Poinsettias and the Perfect Crime

by Ruby Loren

  I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining the last idea, but there certainly was some strong evidence of foul play lying on the floor in front of me, if not any actual evidence of a curse. I felt something hard under my foot and lifted my shoe to discover that I’d trodden in dirt. A glance at Bill Wrexton’s shiny black shoes assured me that he hadn’t been the one tracking mud around.

  “This is serious,” Fergus observed. “We should call the police.”

  “Hold that thought for a moment,” I said, reluctant to be the one to suggest we break some rules. That was usually Fergus’ influence. I just didn’t have a whole lot of faith in the police who would come to investigate this death. “I think we should be the ones to tell Gillian Wrexton. She should be given time to collect herself before having the police barge in here shouting about murder. It’s only fair.”

  Fergus inclined his head to show agreement. Then, we walked out of the room, shutting the door behind us. I looked from the doorknob to my hand and reluctantly acknowledged that, if the killer had left any evidence on the knob, it would have been gone the moment Fergus and I opened the door. I tried not to feel too bad about the possible destruction of evidence. Something about this whole killing struck me as well-planned, efficient and professional. This wasn’t the work of a killer who was in the midst of panic. It was enough to make me reluctant to trust the evidence that had been left lying around for us to find.

  Gillian Wrexton was waiting on the landing when we exited the corridor. She looked questioningly from me to Fergus. I suddenly realised we didn’t have a good reason to have visited the study.

  “We were…” I started to say but Fergus got there first.

  “We were looking for an empty room to have a talk,” Fergus’ hand went to my waist. I tried not to jump in surprise at his insinuation. Fortunately, the bright scarlet colour my face probably was by now must have convinced Gillian it was the truth because she merely looked a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t tarry up here. I’m just off to find Bill. He was supposed to be giving his speech five minutes ago!” the refined woman said, looking perplexed.

  “Ah, Mrs Wrexton, I have some bad news,” Fergus said and then, somehow, he managed to deliver the news of the tragedy that we’d found before us in the study with both tact and warmth. I hadn’t known he’d had such skill in him, but I was left impressed.

  “That’s… that’s terrible,” Gillian Wrexton said, looking distraught. “Why would anyone have wanted to kill Bill?”

  “There was a safe in the room. It was wide open and completely empty,” I said, trying to break the news as gently as Fergus had done.

  Gillian’s face turned white. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

  “I think your husband may have tried to tell you something about the person who did this to him. He wrote a single word on a pad of paper. Does the word Elephas mean anything to you?” I knew it was not exactly moral to try to get the truth out of the person that message had most likely been left for right after she’d discovered her husband was dead, but I had a feeling that there was more to this than a casual robbery, and I was guessing that Gillian Wrexton would have a much better idea of the truth than I did.

  To my surprise, her eyes cleared of their mistiness and her jaw clamped shut. A look of determination came over her face. “Thank you for telling me first. We must contact the police, so that they can take over this matter. But for now, I think it would be best if we kept quiet about what has happened and allow the party to continue for as long as it may. It’s what Bill would have wanted.” Gillian Wrexton looked between us and we dutifully nodded, willing to respect the wishes of the newly-widowed woman.

  “I hate to ask, but do you know what might have been stolen from the safe? A large diamond perhaps?” Fergus asked.

  I stomped on his foot. Now was hardly the time for dredging up his cursed gem theory!

  “Nothing of the sort. It was just some old family papers. The deed to the house and so on,” Gillian said vaguely, as if her mind was on something else entirely. I could understand why. She managed a small smile. “Try to enjoy the party. I’ll contact the police. Thank you for doing this for Bill and for me. I’ll inform the police that I asked you not to say anything but that you came to tell me first. We will be nothing but transparent.”

  “Thank you,” Fergus said, inclining his head out of respect. I silently thought that Gillian Wrexton could be as transparent as she liked, but when it came to Detective Walter Miller of the Merryfield police force, I could all but guarantee that I would be in the firing line. If I was allowed to leave Merryfield Manor without a couple of new, shiny metal bracelets as an added accessory, I would count that as a win.

  We walked back down the staircase to return to the mingling throng below. I turned to Fergus. “Was it just me, or did she take that much more calmly than I’d imagined in my head?” My opinion could have been coloured by her drama queen daughter, but I just hadn’t predicted Gillian Wrexton to be so levelheaded and darn practical about the whole thing.

  “Everyone reacts differently when faced with death. We’ve just discovered what she’s really made of, and I think the answer is some pretty strong stuff. At least on the surface,” he added.

  I thought about that as we paused on the edge of the crowd. I reached out and touched his arm. “No one knows what’s happened yet. And no one knows that we know. We should keep a low profile and have a look around. The killer could still be at the party,” I added in a lower voice, so that I wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Are you suggesting we do some investigating?” Fergus looked positively amused.

