by Sara Rosett
“What does your aunt like?” The salesman asked, his gaze following Alex as he drifted to the far side of the shop.
I reached for my wallet. “Oh, lots of things.” I pulled out a twenty-pound note. “Perhaps, if you remember, you could show me anything that my aunt looked at and seemed to like but didn’t purchase?”
The salesman finally looked away from Alex. The money caught his eye. He looked up at me, a faint speculative look on his face. I smiled widely and squeezed the bill, making the paper crinkle. “Anything you could tell me would be so helpful.”
“I see. In that case, I think I do remember her. She was quite torn between the Orange Blossom Explosion candle and the Dusky Blackberry Incognito candle. She went with the Orange Blossom. Perhaps you’d like to purchase the Dusky Blackberry Incognito for her?”
I said I would, then nearly passed out when I checked the price tag on the way to the cash register. I had recovered by the time we reached the counter where he rang up the sale. I hoped my credit card could handle the price of the candle. I discreetly handed the man the twenty-pound note when I returned the signed credit card slip to him. “So she must have dithered a long time over the candles. She was late to lunch,” I improvised.
“Yes, she came in right when I came on the floor at a little after ten thirty, and I think she looked at every single thing in the shop.” He leaned over the tall counter and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, I thought she was one of those people who look but never buy, but then she bought the second most expensive thing in the store.”
He handed over a bag with the candle. Once you got him talking, he didn’t want to stop it seemed because he followed me around the counter to the door where Alex was waiting. “And then we had the problem with our card machine,” he continued. “It would not read her card. It took three tries. I thought I was going to lose the sale. She said she had a lunch reservation and had to leave. It finally went through at eleven thirty, though,” he squished up his shoulders, “so, day saved,” he concluded, smiling widely at Alex. “Thanks for dropping in. Come again,” he called, his gaze fastened on Alex as we returned to the street.
“Well, I think you should have taken that one as well. He only had eyes for you,” I said with a smile.
“But you got the job done.”
“And spent more on a candle than on those earrings. Over a hundred pounds…for a candle. It’s just wax, right?”
“Extremely expensive wax, it seems,” Alex said.
I shook my head. “Another thing we learned today is that Octavia doesn’t have money problems.”
“Yes, and it looks like she’s got a pretty solid alibi for the whole morning,” Alex said.
“Elise won’t be pleased.”
Alex’s phone rang. He listened for a moment then said, “Yes, certainly. Where…? No, if it’s that close, I’ll walk. Much quicker that way. I’ll be there in, say, ten to fifteen minutes.” He put his phone away. “My turn for an interview with Inspector Byron. I guess they are getting around to the rest of the group. They want to see me at the police station, which isn’t far from here.” He tapped an address into his phone. “Only a few blocks. Do you want to come with me?”
“No, you go on. I’ll visit the Baths and see if someone remembers me.”
“Okay. I don’t think this will take long. I’ll text you if it does.”
We separated, and I walked the short distance to the square where the Roman Baths were located. I stopped at the coffee shop where I’d waited for the Baths to open, but the barista and the cashier didn’t remember me. I thought the Roman Baths might be closed, but the police must have finished because everything looked normal. A line of tourists were waiting to get in, and I didn’t see any notices about portions of the baths being closed. I waited in line, and when I finally reached the counter I approached the ticket seller without much hope. But the woman surprised me when she said, “Yes, ma’am, I remember you. You were the first person in today.”
I made a note of her name in my Moleskine notebook and returned to the square. As I emerged from the Baths I saw Paul’s lanky figure crossing the square. I waved to him, catching his attention, and he angled toward me.
He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I was about to call you. I’ve just heard from Elise. She wanted me to tell you that after you find someone to verify your alibi, you and Alex are to go to the Abbey and get some details on the inside. She’s especially interested in the bell and clock tower tour.”
“I thought we weren’t scouting locations until our alibis were firmed up.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s Elise. You know how she is.”
“Yes. Difficult.”
Paul’s lips twitched. “Apparently, she thinks it might be good for B-roll, and she knew you’d be here.” He glanced around. “Where’s Alex?”
“At the police station being interviewed.” He jerked his gaze back to me so quickly that his ever-present pencil nearly slipped off his ear.
“They took him in?”
He was scared, I realized. “No, they called and asked him to come in. He hasn’t been interviewed yet.”
“Oh.” Paul breathed out unsteadily. “I see.”
“Have they talked to you? The police, I mean.”
“A bit. A sergeant asked me a few questions at the Baths.”
“Then they’ll probably call you in, too, today if you haven’t spoken to Inspector Byron. That’s who Alex is with now.”
Paul swallowed then turned back to the Abbey. “We’ll have to get some footage of those carved angels on the ladders. Very unique,” he said determinedly. He took his pencil from his ear and made a note.
“Paul, are you okay?”
“Yes, fine.” He shot me a quick glance and an uncertain smile.
