Weekends Can Be Murder, page 13
“And Lois, as well,” Liz added. “I don’t know how significant this is, but apparently someone called in a favour to have her added to the cast of this particular mystery game. She’s never been part of Heron Springs.”
That explained Court’s earlier disparaging comments about her. She had evidently been foisted on him by someone he couldn’t refuse… which raised a tantalizing question: as artistic director, he should have had the final say on casting. Why didn’t he this time?
Before Larry could pursue that train of thought, Selena derailed it by asking, “What about Charles Warfield, her alleged fiancé?”
“In the absence of a background check, we don’t know much about him,” Hugh declared. “I got the impression that Warfield and Lois were already well acquainted with each other when they arrived on the island. He was very good at deflecting and evading our questions, and didn’t reveal any personal information when he did respond. However, based on what we saw at the dinner table earlier this evening, I believe Blaise was right about Warfield and Baker having a real-life shared history, one that was not friendly.”
“Do you think Georgina and Lois might have known each other in real life as well?” asked Selena. “I suspect there may have been some grains of truth in Georgina’s after-dinner rant. Vaile seemed genuinely shocked by it. He might claim that he was acting, but I’m not too sure about that.”
Norman cleared his throat loudly. “Would you like to know what we found?”
“A whole school of red herrings?” Selena ventured.
“We found the entrance to Mr. Holmes’s secret passage and decided to follow it. And, by happy coincidence, while Hugh and Liz were interviewing Georgina in the presence of the celebrity corpse, we were behind the wall of their room, listening in.”
“We stayed there for a while after you left, to overhear the aftermath of your visit,” Blaise continued with a smug grin. “They were definitely off-script.”
“Ooh, this sounds promising,” Liz said, her knees bouncing excitedly beneath the folds of her skirt. “Do tell.”
The two men shared a conspiratorial look. Then Norman began, “Wylde wasn’t entirely truthful about his fall. He may not remember all of it, but he does remember tripping over something, and we heard him accuse Georgina of putting it there to punish him. Those were his words.”
“To punish him,” Larry repeated thoughtfully. “For what, I wonder.”
Selena shot him a disbelieving stare. “Honestly? What hasn’t he done to deserve punishment this past week?”
Blaise chuckled. “That was more or less what Georgina told him too. However, she vehemently denied his accusation, and that was the flashpoint for the argument. They kept their voices down so as not to draw attention, but I have to tell you, they were throwing words like daggers at each other. It was like a master class in dirty fighting. And the things those two are holding against each other—his infidelities, her buried past, the probability of plagiarism—it’s a blackmailer’s buffet.”
Interesting. Court had told them Georgina had Gareth’s number. Evidently, he had hers as well.
“Were any names dropped during this argument?” Hugh inquired.
“Glad you asked. A couple were mentioned,” Norman replied. “Antony Court was one of them.” Swivelling his head to rest his gaze on Larry’s face, he added, “And the other one was yours, Mr. Holmes.”
“They were arguing about Larry?” said Selena.
“Wylde suspects that you’re out to get him,” Blaise confirmed.
“Why? Because I stood up to him back at the resort?” Larry said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That and the fact that you did nothing to rebuff his wife’s advances at dinner and afterward. He seems to think that the two of you are colluding against him.”
“Then he’s being paranoid. I was simply socializing with everyone at the table,” Larry protested. “And so was she. As for the scene in the drawing room—”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to us, Mr. Holmes,” Liz assured him. “We saw the look on your face when she twined herself around your arm.”
Selena pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You know, we all assumed that she was acting. What if she wasn’t? What if what we saw in the drawing room was the real Georgina, just as Court described her, and the face that she shows the public is the act? Maybe someone needs to ask Antony Court a few more questions about Georgina’s ‘buried past’. What do you think?”
“I think we need to leave some of the investigating to the police,” said Hugh. “Wouldn’t want them to feel left out, after all.”
“Speaking of Antony Court,” Norman broke in, “we also went through the trap door in Selena’s room and eavesdropped on his quarters for a while.”
