was touched that her friend wanted to stand up for her, this was something she’d prefer to handle on her own.
Gina got the hint. She buttoned her lips and folded her arms, adopting the position of a silent supporter.
Lacey took over. She shook her head at Oxana. “I can’t give you that information.”
“Why?” Oxana said accusatorily. “Because you are afraid of breaking a rule?”
She was half right. Lacey couldn’t legally give her his address. But she also couldn’t because … well, because Hugh was lying dead on his hallway floor.
“Pretty much,” Lacey said.
“This,” Oxana declared, “is why I am Ukraine’s wealthiest female CEO of an industrial company and why you are just a silly little shop lady!”
Lacey’s jaw dropped open. Gina’s ability to stay quiet failed.
“Now listen!” she exclaimed.
But her retorts were drowned out by Oxana’s extremely loud voice, which was so domineering and commanding, it sent most of the people in the store scurrying for the exit.
“You will never get anywhere in life by being a good little girl!” the woman ranted. “By following the rules! Do you think men like Hugh got where they were by being obedient? No! They got there by bullying! By stealing!”
She was getting rather riled now, and Lacey’s confidence in defusing the situation faltered.
“If you will not help me,” Oxana shouted with finality, “then I will call the police!”
“Good idea,” Lacey said. It
was what she should’ve done in the first place.
But when Lacey realized Oxana was calling them to the store, her heart sank. The last thing she wanted right now was to speak to the cops again!
“Won’t they want to speak to you back at the Lodge?” Lacey suggested to Oxana. “Since that’s where the crime happened?”
“No,” the woman replied bluntly, her cell phone up to her ear. “You are not going to shoo me away. They will come here and talk to me here.”
Lacey sank into the stool and dropped her head into her hands. Her day was going from bad to worse.
*
Superintendent Turner arrived with a look of malevolent triumph on his face. He marched into Lacey’s store—now devoid of customers, thanks to Oxana’s continued tirade—looking like the cat who’d gotten the cream.
“Hello again,” he said in his stiff, unpleasant way. “I was just saying to Lewis how the only thing that would make this day better was running into you for a second time.”
Lacey didn’t rise to his antagonistic sarcasm, and DCI Beth Lewis looked thoroughly unimpressed by him.
“Sarge, please,” she said.
Lacey smiled. It was good to see Beth Lewis standing up to him, even if only a little.
Oxana paced toward them, her hands on her hips. “Are you here about Hugh Buckingham?” she said.
Lacey tensed. Both detectives snapped their faces toward her. They were wearing twin expressions of confusion.
“We’re here regarding a theft,” Superintendent Turner said, his eyes narrowing at Lacey before finally turning back to Oxana. “What made you bring up the name Hugh Buckingham?”
DCI Lewis hastily removed her notebook from her breast pocket and clicked the top of her pen, looking expectantly at Oxana.
“I beat him during the auction,” Oxana said, waving her hand theatrically as if reveling in their undivided attention. “He was furious. And now the item has been stolen! Any intelligent person can put two and two together. Who else would it be?”
“How interesting…” Superintendent Turner said, his stone cold glare flicking back to Lacey.
Perfect, Lacey thought. A connection had been made between a dead man and her antiques store. That wouldn’t look good for her.
“Lewis,” Superintendent Turner commanded. “Take down Mrs.…”
“Kovalenko,” Oxana said. “And it’s Ms.” She flashed him a sultry smile.
Superintendent Turner looked indifferent. “…Kovalenko’s statement,” he finished saying to Beth. “I need a word with Lacey.”
DCI Lewis nodded. She took the businesswoman to one side.
Superintendent Turner faced Lacey. “Why is it,” he said, taking a slow step toward her, as if relishing the moment, “that whenever something happens in this town, you’re involved?”
“Coincidence?” Lacey offered. It wasn’t the wisest move to make, antagonizing Superintendent Turner like that, but the man got right under her skin and, after the day she’d had, she just couldn’t help herself.
From where DCI Lewis was taking down Oxana’s statement, she craned to look over her shoulder, watching like a hawk as her so-called superior harassed a witness.
“Tell me about this item,” Superintendent Turner said, leaning his elbow on the counter.
“What do you want to know?” Lacey said, coolly. “It was a bronze jockey statue? Made by Isidore Bonheur? One of France’s finest animalier sculptors? Produced circa 1800? Is that enough information or do you need to know more?”
Beside her, Gina let out a snort of amusement.
“How about its price?” Superintendent Turner replied, bullishly.
Lacey pursed her lips. “Is that relevant?”
“Could be.”
Lacey logged into her computer and pulled the information up. “It sold for five thousand and one pounds.”
“And one pound? Is that usual?”
Lacey shrugged. “Depends on the situation. It was a hard battle between two bidders. One of them pushed the bid up by a pound, then won.” She avoided eye contact with Oxana. She didn’t want the fierce woman to realize just how petty she thought the whole thing had been. Nor get any inclination that she was suspicious that she may have only put in the one-pound increase because she knew the online system would cut out and she’d win.
