Poinsettias and the Perfect Crime Page 8

  “Who is this guy, Diana?” Fergus asked, looking half-horrified and half-amused.

  “He’s my ex-boyfriend and someone I had thought was out of my life for good… and I was happy for that arrangement to continue,” I added. It was amazing the way you only saw all of the glaring faults in someone after you’d fallen out of love with them.

  “You don’t mean that. I know I made a mistake, but you and me… we’re meant to be together,” George said, edging closer to me.

  I edged away.

  “Take some advice from a friend and know when to quit,” Fergus said to my annoying ex.

  George looked disgusted. “Oh yeah? That’s coming from the guy who thinks there’s a curse on a diamond. Care to explain your theory in a scientific manner? Perhaps you already know the compounds that might be affecting this jewel, if such a stone even exists! Go on. Prove me wrong.”

  “I am only looking for the truth. I can’t be sure what I would find if a diamond like the one in question was located. It could be that there is some kind of substance on the stone that causes detrimental effects when it comes into contact with bare skin. It could also be something to do with the vibration of the mineral itself…”

  “Mineral vibration? Please tell me you’re not really interested in this guy, Di?” George scoffed.

  “Don’t call me Di. I think all theories should be tested scientifically, but with an open mind.” I couldn’t believe I was actually defending Fergus, but these were desperate times.

  “I’m interested in hearing more about the theory,” Samuel spoke up. “You didn’t cover how you traced this diamond to our current location?”

  Fergus did some squirming. “It’s sensitive information. I have my sources.”

  “I’m going to need a list of those sources. If this was a robbery motivated murder, I’ll be investigating everyone who had knowledge of this diamond,” Walter Miller jumped in, desperate to take back some control of the situation.

  “George… how exactly did you know I was going to be here? And where were you hiding all evening?” I said, asking my ex a question that was really bothering me.

  “Didn’t I say? Cordelia told me. I bumped into her in town after we spoke the last time. She was nice to me whilst I was getting coffee. When I mentioned why I was looking less than chipper she came up with the whole thing,” George explained, beaming at Cordelia.

  I looked at my enemy. “The thing is, George, I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I’m never invited to this ball. I’m only here because Fergus invited me at the last possible moment.”

  George nodded and then dropped a wink in Cordelia’s direction. “Of course! I’m sure that’s what happened, it was a ‘last minute’ thing and completely unplanned.”

  “Cordelia told me earlier today that she wanted me gone before the guests turned up. I guess now I know the reason why she was so insistent,” I said, wondering what more it would take for the penny to drop with George.

  “I hate to agree with her, but I did only ask you because I knew Diana wasn’t coming. I wanted you to hate her because she was a no show,” Cordelia jumped in, apparently quite unaware of how nasty she was.

  I raised my eyebrows at George. “Where were you hiding all evening?”

  “In a room. Cordelia was going to come and get me when the time was right, but I just couldn’t wait. It seemed to be taking forever. I decided to take the plunge alone and came to find you myself.” He glanced across at Cordelia. “I guess we must have passed each other without noticing… you know… because you then found your father?”

  Cordelia opened her mouth and shut it again. “Yes, I was going to find George to tell him that the time was right,” she tried, exceedingly unconvincingly. With an annoyed sigh, she lifted her hands in the air. “So, sue me. I went up to tell lover boy here that his ex knew he was here and wanted him to sling his hook. I was not going to be a part of some insipid reunion. But in the end…” She trailed off, probably remembering in the midst of her meanness that her father was dead. “I mean, I couldn’t find him anywhere. I thought he might have gone wandering, so I checked the study. And that’s when…” she finished with a slew of juddering sobs that were probably the result of an acting class paid for by her parents.

  They should ask for their money back.

  “I’ll ask the questions from now on!” Walter Miller said, almost standing on his tiptoes in an effort to puff himself up, so that people would recognise his authority.