  I frowned. “No! Well… not really. I’m just saying that the police will need all of the help they can get when they arrive. If we can catch the killer whilst their guard is still down, then it will be better for everyone involved.” Not least myself, I privately added, thinking about the grilling I would no doubt be given by Walter Miller for not keeping my nose clean. I really thought the suspicion he treated me with was largely undeserved. Was it really my fault that I’d happened across a few bodies and bones? It wasn’t as if I was ever intentionally up to no good.

  I thought about what Fergus and I had been doing when we’d found Bill Wrexton and backtracked on that statement.

  The point was, I would never kill anyone or steal anything. That meant I wasn’t a bad person. Right?

  “We should split up and cover more ground. Remember… subtlety is the word,” Fergus said, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. He turned around and walked towards a group of chatting people. “So! Who here knows the Wrexton family secret? Anyone know anything about the cursed diamond in their possession?”

  I shut my eyes. I’d have to buy Fergus a dictionary for Christmas and tell him to look up the definition of ‘subtle’. I opened them again and looked around the room. No one stood out to me in particular. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cordelia slip away from her boyfriend and walk towards the stairs. I kept to the shadows to avoid either of them spotting me and then, when I was certain that Harrison’s unwanted attention was elsewhere, I followed after my arch enemy.

  Did I believe she had something to do with her father’s death? I wondered as I looked in at the party from the outer edge. I knew that I wasn’t fond of her, but that didn’t mean I was blind to the way she felt about her family. She was still living in the family house in her late twenties, and she certainly didn’t seem to be itching to get out on her own. If anything, she was still enjoying lording it over the commoners from the lofty vantage point of Merryfield Manor. What about inheritance? Perhaps she stands to gain some money from her father’s death, I thought and then felt awful for even considering it. Cordelia was no professional killer, of that much I was close to certain. Professional killers were sharp, and this one was clever, too. Whilst I could potentially imagine Cordelia ‘borrowing’ some cash from the family safe, I couldn’t pair that with her father’s violent end.

  I hesitated, re
considering the direction I was looking in. I was letting my old feelings, brought forward from the past, get the best of me, when I should be focusing on more likely candidates.

  I was going to immerse myself in the crowd when a flash of movement caught my eye. I slipped back into the shadows within a flower-adorned alcove and watched as Samuel Farley, my sister’s new fling, walked by. Where did he come from? I wondered, knowing that the toilets were in a different direction. He looked around, as if sensing, or at least worrying, that his strange actions had been seen by someone. He gave the impression of a man with a guilty conscience. My eyes travelled downwards and my breath caught in my throat.

  His shoes had smears of mud on them. Samuel had been wandering around outside. I couldn’t help but think back to the scene of the crime and the dirt that had been littered around the room. Had Samuel murdered Bill Wrexton and waited until now to return to the party undetected?

  Something about the theory bothered me. I realised I was having a hard time believing that the killer would have made such an obvious mistake by not cleaning their shoes after committing the crime, but perhaps I was overthinking it. Samuel might have made a simple error that gave away his identity as the killer. Hadn’t I already had my suspicions that there was something ‘off’ about my sister’s new beau? Sure, I hadn’t imagined that he was a coldblooded killer and a thief, but I knew all too well that many people concealed darker secrets than you could ever fathom they’d be keeping.

  He wasn’t going to get away with it. He wasn’t even going to have time to plan his excuses. I marched over to Samuel and stepped in front of him before he could return to the party.

  “Diana! What are you doing out here and not in there, enjoying the party?”

  Was that panic I saw flash in front of his eyes? I thought it might be. “I was going to ask you the same. Or rather, I was going to ask where you have been in order to end up with muddy shoes?” I kept my expression blank. I wasn’t going to play my ace - that I knew about the murder - until the prime moment.

  “It’s not what you think…” he began, looking back towards the garden with guilt written across his features. But I never got to hear the rest of his excuse because at that moment something terrible happened.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please…”

  Heads turned and voices quieted. Everyone looked towards the speaker who stood at the top of the staircase.

  I felt my stomach drop through the floor.

  The man doing the talking was none other than my ex-boyfriend, George.

  “Thank you,” he said, beaming around at the sea of people and walking down the stairs to be in better view of the full room. I wished I’d never left the alcove but I tried to make use of Samuel all the same and managed to step behind him just as George walked by. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am here tonight thanks to the kind heart of one wonderful woman. I am, of course, talking about Cordelia Wrexton.” He paused and everyone gradually realised they were supposed to be applauding.

  I heard a choking sound and realised that it was me.

  “When I was lost for what to do, she came into my life and suggested the perfect solution to a conundrum that I’ve been wrestling with ever since it happened. It is because of her kindness that I am able to stand here tonight and tell the woman I love that…” he hesitated. “Well… that I love her!”

  “Oh no,” I said under my breath, somehow knowing exactly what was about to come next.

  “Where’s Diana? Diana Flowers?” George asked, beaming around like the village idiot I was starting to believe he truly was.

  I took a step back, and was going to take several more, when Samuel turned around and seized my arm.

  “Here she is!” he said, lifting my arm in the air like I’d won a prize fight.

