‘We are,’ Jack said. ‘Come over here and sit down.’ He began to walk towards a wrought iron bench on the edge of the lawn, but Flora stood her ground.
‘You’d better have a good reason for this, Jack. And more than just his cap being found in Alberto’s room.’ She had to clasp her hands together in front of her chest to stop them shaking.
‘Under his body, Flora, not just in his room.’ Jack’s voice was soft, careful. ‘And we have other evidence. I’m sorry, but we had to take him in for questioning. It’s routine.’
‘You’ve arrested him! That’s more than questioning. I’m going to call my uncle, he knows people, he’ll get a solicitor down here so fast you’ll –’
‘We found him in the props room. He was trying to wipe his fingerprints off the scabbard.’
Flora stopped mid-sentence. ‘The what?’
‘The scabbard – the sheath that held the murder weapon. We think – well, it looks as though he realised that he’d forgotten to wipe it for prints when he took it yesterday, so he went back to do it this morning after breakfast. One of my officers walked in, caught him red-handed.’
The ground seemed uneven suddenly. Flora steadied herself against a pitted stone bird bath. She shook her head. ‘No, he couldn’t have. There must have been another reason for him being in there. Just ask him.’
‘We will. That’s what questioning him means.’ Jack paused and rolled back his shoulders. He glanced at Flora, then looked away. ‘That’s not all, I’m afraid. I did a little digging last night. Marshall’s hatred for Alberto might have had its roots elsewhere. I mean, it wasn’t all about you.’
Flora regarded him blankly. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.
‘He has a sister back in America, a half-sister. She had a bad time a few years ago, got herself into trouble, ended up starring in an X-rated movie over there. Drugs, some time in jail … It looks like she was taken advantage of pretty badly. And it seems as though your friend held a grudge – holds a grudge – against anyone involved in the industry. I’ve got a witness who says Marshall went crazy the night of the gala dinner when he found out Alberto used to be involved in dirty flicks.’ Jack pulled a face, a little rueful, a little apologetic. Also a little disgusted. Flora continued to stare.
‘Was it Alberto?’ she said. ‘Was he the one who made the film with Marshall’s sister?’
Jack shook his head. ‘Not as far as we know. It was an American outfit, they’ve closed down since.’
‘He never told me.’ Flora looked off to the side, towards the wide expanse of trees. ‘He’s never even mentioned a sister.’
‘Maybe he’s embarrassed.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I certainly would be.’
‘You mean ashamed,’ Flora said, eyeing Jack levelly. ‘You’d be ashamed of her, but Marshall wouldn’t. So that was why he was so against Alberto, why he didn’t want me to be in the film.’ Even though A Date With Death clearly wasn’t that kind of movie, she could understand Marshall despising Alberto, despising anything he was involved with.
She let out a breath, and turned her face to the sky in frustration. ‘It’s still not enough of a reason to kill him. And think how many people had real reasons to want Alberto dead. Eduardo was angry with him, had already threatened him with that very sword. Nick was trying to throttle him only an hour before. Vincenzo might have decided to try and get Raquel out from his clutches, and of course there’s the possibility that it was a robbery that went wrong, just like you said …’ She tailed off, still looking up at the row of balconies.
‘We’re examining everybody’s alibi, don’t worry. I’m just doing my job, Flora. You have to understand that.’
She took a step back, shielding her eyes from the sun glinting off the windows above. ‘That’s Celeste’s balcony, isn’t it? So this one over here, this must be Alberto and Raquel’s room.’ The windows were closed now, but she was pretty certain of the geography. She looked down at the flowerbed. This was practically the exact spot where she’d been pushed over on her first night here, when Jack turned up at just the right moment to help her to her feet – at just the right moment to witness her embarrassment. She looked up at the reddish brick wall of the house, flat and featureless in the searing sun, then down again at the brown earth.
She said, ‘Have you checked here for prints?’
Jack looked at her. ‘What?’
‘The balcony door was open, wasn’t it? Well, if it was a robbery, if someone got in from the outside, there would be footprints here. And there’s no way to climb up without a ladder, so that would have left indentations. Have you checked?’
