A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2) (21 page)

‘Well, you know what they say – if you haven’t got it, fake it.’

He stood for a moment, looking at her. Flora waited for him to jump up into the cab, but then realised he wasn’t going to. Not until. She pushed all thoughts of Gabriella and Alberto and Celeste out of her mind for one blissful moment, then she reached up on tiptoes and kissed Marshall on the cheek. It was the chastest of kisses, but it was still a kiss. He smiled at her, his hazel eyes soft.

‘See you later, Lively,’ he said, and then he climbed into the cab and started the engine. By the time Flora had walked back to the entrance, the van was trundling down the driveway, gravel spraying up on either side.

‘See you later, Goodman,’ she whispered, then she turned and walked into the house.

Now Marshall was out of the way, she had work to do.

***

‘Celeste, I need to talk to you.’

Flora found Celeste in her room, sitting at the dressing table rubbing thick foundation into her cheeks with a sponge. She had a silk scarf draped around her neck like a bib, presumably to protect the expensive-looking pale blue linen skirt suit and white chiffon vest. Her hair was elaborately plaited and rolled up on top of her head. Celeste was back to looking like a Hollywood starlet once again, but there was no camera around to capture it this time.

‘Are you going somewhere?’ Flora asked.

‘No. Just, you know. Making myself feel better.’

‘Right.’ When Flora need to feel better she usually went shopping for vintage finds, or took to the hills. Celeste piled on the make-up and pulled on the glad rags. Nothing ever really changed, Flora thought.

‘Is this because Jack will be here soon?’ she said, noting that Celeste seemed a lot less bothered about the whole search warrant thing than she had been last night.

Celeste looked at Flora in the mirror. ‘I couldn’t give a toss about Jack Harding. And he’s not coming until midday, anyway. Some hold up with the courts, apparently.’

‘How do you know that?’ Flora sat on the bed and looked around. Celeste’s room had been searched the day before, but she was willing to bet the police hadn’t left it in this much of a mess.

‘I texted him and asked. Look, Flora, was there a reason you came up here? I’m a bit busy right now.’

‘Actually, I need your help.’ Flora resisted the temptation to add “for a change” to the end of her sentence. ‘I need to run a theory past you. It concerns Gabriella and Vincenzo, and if I’m right, Eduardo will be off the hook completely.’

‘Go on.’ Celeste finished applying her mascara, then turned around, wand in hand. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Well, it was something that happened when I found Gabriella. She spoke to me, just before she died.’

Celeste’s eyes widened even more. ‘Really? What did she say?’

‘She said something about a Honda. Jack thought it might have been in Spanish, but I’m not so sure.’

‘Gabriella spoke of me when she is dying?’

Flora and Celeste looked up. Eduardo was standing in the bathroom doorway, rubbing his hair with a towel. He glared at Flora, his face creased into a frown. ‘Why she speaking about the sling? Is nothing to do with me, anyhow.’

‘Sit down, sweetie,’ Celeste said. ‘Come on, you’re overwrought.’ She looked at Flora and gave a tiny shrug.

Eduardo sat on a straight-backed chair next to the window. He kept his face averted, his posture tense.

‘What did you mean?’ Flora asked. ‘Gabriella wasn’t talking about you – we didn’t even mention you.’

‘I listen,’ he said, gesturing towards the open bathroom door. ‘You say she spoke in Spanish, said something about sling.’ He held his arm across his chest in a bent position, the way it was when he wore his costume. The wounded soldier. Flora shook her head.

‘No, Eduardo. I said Honda. Jack told me it means deep in Spanish. He thinks Gabriella said “In the deep” just before she died.’ She looked at Celeste. ‘Which makes no sense at all, which is why I wondered whether she was actually talking about Vincenzo’s motorbike.’

Celeste pulled a face. ‘I thought she was stabbed, not run over by a motorbike.’

‘No –’ Flora began, but Eduardo was on his feet, interrupting her.

‘Is Yamaha,’ he said. ‘And honda is word for sling. For sling Gabriella make. Or some kind of sling, anyway.’ He looked at Celeste, as though for help interpreting. He spoke to her in Spanish, briefly.

‘He says it’s the word Gabriella used for his cast thing. You know, the sling for his arm made to look like it would have in Napoleonic times.’ Celeste shrugged again. ‘Don’t ask me. I only know the most basic Spanish, really.’

