Bread, Dead and Wed

by Sherri Bryan

  Carl’s face lit up and his cheeks flushed when the rest of the detectives catcalled and cheered. “I’m on it, Chief.”

  “Good. Right, Monique Hathaway doesn’t appear to have any obvious motive but as we know that Roman Haley liked to employ people who had at least one vulnerability he could use to blackmail them with, I wonder if she’s hiding something? I want everything we can find on her, okay? Fiona, if you can get onto that, please?”

  She nodded. “Will do, Chief. Also, with regard to Gavin Doyle, his story about his ex-wife appears to check out - she’s bleeding him dry - but I’m still working on it. Apart from a couple of speeding fines, we’ve got nothing else on him, but he had some strong motives for wanting to see Roman dead. It suits Gavin well to have him out of the way, leaving him to run the school, with no worries about his salary being stopped, nor his shares in the school at risk. That said, we’ve got no proof that he’s guilty of anything. I’ll report back when I have more info.”

  “Okay, thanks. What have you got, Ben?”

  “Well, Larissa Reece’s story is flaky, to say the least. I’m convinced she’s lying about something. She’s trying to put us off the scent, although off the scent of what, I have no idea, Without knowing what she’s hiding, I can’t say if she had a motive for wanting Roman dead, or not, but I’m still checking her out, so I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Nathan nodded. “Regarding Izzy Davenport and Roy Tanner, neither of them have any obvious motives. Again, early background checks don’t throw up anything of concern but, as with everyone, we’ll keep looking. I want you all working together closely on this.”

  He tapped the picture of Roman Haley that was stuck to a giant whiteboard. “Someone killed this guy in broad daylight, in front of multiple witnesses. Who the hell was it?”

  ____________

  “How’d you get on?” Fiona asked Carl, as he flopped down into a chair in the incident room and swung round to face her.

  “Not bad. I spoke to Greta Borasinski. She’s the Head of Housekeeping at The President.”

  “Yeah. And?” Fiona looked up at him while she was typing out a report, her fingers never missing a key.

  “She’s been off sick since the day Roman Haley was taken ill, but she said that the day before he arrived at the hotel, she overheard a huge argument in Simon Clancy’s office, and the person doing most of the shouting was Olivia Floyd-Martin.”

  Fiona stopped typing. “What were they arguing about?”

  “She said Olivia was screaming and swearing at Simon, asking why Roman had to stay there. She asked him why he couldn’t have told Roman the hotel was full and sent him somewhere else.”

  “And what did Simon say?”

  “He told her that people would come to the hotel just for a glimpse of Roman, and it would be a bad business move to turn him away. After that, Olivia went into a full-blown rant. She flung open the door and told Simon he’d better hope she didn’t bump into Roman around the hotel because if she did, there’d be a bloodbath of epic proportions. Then she slammed the door behind her so hard, it rattled in its frame,” said Carl. “She sounds like a delightful woman.”

  “She’s had some issues, but she’s not all bad,” said Fiona, summing Olivia up in a nutshell. “Probably like most of us.”

  She went back to her report and was disturbed again seconds later when Ben shouted from the other side of the room.

  “You are not going to believe this!”

  “What’s up?”

  “Come and look!”

  Fiona and Carl, along with everyone else in the room, huddled around the desk, peering at the grainy CCTV image.

  “What are we looking at?” asked Fiona, screwing up her eyes.

  “It’s the recording from a camera in the market square, just across from the school. I’ve been checking for anything that might be helpful, from the day the tradesmen finished work, until the day Roman was poisoned. The camera’s on the opposite side of the square, so we’ve got a pretty good view. This footage is from the Wednesday before the school opened, taken at twenty-past one in the morning.”

  A figure in dark trousers and hooded jacket could be clearly seen prowling around the perimeter of the school, looking through every window before rattling the handle on the front door.

  “Looks suspect,” said Carl.

  “Certainly does,” said Ben. “And you wait till you see who it is.”

  The figure slouched against the wall before turning and lumbering back across the square. As it approached the camera, the light from a nearby streetlight was enough to illuminate the face of the suspicious prowler and clearly identify it as Olivia Floyd-Martin.