  Everyone was silent for a moment, giving him their full attention.

  Walter Miller stumbled. “I, uh…”

  Whilst he was stuttering, Cordelia turned to her mother. “Was everything in that safe insured? We’ll get money for it, won’t we?”

  “Shush, Cordy,” Gillian reprimanded her greedy daughter - far too lightly in my opinion. I could certainly see where Cordelia’s light-handed upbringing had gone so wrong.

  “I’m not finished with any of you. Especially you two,” Walter Miller said, turning his accusing finger on us as he came out of his speech loss. “There was mud at the scene of the crime and… there! You have mud on your shoe!” the detective said, as if pronouncing me guilty of murder.

  I looked down and discovered it was true, before remembering that I had trodden on a clump of dirt when we’d found Bill Wrexton. “Someone spread it all around the party. Everyone’s probably got mud on their shoes by now. I was never outside though. Unlike some people.” I shot accusing looks at both Samuel and George.

  “I think there could be something to this theory, you know,” Harrison said, speaking for the first time. “Does your family actually have a diamond, darling?”

  Cordelia blushed and then looked furiously at me as if this were all my fault. “Probably! We have loads of precious things just lying around the place. I can’t even remember all of it.”

  “We’ll have to check to see if there’s a diamond lying around the place a little later on,” Harrison said. I thought there might have been a trace of amusement in his voice, especially when he looked at me and I saw the flash of it deep in his hazel eyes. I silently wondered what kind of game he was playing and why he seemed so interested in me. Had I worn some kind of man-catnip tonight? I looked down. There was mud on his shoes, too, but I’d been right to observe that, by now, it was everywhere. Even Cordelia wasn’t un-afflicted.

  “I’m going to interview each of you individually. I’ll start with Cordelia. Is there somewhere I can conduct these interviews?” Walter Miller asked, stepping back into play.

  “There’s the office. We can go there. I’ll tell you everything,” Cordelia said, shooting a triumphant look in my direction. I tried to keep my face blank, but I would be very surprised if Walter Miller didn’t walk out of that room utterly convinced that I was the killer. I wouldn’t put anything past Cordelia, not when she’d fully-admitted to being out to get me tonight. It was almost enough to make me want to break out the vinegar again.

  “No one else goes anywhere!” Walter Miller warned, before walking off down the corridor with Cordelia practically skipping along next to him. Whilst I had been surprised by how stoic Mrs Wrexton was in the wake of her husband’s death, Cordelia’s reaction wasn’t surprising me a jot. She’d always thought of herself above others. The thing that never ceased to amaze me was that people put up with her. I supposed that having a big bundle of cash at your disposal was useful to people who were completely awful. Apparently, it was a substitute for a personality.

  Charlotte tugged on my arm whilst looking anxiously at the disappearing figure of Detective Miller. “Is it just me, or is he out to get us? I remember when I was a teenager and got caught speeding. He was so mean and wouldn’t let me off! I thought he was just trying to teach me a lesson but he seems positively bitter now.”

  “I think it’s to do with mum. They dated before we were even born. I don’t know how it ended, but I’d wager it wasn’t well,” I told her.

  “Jeez, couldn’t our mum have
been a bit more considerate? She has the worst history with men, I swear.”

  “What history? There’s just Walter and dad, that I know of,” I said.

  My sister waved a hand. “Yeah, well, neither of those went great. Now we’re the ones suffering the consequences of her bad choices!” I noticed she used the plural. Charlotte had been at an impressionable age when our parents had broken up. I’d always felt understanding towards my dad having by that point in time realised what a hard-driving and unrelenting woman my mother was, but Charlotte had listened when mum had painted dad as the bad guy. I was still trying to convince my sister otherwise. It sure didn’t make the few family gatherings we did manage to have any fun.