‘Means both,’ Eduardo said, shrugging. He knelt by Celeste’s side and slipped his arm around her waist. ‘Can mean deep or sling, depends on … how you say?’

‘Context?’ Flora supplied. Eduardo nodded. He turned his attention back to Celeste and kissed her. She pulled away, laughing.

‘I’ve just done my make-up. Stop it. Once you get started I’ll have to do it all over again.’

Flora stood up, feeling a little queasy. If Vincenzo’s bike wasn’t a Honda after all her theory was useless. She was back to where she started, but now Gabriella might have said sling and not deep, which made even less sense. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but it was mush up there. Celeste had given up trying to stave off Eduardo’s advances, and now they were both seated on the dressing table stool, Celeste on Eduardo’s knee, clearly no longer bothered about spoiling her make-up. Flora turned to go, but when she got to the door, Celeste called her back.

‘Hold on, Flora. I need to ask you for a little favour before you go.’

Flora stopped, but didn’t turn around. ‘What?’

‘You’re pretty thick with Sidney, aren’t you? Okay, well our super-efficient butler has locked up the props room, on Jack’s say-so apparently, and he won’t let anyone in there. Be a sweetie and get the key off him before Jack turns up mob-handed.’

Flora turned around, surprised. ‘Why do you need the key?’ she said. ‘We took all your stuff out last night.’

‘What stuff?’ Eduardo said, nuzzling into Celeste’s neck.

‘Oh, nothing.’ Celeste gave Flora a murderous look over the top of Eduardo’s head. ‘Just do it, Flora. Okay? Please?’

Flora said nothing. She left them to it and closed the door behind her. She walked along the corridor, passing Alberto’s room – now Raquel and Vincenzo’s room – her mind racing, swirling, a mess of thoughts. And then, about five or six steps from the top of the stairs, she stopped.

The sling, she thought. Gabriella. She looked back towards Alberto’s door and pictured the young wardrobe girl slipping back in there the night of the murder – but not to steal the tiara, or to kill the director. Flora clasped her hands to her mouth, her eyes stretched wide in astonishment. Slowly, but not too slowly, all the pieces began to slot into place. And slowly, but not too slowly, Flora descended the stairs. An idea was forming, and she knew exactly what she had to do.

Chapter 13

The route back to the Nook took Flora directly past the spot where she’d found Gabriella, but she turned her head to face away from the scene and ran on. The police tape was still in place, flapping in the breeze, but apart from that the clearing was deserted. Flora dived into the yurt and grabbed her phone out of her rucksack. She selected Marshall’s number, hoping he’d thought to put his mobile on hands-free before he set off.

He hadn’t. The phone rang out, then went to his answering service.

‘Marshall, if you get this message don’t bother calling me, just turn around and get back here.’ She stood by the yurt’s entrance, looking out into the trees. Her heart was racing. ‘Get back here as fast as you can. I know who did it, Marshall – I know who killed Alberto and Gabriella. I’ll be in the props room, I’m going there now.’ She paused, knowing that if she told him about the trap she was setting, told him that the killer would be in there too, he’d panic and drive like a lunatic and maybe get hurt. She couldn’t take that risk. ‘Okay, so just get back here. And bring one of Celeste’s boxes with you. Bye.’

She hung up and waited, just for a second, her hand resting on her chest as though she could slow down her heartbeat by her will alone. Then she slipped her phone into her pocket and walked back to the house. No need to run now. She knew exactly where she’d find the killer.

***

Sidney was in the kitchen, his hands plunged into a sink of steaming water. He looked up when Flora entered via the door from the laundry press, his face open and alarmed.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said. ‘You know you shouldn’t be back here.’

Flora nodded. She walked over to him and lowered her voice. Just in case. She didn’t want there to be any chance they’d be overheard.

‘Sidney, I need you to do me a favour. I need to borrow the key to the props room.’

The butler picked up a tea towel and began to dry his hands. ‘I can’t give you the key, Miss Lively. The police detective told me to keep that room locked and not to let anyone in there. He’s coming with a search warrant later today.’

‘I know, Sidney. But Jack trusts me, he’s my friend. You won’t get into trouble, I promise.’

