A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2) (9 page)

‘Just as well you were here, then.’ Flora told Jack she was going inside to get changed. ‘How is the security coming on?’ she asked, gesturing to Raquel, who was walking ahead of them. Her head looked strangely empty without the tiara. ‘This must be the first time I’ve seen her without it. I imagine it would be hard to steal something that never comes off her head.’

‘Not unless you took the head too,’ Jack said, laughing.

They parted in the main hall, and Flora slipped into the props room to change back into her shorts and T-shirt, grabbing a cardigan out of her bag to slip over her chilled shoulders. It was getting late now, and she couldn’t remember what time Sidney had declared for dinner. Maybe they’d missed it completely. Now that would put Marshall in a bad mood.

***

In no rush to head back to the Nook, Flora decided to pay Celeste a visit. Eduardo was with her, showing Celeste something on his phone.

‘Flora, come on in.’ Celeste was sitting cross-legged on her bed. The antique quilt was on the floor and the bed unmade. ‘Have a look at what Eduardo’s got on here.’

Flora perched by her friend’s side, giving Eduardo a quick smile. The actor looked back triumphantly, his eyes ablaze.

‘We have him,’ he said, his accent thick with passion. ‘This is perfect revenge.’

Celeste showed Flora a photograph of Alberto. He was leaning over a woman with dark brown hair. By the light and the position of the backdrop behind him, Flora guessed the photo had been taken earlier that evening.

‘Is that Raquel?’ Flora said, squinting.

‘He wishes.’ Celeste used her fingers to enlarge the image.

Alberto was leaning over a woman, but it wasn’t Raquel, it was Gabriella. And he was doing more than leaning. He was touching her, reaching out a plump and eager hand to touch her breast. Gabriella’s expression, caught perfectly on camera, was one of complete horror. She looked like she was about to cry, or slap him. Or both.

‘Did you get any more?’ Flora asked.

‘Many more,’ Eduardo said solemnly.

‘Here.’ Celeste passed her the phone. ‘Thank goodness for digital zoom, is all I can say.’

Flora scrolled through the images, continuing on from Alberto’s clumsy grope. Gabriella did indeed slap him – Flora grinned at the look on his face in that shot – but then Alberto became angry. The last photo wiped the smile off Flora’s face completely.

‘Oh, my,’ she said, gazing up at Celeste. Her friend nodded.

‘I tried to tell you what he was capable of. He’s a complete bastard.’

‘But he’s …’ Flora couldn’t finish her sentence. In the final image, Alberto was pulling Gabriella’s face towards his, both his fists in her hair, forcing her into some kind of hideous kiss.

‘He bad man,’ Eduardo said. ‘I hear her crying out from the other side of garden.’

‘Didn’t you go to her?’ Flora said, horrified.

‘Of course I go to her. But I take photo first. Is good, yes?’

Flora wondered whether Eduardo secretly knew about the photos Alberto had of Celeste. Was that why he’d set out to get some equally incriminating ones of his own?

‘Did Nick see this going on?’ she asked.

Eduardo shrugged.

‘Why?’ Celeste said.

‘You missed all the action out there. Nick tried to throttle Alberto a little while ago. Jack had to break it up.’

‘Shame he bothered.’

Celeste stroked Eduardo’s hand, murmuring something in Spanish. Flora looked away from them and scrolled through the images again. She got back to the first, then continued, flicking with her finger. She smiled at a photo of her and Marshall loading up the van yesterday, and at one of Celeste taking a break from filming, her expression wistful, every inch the star. When she reached a series of shots that had clearly been taken in Spain, Flora stopped and put the phone down on the dressing table.

‘So,’ Flora said, when Eduardo had gone, ‘what will you do now?’

‘He’s just dreamy, isn’t he?’ Celeste threw herself back on the bed and stretched out her arms. ‘My knight in shining armour.’

Flora got up and walked over to the French windows, which were open to the night air, the soft white drapes wafting out onto the balcony. She leaned one hand against the frame.

‘Are you expecting Alberto to give you the photos back, is that it? Or you’ll show the photos to Raquel?’