  I bit my tongue to keep from telling my sister something about throwing rocks whilst standing in glass houses. Instead, I satisfied myself with a single sidelong look at Samuel. He hadn’t explained what, exactly, he’d been doing when I’d caught him on his way back into the ball, I realised. George had interrupted my interrogation with his ridiculous dramatic turn.

  Urgh, George! I thought and glanced his way, only to discover he’d been edging closer to me again.

  “Diana, we need to talk…” he began, but I was already walking over to where Fergus was engaging Mrs Wrexton in what I was certain would be another intriguing conversation, possibly involving pharaohs and curses.

  “Diana!” George said, far too close behind me.

  I spun to face him and tell him, for what felt like the hundredth time, that I was not interested. I’d have told him to leave, too, but it was too late now. He’d got himself involved in a murder investigation.

  “She’s not interested. I think everyone here can see that.” Harrison stepped in front of George, effectively blocking his path to me.

  I looked back at my arch enemy’s boyfriend with no little surprise.

  “What does it matter to you?” George said, his hands balling into fists by his sides. As if this couldn’t get any worse…

  “It doesn’t. You’re just annoying me and everyone else here. We have to wait to be questioned, and you’re making it unbearable.” Harrison’s bored drawl was perfect for delivering put-downs.

  George opened his mouth and shut it again before doing it again a couple of times. “Sorry. I’ll wait until later,” he said, losing all of the steam he’d built up.

  Harrison turned back to me and shrugged, before sloping off downstairs and turning towards the bar. Walter Miller’s demands apparently meant just as little to those who didn’t already know and dislike him.

  George slunk off, following Harrison down the stairs but going towards the food instead of the bar - probably to avoid another encounter with a man he surely sensed had that bullying streak in him, and I had no doubt that George had met his fair share of bullies during his time. Everyone at the London laboratory had that in common.

  I tried to shake the thoughts of the past from my head. I was happy with my flower growing business and I hadn’t looked back since starting it. It was clear that George, for whatever crazy reason, suddenly wanted me to reconsider but there was no way. I was happy, and what’s more, I was pretty successful and proud of myself.

  Even though not everyone around me felt the same way.

  Charlotte and Samuel also retreated down the staircase with Samuel leading my sister. I watched them go and silently noted that my sister’s boyfriend seemed keen to avoid talking to me. I could count that as a win, but I wasn’t so certain that he hadn’t visited the study before Fergus and I had…

  Why would he have wanted Bill Wrexton dead? I asked myself and couldn’t come up with a single thing.

  “Fergus, a word,” Gillian said now that everyone else was out of earshot.

  “Of course. Can Diana…?”

  Mrs Wrexton looked at me, taking me in for the first time. I fully expected her to tell me to go and take a running jump, given my history with her daughter. “Yes, she might be of assistance,” she said, stunning me.

  Without another word, Gillian Wrexton walked towards the corridor and opened the first door on the left. We dutifully filed inside, wondering what needed to be said in such private surroundings.

  “There is a diamond,” she said, stunning me and sending a smile spreading across Fergus’ face. I nudged him and he removed it. This was a serious situation.

  “Was it stolen?” I asked.

  Gillian nodded, walking over to the other side of the room where a large bookshelf stood, keeping her back turned to us. “Unfortunately, it was, along with some papers and general bits. Now you may be wondering why I didn’t tell the police about the diamond…”

  “Not really,” Fergus said at the same time I said ‘yes’. I shot him a disapproving look.

  “It’s a complicated matter. The diamond hasn’t been in our family for many generations, and the circumstances surrounding our ownership are… unique. It isn’t something I would like the police to be investigating. Especially when the police are Walter Miller. That man couldn’t find his own nose on his face, let alone my husband’s killer!” She shook her head slightly, but firmly. I wondered what past faux pas Detective Miller had committed against the Wrexton family. It was a wonder he was still a detective at all, but somehow, he must be solving just enough crime to scrape by. I thought back to the Little Larchley incident more than a year ago and reluctantly deduced that I’d done the argument against Walter Miller no favours by insisting he took credit for that capture.

