Creative Matchmaker (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 6)

by Sarah Noffke

  “Oh, for quite some time.” Peter looked much more regretful about the death than the other two they’d questioned. “He was often on the train, going here or there for business meetings.”

  “So you knew him well, then?” Paris asked.

  “I don’t think anyone really knew the man who was Thomas Cheetah, to be honest.” Peter shook his head. “He wasn’t the type of person who showed people who he truly was.”

  “You knew he enjoyed Cuban cigars?” Rudolf questioned.

  “I make it a habit to know what my customers enjoy,” Peter said, a proud smile on his face.

  As Ronald Whittaker had said, Peter seemed like a genuinely nice person.

  “Did you see anything suspicious before Thomas’ murder?” She thought the train conductor was in an ideal position to see the various behaviors of the suspects.

  “I can’t say that I did,” he admitted. “Ronald had too much whiskey, but that’s typical on these legs of the trip. He’s a happy drunk, and rarely do I have any problems with him.”

  “You were with Ronald when the murder happened,” Rudolf stated.

  “I was,” he answered.

  “What were you discussing?” Paris tried to corroborate the various stories.

  “Well, he’d mentioned the countess and Thomas were fighting again,” he replied. “I knew the two would be at it for most of the trip. Jessabelle was only on the train to try and convince Thomas to let her have the painting she’d lost out to him at auction.”

  “Is that right?” Rudolf leaned back in his seat with a glint in his eyes.

  “It’s true,” Peter Peterson answered. “Honestly, it was the only reason that Ronald was on the train today too. They both wanted something from Thomas, and getting time with him is never easy. He’s a very busy man, always riding the rail between his estate and his various meetings.”

  “This estate, where is it?” Rudolf questioned.

  “On the outskirts of London,” Peter answered. “The train goes right by it on every route. Thomas had his very own private platform installed there so he could get between there and his meetings more easily.”

  “Quite the man of show, exerting his wealth like that,” Rudolf stated. “You’d think he owned the train.”

  “He practically did,” Peter stated. “Without his business, well, I’m afraid I’d be out of a job. We’d have to minimize our use of the train significantly. Most days, Thomas is our only customer, but he pays us handsomely to use the Mystery Train.”

  Paris offered him a sensitive look. “Now that Thomas is gone, what will happen to you? To the train?”

  Peter sighed, looking off. “I’m afraid I’ll have to look for another job. Now they’ll cut my hours so drastically that it won’t be enough to support me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she offered thoughtfully.

  “Did you and Ronald Whittaker discuss anything else before the murder?” Rudolf leaned forward.

  Peter thought for a moment. “No, I believe that was it. He was going to take a nap and grab some financials for Thomas before dinner when we heard you exclaim that Thomas was dead. That’s when we ran through the train to the dining car.”

  “Right.” Rudolf drew out the word, giving Paris a pointed look. They were both curious about why Peter didn’t disclose that he pitched a business idea to Ronald right before the murder. Or maybe it was the businessman who was lying about the train conductor wanting to go into business with him. Still, the questions were: who was lying and why?

  “You said that Ronald was on the train to see Thomas as well, right?” Paris asked. “Why was that?”

  “Oh, he wanted to buy him out of their business,” Peter answered. “I don’t think he could take dealing with Thomas one more day. They were constantly butting heads on the train about various business decisions. The whiskey made for volatile conversations between them. Although Ronald was usually a happy drunk, Thomas was known for getting quite belligerent.”

  “Interesting.” Now it was Paris’ turn to draw out the word. There was another inconsistency. Ronald had said he was waiting to buy Thomas out once the business had taken off—not that he was planning on negotiating it that day. Something wasn’t right there.

  “Were you aware that Thomas and Brittany Jenkins were in a relationship?” Rudolf asked the train conductor.

  He nodded, looking suddenly more somber. “Yes, and that had been another source of conflict on the train. Brittany idolized Thomas, having fallen for his charm and money. She would always get distracted as we neared his estate, about to pick him up from his private station.”

