Killed With a Kiss

by Fiona Grace

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Lacey glared at the reflection of Superintendent Karl Turner in the rearview mirror of the cruiser. She was not impressed with his handling of the situation, but she also knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Using a key to get into a dead man’s house was not an argument that would hold much weight in court, after all.

  Superintendent Turner looked in the mirror at her from the passenger seat at the front. “Someone looks sour,” he said, a smirk on his lips.

  Since he’d asked no question, Lacey said nothing. She noticed the way the driver’s eyebrows twitched at the comment, and the subsequent silence. Superintendent Turner’s unpopularity amongst the force was not a well-kept secret. None of them seemed to agree with his stuffy, outdated way of doing things, though as his subordinates, they evidently had no recourse to complain.

  “You do know you bring this on yourself,” Superintendent Turner continued, unperturbed. “Breaking into a crime scene. Waking up the neighbors. Tolleton Green isn’t the sort of place where the sight of a beat-up champagne-colored Volvo goes undocumented! Those folks are just itching for the drama.”

  He guffawed loudly, seemingly very pleased with his put-down. That explained the lack of security, Lacey thought. If everyone’s neighbors were as paranoid about an unfamiliar car as Hugh’s, the police were probably on call every hour of every day.

  Lacey refused to rise to his taunting. But from the caged off section at the back of the car, Chester didn’t hold back. He let out a low, long growl, which Lacey couldn’t help but smirk at. Sadly she had no such option, so instead, she folded her arms—glad at least that she hadn’t been cuffed with those horrible plastic ties—and gazed out the window. She’d have to pick up her car tomorrow. Assuming she wasn’t an incarcerated woman tomorrow, that was.

  They reached Wilfordshire station, and the driver parked in the lot. Before Superintendent Turner had a chance to even open the passenger door and vacate the vehicle, DCI Lewis’s car parked beside him. She’d been following behind with Oxana in the other cruiser. As she pulled up beside her, Lacey noticed just how furious she looked. No wonder Superintendent Turner had insisted on riding with Lacey; DCI Lewis had probably had quite an earful from “Ukraine’s wealthiest female CEO (of an Industrial, Plastics or Textile company).”

  The driver got out of the car and opened up the hatch to let out Chester. Lacey, stuck because of the safety locks, began to panic. “Where are you taking him?”

  “Don’t worry. We have a holding pen. He’ll be back with you once you’re done questioning. It’s just for safety reasons.” He said it reassuringly enough, so Lacey relaxed.

  Superintendent Turner sneered at her. “You know if we were in the U.S we could have shot that dog by now.”

  “So you keep saying,” Lacey replied thinly.

  She watched the male detective exit the car and take his time readjusting his pants before languorously allowing her out of the back seat.

  “Thank you,” Lacey said through her teeth as she emerged into the warm evening.

  They followed DCI Lewis and Oxana inside, and Superintendent Turner led them straight through the reception—ignoring the receptionist Lacey was confident was Jacqui—and into the back corridor.

  “Lacey, let’s have you in questioning room one,” he said, pointing at the sign on the door. “Oxana, you can go in two.”

  Oxana glowered. “That’s Ms. Kovalenko to you, you rude little man.”

  Lacey couldn’t help but smile, even if she was still a little suspicious that Oxana was a killer.

  Just then, the conjoining door opened and Jacqui the nasally receptionist hurried through. “Detectives. The toxicology report came back. It was cyanide!”

  She looked, Lacey dared say, excited by the finding. Superintendent Turner snapped his head to the side and shot her a death glare. Jacqui must’ve been so excited to pass on the information it hadn’t occurred to her that Superintendent Turner had two suspects in tow, to whom she’d just revealed some very important evidence. She slunk back, her cheeks burning red.

  But Lacey was overwhelmed with relief. Cyanide. Not brunfelsamidine. Hugh hadn’t been killed by Gina’s Kiss-Me-Quicks. Her friend was off the hook. But who was back in the picture? Only the three-time winner of Ukraine’s wealthiest female CEO of an Industrial, Plastics or Textile company award. Ms. Oxana Kovalenko.