  “I’m going to be seeking professional help in this matter, but I wanted to ask your opinion first. Fergus said you knew about this kind of thing.”

  “When did he say that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “It was when he was getting rid of those trespassers for us. He’s a real professional, and so creative, too,” Gillian smiled warmly at Fergus.

  “That makes sense,” I muttered, aware that Fergus had been planning to put the moves on the gemstone from the very start. He was probably kicking himself right now that someone had got there first, and without all of the schmoozing he’d done.

  “We’ll see what we can find out,” Fergus announced, to my extreme displeasure. He shot me a sideways look letting me know that he was aware I wasn’t about to start a big argument, not when the woman we were talking to had just lost her husband. “I’m very understanding about the complicated circumstances surrounding your family’s ownership of the diamond, but could you elaborate at all? For example… do you know if the stone has Egyptian origins?”

  Gillian Wrexton exhaled and shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no idea really. I was told to keep it in my care, in case hardship should ever strike. But we’ve always been very fortunate. Well, up until now,” she corrected, looking saddened for a moment before ironing out her expression. Gillian Wrexton was one of those people who could store up mourning and let it out when there was some privacy. “If what you’re saying about a curse is true, I’m glad we never had to sell it. I don’t know what will happen now.”

  “Was it insured?” I asked, realising that the ‘complicated’ nature of ownership might have left the diamond defenceless.

  “Yes, of course. But it’s not about the money… it’s about…” She sighed. “Well, it’s hard to explain, as I said, but I’d really rather we got it back. It’s sort of a good luck charm for the family, I suppose. With all that’s happened, we need our luck back, don’t you think?” She smiled weakly.

  “We won’t let you down,” Fergus promised the grieving widow.

  “Thank you. I knew I could rely on you to help me.” She smiled at us both.

  I smiled back, wondering how I’d been dragged into this terrible mess. Christmas crime was something that should be restricted to robbing the Monopoly bank when the rest of your family were looking the other way, not hunting down a diamond thief. Not just a diamond thief… a killer, I amended, the vision of Bill Wrexton with a knife in his chest imprinted in my mind.

  Fergus might just have ruined Christmas.

&n
bsp; 8

  The Indian Connection

  “I’m ecstatic,” Fergus said the moment we arrived home at my place.

  We’d finally been released after another two hours of waiting around for Walter Miller to get his interrogation hat on. As far as I could tell, no one had been arrested, but I seemed to be in the running for that coveted ‘prime suspect’ spot. I probably had Cordelia to thank for that.

  I’d beaten a hasty retreat to get out before George could restart whatever it was he’d wanted to start with me. We’d exited the party, only for Fergus to ask me for a lift home as he’d walked there that night to get some exercise. I hadn’t asked why he didn’t want to walk home alone at the dead of night with a killer still on the loose. Even wacky theorists could be pragmatic from time to time.

  I turned to face Fergus. “Someone died tonight! Show a little sensitivity!”

  “Sorry.” Fergus hung his head and looked solemn for a few moments. “But don’t you think it’s interesting? This gemstone is supposed to be cursed and then someone dies whilst it’s being stolen? It might not even be what it appears to be. It could be the curse…”

  “I don’t think the curse picked up a knife and embedded it in Bill Wrexton’s chest,” I said, heading this crazy train off quickly.

  Fergus nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right, that is a little unrealistic. But it could be due to the vibrational influence of the gemstone. I’m not necessarily talking about a curse. To be honest, I never really was. People just like to hear the story that goes with the truth. I actually wanted to search for an explanation for the curse-like effects that this gem might have on people who touch it or come close to it. It could simply be a remarkable and deadly piece of geology. That’s what I wanted to prove.”

  “That’s… not the worst theory you’ve ever come up with.” I was scarcely able to believe I was saying it. “So why stick with the curse theory?”