Jack laughed, but stopped laughing when he saw Flora’s expression. ‘Quite the detective, aren’t you? There are no footprints, no ladder marks. Our theory is that whoever killed Alberto came in through the house, was probably let into the room by Alberto himself, and then opened the windows to make it look like a robbery.’ He paused, then said, ‘There were signs of a struggle, of course, so it’s possible the murderer was disturbed by Alberto while stealing the tiara. Or possibly not.’
Flora thought about this. It was on the tip of her tongue to mention the two glasses and the whisky bottle, to mention the discrepancies in the room after the murder, but something held her back. She was too furious with Jack, for one thing. How dare he suspect Marshall, dig into his background like that? He had no right.
‘You don’t have a bloody clue, do you?’ she said. ‘Robbery, murder, maybe this, maybe that. Well, I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to prove Marshall didn’t have anything to do with this. You just wait and see.’
Chapter 8
Frustrated that she wasn’t allowed to visit Marshall at the police station in town, and still angry with Jack for being so obtuse, Flora had been edgy all day, hanging around the gardens, watching Nick try to reassemble the cast of extras to keep the filming on schedule. She didn’t see how they could continue without their director, couldn’t understand why they would even want to, but Nick had already lined up a cameraman from the local arts college, and the rest of the company – Raquel included – seemed determined to see Una Cita con la Muerte through to the bitter end. Maybe Raquel felt guilty for cheating on her husband, or maybe she saw the film as some kind of tribute to him. Flora found, as she watched them speaking their lines and constantly arranging and rearranging themselves in front of various backdrops, that she really didn’t care. She wanted out. She wanted to get Marshall back, and then she wanted out. Contract or no contract, Celeste was on her own. Rojo Productions would have to find someone else to cart them around the countryside. She didn’t think Nick would have too much trouble arranging that.
But no matter how she tried to divert herself, thoughts of Marshall kept invading her brain. He would be fine, of course. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Except he was hot-headed enough, stubborn enough, to make things ten times worse for himself. She knew him too well. Which was why she knew she’d have to do something to divert Jack’s attention. And as the day wore on, as Flora began to piece things together, she began to realise what she had to do. The discrepancies between Jack’s crime scene and the one she’d originally observed were eating away at her. It was something she couldn’t simply ignore. No matter how much trouble it might cause.
Marshall was too important for that.
And if she had to make a choice, she knew whose side she would choose.
When Celeste finished her final take, Flora approached her, fixing a smile to her face.
‘Time for a quick Martini?’ she said. She had brought two glasses from the house.
‘Always,’ Celeste said with a theatrical sigh. They walked a little way into the trees, Flora mentioning a fallen log that was big enough for them both to sit on. She wanted Celeste away from any distractions, and wanted them both away from prying eyes or inquisitive ears. It was around four o’clock now, and the heat of the day was showing no sign of abating. They were glad to get out of the sun.
‘Okay,
so that was intense.’ Celeste took a gulp of Martini, then another. ‘Nick is even more punishing than Alberto.’
‘Looks like he’s taking the filming in a different direction,’ Flora said.
‘You noticed? Clever girl. He’s going to look at the rushes tomorrow, probably edit them down some. Maybe re-shoot. Actually,’ Celeste said, smiling and pulling back her shoulders, ‘Nick has some pretty good ideas. This film might not be so bad after all.’
‘Let me guess,’ said Flora, swinging her legs a little. Celeste’s legs reached all the way to the mossy ground, but Flora’s stopped about a foot short. ‘He’s going to develop your part, put less emphasis on the love-slave thing with Imelda – Raquel, I mean – and more on the emotion between you and Carlos. I mean, Eduardo.’
Celeste regarded Flora over the rim of her glass. ‘Has Jack been giving you Spanish lessons?’
‘I think Jack has other things on his mind, don’t you? Which brings me to the reason I wanted to talk to you.’
Celeste said nothing. Flora steeled herself.