‘Raquel? Why would we show her?’ Celeste laughed. ‘Oh, Flora, there is so much you don’t know about the world. You really are such an innocent. Next time I go travelling, why don’t you come with me?’ She jumped up and crossed the room, placing her cool hands on either side of Flora’s face. ‘Maybe Alberto’s right – maybe you would be good for certain roles. You have a sort of … fresh quality. Only supporting parts, of course, but … Eduardo and I are off to Paris next. You can come with us.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Flora slipped out of Celeste’s hold.

‘See the world, get away from that Neanderthal. Live a little.’

‘I live plenty, thank you. And Marshall is not a –’

‘Suit yourself.’ Celeste picked up her bag – not the one Flora had admired the day before, but another one, equally flashy and expensive-looking. It probably cost more than Flora earned in a month. Celeste checked her lipstick, then went to the door. ‘I’m going to make sure Eduardo is okay. He seems a little highly strung today. See you downstairs in a while for dinner, huh?’

Flora waited until Celeste had closed the door behind her, then slowly shook her head. Neanderthal, indeed. Marshall had his annoying ways – and a year ago she might have agreed with Celeste, had probably said as much in her letters. But not anymore. No matter how much trouble Shakers Removals was in, she wouldn’t be without Marshall now. But it was just business, she told herself for the hundredth time. No matter what Celeste thought, they were friends and co-workers, nothing more.

Although sometimes, lately, she wondered if it would always be this way.

Flora picked up the quilt from the floor and replaced it on Celeste’s bed. She looked around. This room might be nice and grand and all, but she kind of preferred the yurt. Then she noticed Eduardo’s phone on the dressing table where Flora had left it. She picked it up again and scrolled though the photos. There was something about them that bothered her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. For the most part they were holiday snaps – Celeste on the beach, Celeste and Eduardo drinking cocktails, gazing at each other with goofy smiles. Alberto featured in them rarely, as did Gabriella, and there were a few of Nick, some posed, others where he appeared in the background, unaware. Some of the photos seemed to be out of their proper order, which was odd. Flora scrolled through them quickly, feeling uncomfortable and a little voyeuristic. She didn’t look again at the photos Eduardo had taken of Alberto and Gabriella that afternoon. They turned her stomach completely.

After a while she shrugged and replaced the phone, then decided to go and find Marshall. Stuff dinner at Hanley Manor – stuff the oak panelled dining hall and Sidney’s white gloves and pompous manner. They’d get out of here and eat together somewhere normal. Maybe find a pub in town, or get fish and chips and bring them back to the yurt. Put the world to rights. She closed the door behind her and nearly bumped into Raquel, who was walking along the corridor towards her.

‘
Buenas noches
,’ said Flora. She’d asked Jack to teach her a few basic phrases, and she hoped this might soften the older woman’s frosty regard. Not a chance – Raquel tilted her nose upwards and continued past Flora without saying a word. She opened the door to her room and slammed it shut behind her.

‘Suit yourself,’ Flora muttered.

She hadn’t taken more than ten steps before she heard Raquel’s scream. It seemed to split the very air around her; for a moment Flora’s heart jolted, an electric current running through her, then she swung around and ran back along the corridor. The door was unlocked. Raquel stood in the centre of the room, pointing to something on the floor, something just out of Flora’s sight.

‘
Muerto. Está muerto
.’ The woman’s finger was shaking, the tremors vibrating up her arm and into her face. She looked at Flora, then spoke in halting English. ‘My husband. He dead.’

Chapter 6

Flora walked slowly towards Raquel, holding out her hands in a calming gesture. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, but of course it wasn’t okay at all. She could see now, could see Alberto laid out on the carpet, a reddish stain blooming across his jutting stomach. His waistcoat and shirt were still open, and sticking out of the middle of his belly, slightly to the left, was a long knife. No, not a knife, Flora said to herself, trying to think, trying not to scream the words out loud. Not a knife, but a sword.

The same sword Eduardo had been holding to the man’s throat only hours earlier.

‘Okay, what’s all the commotion? Raquel, I’ve told you before about your ridiculous … Oh, what …?’ Celeste stopped about three paces into the room. She stared at Alberto’s body. ‘Is he …?’

Flora nodded. She had already dropped to her knees by his side and was trying to find a pulse, although it seemed unlikely that there would be one, and now she looked up at Raquel and shook her head. She said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and Raquel responded by collapsing, just folding in on herself like she was a balloon and someone had let all her air out. Celeste rushed forward and caught her, then held her in an ungainly fashion, her forearms under Raquel’s armpits.