  “Having the fancy estate on display from the train was a way to flash his wealth around,” Paris observed.

  “I think so too,” Peter said. “But Thomas was done with Brittany, having lost interest in her. He’d told her that she was a simpleton and they never had a future.”

  “Ouch.” Rudolf hissed as if burned.

  Peter nodded. “It was rather heartless, but that’s how Mr. Cheetah was, and Brittany knew that. She thought she could change him, but I think that was very shortsighted of her.”

  “You can’t change the soulless,” Rudolf offered.

  “Brittany would have fixed the drinks that she served to Thomas and the countess, correct?” Paris asked.

  “Well, yes,” Peter answered. Then his eyes widened with alarm. “But it wasn’t Brittany. She’d never harm Thomas. She’d never harm anyone. She might have been heartbroken, but she isn’t a murderer.”

  “People do crazy things when they’re hurt,” Rudolf stated.

  “Not Brittany,” Peter argued. “She’s the sweetest woman. So very loving and kind.”

  “Well, if she’s ready, we’d like to question her now.” Paris rose to her feet.

  Peter stood too, heading for the door. “I’ll go and fetch her, but please be sensitive with your questions. She’s still very shaken, and I know that she’s not the murderer.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As Peter had said, Brittany was still distraught when she entered the train car for questioning. Her face was puffy and red from crying, and she had a monogrammed handkerchief clutched in her hand, which she used to wipe her tears often.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Paris said, realizing that Brittany was probably the only one sad that Thomas Cheetah was dead.

  The waitress opened her mouth to say something, but only a croak came out before she burst into more tears.

  “Did you poison the victim?” Rudolf asked in a mad rush.

  Paris spun to face her partner with an offended look. “Remember the request to be sensitive. Brittany is very upset.”

  “I’d be upset too if I’d killed someone,” Rudolf spat. “I mean, so far, she has the best act.”

  Brittany blew her nose on the handkerchief, shaking her head. “It’s not an act. I wouldn’t harm Thomas. I’m devastated that this has happened to him.”

  “Are you more devastated that he’s dead or that he dumped you?” Rudolf asked.

  Paris wanted to slap the fae, but she reasoned that they were playing good cop, bad cop at this point.

  “It’s true that Thomas had broken things off with me,” Brittany said through more tears, “but I have to admit that I saw it coming. I didn’t think I ever had a future with him. He was a rich businessman, and I’m only a lowly waitress.”

  “Money doesn’t matter,” Paris urged. “Who someone is deep inside is what counts, and Thomas sounded like a real jerk—taking advantage of everyone.”

  “I know, but I wanted to believe that at his core, he was a good person,” Brittany argued.

  “You wanted to change him.” Rudolf drained his drink and shook the glass. “Is it too much to ask that you get me a refill?”

  “Yes,” Paris answered at once. “We’re conducting an investigation.”

  “Fine.” Rudolf sighed. “You fixed the drinks that you served to the countess and Thomas before he died, correct?”

  “Well
, yes, but…was Thomas poisoned?” Brittany asked.

  “We’ll ask the questions,” Rudolf fired back, appearing to be having fun with the questioning all of a sudden. Or maybe it was a crying woman who was bringing out a different side of him. He didn’t appear as at ease as with the others they questioned.

  “The bottle that I poured from was freshly opened. I broke the wax seal myself,” Brittany explained. “Countess Jessabelle had given it to Thomas when she’d come on board.”

  “The bottle of whiskey was from her?” Paris asked, this getting her attention.

  “She knew it was Thomas’s favorite. It was a twenty-year-old whiskey, and she had given it to him when they boarded,” Brittany answered. “He’d then handed it to me for the bar.”

  “The countess originally ordered a bottle of red wine for the two of them,” Rudolf mused.

  “I didn’t understand that,” Brittany stated. “Countess Fairweather never drinks wine, but maybe she was hoping that it would soften Thomas up. That’s why she’d given him the whiskey, hoping he’d cave and give her the painting they were fighting about.”