“And?” Hugh prompted him.
“We can’t be one hundred percent certain of this, because we were listening rather than seeing. In the ten minutes that we were standing there, this is what we heard: at first, there was complete silence. Then his door opened and closed, and we heard feet shuffling, clothing rustling, chair creaking, basically all the small sounds you would expect someone to make when arriving home.”
“Don’t forget glass clinking,” Blaise reminded him. “He poured himself a drink.”
“Was he alone?” said Hugh.
“Yes, as far as we could tell,” Norman replied.
“And no words were spoken?”
“Not a one. He did clear his throat a couple of times, but that was all.”
Damn! Now there was one more thing they needed to question him about. Larry liked Antony Court. What was more, he felt for him. Just like Larry, the actor was grieving the loss of someone he’d cared deeply about. Larry wanted to believe that there was an innocent explanation for Court to have been out of his room at a time when everyone knew they had to stay put. But hadn’t he also warned them in his preamble to the game not to eliminate Vaile as a murder suspect? Who was the man in all this, and who was the character?
Regardless of what he wanted the truth to be, Larry would have to consider the possibility that they still hadn’t met the real Antony Court. That the culprit they were after might be the one who’d set up the narrative for the murder mystery weekend in the first place, and he’d been lying to everyone right from the get-go.
It was The Murder of Roger Ackroyd all over again.
“Damn!” This time Larry said it aloud.
Speaking to Norman and Blaise, Hugh asked, “Is that your full report?”
“Not quite,” Norman replied, unfolding their copy of the floor plan as well. The back of the page was covered with bullet points and printed notes in a small, precise hand. “We entered every room in the house, including the basement, and we discovered the following: two secret passages; no weapons or potential weapons sitting out in the open; nothing in anyone’s quarters that obviously didn’t belong there; nothing in any of the other rooms that appeared to be extraneous or out of place; no suspicious-looking dings or damage anywhere; no blood drops, odd-looking spills, bullet holes, or shell casings; no cryptic notes on slips of scented or otherwise unique paper; and no dust bunnies under any of the beds.”
“We did, however, come across several locks that did not open with any of the passkeys,” Blaise continued, “including the desk in the drawing room—no surprise there—and a built-in cabinet of some sort in Harald’s quarters—which could use some air freshener, by the way. We also found one paperback copy of a different novel by either Gareth Wylde or Georgina Rodgers in every bedroom. We looked for additional trap doors or hidden wall panels, thinking there might be more secret passages, but without any luck. And I don’t know whether this is significant, but there appears to be something missing from the desk caddy in the drawing room.”
“We’d admired it earlier,” Norman explained. “Leather-bound, brass-trimmed… very expensive looking. And every niche was filled. Now one of them is empty. I’m almost afraid to say this, because it’s such a trope, but we believe the missing item may be a letter opener.”
“And you didn’t see it anywhere else in the house?” Hugh said.
“No. We double-checked. The only room we couldn’t enter was Arthur’s quarters, and if he was stabbed, as Baker surmises…”
“…then you may just have identified the weapon used to murder him,” Liz supplied. “You do realize we’re encroaching on police territory right now?”
“You’re right, my dear,” Hugh told her. “We need to focus on the real life crimes we’re allowed to solve.”
“In that case, here’s something else that I’ve been pondering,” Norman put in. “Could whoever attacked Tony Court in the foyer be the same person who returned the gun to the desk drawer?”
“You mean, could Court have been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Perhaps blocking the path to the drawing room?” Hugh mused. “It’s possible, I suppose. But if the weapon had been stolen in order to commit a murder, why risk returning it at all? Why not simply complete the job and then throw the gun into the bay?”
Selena was growing visibly impatient. “What if it wasn’t stolen to commit a murder? What if the disappearance and reappearance are simply meant to cast suspicion on someone? We know that at least one person is being targeted as a fall guy, and that Farley is the one who’ll be implementing that plan.”
“Creating a red herring for the police to chase down?” said Hugh. “Is Farley even capable of formulating something that sophisticated?”
