by Nancy Warren
I spoke up now. “I could call them if you’d like. I have a bit of a connection there.”
Sylvia made a choking sound.
I glared at her. I was getting pretty tired of being treated this way. Enough. “I can call them and thank them for the beautiful bouquet of flowers they sent me after I was nearly killed prancing around in your jewels.”
I could hardly believe I was being so brave. Both Rafe and Gran leaned in closer to me as though expecting an attack any minute. Even Nyx straightened her spine and joined me in glaring at the glamorous vampire.
The tense moment passed when she suddenly thrust her knitting back into the bag and said, “Fine. See what you can find out.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Chapter 17
The next day I phoned Rune Films. I asked for Annabel, the creative director. When I gave my name, I was put through with flattering speed. “Lucy, I can’t tell you how bad I feel that our beautiful evening ended in disaster. How is your poor head?”
It was nice to have someone sound so sympathetic, and I warmed to her immediately. Of course, I suspected the flowers and the gushing sympathy were their way of trying to ward off…what? A lawsuit? They’d done what they could. They’d provided security. And we hadn’t even asked them to insure the jewels for that one night because they weren’t insurable. At least, that’s what Sylvia said. I suspected that for her, the money was immaterial. She wanted her jewels, not their monetary value.
“Why did Rune Films decide to remake this movie?”
“The Professor’s Wife? Well, it’s iconic. I studied it in film school. The timing seemed right.”
“So it was your idea to remake the film?”
“Well, the truth is I’ve always wanted to do it, but one needs the funding, of course. I suppose I’ve spoken about it often enough that when Simon Dent of Man Drake heard about it, he got hold of me. It’s one of his favorite films, too, you see.”
This didn’t help me. “But he wasn’t there for the gala.”
She chuckled. “Heavens, no. Simon Dent is utterly reclusive. He’s got lots of money. He’s passionate about the movies. But he’s a terrible germophobe. I don’t think anyone’s seen him in years.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Never. I believe he’d dropped out of the public eye before I began my career.”
“So, he’s letting you take the lead. Is he only sending over money and not taking a creative stake in the production?” I didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. I was only trying to keep her talking, hoping something significant would turn up.
There was a pause. “Lucy, I hate to tell you this, but I’m not sure we’re going to continue with the project.”
Oh, no. That was what Patricia Beeton had said too. I’d hoped, for Sylvia’s sake, that that wasn’t so. “I’m sorry to hear it. Is it because of the theft?”
“I honestly don’t know. For our part, we were willing to continue. But this is a co-production between us at Rune Films and Man Drake. You’ll have to talk to them. They’re the ones pulling out. I’ll get my assistant to give you their contact info.”
“One more thing,” I said before she could palm me off on her assistant. “Do you think Bryce Teddington had anything to do with the theft?”
I heard her say, as though she’d put her hand over the phone, “I’ll be there in a jiff.” Then to me, “I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Then I was passed over to her assistant, Emma, who gave me the phone number for Man Drake. The call was answered immediately by Edgar Smith, and like Annabel, he was extremely sympathetic about my injuries. “I’ve been worried sick about you. I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure you were well enough. Or wanted to be reminded of the ghastly end to your lovely evening. How are you feeling?”
“I still have headaches,” I told him. “But I’m much better now, thank you.”
“It was such a terrible thing to happen. That beautiful gala, all those glamorous people, and you. I know they were made for your great-auntie, but those jewels could have been made for you. You looked stunning.”
Did he think this was making me feel better? I made some fumbling answer and then said, “I’m wondering why your boss wanted to make this film.”
“That’s an interesting question. And the past tense, wanted, is correct. I’m afraid he’s feeling this is a bad omen.” He lowered his voice as though he could be overheard. “Mr. Dent is a very superstitious man. Frankly, he’s afraid of everything from germs to alien invasion. Violence and theft before we’d even started shooting—it was too much for him.”
Something came over me. I felt annoyed on my own behalf as well as on Sylvia’s that they were shutting this film down after all we’d been through. Anger churned within me. Maybe, just maybe, if Sylvia got a remake of her film, she’d have something. Otherwise, she’d lost her precious jewels for nothing. “Please tell your boss that I need to see him. I have a few questions. I’ve lost a priceless collection of jewels because of him. He owes me a meeting.”
I had no idea whether my brazen attempt to get myself in front of a man who hadn’t seen people in years would work, but I had to try.
There was another silence. Then Edgar Smith said, “I can’t promise anything. But I understand your feelings. Are you hoping to change his mind?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Good for you. I’ll see what I can do.”
He said he’d call me back, and I hung up, astonished at my own pushiness.
Minutes later, Theodore phoned, sounding very mysterious, and asked me to meet him at Elderflower Café, which was right next door to Cardinal Woolsey’s. He gave me twenty minutes’ notice, which was twenty minutes for me to spend wondering why on earth a vampire would want to meet me in a tea shop.
I was right on time, even maybe a couple of minutes early, and the proprietors of Elderflower, Miss Florence Watt and Miss Mary Watt, were delighted to see me, which made me feel guilty, as I hadn’t been there in a couple of weeks. I tried to visit Elderflower at least once a week for a cream tea or a sandwich or even a coffee and a chat, but I’d been busy lately with one thing and another.