  “She’d given him the whiskey, and instead of keeping it, he gave it to you for the bar.” Paris tried to work out the details. “The glass of whiskey you poured for Ronald, was that from the same bottle?”

  “Oh no.” Brittany shook her head. “That was Thomas’s whiskey, and I wasn’t pouring that for anyone else. I poured Ronald’s from a bottle that was already open.”

  “Interesting.” Rudolf stroked his fingers over his chin.

  “Peter says that you were often distracted when the train neared Thomas’ house,” Paris began. “Were you worried about how things would be when you weren’t together, and he was on the train?”

  “Well, of course.” Brittany wiped her nose with the handkerchief. Paris noticed the initials were T.P. “But I didn’t kill him. I was going to quit after today. I couldn’t bear going by Thomas’s estate every day or seeing him on the train. Now it won’t matter. Without his business, we’ll all be out of a job.”

  “That handkerchief.” Paris pointed at the linen cloth Brittany was holding. “Whose initials are those?”

  Brittany glanced at the embroidery as though she hadn’t noticed it before and blinked in surprise. “Oh, I must still have Thomas’s handkerchief. He gave it to me when he broke things off when he first got on the train today. I broke into tears, obviously upset, and he gave me this, telling me not to overreact and make a scene.”

  “I think the real mystery is how no one murdered Thomas Cheetah sooner,” Rudolf remarked, shaking his head.

  “Yes, Thomas Cheetah,” Paris said, drawing out the names. “So his initials would have been T.C., not T.P., right?”

  Brittany shook her head. “Cheetah wasn’t his real name. Few knew that, but I discovered it when I’d seen the guest list one time. Peter had left it out, and only legal names are listed there.”

  “So what’s Thomas’s legal name?” Rudolf asked.

  Brittany’s eyes diverted. “I’m not sure I can say. No one knows. Peter doesn’t know that I figured it out or that I saw the guest list by accident. I asked Thomas about it at one point, and he told me the truth.”

  “Someone on this train murdered a man,” Paris urged. “If you can give us any information that can help, you need to explain what you know. Otherwise, it won’t look good for you.”

  Brittany had trouble swallowing for a moment. “Well, I don’t see what help it can be to your investigation. It’s only some family secrets. You see, Thomas went by the surname Cheetah, but his real name was Peterson. No one except the two of them, Thomas and Peter, knew that they were estranged brothers.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Things just got a lot more interesting,” King Rudolf said as he and Paris reentered the murder scene.

  Thomas Cheetah’s body, or rather Thomas Peterson’s, was still sprawled out where they’d left it. It was more than curious to Paris that Thomas and Peter were brothers and the train conductor hadn’t mentioned it. However, when putting together all the clues, there were a lot of curious pieces of information.

  No one seemed innocent of committing the murder. Strangely, everyone had a motive, a means, and something that tied them to the actual event.

  King Rudolf held out his hand, and a moment later, a Sherlock Holmes-type pipe appeared in it. He held it up to his mouth and pretended to take a puff, one of his eyes squinting as she pictured the famous detective doing when contemplating an investigation.

  “So let’s review the facts,” King Rudolf stated. “I spent a lot of extra time on this train before because I threw out solutions to the crime. I think to make our time more concise, we are smarter to think things through and come up with one murderer, the motive, and the means.”

  Paris nodded. “So if we throw out conjecture, we’ll be penalized. That makes sense.”

  King Rudolf chewed on the end of his pipe. “Tiffer is an insufferable woman who knows her power is in great demand and makes those who want it work for it.”

  Paris leaned over the table where Thomas Cheetah and the countess had drinks. She picked up one of the glasses of whiskey and sniffed, then the other, not sure what she smelled for, but thinking that if one held poison, she might pick up on it.

  “So Brittany Jenkins prepared all the drinks,” Paris began. “Which means…”

  “She would have the perfect opportunity to poison the one served to Thomas,” King Rudolf stated.