“You seem a little…nervous or worried…” I said, wishing Alex was here. He was so much better at picking up on stuff like this than I was.
“Me? What do I have to be worried about? I’m too busy to be worried. Elise always sees to that.”
“It’s got to be related to Cyrus,” I said, thinking aloud. “You’ve been so quiet and still on this trip, not at all like your usual self. Cyrus did something, didn’t he? Did he say something to you?”
Paul rolled the pencil back and forth in his fingers.
“Look, if you’re worried about Cyrus making…threats, I guess is the correct term for them…or insinuations about something, then you’re not the only one. He said some stuff to me this morning that…well, that made me want to kick him, if I’m honest about it. Of course, I didn’t put it that way to Byron.”
“Actions are different than words.”
“What do you mean?” I thought I detected a trace of bitterness in his tone, but…Paul? Who was always so good-natured, so energetic, and positive no matter how bad the problem.
Paul glanced quickly left and right then leaned toward me. “I know you’ve been out of the country for a few months, but have you heard of Criminal Action?”
I nodded. It was the hot new crime drama that everyone seemed to be talking about.
“I had an opportunity to go to work there. With the Austen documentary up in the air, I was looking around, you know?”
“Of course. We all were.”
“It looked good with them.” Paul sighed. “It really did. Then Cyrus got involved. He knew some people at the show and told them I was unreliable and hard to work with.”
I stared at him. “But that’s not true. You’re the opposite, in fact. You’re always one of the first on the set, and you manage to work closely with Elise—and we both know that’s not easy.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Paul’s face. “Thank you.” He looked away. “Unfortunately, they believed Cyrus. Who wouldn’t? He’s well-known and pulls a lot of weight.”
“I’m sorry, Paul. What a jerk. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all that, but he wasn’t a nice person.” A job with a show like that would have been a great move for Paul
. It would have given him valuable contacts and some security because it looked like the show would be around for a while. Long-term job security was pretty rare in the world of television production.
“You’re right,” Paul said, his face set in angry lines. “It wasn’t enough that he sabotaged me. He bragged about it—brazen as you please. Not one bit sorry. He said I was too valuable to the Austen documentary. He couldn’t let me go.”
“That is terrible,” I said, feeling a fresh wave of anger at Cyrus. “What makes people do things like that?”
“He was a selfish, egotistical sod,” Paul said. “So you see, he did more than just say beastly things to me. I’m sure it gives me a motive, at least in the eyes of the police.”
“Does Elise know?”
He nodded. “She always knows everything.”
“Yes, she is like a witch.”
Paul snorted. “I didn’t hear that.”
I was glad to see the worry in Paul’s face ease up a little at my joke. Perhaps Paul’s situation helped to explain Elise’s rush to find alibis for everyone. I’d thought her motivation was primarily to protect herself and the production, but she had to value Paul as well. As ruthless as she was, I couldn’t see her being totally unconcerned about him. She worked more closely with Paul than with anyone else on the production.
He tucked his pencil behind his ear. “Right. Well. I’m off to bribe someone into saying that they saw me at the critical time.”
“No luck so far?”
He shook his head. “Zero. I’m on my way back to the coffee house I went to this morning to see if the manager is back. No one there remembered me, but the barista said the manager was on the cash register this morning because someone called in sick. I hope I look familiar to him. Then I can tell the police to clear off when they call me in for my interview. At least I didn’t actually get into a verbal argument with him like Elise and Felix,” Paul said almost to himself. “That should count for something. I hope it does, anyway.”
“Felix argued with him, too?”
“Yeah, I heard them going at it this morning.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. I mean, we all knew that Elise and Cyrus didn’t get along, but Felix actually argued with him?”
“Yes, it was early—extremely early this morning—before we left to drive here. I don’t think you and Alex had arrived yet.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that they were arguing. Felix would argue with a brick wall. He’s like that.”
“Yes,” Paul said slowly, “but this wasn’t like Felix’s usual bluster. You know how he is, always griping, but he doesn’t mean half of what he says. But this was different. Cyrus had just arrived, and I think Felix said something about Cyrus’s wife. Where’s your lovely wife, or something like that.”
“That doesn’t sound like Felix. He never thinks anything is lovely.”
“I know. Maybe that’s why it caught my attention. I don’t know. Anyway, Cyrus rounded on him and said something about him being jealous. I couldn’t hear exactly what Felix said. He was speaking in a low voice. It sounded like his teeth were clenched. It was something about what Cyrus deserved or didn’t deserve. I couldn’t hear the words, but I could tell Felix was furious. It was one of those situations where you’re not sure what is going on, but you know it’s not good. I thought I’d have to pull one of them off the other in another minute.”
“What happened?”
“Elise came around the front of the van and walked right into the scene without realizing what was going on. She told Cyrus something—I forget what—something about the itinerary, I think, and that set him off. He didn’t want to do it in the order she’d planned it. Then they went at it during the rest of the drive, but you heard that part.”