‘I know what you did last night. I’ve thought about it, and it could only have been you. And I know why you did it. But it’s not okay, Celeste. You have to tell Jack. You need to tell him everything.’
‘Flora, you are making no sense at all.’ Celeste stood up and threw back the rest of her drink. ‘And I have another scene to shoot.’
This was another lie, but Flora let it go. ‘You tidied away the glasses. There were two glasses and a bottle on the bar when I went in just after Raquel. You knocked over that little table, and you tipped up a picture to make it look like there’d been a struggle. When I went back in with Jack the glasses had gone, the bottle had gone, and I am absolutely positive the bureau had been closed when we found Alberto, so you must have opened that too. I’ve figured out that it was your plan to set up the room to look like a robbery gone wrong.’ Flora looked down at her hands, then lifted her eyes to meet Celeste’s. ‘But it hasn’t worked out quite like that, has it? Not now Marshall has been arrested. I suppose you did it for Eduardo. Do you really believe it was him who killed Alberto?’
Celeste’s face showed no emotion whatsoever. ‘Clever,’ she said. ‘Too clever. You’re more observant than I gave you credit for. Anyone else would have been too focused on seeing a dead body in the middle of the room, but not you. But why are you assuming it was me? It could have been Raquel. I left her when I went into the bathroom, she could have done it then.’
Flora shook her head. ‘It wasn’t Raquel. I was there, I saw her reaction. She was too shocked to even think straight.’
‘She’s an actress.’ Celeste emphasized the word as though Flora were incredibly stupid.
‘Fine, maybe she was pretending to be shocked and horrified at finding her husband with an antique sword plunged into his torso. But she had nothing to gain by tampering with the evidence.’ Flora paused, just for a second. ‘Unlike you.’
There was silence. Celeste stood at the edge of the clearing, her empty glass dangling from her long, elegant fingers. She was in costume – a floor-length dress in ivory and pale blue – and her hair was piled high on her head, with the odd ringlet falling over her face. Flora could see her as a Hollywood starlet, could see that she had a future in this odd, shark-infested world she’d chosen to make her own. She wondered how deep her feelings for Eduardo ran, and whether she had done this thing solely for him, or whether there was another reason entirely.
Like taking the tiara, for example.
She couldn’t think it of her friend, not really. But then she thought about those designer handbags, the expensive lifestyle Celeste seemed to be living. Did she really earn enough for all that from acting? Or had she got herself into debt, into some kind of trouble? And maybe that was at the heart of Alberto’s blackmail … maybe there never had been any photos at all.
‘Fine,’ Celeste said finally. She lifted her chin and tilted her head slightly to the side. Her tone was mocking. ‘Flora Lively the detective strikes again. Yes, I tidied away the glasses while Raquel was in the bathroom, and yes, I knocked into the painting and threw things around a bit. I was thinking on my feet, it just felt like the right thing to do. The sword … Eduardo had been holding it to Alberto’s throat only hours before. I knew what people would think.
‘The balcony doors were already open and I thought … I thought it would seem like a robbery, just like you said.’ She stopped, and for the first time, Flora thought she could see real fear in her friend’s eyes. ‘I’d planned to get the tiara and throw it out of the window, to make it look as though the killer had dropped it while he escaped. But it was already gone. You have to believe me, Flora. It wasn’t there when I opened the bureau. I swear it.’
Flora jumped down from the log. ‘You’ve got to tell Jack. You know that, right? You’ve muddied the evidence. He needs to know.’
‘I can’t. Not now the bloody tiara really is missing. How will that look?’
‘Did you take it?’
‘No! Of course not. How can you even ask me that? I just figured it had been moved, that maybe Raquel had found a better hiding place for it. I had no idea it had been stolen already.’ Celeste’s eyes flashed angrily.
‘But you knew where it was kept?’
Celeste shrugged. ‘I’m not the only one who knew it was there. Alberto boasted about it, but he joked that Raquel hardly ever took it off her head anyway.’