  *

  “You’ve got to listen to me,” Lacey said across the table to Superintendent Turner. “Oxana made her money in industrials! She doesn’t stop gloating about it. She’d have easy access to cyanide. Whereas I’ve no idea where to get the stuff.”

  Superintendent Turner glowered. “I’m going to kill that Jacqui,” he muttered, referring to the blabbermouth cop on reception who’d spilled about the cyanide in the first place. He turned his stony gaze to Lacey. “Anyway, that’s not what we’re here to discuss. We’re here because you’ve been caught breaking and entering.”

  Lacey immediately shook her head. She was having none of it. “I think you’ll find I haven’t broken anything. I entered through the front door with the key that was supposed to be in the keypad for the housekeeper, only one of your clever cops didn’t shut it properly and it fell on the ground. So the most you can charge me for is trespass.”

  Superintendent Turner’s right eyelid twitched. That was all the evidence Lacey needed to know she had him there. “And you need to stop wasting time on me. There’s a whole town out there who wants you to solve this crime, not waste your time on something so trivial.”

  “If you’re so confident about your theory, then explain to me why Oxana returned to the scene of the crime.”

  “To find the statue Hugh stole off her,” Lacey urged. “It was obviously very well hidden if your team couldn’t find it during their first sweep of the house.”

  Superintendent Turner shook his head. “Hugh didn’t steal the statue.”

  “He didn’t? How do you know?”

  “We pulled prints off it. They didn’t match him. Or you, for that matter.”

  The police had her prints on file, much to Lacey’s chagrin. But at least on this one occasion it had been useful.

  Lacey was stunned. So Hugh hadn’t committed the theft after all? Then who had?

  Lacey ran through it all in her mind. It had to be someone who knew the statue was valuable, so an attendee at the auction. And not a remote one, either, since it was highly unlikely someone flew all the way over from Europe to steal a statue. But it also had to be someone who’d witnessed him storming into the antiques store and demanding the statue was his, because they must’ve known that pinning the theft on him would invalidate his ownership claim.

  “What are you thinking?” Superintendent Turner asked.

  Clearly, he didn’t have this as sewn up as he wanted it to appear, if he was asking Lacey for her opinion.

  “During my auction,” Lacey said, “the internet cut out at a crucial moment. It meant that Oxana was the winner of the statue, and that Hugh, who was bidding remotely, lost out by just one pound. But because he had a record of having placed a bid, as far as he was concerned, he was the rightful winner. I suspected Oxana had been the one to mess with the connection to make sure she won, which would invalidate her win. But if Hugh stole the statue anyway, it would invalidate his claim as well. Meaning the statue was ownerless.”

  Her mind was whirring now. “The thief had to know where Hugh lived. And there were only two people at that auction with access to that information.” Her voice trailed off as a terrible realization sunk in. “Me and…”

  “And?” Superintendent Turner asked impatiently. “Who?”

  “… Gabe,” Lacey said, her chest sinking.

  When she’d gone through the list of everyone who’d attended the auction, she’d only looked at the attendees. She’d completely forgot about the three people there who weren’t bidding—her, Gina, and Gabe.

  The grumpy teenager fit the profile to a tee. He also c
ould have engineered the whole situation with the auction falling through specifically to create the confusion and conditions he needed to steal the statue. He was staying at the Lodge, so he had easy access to Oxana’s room. But he couldn’t store the statue there, it would be too obvious. He must’ve gotten Hugh’s address from the system, knowing Oxana would immediately blame him, leading to a search of the property, the discovery of the statue, and the invalidation of his ownership.

  “Who’s Gabe?”

  “My tech guy.”

  “And where would we find him?”