Superintendent Turner said nothing more on the topic. “Can we do a sweep of your store?”
“Here?” Lacey said. “Why? Wouldn’t it make more sense to focus your efforts on the Lodge?”
Superintendent Turner narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job, thank you very much,” he said in a clipped tone.
Lacey let out a weary sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Be my guest.” As much as she loathed the police rummaging around in her business where they weren’t wanted, it wasn’t like she had anything to hide, and any protestation on her part would just prolong the situation.
As Superintendent Turner and DCI Lewis began their search, Gina flashed Lacey a sympathetic look and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. It was probably her way of apologizing for biting her head off earlier. Lacey accepted the gesture with a weary smile.
Superintendent Turner and DCI Lewis returned.
“Well?” Oxana asked, brusquely.
“Nothing of note,” DCI Lewis confirmed, her tone implying Superintendent Turner’s decision to search the antiques store had been the wrong call.
Lacey held back a smirk of vindication.
Superintendent Turner looked at Oxana. “We’ll need to take a look at the scene,” he told her. “Will you accompany us to the Lodge?”
“Yes,” the woman said with a huff, turning on her heel and marching away.
Lacey followed her and the detectives to the door.
“Don’t take any impromptu trips out of town,” Superintendent Turner muttered as he exited.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lacey replied wryly.
She shut the door behind them and watched the cruiser drive away. Then she locked the door and turned the sign over. She’d had about enough of the world as she could take for one day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Evening fell on a curiously quiet day at the store. Lacey was dusting the shelves when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket.
She retrieved it and saw an unrecognized number on the screen. Probably a cold caller. She answered anyway, just in case it was important.
“Lacey?” the voice said on the other end. “It’s Beth. DCI Lewis.”
“Beth?” Lacey echoed. Why was the detective calling her? “Is this your personal phone?”
She headed to the back room for some privacy.
“Yes. I wanted to let you know there’s been a development in Hugh’s case.”
“Oh?”
“The preliminary autopsy report just came back. It’s stated the mechanism as homicide.”
Lacey paused. “Hugh was murdered?”
“Yes. Toxicology is doing a full work-up now.”
Beth didn’t have to say what that meant, because Lacey knew full well why toxicology was getting involved. Hugh was poisoned.
Stunned, Lacey sank into her seat. For some reason, the idea that his death was caused by poisoning seemed far worse to her than if someone had killed him in a fit of passion, because it required a degree of forward planning, of meticulous scheming. It had to be someone close to Hugh as well, someone he trusted not to give him a drink or food laced with poison. The thought was too awful for Lacey to entertain.
Then another thought struck her. Why was Detective Lewis telling her this? Why had she called her in the first place?
A horrible thought dawned on Lacey. “Is Superintendent Turner making me a suspect?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
There was hesitation from Beth’s end of the line. “Yes,” she finally admitted. “I’m sorry, Lacey, he is.”
Both women knew it was stupid. They’d been through this enough now for DCI Lewis to know Lacey wasn’t a k
iller. But her male counterpart stubbornly refused to see things that way. When it came to Lacey, he was as blinkered as a horse at the races.
“That’s why I wanted you to hear it from me first,” Beth continued.
Lacey couldn’t imagine the amount of procedural rules she’d circumvented to give her this warning. She greatly appreciated that at least one of the detectives was smart and fair.
“Can you go through what happened in the shop for me again?” DCI Lewis asked. “I know you already gave your statement, but I think it would be helpful for me to hear it firsthand.”
Lacey could read between the lines. DCI Lewis didn’t trust her superior not to have missed a crucial bit of information from her original statement.
“I was in the back office,” Lacey said, recalling how she’d not been alone, because Colin had come in and tried to kiss her. She decided that bit wasn’t relevant. “Gina was out front. I heard the shouting and the dogs started barking so I hurried to see what was going on, and found him there in a bathrobe and slippers. He’d must’ve driven here the minute I sold the statue to Oxana because it was barely ten minutes after the end of the auction when he arrived.”
“How did he look?”
“Extremely unwell. Feverish. Sweaty.” Lacey winced, realizing how much he must have been suffering in that moment from the effects of poisoning.
“Will your CCTV back up that he was sick when he arrived?”
“It’s black-and-white,” Lacey explained. “I doubt you’ll be able to see how sick he is on it.”
“That’s a shame,” Lewis said. “Were there witnesses? We have dozens from outside the store but they were all drunk so considered unreliable. But if there was anyone independent from inside who could corroborate that would be really useful.”
“And by independent, what do you mean?” Lacey queried.
“As in not a friend or colleague. Turner won’t discount you as a suspect if the only witnesses are close to you.”
Beyond her and Gina there was Colin. But he certainly didn’t fit the criteria of “independent” considering their… history.