Flora remembered Jack saying pretty much the same thing. She clenched her teeth together, picturing Celeste creeping around the room, stepping over Alberto’s body, setting the whole thing up. It was disgusting and pathetic. It also sounded infuriatingly true. Flora forced herself to take a breath, to calm down. For one upsetting moment she wondered whether Celeste had planted Marshall’s cap there as well, but then she dismissed that idea as ridiculous.
‘At least Alberto can’t send those photos to your dad now,’ Flora said. ‘Or tell Eduardo about them.’
‘What photos?’ Celeste looked puzzled for a second or two, then her expression cleared. ‘Oh, right. No, well, every cloud and all that.’
‘How is your dad doing?’
‘No better.’ Celeste sighed. ‘But thanks for asking.’
Neither spoke for a moment, then Flora said, ‘Where did Eduardo go after he left your room? Did you find him?’
Celeste sighed. She made to run her fingers through her hair, realised she couldn’t because it was up in a bun, then began to pull the pins out one by one. ‘He was out on the set, just sitting there on his own. I tried to talk to him but he was too angry. So I went to see Sidney to ask him about dinner, then I came back up to my room. I was at the top of the stairs when I heard Raquel screaming.’
‘Do you remember seeing the sword earlier than that? When we came back from filming in town, I mean?’ Flora had been racking her brain to try and remember whether they’d taken it to the props room or not, or whether Gabriella had put it back in her trunk with the sling. Celeste shrugged. She said,
‘This probably isn’t a good time to ask, but I need a favour.’
‘A favour.’ Flora returned her gaze, keeping her expression neutral.
‘Okay, so I really need to get some things taken over to Calais. When this is over, Eduardo and I are going to ditch Rojo and go on to Paris. Nick’s kind of … well, I don’t really want him to know just yet. It’s complicated.’
‘Complicated,’ Flora said.
‘Right. And I was thinking, with your van and all, maybe you could do a Channel run for me. When Marshall gets back, I’m guessing you won’t be sticking around, and I don’t blame you after all this.’ She laughed as though Flora and she were in come kind of cahoots. ‘I won’t hold you to the contract, don’t worry. And I’ll pay you. I mean, I’ll make sure Nick pays you for the work you’ve done here, and I’ll pay you really well for the Calais trip.’ She’d finished dismantling her hair now, had a pile of pins in her hand. She looked around, flashed Flora a rueful
smile, then dropped them onto the greenish earth by her feet.
Flora was thinking hard. ‘When Marshall gets out – if he gets out – I’ll have to ask him to do it.’
‘Oh, he’ll be back in no time – Jack can’t really think it was him. He’s just going through the motions, you know how dogged he’s always been. But can’t you do the Channel run yourself? I thought you’d passed your test. Finally,’ she added, smiling again.
‘Don’t have a passport,’ Flora said.
‘Seriously? Jeez, Flora, you are such a bumpkin.’
‘I’m going back to the house.’ Flora slid off the log again, and headed across the clearing. She had an odd feeling, something nagging at her, pulling at her memory. She wanted to talk to Sidney. She needed to talk to him right now.
‘And tell Jack what you did,’ she called over her shoulder. Celeste watched her, her mouth hanging open. ‘Because if you don’t, I will.’
***
‘Sidney, can you spare a minute?’
Flora found the butler in the dining room, setting it up for their evening meal. He looked glum – even more so than usual. She asked him what was the matter.
‘It’s not your concern, Miss Lively,’ he said. ‘Just something else for me to worry about.’
She got it out of him, though – Nick had refused to pay the bill for the extra staffing on the night of the gala dinner.
‘Said the agreement was between me and Alberto, and that he didn’t have to honour it.’ Sidney’s eyes showed the strain of this latest blow. ‘If I don’t pay the local companies, they won’t work up here again. And there’s nothing in the coffers to cover it.’
‘I’ll help you get the money out of him,’ Flora said.
‘How?’ He stopped placing the silverware and stared at her.
‘I don’t know. But I’ll think of something. Sidney, you mentioned something about a message? Earlier today, just after Marshall was arrested. What was it?’
A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2) Page 10