Poinsettias and the Perfect Crime Page 9

  “I already told you! If people think you’re a bit nuts, they don’t take you so seriously. Take Gillian Wrexton, for example. She thinks I’m a creative. She’s not worried about me finding out any dark secrets about her family and their questionable diamond. She has me down as having my eyes more open than Walter Miller, but she thinks everything is in her hands. She knows there’s no actual curse, just the same as I do. But she doesn’t know that I know that.”

  “What if Gillian Wrexton is playing games with you the way you are with her?” I asked, peeved that Fergus was toying with people’s perceptions for his own benefit.

  “I don’t know about you, but recently I’ve learned that people are very good at hiding a lot of things. Anything is possible.”

  I decided to leave the whole ‘morally questionable’ topic alone. I walked into the kitchen and automatically got down the pack of biscuits I kept ready and sealed in case of Fergus’ visits. I liked the odd biscuit myself, but I’d learned from experience that Fergus was a ‘buy in bulk’ kind of guest. “How do you think the Wrexton family got to be so wealthy?” I called, hoping he’d have some better ideas about that than I did.

  “I was hoping you knew. You grew up with Cordelia.”

  I poked my head around the kitchen door. “And we were such good buddies. My thoughts about the Wrexton family were largely geared towards cutting comebacks and acts of revenge I was too well-behaved to act upon.”

  “Until you did act upon it.”

  “Until I did,” I allowed, still smiling at the memory and feeling that warm fuzzy glow of pride, before I remembered that, for all her flaws, Cordelia had just lost her father. That was tough for anyone, even nasty people.

  I poured hot water into two cups with teabags in them before wondering if I should have offered Fergus something stronger. Oh well, he’d have to endure the Christmas spiced tea blend I’d over-enthusiastically ordered a giant pot of. “I guess I always thought that her dad was a lawyer. Or, you know, the living-off-the-interest theory with family money being passed down through the generations.”

  “And none of them daring enough to spend it. Such admirable restraint.” Fergus pretended to marvel over their stinginess.

  “Until Cordelia takes over things. She’s an only child, so it stands to reason that she’ll get it all. Then, no more family fortune.”

  “I don’t know. Her boyfriend seems to have his head on straight enough. Perhaps he’ll talk her out of doing anything rash.” Fergus frowned for a second.

  “I have no idea why he’s with her either,” I agreed, knowing what his look meant.

  “Your sister’s boyfriend seemed like an interesting man, too. What is it that he does for a living?”

  “He’s an investigative journalist. He travels the world a lot, but he said he’s mostly based in India,” I said.

  “It’s strange, I could have sworn you once told me your sister was married… and that she’d married a stockbroker, or something like that?”

  “Forex specialist, but same level of boringness. Apparently, they’re well on their way to getting divorced. Charlotte wasn’t too clear on the details.” Fergus and I exchanged another look.

  “Well, he seemed interesting,” he repeated, before slipping onto the subject I’d been dreading rearing its ugly head. “So… that was your ex boyfriend, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but can we not talk about him. He knows where I live.”

  Fergus’ mouth tweaked up at one side. “Are you afraid that by saying his name you’ll summon him here, like Voldemort?”

  “No! Of course not. At least, I don’t think George is dabbling in black magic.” I reserved the right to change my thoughts on that later in time. Something had gone very wrong with my ex-boyfriend, and until I figured out what it was, or he just abandoned his whole weird quest, I was keeping a very open mind.

  I was also keeping a fire poker right next to the door.

  I brought the tea out on a tray and passed Fergus the plate of biscuits. Diggory, my dog, nestled his head in Fergus’ lap and did his best impression of a puppy dog. Fergus looked appealingly at me.

  “No, he’s got dog chews!” I stood up and got one for Diggory. He took it, ate it whole, and then went back to staring at Fergus. “How did I end up with the dog version of you?” I muttered.

  “There’s so much about this case that we don’t know. I have so many questions,” I said, once I’d finished my tea and was watching Fergus clear the last of the biscuits.

  “That’s why we’re helping Gillian by looking into the history of this diamond. I have a trail I’d like to pick up. Perhaps you can get back to the crime scene and do some chemical research. There might be traces left in the safe…”

  “I very much doubt we’ll be allowed to get within sniffing distance of the crime scene. In case you hadn’t noticed, Walter Miller doesn’t like me, and by proxy, that means he doesn’t like you.”

  “But he doesn’t even know me!” Fergus protested.

  “Trust me, that’s a point in your favour.”

  Fergus did some harrumphing and looked forlornly at the empty biscuit plate. “Can you take me home? I should probably hit the hay. Busy day tomorrow. The research begins!”

  “No problem,” I said, standing up and smiling at my friend. “If there’s anything I can help out with, anything that doesn’t involve breaking-in to a crime scene,” I hastily added, “then I’m here for you.”