He shook his head. ‘The young woman who was killed – all her things are in there too. They brought them over from the bed and breakfast in town last night. DI Harding gave me strict instructions –’

‘Sidney, I wouldn’t ask unless it was absolutely a matter of life and death. I can’t explain, not right now, but I think I know who the murderer is and I need to get into that room to prove it. If we wait – if I wait – the evidence will be destroyed and the murderer will go free.’ She grabbed the tea towel and his hands underneath it. ‘Please, Sidney. Please do this for me. As soon as you give me the key you can go and phone Jack – phone DI Harding – and tell him. Tell him to get here as soon as he can.’

Sidney thought about it, searching her face with his eyes. Then he nodded. ‘Okay. If you’re sure I won’t get into trouble. I don’t need any more trouble, Miss.’

‘I know that.’ She regarded him for a moment, then gave his arm a squeeze. ‘I’m going to make sure this comes out okay for you, Sidney, I promise. You trusted me with your secret, and you’re trusting me again now. I’m going to repay that trust, you’ll see.’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the huge ring of keys. Flora chewed on a nail while he searched for the right one. There was no hurry, not exactly, but still she felt the adrenaline rising. And she pushed away the little nugget of worry, the voice that kept trying to tell her she was crazy. Crazy to take such a risk.

I’m not crazy, she thought. But I do hope I’m right.

On her way to the store room, Flora pulled out her phone and sent the text she’d been composing in her head since she left the yurt. Then she unlocked the thick oak door and went inside. She closed the door behind her but didn’t lock it. She switched on the light and looked around.

The props room looked pretty much how it had the last time she’d been in here, changing out of her costume after her not-to-be stint as an extra. The dark wooden panelling seemed to suck in the light, and the lack of windows gave the room the feeling of an opulent cell. The metal shelves were now only half full of the boxes and open-topped plastic cartons Flora had searched through to find Celeste’s photos. The photos that had not yet been found, of course. The photos Flora now believed had never existed.

In the space against the far wall which had been cleared of most of Rojo Productions’ backdrops were piled four or five small cardboard cartons and a couple of suitcases, plus a trunk half covered with a purple cloth. Gabriella’s things. Flora crossed the room and pulled off the cloth. Working quickly, she opened the trunk and began to search. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for.

A sound behind her made Flora freeze. She looked at the wall, took a deep, steadying breath, then got to her feet and turned around. The door was opening, slowly, tentatively. It swung inwards with a final push and Celeste stepped into the room.

‘Flora,’ she said, smiling. ‘You did it! You got the key. What a star you are.’ She was by Flora’s side in a flash, looking down at the suitcases, at the trunk, her eyes gleaming. ‘Is this all Gabriella’s stuff?’ she asked, dropping to her knees.

‘It is.’ Flora took a step back. ‘What is it that you’re looking for?’

‘Oh, just something I lent her. Some make-up.’ She glanced up at Flora and smiled again. ‘You can get off if you like. Leave me the key and I’ll lock up when I’m done. There’s still plenty of time before Jack gets here.’

Flora said nothing. The silence in the room felt as artificial as the light, as though someone had thrown a blanket over them. She listened for footsteps outside but heard only the pounding of blood in her head.

‘What are you holding behind your back?’ Celeste was on her feet now, regarding Flora with a curious expression. ‘You’re acting really weird. What’s wrong?’

Flora fingered the envelope in her hands. She swallowed. Then she held the envelope in front of her body, still gripping it with both hands.

‘Ah.’ Celeste leaned against one of the metal shelving units, her posture elaborately casual. ‘Have you looked inside it?’

Flora shook her head.

‘Well, you’ve saved me a job, that’s for sure.’ Celeste laughed, and held out her hand. Her nails, Flora noticed, were painted a pearly pinkish colour to match her lips. ‘Well, you caught me out in a lie, I’m afraid. I wasn’t looking for make-up, as you’ve obviously guessed. But at least we’ve found the photos! I can’t tell you what a relief it is. Gabriella must have had them all along. I wonder how she got them.’

‘I wonder,’ Flora said, finally finding her voice.

‘So, can I have them?’ Celeste’s hand was still extended, her fingers reaching eagerly, but she didn’t make a move in Flora’s direction. Flora didn’t move either. They looked at each other. The silence stretched on.

Until the door opened again and Jack burst in.

‘Flora? What’s going on? I had a call from … Celeste, you’re here too.’

‘Oh, great.’ Celeste dropped her arm and slumped against the shelves. She gave Flora a hateful look. ‘Did you call him?’