  “The Lodge. He’s Suzy’s neighbor from Tolleton Green. His parents sent him to the Lodge to work for the summer. For character building.” Her chest sank with disappointment. Gabe’s parents were obviously trying to do the best for him, and he’d thrown it right back in their face.

  Superintendent Turner didn’t look convinced. But he stood. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Lacey. Let’s hope you don’t let me down.”

  Lacey stood too. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

  The detective frowned.

  “I’m not going anywhere without my dog,” Lacey told him firmly.

  Turner rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  They entered the Lodge. Emma’s eyes widened. Standing beside the local chief gave Lacey more gravitas to be a detective herself, and she wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

  “Emma, is it?” she asked the new girl on the desk. “Remember how we talked earlier?”

  She nodded slowly. Her eyes were round.

  “Is Gabe here?”

  The fear in her eyes seemed to subside at the understanding that she wasn’t the subject of their scrutiny. “Gabe? What do you want to speak to Gabe for?”

  “Can you just go and fetch him?” Lacey asked, avoiding answering the question.

  Emma stood with a frown and headed out back. She returned a few moments later with her brother in tow.

  “Hey,” Gabe mumbled, glancing through his fringe at Lacey first, then Superintendent Turner. His gaze returned to Lacey, now suspicious. “What are you doing here? With the police?”

  “Just tying up a loose thread,” Lacey said, thinking on her feet. “Superintendent Turner wanted to hear from you directly about what happened to the internet on the day of my auction.”

  With skeptical eyes, Gabe directed his focus to Superintendent Turner. “There was an interruption on the line. Someone disconnected the internet, so I had to switch to another network.”

  “You sure someone disconnected it?” Superintendent Turner asked.

  Gabe hesitated. “I mean I guess it could’ve just cut out on its own accord,” he mumbled.

  Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Could it now?” she said, folding her arms.

  When Gabe had called her about the disruption, he’d said in no uncertain terms that human interference had been the culprit. But evidently he’d just been playing on Lacey’s ignorance of all things tech related. Now, face to face with the police, he’d been forced to admit there was a more boring possible explanation, that the internet had simply glitched.

  “There’s no way to know what caused the dropout,” he replied defensively. “But you’ve got to admit the timing is too suspicious to be a coincidence.”

  Lacey hesitated. Would Gabe really be telling her all this if he’d been the one to do it? In front of a cop as well! Unless he was trying to guide them in the direction of Oxana by suggesting the timing of the dropout was important. Maybe he was as arrogant as his sister, and got a kick out of hiding in plain sight.

  “Is there any way to find out who did it?” Lacey asked.

  “Not unless you have a security cam in your office. It could only be done by someone either physically powering off your router, or disconnecting the Wi-Fi on your computer.”

  There were very few people who had access to the office. Her. Gina, whom she’d already discounted. Gabe, who she realized now was just a silly kid getting overexcited, rather than some criminal mastermind.

  “Colin!” Lacey gasped.

  He’d marched right into her office like he knew exactly where it was. Almost as if he’d been in there before. And he ticked other criteria too: he’d attended the auction, he’d witnessed the altercation between Lacey and Hugh, and he’d been third in line to win the statue. What if he’d dropped out when the bidding had gotten too high, then slipped into the office to interrupt the internet connection, to create the distraction and confusion needed to throw the whole sale into flux?

  Colin had been a suspect of hers already. But when he’d come out with all that stuff about only pretending to want the statue so he could see her, she’d just believed him. Had it all been fake? A scheme? Had Colin been playing her all this time, pretending he liked her? Of course it wasn’t because he liked her! He had a whole scheme. He was playing the long game. He’d set himself up the perfect cover story in case she figured it out, one that would make her feel so awkward that she wouldn’t press it any further.

  “Colin who?” Superintendent Turner pressed.

  Lacey shook her head. “I don’t know his full name. I met him at auction in Weymouth. He’s not even local. But he’s been following that goddamn statue like a fly! He’s been biding his time. I scuppered his plans when we were in Weymouth so he came up with another one.” She shook her head. “How was I so stupid?” She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Romantic trickery. Colin must’ve worked out immediately that she was feeling insecure about her relationship with Tom and used it as an in.