“What drama. No wonder the atmosphere in the van was so tense. When you talked to the sergeant earlier did you tell him about this argument between Felix and Cyrus?”
“No. It’s only hearsay. I can’t even tell you what they were arguing about.”
“All the same, you should tell the police.”
“They’ll think I’m trying to divert their attention away from me.”
“Possibly, but it did happen. They should know.”
Paul shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said without much conviction. He looked at the time on his phone. “I’ve got to get going. It’s been fifteen whole minutes since Elise has contacted me. I better get to the coffee shop while I have the chance.”
“Good luck.”
He loped off, and I went to sit on one of the benches that lined the edge of the square to “have a think” as my friend Louise would say.
Chapter 11
ALEX ARRIVED ABOUT A QUARTER of an hour later. “How did it go?” I asked as he sat down beside me on the bench.
“Routine. All routine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Really?”
“No, their questions were pointed about Elise and everyone else in the group.”
“Did they ask anything specific about Paul?”
“A question or two. Why?”
I recounted my conversation with Paul, and Alex let out a low whistle. “I’m glad I didn’t know that before I went to meet Byron. So that’s what Paul meant in the van when he said Cyrus had made sure that he’d be around. No wonder Paul was so angry.”
“I guess the question is, was Paul angry enough to kill Cyrus?” I asked. “It certainly wouldn’t do Paul any good at this point. The damage to his reputation is done.”
“But if Cyrus was goading him…emotions can cloud your judgment,” Alex said, and I nodded, remembering the way I’d felt when Cyrus had made the comments about my mom.
“I hope Paul finds someone who remembers him. And if Felix could find someone, too…”
“That would solve a lot of problems,” Alex said.
“Did you hear the argument between Felix and Cyrus this morning?” I asked.
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, indeed. I know what you’re thinking,” Alex said.
“Do you? You probably do. You’re much better at that game than I am.”
“You’re thinking that we only have Paul’s word that Felix and Cyrus were arguing.”
“Got it in one,” I said. “Maybe you could take that show on the road.”
Alex grinned as he locked gazes with me. “I can only do it with you—and only some of the time.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want to be too much of an open book to you.”
“No worries there. You’re rather fascinating.”
I cleared my throat. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“You should never be embarrassed by the truth.”
I punched him lightly on the arm. “Alex.”
“Okay. We’ll table the mind-reading-slash-fascination discussion for later—we seem to be doing that a lot, don’t we? Tabling things for discussion. The table must be groaning under the weight of subjects we have yet to discuss.”
“You’re always focused on the horizon. Let’s talk about the here and now. Today. Murder investigation. That takes priority, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sadly. All right. How was your alibi-hunting expedition?”
“The ticket seller at the Baths remembered me, but that doesn’t exactly give me an alibi. Just the opposite, in fact. It places me right at the location of the murder.” I frowned at the church’s rose window. “We’re going about this all wrong. Elise wants to prove that no one from the scouting group could have murdered Cyrus, but when you look at her rather ridiculous spreadsheet, it’s obvious several of us could be the killer. It would make much more sense to try to find out who actually killed Cyrus than to try and prove no one in our group could have done it.”
“She’s on defense,” Alex said. “You think she should be on offense.”
I frowned at him. “I don’t follow football or baseball or whatever you’re referring to, so sporting analogies are like a for
eign language to me.”
Alex grinned. “Okay, fair enough. You think it would be easier to prove someone’s guilt rather than prove the innocence of five separate people.”
“Well, not easier, exactly. But logically, it’s the thing to concentrate on.”
“I’m sure Elise would disagree.”
I waved a hand. “Elise always disagrees with me. She’s so focused on providing the police alibis so we’ll all be in the clear that she can’t see that one of our group is the most likely candidate to have done it. In fact, I wonder if this whole provide your alibi thing is a smoke screen.” I blew out a breath. “Elise is the most likely suspect. She argued with Cyrus. He was making her life miserable. She wanted him gone from the production. She was at the Baths, alone. She could have done it.”
“But look where his death has gotten her. She’s worried the production will fold.”
“Yes, but if it was a crime of passion she might not have thought things through. Maybe she just struck out.”
“And hit him on the back of the head?” Alex asked, his voice doubtful.
“Yes, you’re right. Elise seems the sort who would stab you through the heart, not wait until your back was turned and then hit you,” I said.
“But that’s focusing on means—the way he was killed,” I said, looking up at the clouds, which still hovered overhead, dark and heavy, but the rain had held off. The wind was brisk, but the Abbey and the other buildings that lined the square sheltered the open area, blocking the chilly wind. “And we don’t know enough about how he was killed to make many assumptions either. What was he hit with?”
“No word on that from the helpful Sergeant Gadd. Elise should have asked him about that earlier today.” Alex shifted on the bench. “So, let’s look at this your way, logically. Instead of starting with alibis or means, where would we begin?” Alex asked.
“I think the first thing to do would be to find out where Cyrus went this morning after he left the hotel.”