  “I’ll let you know. Thanks for the biscuits! Are you okay to take me home?”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling all warm and fuzzy for a moment. It was nice to have someone to look out for, someone who cared for you. I’d never even given a thought to how lonely running my own business could be when I was stuck out here with only the fields for company. In truth, I’d been lonelier at my old job, surrounded by colleagues and even a boyfriend, back when I’d been with George. Things were so different nowadays, but even though I hadn’t given my solitude much thought, I’d never imagined that my new career would bring me a friend. “I have a Christmas present for you, but should we wait until we see each other again? I was going to drop it round, but now that there’s research to do…”

  “We’ll probably be seeing a lot more of each other,” Fergus agreed, looking as cheered by the thought as I did. “I have something for you, too. Yours isn’t a course or anything educational, is it?”

  “We promised we’d never get each other presents like that again,” I reminded him.

  He nodded. “Good, good… probably for the best. We’ll get each other something mature and grownup.”

  “Something boring?” I suggested.

  He grinned. “Something boring. Probably.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that ‘probably’.”

  “That’s because you’re boring.”

  We walked outside to the car, still trading snipes and then I drove to Fergus’ house with Diggory riding in the passenger seat. When Fergus complained I told him that I’d promised Diggory he could ride up front. Fergus had retaliated by nudging the back of my dog’s seat and had been growled at for his trouble.

  “Pipe down there in the back,” I said, close to laughter.

  “You just wait,” Fergus promised, doing some A-grade pretend sulking.

  When I drove away after dropping him off I discovered that, in spite of the crazy evening of murder, Cordelia, and my ex-boyfriend showing up, I felt happy. Christmas cheer hadn’t really hit me this year, but it had finally arrived, and I was pretty sure it was because of Fergus. I missed him when he wasn’t around and now we were going to be doing a spot of research together, well… it would be nice.

  I checked myself. I wasn’t having warm and fuzzy feeling about Fergus in that way, was I? I looked across at Diggory. “Nope. That would just be weird.”

  Diggory wagged his tail and grinned in response. At least I’d managed to convince the dog.

  I made a sound of amusement. I couldn’t believe I was even worrying
about this stuff. It was all because of George coming back and attempting to stir up feelings that didn’t exist. Now I was looking for feelings and panicking in case there were some running around that I hadn’t noticed before. I needed to relax and do some research of my own.

  Five minutes later, I was back home and working on my laptop. I typed the word ‘Elephas’ into the search bar and waited to see what would come up.

  “Elephants,” I muttered, reading the wikipedia page. From what I could tell, Elephas was part of a longer latin name for a genus of elephant, more specifically Asian elephants. “And who do we know with strong links to India?” I said to Diggory, thinking dark thoughts about my sister’s new boyfriend. It had been bad enough that I’d caught him coming back from snooping right after Fergus and I had found the body but this word… a word that could easily be associated with India… was adding to my unease. Just who was Samuel Farley, and why had he really come to Merryfield?

  “Would it be too much to ask for a quiet Christmas?” I said to Diggory.

  He whined in response. I supposed I’d been doing some whining of my own.

  9

  An Interesting Invitation

  The next morning, I was woken up by a knock at the door. I’m usually an early riser, but I like to give myself one day off a week to sleep in, and this day had been it. I blinked sleep out of my eyes and crawled out of bed. Diggory was already downstairs bouncing up and down by the door. I wished I shared his enthusiasm for my early morning caller.

  Right before I opened the door in my dressing gown, I had a sudden thought. My hand went to the poker and I lifted it up. Better safe than sorry. That was something I’d been learning the hard way this past year and a half.

  “Officer Daniel Herald and Officer Lois Gardener. We have some questions. May we come in?”

  I stepped back from the door and did my best to casually drop the poker out of sight behind me. It clanged to the floor so loudly even a subtle hacking cough couldn’t conceal it. Not to mention I’d just dropped a large steel bar right in the middle of my entrance hall.

  “Is everything all right?” Daniel asked, looking at the poker with some alarm.

  “Yes, it’s fine. I just hate cold callers.” I turned away so that they could exchange worried looks in privacy. I’d rather have the police worried by my aversion to travelling salespeople than have them know I was afraid that my ex-boyfriend might turn nasty.

  Was I really that worried he might do something? I realised that I was. Everything about George was way off base from how I remembered. He’d been measured, boring even, when we’d been together. His more recent actions were a complete personality transplant, and not one I particularly liked.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, hoping that this visit would be fairly civil due to the absence of Walter Miller. I’d never had a problem with Daniel Herald before.

  “We, uh, we’d like to check if you still want to stand by the alibi you gave for Fergus Robinson,” Daniel said, jumping straight to the crux of the matter.

  “I do stand by it. I was right there with him when we walked into the study and discovered poor Bill Wrexton on the floor with the knife in his chest.” I doubted it was a sight I’d ever forget.

  “But what about before that?” the police officer asked.

  “Before we went upstairs?” I said, seeking clarification.

  Daniel nodded.

  I thought about it. “We were together for most of the evening.” My mind flew back to the time when I’d been trying to escape from Harrison’s strange questioning and had noticed that my sister, her boyfriend, and Fergus were all missing. I had no idea where any of them had been during that time. “There was only maybe five or ten minutes when I wasn’t with Fergus.” I’d tried to stick as closely as possible to him, so that Cordelia didn’t drag me outside and have me shot for daring to attend her family’s party.