  I shot him a searing glare, but he just grinned back. Apparently, he hadn’t liked the way I’d been questioning his snooping about. Imagine that! A journalist who can’t take what he hands out, I thought whilst my arm was waved around for me.

  George turned and saw me and I watched his face light up. Then, everything sort of went in slow motion. Not the good slow motion where a couple of people run together across a flowery meadow after too long spent apart, but the bad slow motion that happens right before a character is involved in something terrible that causes their whole life to flash before their eyes. It was in that kind of slow motion that I watched George walk towards me and then - horror of horrors - get down on one knee and take my limp hand.

  Samuel slid away into the background. I was left standing alone with my ex-boyfriend down on one knee and the eyes of nearly every single resident of Merryfield focused on this terrible moment.

  “Diana Flowers…” George began.

  I opened my mouth to cut him off but was distracted by a movement in the crowd. I thought I caught a glimpse of bouncy dark brown hair as Fergus tried to push his way through to the front. Had he found the killer? I wondered, before remembering that I’d been pretty sure I’d uncovered the killer… only to be cut off by this brainless moron.

  “…will you,” George carried on, oblivious to my mounting horror.

  Oh no.

  He was reaching into his pocket.

  Was he seriously going to…?

  “Mum! Dad’s dead! Someone’s murdered him!” Cordelia screamed from the top of the staircase.

  Silence descended over the crowd for a long second. Even George’s hand halted its inexorable progress towards whatever he was keeping in his pocket. And for the first time in my entire life, I felt grateful to Cordelia Wrexton.

  “Murder?” someone hissed and whispers spread like wildfire through the gathered crowd. At the top of the staircase Gillian Wrexton appeared and swept her daughter into a hug. At the bottom, George paused mid-whatever he’d been about to do.

  “Get up,” I said to him without bothering to hide my antipathy. No one was watching us now, so I didn’t have to pretend to be nice. I’d told this man once already that he was not wanted in my life. If he thought putting on a big show was going to change my mind, it proved he had absolutely no idea about the sort of woman I was.

  “Who is this guy?” Fergus asked, arriving by my side. “Where did he come from?”

  I turned back to look at George, who was reluctantly getting back to his feet.

  “I’m quite interested in the answer to that second question myself,” I told Fergus.

  “I came here for you,” George said, stumbling now that this whole charade had gone so wildly off track.

  “But where were you before you did your little stunt? You weren’t at the ball,” I prompted.

  “No, I was upstairs, hiding in a room. Cordelia…” he trailed off, looking up at the hugging women and finally putting two and two together. “Wait, you don’t think I had anything to do with… with whatever it is that’s happened, do you?”

  I glanced down at his shoes and discovered that they too were a tad on the dirty side. Great. So much for that theory. “How did you get into the house?”

  “I climbed up a drainpipe. That was Cordelia’s idea. She said it would be romantic and impress you when you found out. It also meant that none of the guests would spot me,” George said, as if this all made complete sense and wasn’t so off the rails and into la la land that a psychiatrist was probably his next stop.

  “I can pretty much guarantee that whatever Cordelia suggested, it wasn’t to do you, or me, any favours,” I told my bewildered ex. But it might have been to set the scene for a murder, I silently thought, wondering if this had been part of the plan. Telling George to go through the garden would have ensured his shoes bore evidence of the flowerbeds. He could then be the perfect fall guy. No one would have seen him at the party. No one could give him an alibi. But then… why would George have wanted Bill Wrexton dead? I’d defy anyone to come up with a reason for that. To my knowledge, the two men hadn’t even been aware of the other’s existence.

  Unless George does have
something to do with it. After all, why has he suddenly shown up out of the blue to try and get back together with me? I silently mused.

  The whispers were growing louder. I could sense something was building when…

  BANG!

  The doors of Merryfield Manor were thrown open. Walter Miller and his two sergeants strode into the room. “We’ve had a report of a murder committed at this location. Whilst we investigate this matter, I want everyone to stay inside the building and remain calm. The killer could still be among us.”

  Predictably, the room erupted into chaos.

  7

  The Pharaoh’s Curse

  It took the police a good ten minutes to corral the party goers into an organised-ish gathering. It helped a bit when Gillian Wrexton suggested that the kitchen serve the mulled wine intended for later in the evening and everyone had something warm and spicy to take their mind off murder. Next, the interviews began and alibis were established. To my surprise, the police worked methodically through, allowing people to leave the ball, if they wished, after they’d given their statements.

  That was - the police excluding Walter Miller. Whilst his sergeants made good, going around and speaking to every person present, the detective made a beeline for the ‘trouble makers’. As soon as the masks were lifted off the waiters, and it was discovered that they were none other than the Merryfield Murder Mystery Fans book club, Walter Miller may as well have stuck signs on their foreheads saying ‘guilty’.

  “Let me get this straight… you concealed your identity in order to enter a party you weren’t invited to in order to murder the party organiser, whom your group held a publicly known grudge against?” Walter Miller was stroking his moustache like a man who’d just solved a murder.