  “How are we meant to find this Colin guy then? If you don’t know anything about him?”

  Just then, Emma spoke up. “He’s right there,” she said, pointing over Lacey’s shoulder.

  Sure enough, Colin was walking down the corridor in the direction of the drawing room. Lacey’s mouth dropped open with surprise. She turned back to Emma. “He is staying here? The other day you said he wasn’t.”

  Emma looked terrified again, like she was in trouble. “I’m new,” she said, defensively. “I made a mistake.”

  Well, that made Lacey’s suspicion even stronger. If Colin had been staying at the Lodge the night Oxana was robbed, then it made it even more likely it was him. Why he didn’t just leave town with his contraband was the confusing thing, though. It seemed convoluted to try and engineer this whole situation of invalidating ownership through theft and what-not. It would’ve been quicker and easier to just run.

  Lacey looked at Superintendent Turner. “Shall I talk to him? Try to get him to confess?”

  “If you think you can,” Karl Turner replied.

  With a resolute nod, Lacey followed after him and into the drawing room.

  “Colin,” she said.

  He swirled around, looking surprised to see her. “Lacey? What are you doing here?”

  Lacey knew she had to tread carefully here. If she showed her hand too early, Colin would realize she was on to him and clam up. She’d have to… flirt.

  “I wanted to see you,” Lacey said.

  “How did you know I had a room here?”

  Lacey jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m friends with the owner. We’re kind of a tight-knit community. Can I get you a drink?” She nodded to the barman.

  He smiled, looking pleased. “Sure. Whiskey. Neat.”

  “Got it.”

  Lacey’s heart was pounding anxiously as the barman poured the drinks and Colin took a seat in the drawing room. She reminded herself last time she was here a man had been shot. She’d survived that. She could survive this.

  She took the drinks over to the table where Colin sat expectantly, taking the seat opposite him, nudging it back to get a couple of extra inches of breathing room.

  “No Stella tonight?” she asked, trying her best not to sound stiff and awkward.

  “She’s sleeping,” Colin replied. He took the glass and sipped. “Thanks for this. I must say I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”


  “Me neither,” Lacey said. “I figured you would’ve left town by now.”

  Of course he hadn’t, because he hadn’t actually managed to get his hands fully on the statue yet. And presumably he wouldn’t leave until it had been released from police custody back into either her or Oxana’s possession, so he could concoct another scheme to claim ownership.

  “I probably should,” Colin said. “But I had the room for another night, so thought I’d stay out the end of the festival.”

  Lacey paused then, reflecting on his last statement. The festival. Surely Colin wouldn’t have been able to book a room on short notice. Everywhere had been fully booked weeks in advance, as far as she understood. So either he’d been lucky and managed to get a cancellation, or he’d booked his room well in advance. And since Lacey hadn’t even planned her auction until the last minute, how would he have even known the Isidore Bonheur would end up in her auction house?

  “You’re lucky you managed to get a room,” Lacey commented, trying to be covert despite her suspicions. “Suzy told me they were booked up way in advance.”

  He smiled, and it appeared genuine, as if he wasn’t rising to her bait. “I’ve been to the festival a couple of times in the past. They used to put up stalls, you see, and there was always this one woman from Dorset who’d have a bunch of stuff on offer. I thought it might be worth another shot this year, but she didn’t come. Lucky for me, you held your auction, so the trip wasn’t a complete bust.”

  “So you didn’t come for me,” Lacey said. She was playing it coy and felt guilty for it, but she needed Colin to admit his stories weren’t aligning. Either he came here for her on a whim as he claimed, or he was always planning on coming here.

  “You were the deciding factor,” Colin said. He swilled the whiskey in his glass. “I think I might’ve given the festival a miss this year otherwise. A cancelled hotel room here or there isn’t too big a deal, in my opinion.”