‘Take her into the other room,’ Flora said, gesturing to the bedroom she could see through an open door. Alberto and his wife had a suite, bigger and grander than Celeste’s. While her friend half carried Raquel into the adjoining room, Flora looked around. She noticed that the balcony doors were open. There were two glasses on the little bar in the corner of the room, and a half-empty bottle of whisky standing on the counter. The room was untidy, in a lived-in kind of way, but there weren’t any signs of a struggle.

She looked back at Alberto. At his blank, staring eyes. It wasn’t the first dead body she’d seen at close quarters. Thoughts of the Captain flooded her mind, of his so-called fall at the Maples last year. His hadn’t been a natural death either, but he was old, very old, and had lived a good long life. Alberto couldn’t have been more than fifty. Maybe less. He looked shocked. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, looking surprised. The sword in his stomach was a travesty, hilt up, shockingly proud.

‘Someone needs to call Jack. He’s CID – he’ll know what to do.’ Celeste stood in the bedroom doorway like she was afraid to come back into the room.

Flora swallowed. ‘I’ll do it.’ She got to her feet. Her body felt as though it was made of dark matter. She could barely think. She walked carefully around Alberto, heading for the phone.

‘Not in here,’ Celeste said. ‘We shouldn’t touch anything.’

‘Of course.’ Flora shook her head. Stupid not to have thought of that. ‘I’ll do it in your room. I’ll go and do it now.’

Celeste nodded. She was staring at the sword. Eduardo’s sword.

Flora started down the corridor. A movement in the corner of her eye made her jump and cry out, but it was only Gabriella. The young woman was standing to the right of Alberto and Raquel’s door. She regarded Flora through narrowed eyes. This time, she made no attempt to run away.

‘How long have you been there?’ Flora asked. Gabriella shrugged and shook her head. No English. ‘Look,’ Flora said, coming around to face her straight on, ‘don’t let anyone into that room, okay?’ She gestured with her hands, shaking her head and pointing. Gabriella seemed to understand. Her face was unnaturally pale against the dense brown hair.

‘
Está muerto
?’ she said. Flora recalled Raquel’s cries, heard the upturned question at the end of Gabriella’s words.

‘Yes. Yes, he’s dead. I’m sorry.’

Gabriella shook her head, then turned to the side and spat. ‘
Bueno
,’ she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

Flora turned away with a sigh. She didn’t need Jack to translate that one for her.

***

It took about fifteen agonising minutes for Jack to arrive, and when Flora saw him, pumping down the corridor like a prize fighter, his entourage trailing in his wake, her heart started to beat a little more normally. Celeste was right – not only would he know exactly what to do, his very presence here would be reassuring for them all. They knew him, he wasn’t just a faceless detective. But the change in him was quite astonishing; this was a different Jack to the one she’d been getting reacquainted with. Gone was the amiable friend with the ready smile. Policeman-Jack was all business.

‘Flora. Thanks for keeping everyone out. I’ll take over from here.’

Despite the lack of uniform, this time there was no mistaking him for anything other than an officer of the law. Flora laid a hand on his arm, then withdrew it, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Celeste is in there,’ she said. ‘With Raquel. She was trying to calm her down. And …’ She paused, unsure of how to word what she wanted to say. Jack, preoccupied with pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, looked at her.

‘And what?’

‘Gabriella was here. I asked her to keep an eye out, while I called you. I told her to stand out here and not to let anyone in.’

‘Go on.’ His voice was softer now. He kept his eyes trained on her face. One of his team cleared his throat, clearly impatient to get on. Jack silenced him with a glance.

‘When I came back out again, after calling you, Gabriella had gone. But the door – Alberto’s door – it wasn’t how I left it. At least, I don’t think it was. I could be wrong, but I think she might have gone in there. I’m not sure.’

Jack nodded once, then bent to pull on blue plastic overshoes. ‘Thanks, Flora. You can do me another favour now. Get that lot –’ he pointed to the small group that had gathered at the end of the corridor, Nick and Vincenzo and a few of the other crew members – ‘into the dining room for me. Ask Sidney and his staff to lay on some tea or something. A couple of my officers will be down in a minute to make sure no one leaves.’

Flora swallowed. She understood what he was saying. The murderer might still be in the house.