  ____________

  “Well, obviously, I didn’t tell you because I knew how it would look.” Olivia crossed her arms in a show of nonchalance, but squirmed on the chair.

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around at the moment—people not telling us the whole story.” Fiona exhaled an impatient sigh. “What were you doing, anyway?”

  “I was curious to see the school but I was hardly going to ask for a guided tour, was I? I was just looking around.”

  “At twenty-past one in the morning?”

  “I was stressed out. I wasn’t sleeping well. And I didn’t want anyone to see me. I didn’t even know there was a camera there—there never used to be.”

  “It hasn’t been there long. Roman Haley had it installed,” said Fiona. “The thing is, Olivia, when you first came in to give us your statement, you said, and I quote, ‘Accepting Roman’s invitation to the tasting was a huge mistake. I don’t know why I went, because it was the last thing I wanted to do. I had no inclination to go anywhere near the place before, and I haven’t set foot near it since, so I can’t help you with what happened to Roman after I left. All I can tell you for sure is that he couldn’t get the food into his mouth fast enough. And that he was enjoying watching me squirm.’” Fiona raised an eyebrow in Olivia’s direction. “You can see why I’m having trouble understanding why you’d say you had no interest in going anywhere near the school, but then this footage turns up of you all over it.”

  The groove between Olivia’s eyebrows deepened as her mood darkened and she threw her hands in the air. “When is anyone going to appreciate how hard it was for me to have Roman bloody Haley hanging around this town? And when is anyone going to believe that, as much as I might have wanted him to disappear, I did. not. kill. him.”

  She threw herself against the back of the chair and folded her arms, a mutinous grimace on her face.

  Fiona returned the grimace with an impassive stare. “We’ve also been told that you were overheard having a hells-bells of an argument with Simon Clancy, prior to Roman Haley’s arrival at The President, which concluded with you telling him he’d better hope you didn’t bump into Roman around the hotel because if you did, there’d be…” she flicked over a page in her notebook, “a bloodbath of epic proportions.”

  Olivia’s face turned scarlet, and she took a controlled breath, as if she was trying her hardest not to blow her top.

  “Look, whether you believe me or not, you’ve got no proof that I did anything wrong. It’s not a crime to look through windows, you know. If you’ve got something on me, arrest me, otherwise, leave me alone.” She pushed the chair away from her and stood up, towering over Fiona. “Can I go now?”

  ____________

  “Well, it turns out Roman Haley was a nastier piece of work than we knew.”

  Nathan fell onto the couch, put his head on Charlotte’s lap, and closed his eyes. “And, as all the stock checked out clean in the hotel and the school, someone must have brought in the poisoned raisins the day Roman ate the poisoned bread at the tasting session. Who that was, though, we don’t know. I feel like we’re getting nowhere fast at the moment.”

  “You’ll get a lead,” said Charlotte, switching off the TV and gently stroking his cheek. “You always do.”

  Nathan opened his eyes. “You said yo
u’d met Roy Tanner, didn’t you?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Ava and Harriett brought him and Izzy to the café. Why?”

  “I interviewed him today. I wondered what you thought of him.”

  “I thought he was very nice,” said Charlotte. “Why d’you ask?”

  Nathan pushed himself up. “That’s just it. He is very nice. Too nice, almost. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him.”

  “What’s wrong with being nice? You’re getting far too cynical in your old age.”

  “Yeah, I know. It comes with the territory.” Nathan yawned. “I wish I could be like you, Charlotte. I wish I could take everyone at face value but, unfortunately, I can’t. If someone’s too nice, all it does is make me suspicious.”

  “Did you interview Izzy, too?”

  “Yes. Again, she seems pleasant enough but not over the top, like Roy. He just seemed like he was trying much too hard. They both answered all the questions, but neither of them gave any clues that take us further forward with the investigation, and neither of them have an apparent motive. We’ll wait and see if the background checks give us anything to go on, but I wouldn’t like to bet on it.”