  “Or the poison could have come from the bottle of whiskey that Countess Jessabelle Fairweather gave to Thomas upon entering the train,” Paris imparted, holding up a cautionary finger.

  “True,” the fae chirped. “The poison also could be in Ronald Whittaker’s glass, and maybe he added it before entering the dining car.”

  “The forensics spell will be done soon, right?” Paris asked.

  He nodded. “That only tells us how Thomas died, not why or by who. So we have to work out what we know and that hopefully was revealed in the interviews.”

  “Countess Jessabelle Fairweather had a reason to want Thomas dead,” Paris stated.

  “Oh, for sure,” Rudolf affirmed. “With him out of the picture, she’d own the art auctions. She came on the train today specifically to meet with him.”

  “Ronald Whittaker also had a reason to get rid of Thomas,” Paris argued.

  “And he or Peter Peterson lied about their conversation during the murder,” Rudolf agreed. “Ronald said that Peter proposed a business deal, but the train conductor didn’t mention that. So what would be the reason to say that to us or omit it?”

  “Well, and Ronald didn’t tell us about how the two were talking about Thomas and the countess fighting,” Paris remarked. “Why omit that?”

  “Of course, Peter left out the bit about him and Thomas being brothers,” Rudolf pointed out. “But if that was my brother, I don’t think I’d want anyone to know either.”

  “Yes, and apparently Ronald knew that Peter had a brother, but it doesn’t sound as if he’d connected it,” Paris mused. “He also was caught lying because he told us that he was going to buy Thomas out at some point. Peter said he was on the train today to negotiate that with him.”

  “The scorned lover has the most reason for murder,” Rudolf stated. “I mean, people do things for money, power, and love. But murder, well, that’s almost always a crime of passion.”

  Paris and the fae king were quiet for a long moment, both of them lost in thought as they studied the murder scene. There was a lot of information to consider. Also, there were a few pieces of glaring information that kept rising to the surface in Paris’ mind.

  She thought she could work out what had happened, but it wasn’t the logical progression of events based on the facts. It was taking a few leaps of faith, and Paris knew they needed something more concrete.

  As if the universe was trying to help her out, something sparkled around the dead man’s body.

&n
bsp; King Rudolf rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Oh, the forensic spell is about to reveal how Thomas died. If it was poison, it will glow where it found evidence.”

  A second later, three places glowed bright orange.

  Paris searched the scene, taking special note of the details. Then she looked up at King Rudolf. “I think I know who done it.”

  He nodded. “Yes, me too. Are you ready to go and convict our murderer?”

  Paris grinned, looking at the passing green scenery outside the train, hoping they would soon get off it.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  All the suspects and Paris and King Rudolf gathered in the train car where the interviews had taken place.

  As before, Countess Jessabelle Fairweather was striding the length of the car, smoking her long cigarette in its white holder. Ronald Whittaker was lounging in one of the armchairs, looking over his nails as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Peter Peterson was anxiously looking between the guests as though concerned about their wellbeing. Brittany Jenkins had busied herself serving a round of drinks to all those in the train car.

  Paris took the cognac she was handed with a polite smile. “Thank you for gathering here for what we believe will be the reveal and resolution to this murder mystery. We know that it’s been a very stressful evening for everyone.”

  “Stressful doesn’t begin to describe it.” Countess Jessabelle Fairweather took the martini that Brittany handed her and sipped it. “One of you is a murderer, and I’m stuck on a train with you.”

  “Well, you say that as if you’re not the criminal at large.” Ronald sipped his whiskey.

  The countess clapped her hand to her chest. “Me? I’m not capable of such things.”

  “You very much are.” King Rudolf stood, his hands clasped behind his back as he revolved on the room of suspects. “What’s important to remember is that each one of you was capable of murdering Thomas Cheetah. Not only that, but you all had the means, the motive, and the opportunity. But only one of you committed the crime.”