The sisters were a pair of octogenarians who showed no inclination to retire anytime soon. They’d been in business as long as I’d been alive, probably longer than my parents had been alive, and no one made better scones than Mary Watt. Before I let them seat me, I glanced around and noticed that Theodore was already there.
He was sitting with a woman who had her back to me. I told them I was meeting someone and made my way over to the table.
When I caught sight of the woman’s face, I had a shock. It was the woman who had been at the gala. The mysterious one who had been in intense conversation with Bryce Teddington and who’d made a pretty quick exit when I tried to tackle her on campus.
“It’s you!” I said.
“Lucy,” Theodore said, “I’d like to introduce Penelope Grainger.”
“You have a name then,” I said, somewhat sarcastically. “But is it your real one?”
“Sit down,” Theodore said, and so I did. I wasn’t inclined to trust this woman, and I was surprised to see Theodore looking so amiable. He leaned closer, glanced around to make sure we weren’t overheard, and said, “Penelope’s a private investigator. That’s why she seemed vaguely familiar.”
This did put a different complexion on things. I looked at her. “Really?”
She looked quite as sarcastic as I felt. “Would you like to see my license?”
Actually, I would, but I also knew that Theodore would not be easily fooled. I shook my head and instead asked her what she’d been doing at the gala that night.
Before she could speak, Florence Watt came up to take our order. Naturally, I couldn’t come to Elderflower in the afternoon, even if I was trying to catch a murderer, without ordering afternoon tea. That would be a selection of sandwiches and cakes, with one fruit scone, one plain scone, Florence and Mary’s hom
emade raspberry jam, and genuine clotted cream. They might have a menu of teas, but I always had English breakfast tea.
Penelope decided to have the same, and Theodore asked for sparkling water. When Penelope Grainger raised her eyebrows in surprise, he patted his chubby tummy and said, “I’m slimming.”
She seemed to accept that, and then when Florence Watt had walked away again, she said, “I was at the gala because Bryce Teddington asked me to be.”
“You mean you were his date?” I asked. They hadn’t looked romantic. Also, I was pretty sure Patricia Beeton had told me they couldn’t take dates.
She shook her head. “In a professional capacity.”
What was this professional capacity nonsense? “You mean he hired you?”
She looked uncomfortable. “Not really.”
I glanced around the room. There was a table of women who’d obviously been shopping, as bags radiated around their table. Two students were sitting side by side and going over a paper. A table of French tourists rounded out the collection of customers. I quelled my urge to shout. “Did he hire you or didn’t he?”
“He asked me for a favor. No money changed hands. So officially, no, he didn’t hire me.”
“But you were there as an investigator.”
“That’s right,” she confirmed.
Theodore sat back and watched, seeming quite happy for me to take the lead in the questioning. No doubt he’d already talked to her himself. Still, since I had been there and he hadn’t, maybe there were things that I’d be able to think to ask that he wouldn’t. Not that I could think of any right now. Except the obvious. “Why did Bryce Teddington want you at the gala in a professional capacity?”
There was nothing subtle about my line of questioning, but then I didn’t suppose there needed to be. She wasn’t a suspect I was trying to worm information out of. She was a professional investigator. Allegedly. Though I still wasn’t sure I trusted her. Where had she been when Bryce Teddington went missing? She hadn’t investigated that very far, had she?
I glanced up to see two tiers of afternoon tea coming towards us. And once more we paused while Florence put the two cake stands in front of me and Penelope. Mary came behind her with pots of tea and cream and sugar. Theodore’s bottle of sparkling water looked pretty uninteresting compared with our feast, and Florence asked him kindly if he’d like ice or lemon. He said no, he was fine, and they went off, leaving us to it.
Murder or no murder, I wasn’t going to waste a minute before cutting into one of the still warm scones. I slathered it liberally with jam and cream and took the first fabulous bite. Besides, it didn’t matter if my mouth was full. Penelope Grainger was the one who had a very large question to answer.
While I was chewing, I waited. Instead of digging into her sandwiches or scones, she poured tea. The brew came out pale and anemic. It wasn’t ready yet, as I could have told her. It always needed a few minutes to steep.
She said, “Bryce was worried. He thought there was something funny going on, and he didn’t know what it was.”
I swallowed. “What did he think was going on?”
She shook her head. “Something about the budget. And the money. It didn’t seem right to him.”
“Could he have been embezzling?” I didn’t even know where the question had come from, but somebody had killed him. It was still very possible that he was the one who had stolen the necklace. Maybe because he’d hoped to sell it and replace funds he’d stolen? Maybe simply to fatten his ill-gotten nest egg even more?
She shook her head sharply. “Bryce Teddington was the most honest person I’ve ever known.”
Chapter 18
“How did you meet him?” It wasn’t every day that film production accountants and private investigators rubbed shoulders.
She gave a small smile. “He was my teacher.”
Theodore and I exchanged glances, both of us, no doubt, wondering what a nervous accountant had to teach this very assured, chameleon-like investigator.