  “Are they still staying at The St. Eves’ Tavern?”

  “Until after the weekend, although they went to a concert in St. Matlock tonight and they’re not back until tomorrow. They were more interested in setting off in time for that than they were about Roman Haley popping his clogs.”

  “Well, apart from seeing him on TV, and the short time they saw him at the school, they didn’t know him, did they?” said Charlotte. “They didn’t have a connection to him like the others did.”

  “You’re probably right,” said Nathan, swinging himself off the couch with a chuckle. “I’ll tell you something that made me laugh today, though. We were watching Roy from the office window, squeezing himself into Izzy’s tiny Fiat before they set off for the concert. His knees were literally up to his chin—that must have been the most uncomfortable car journey of his life.”

  He held out his hand to pull Charlotte up. “Anyway, come on. Let’s go to bed and I’ll give you that back rub I’ve been promising you for ages.”

  Chapter 12

  Ava, Harriett and Betty studied the menu at Porcinis, the vegetarian Italian restaurant on the marina.

  “What are you having?” asked Ava. “There are some wonderful smells coming out of the kitchen, but I’ve never been here before, so I have no idea what anything is.”

  “I think I’ll have the set menu,” said Harriett. “Minestrone soup, aubergine parmigiana, and the lemon tart.”

  “And I’m having tomato, olive and basil bruschetta, followed by the mushroom risotto, and then the tiramisu,” said Betty, nibbling on a tray of antipasti.

  “Hmm, well seeing as my knowledge of Italian food stretches to spaghetti Bolognese or lasagne, I think I’ll just take pot luck and order what sounds the most adventurous,” said Ava. “I’m going for a Caprese salad with pesto, sweet potato gnocchi with tomato and spinach sauce, and Zagablione with fresh fruit. Or shall I have the cannolis? It all looks so delicious on the menu.”

  “It is delicious,” said Harriett, closing her menu and pouring a glass of sparkling water. “Even Leo loves the food here and you know how much he loves his meat and two veg. Honestly, it’s to die for.”

  They ordered and sat back to watch life on the marina go by.

  “I say,” said Ava, looking over the top of her glasses. “Isn’t that Roy and Izzy over there?”

  A tall figure strode down the marina front, his small companion taking two steps to his one. They wore rucksacks on their backs and, as they drew closer, it became apparent that they were unkempt and tired-looking.

  Betty waved to get their attention. “Hello, you two. Where’ve you been?”

  “Hi!” said Izzy. “We’ve just got back from St. Matlock.” She crouched down next to Betty with Roy towering above her. “I’m so glad we managed to get tickets for that concert at such short notice because it was brilliant, wasn’t it, Roy? Mind you, there were no tents left, and we didn’t have our own, so we had to sleep in the car.” She pulled a face. “Not to be recommended when the car is as small as mine, and your travelling companion is six foot six.”

  “Oh dear,” said Ava. “Are you alright, Roy?”

  Roy shook his head and dug his knuckles into his shoulders in an attempt to pummel his stiff muscles back to life. “It seemed like a cracking idea last night after four pints of cider but let’s just say I realised the error of my ways when I woke up this morning, feeling like I’d been folded in half. Not that I had more than an hour’s sleep, mind you. Bloody car. I’d have had more room if I’d slept in a matchbox. And I don’t know how strong that cider was, but my head’s killing me. I feel like my brain’s too big for my skull.”

  “Don’t say nasty things about my car!” said Izzy. “It got us to the concert and back again, didn’t it? And I didn’t hear you complaining when it kept us dry from the rain last night.”

  Roy put his hands to his head and moaned.

  “Would you like a glass of sparkling water?” asked Harriett.

  “No thanks. We’re going for breakfast at Charlotte’s Plaice,” said Roy, looking a little more cheerful. “The thought of it is the only thing that’s kept me going since we set off this morning. A full English breakfast with lots of hot buttered toast, and a nice big mug of tea. And then we’re going back to The St. Eves’ Tavern to get showered, and I’m going to bed. But I’m not doing anything until I’ve had some breakfast.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “Oh dear,” said Ava. “I hate to disappoint you, but Charlotte’s Plaice is closed today.”