  “Thank you, that’s all we needed to know,” the female officer said, flipping her notebook shut.

  “Wait, what do you mean that’s all? Fergus didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Ma’am, we are conducting a murder investigation here and we are gathering evidence,” Officer Gardener reminded me.

  “What do you have on Fergus?” I asked, directing my question to Daniel Herald.

  He wriggled under my scrutiny, but didn’t crack.

  “We’re not supposed to discuss details of the investigation with the general public.” Officer Lois Gardener was going to be a delight, I could already tell. She sounded like she’d swallowed the police handbook.

  “I only wanted to help,” I said, trying a different tactic. “I know Fergus really well, better than anyone. I might be able to shed some light on whatever it is you’ve found out about him.” I did my best ‘helpful’ face.

  Daniel shot a worried glance at his colleague, before he caved in. “This looks like a professional job. Fergus has experience working for a security service. He could have been the inside man and the one who killed Bill Wrexton. It’s not looking good for him, so if you can tell us anything…”

  “What kind of security service did you find out he worked for?” I asked, genuinely curious. It was something I’d seen written on the website Fergus used as his calling card but he’d never confided in me what, exactly, it meant. In my head, I’d been leaning more towards supermarket security than the secret service.

  “I believe the general idea is that you answer our questions, not the other way around.” Officer Lois looked down her slim and pretty nose at me.

  “If there’s anything you can tell us, it would be in your interest to do so. Your friend may be in a great deal of trouble,” Daniel Herald continued.

  “Who’s in trouble?” Fergus asked, strolling through the open door with Barkimedes yapping at his heels.

  Both officers jumped to attention and moved their hands towards their handcuffs, as if confronted with a dangerous criminal and not just a dangerously delusional theorist.

  Fergus looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I guess I am.”

  “Sir, can you please clarify your role working in the security profession? Did it involve infiltration or any knowledge of building interiors that might not be available to the general public?” Officer Lois asked.

  Fergus’ expression unclouded. “You think I’m some kind of inside man. I’m afraid it’s not the case. I don’t know where you got your information from, but I’ve never been a member of any kind of security service.”

  “It does say it on your website,” I told him. “They probably got it from there the way the rest of us did.”

  “We aren’t at liberty to reveal…” Officer Goodie-Two-Shoes started to say until I sent her a silencing look.

  “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Fergus said, cool as a cucumber.

  “So… you haven’t worked in security?” Officer Herald tried to clarify.

  “I did, but it’s not what you think. My security job was working at a swimming pool.”

  “You were a lifeguard?” I asked, thinking it was a stretch to call that security. I suppose he had been protecting peoples’ lives.

  “No, I was security for the lifeguard. It was a really rough swimming pool. Those kids just wouldn’t listen when you told them to stop running around the pool. Things could get ugly really fast.”

  I looked at him, unsure whether he was being serious or not. His expression was completely deadpan.

  The officers exchanged a look. “I suppose that clears it up. Thank you for your time, Mr Robinson. We’ll be in touch if we need to ask any further questions,” Officer Herald said before shepherding the still-suspicious Officer Gardener out of the door.

  “Are we going to speak with the old ladies now?” I heard her say when they were on their way back down the path that led to the road. I shook my head. If Detective Miller had his underlings going after the Murder Mystery Fans he was clutching at straws already.

  I closed the door after them and
turned to face Fergus. “Security at a swimming pool? Really?”

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “I am skeptical!”

  Fergus sat down on my tartan sofa and stroked the cushions. He never missed an opportunity, no matter how subtle, to mock my choice of soft furnishings. “I think it sounds plausible.” And then he would say no more on the subject.

  I gave up trying and went to find some biscuits in the kitchen. I’d have to do some stocking up if Fergus kept up these regular visits. “I can’t believe the police are going after the Murder Mystery Fans book club. All Deirdre said was that they thought there was some big family secret that Bill Wrexton was covering up. It’s hardly a crime that she and the rest of the club were curious about that. I’d say there’s even more evidence now that it could be true.”

  “You don’t think any of them has what it takes to be a killer?” Fergus asked, lounging around on my sofa, waiting for his biscuits. One of these days I’d have to go round his place and demand the same treatment.

  I hesitated. Experience had taught me that what was on the surface and what lay beneath a person’s skin were two very different things. “I’m not saying that they couldn’t have done it, but… why would they have wanted him dead? Being removed from the guest list isn’t something you’d kill for.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t,” Fergus said, hinting that it could still be a motive.

  “Well then, why take the diamond? We know a diamond was stolen. No way do any of those little old ladies know how to fence a gemstone like that. You’d have to be a professional.”

  “Perhaps they want to wear it to church on Sunday.” I was fast getting the impression that Fergus wasn’t taking our conversation too seriously.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, suddenly wondering what Fergus was doing walking into my house at stupid ‘o’ clock in the morning. It wasn’t exactly in character.

  “I’m glad you asked me that,” he said, spreading his hands over his knees. “I’m here to tell you some very good news.” He paused so I could interject with my joy.