She poured her tea while we pondered and then said, “I took a course in basic accounting from him. You’ve heard the expression ‘follow the money’?”
We both nodded.
“I needed to be able to read a balance sheet quickly. To understand how to follow a trail of money. And so when Bryce Teddington taught an evening course in basic finance, I signed up. When he found out what I did for a living, he was fascinated.
“I think if he’d had it to do over again, he might have gone into forensic accounting. You see, to Bryce, a balance sheet was a beautiful thing. He loved the word balance. Everything had its place, and with equal weighting, you had this elegant structure. But have so much as one penny out of balance, and it would be like an itch he couldn’t scratch until he had found the stray penny.”
I nodded, suddenly recalling practically his last words to me. He’d talked about balance. And something being out of balance. So far, I could confirm that she was telling the truth. “But I don’t understand what a gala evening had to do with a budget that wouldn’t balance.”
“I didn’t understand either. He didn’t want to tell me very much. He said he could be wrong. But there was a lot of money being spent on that gala, and he felt it was far too early in the process. And where he would have expected the money to be spent, it hadn’t been. So I think that made it lopsided to him.”
I nodded. “Unbalanced.”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you find?”
I poured my tea. And because I’d let it steep for several minutes, it came out a rich, reddish-brown color. She said, “I tried to follow the money. In that room, the money figure was mainly Lord Pevensy. But he, like everyone else, was on his best behavior. Of course, he knew I wasn’t with Rune Productions, so I pretended to be with the other company. I didn’t discover much, to be honest. Except that Lord Pevensy is a man who enjoys a night out.” She sighed. “I think those beautiful jewels you were wearing dazzled everyone.”
I glanced up sharply. “Do you think that was the point?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
“Do you have any idea who stole them?”
She looked frustrated. “I wish I did. That wasn’t my finest night’s work. After they sounded the alarm and I realized you’d been attacked and the jewels stolen, I tried to find Bryce. He was gone.”
“Did you think he’d stolen the jewels?”
She hesitated. “As I said, Bryce Teddington was the most honest man I ever knew, but I’m not used to dealing with honest people. Did the thought cross my mind? Yes. I would have spent more time there and tried to find him, but obviously the police had been called. I knew they’d take everyone’s name and contact information.”
“And you didn’t belong.”
“No. And I really didn’t want to be asked a lot of awkward questions. I wasn’t only trying to protect myself but Bryce as well.”
I supposed it made sense. Still, if she’d done a better job of investigating privately, maybe she would have found him in the laundry bin. And maybe at that point, he wasn’t dead. But there was no point giving her a hard time about it. She knew that as well as I did.
“What was on the paper Bryce handed you?”
“His home address. I was to meet him there the next day.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“He wasn’t there.” She paused. Then admitted, “I let myself in. He hadn’t been home. Bed hadn’t slept in. His home was tidy, but didn’t look as though he hadn’t planned to come back. There was fresh milk in the fridge, apples in a bowl on the counter.”
“Well?” I asked her. “You’re the professional. Do you have any theories?”
She glanced at Theodore, and he nodded as though telling her it was all right to share her theory with me. No doubt they’d talked all this through before I ever got there. She said, “I do. Everyone’s focusing on the missing jewels. But what if that’s all just a smokescreen?”
I nearly ch
oked on my tea. “Do you have any idea what that Cartier set is worth?”
A smile just tipped the corners of her mouth up. It was more a smirk than a smile, very superior. “Yes.”
“And you think they were just collateral damage?”
“Again, yes. Think about it. If Bryce was worried enough to bring me in, then there had to be some kind of financial irregularity going on. As I said, he would not rest until his budgets balanced. Money had its own language for Bryce, and he spoke it fluently. He certainly wasn’t the kind of man who could be bribed to look the other way. So my theory is that he tried to warn you that something wasn’t right. He saw you there, lending your great-aunt’s jewels and her image, and I think he saw you as an innocent pawn and he didn’t want you to be dragged into something unsavory.”
I had begun by scoffing at her theory, but the more she talked, the more I wondered if she was on the right track. “I think you might be right. He definitely wanted to tell me something that no one else would overhear.”
She nodded. “Let’s say someone was embezzling from the company and they knew he was getting close. They saw him go off down a deserted corridor and you follow. You were the center of attention. Well, your jewels were the center of attention. So they got rid of Bryce and then banged you over the head and took the jewels so the spotlight would stay off Bryce and stay on you.”
All I could think about was Sylvia would have a fit if it turned out that someone had stolen her jewels not because they desperately wanted an original Cartier set, but to throw sand in the eyes of someone investigating an embezzlement.
“Then we have to find this person.”
She nodded, and so did Theodore. At least in that, we were all in agreement.
“Okay. Where do we start?” I asked.
“Bryce’s computer,” Penelope said.
“Bryce’s computer. What? You’re going to walk in there and steal it?”
“Not me, Lucy.”
I glanced up at Theodore. Like Penelope Grainger, he was staring at me the way I’d stared at the scones when they first arrived at the table. I shook my head. “Oh, no. I am not in the business of pilfering other people’s computers. Especially not when they’re dead.”