  Roy and Izzy’s faces fell. “You’re kidding!”

  “It’s closed every Saturday,” said Betty.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Roy shrugging his rucksack off his back. “Where else can we get a good brekkie?”

  “Well, we could go back to the St. Eves’ Tavern and have breakfast there,” said Izzy, “but it’s not great. The fried bread looks like it’s done twenty lengths in the pan before it’s put on your plate, and it’s still swimming in oil, and the bacon’s really limp and insipid.”

  “Why don’t you have something here?” said Harriett. “It’s not breakfast, but they do a fabulous set-menu for only £10. Here, have a look.”

  “I’m not sure we’re dressed for a restaurant,” said Roy, sniffing his underarm. “And I’m sure I don’t smell too good.”

  “You could always splash on some of that aftershave you were wearing last night,” said Izzy, with mock sweetness. “It was strong enough to fell a charging rhino at twenty paces, so I’m sure it’ll cover up a little B.O.”

  Roy shot her a sarcastic smile. “Well, I had to do something to mask the smell of your sheepskin boots. After we got caught in the rain, they stunk like a damp yak.”

  “Now, now, you two, that’s enough bickering,” said Ava. “You could probably do with combing your hair, and a shave, but I’m sure they won’t mind what you look like. Here comes our waiter—I’ll ask him.”

  A young man in a white shirt and tight black trousers approached, carrying three plates. “Your starters, ladies,” he said, in a heavy Italian accent, placing the plates on the table. “I bring you the pepper.”

  “Thank you, young man,” said Ava, “but before you go, I want to ask you something.”

  “Madam?” The waiter lowered his chin and fluttered his dark eyelashes.

  “These people are our friends. They look a little dishevelled, and they’re a bit whiffy because they’ve slept in a car all night and haven’t had a shower yet, but we can vouch for them, can’t we girls? They might look like they are, but they’re really not the type of people to eat and run off without paying their bill. Do you think you’d be able to find a table for them?” Ava used her polite, but bossy voice; the one she reserved for when she absolutely wouldn’t take no for an answer.


  The waiter looked Roy and Izzy up and down before gesturing to a nearby table for two. “Here for you is good?”

  “Here for us is perfect,” said Izzy, gratefully, and sank into the soft cushion. “Grazie mille.”

  The waiter’s blank expression transformed into a smile and he gave Izzy a little bow. “Prego, Signorina.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Roy put down his rucksack and rubbed his chin through his patchy stubble. “And thanks, Ava. That was good of you.”

  Ava gave him a saint-like smile and started on her salad. “Don’t mention it dear. I’m glad we saw you, actually. I wanted to ask you how you got on when you spoke to the police. I assume you have spoken to them?”

  Izzy nodded and took a breadstick from the container on the table to dig in the butter dish. “We spoke to them yesterday, but there wasn’t much we could tell them. I still can’t believe the bread one of us baked was what poisoned Roman. I mean, how the hell did that happen? Thank God it wasn’t one of us who ate it.” She shuddered. “It was all we talked about on the drive up to St. Matlock, wasn’t it, Roy? We were listening to a local radio station in the car and the presenters were saying they reckon Olivia Floyd-Martin’s the prime suspect. Not sure I agree with that myself, though.”

  “And what do you think, Roy?” asked Betty.

  He shrugged. “Dunno, really. I guess the obvious people to have put the poisoned raisins in the bread are Gavin and Larissa, but I can’t see them having done it. Gavin seems like a good bloke and Larissa reminds me of my sister, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. She even went vegan to save the animals.”

  He tossed an olive into the air, catching it in his mouth. “As far as Monique’s concerned, I’ve heard she’s pretty devious but as it’s come out that she was Roman’s girlfriend, I can’t see her doing him in. And I don’t know Olivia but from what I’ve heard, she strikes me as the type of person who’d come straight to you if she had a problem and sort it out face to face, not do something sneaky like poison your food.” He caught another olive. “Of course, that’s just a guess—like I said, I don’t know her.”