“Probably not, but the person he was talking with near the kitchen door most likely is,” Liz pointed out. “So let’s assume for argument’s sake that Gareth Wylde’s ‘accident’ was the unfinished job they were discussing, and put ourselves in Farley’s shoes. A perfect crime requires extensive planning. It can’t be spur of the moment. Wylde had to have been targeted weeks or even months ago. When did Farley begin working at Heron Springs?”
“Sometime in late March or early April, I believe,” Selena replied.
“Do we know how long ago Arthur Pyke made the booking for the murder mystery weekend?”
“No, but events like this are generally organized well in advance. It takes me eight months to put a Crime Club Investigation and Report together. Whoever hired Farley for the hit would have to have known about the booking before sending him to Court to apply for a job.”
“…and they also would have needed to be aware of all the details ahead of time, including every person who had been invited to participate,” Norman added. “This was supposed to be a private party, remember? There would be no point in infiltrating the acting company if the target’s name didn’t appear on the guest list.”
“Or if they couldn’t arrange for it to appear,” Blaise pointed out. “Let’s not forget how Lois got added to the cast.”
Frowning, Hugh asked, “When exactly did Gareth and Georgina agree to appear at the Crime Club convention?”
All eyes turned to Selena.
“It was relatively late,” she recalled. “I’d actually approached them back in March. Georgina said to pencil them in and she’d get back to me. After that, I didn’t hear from her again until she called me to confirm on the Thursday just before the con. It was lucky that she did, because I was getting ready to substitute someone else in their place.”
Yeah, lucky, thought Larry. And the actor Farley was understudying just happened to have his motorcycle accident a few days later.
“Hmm. It sounds as though someone had to talk them into it,” Blaise observed archly.
“Someone did. His agent,” said Selena. “Gareth was griping about it all week.”
“All right, people,” Hugh said. “We’re getting closer to the truth, but we still need to gather a lot more information. And we’ll need to tread lightly in order to keep our persons of interest talking to us.” He handed out the envelopes. “So, let’s keep playing the mystery game and see where the next round of interviews takes us.”
Twelve
“What shadows are lurking in the victim’s past?” Larry read aloud from the slip of paper in his envelope. “Ask those who knew him well for their honest opinion of his character.” A pause, then, “Before questioning Will, I would have estimated that to be a very small group. Now I’m thinking we should rattle the chain of every person of interest, just to see what shakes out.”
“Indeed,” Liz agreed. “A minor character carrying a large grudge? That would be consistent with the plot of one of Gareth’s books. And what does ours say, pet?” she added, turning her attention to her husband.
Hugh unfolded their lead and held it at arm’s length, like a town crier making a proclamation. “Who stands to benefit from this death?” he read.
“Not his agent, that’s for sure,” Blaise opined.
“There are other benefits besides financial gain,” Selena pointed out. “For example, there’s peace of mind, revenge, restoration of honour… Any one of those could drive someone to commit murder. Larry is right. We don’t know what motivations may be simmering just beneath the surface. And it also occurs to me that if Baker has been working closely with Harald Pyke, he might be a mine of information about the Pyke family. Provided we can get him to open up, that is.”
Larry hoped they could. After all, the alternative was to question Edyth and/or Harald, and the idea of interrogating Arthur’s bereaved family only hours after his death left a sour taste in Larry’s mouth.
Norman plucked his and Blaise’s lead from its envelope and opened the sheet of paper with deliberate care, drawing out the moment. “Who was the last person to see the victim alive?” he finally read.
“That’s easy,” Blaise observed. “It was his murderer. Now, if we only knew where the shooting had occurred…”
Struck by a sudden thought, Larry said, “Actually, I think we do know. Everyone Selena and I spoke to—their characters, anyway, when we were on-script—claimed not to have heard any gunfire, and all of them were indoors at the time. So, if it happened out of earshot of those who were inside the house…”
Liz inhaled sharply. “Of course! How did we not see this? It makes so much sense. If Wylde had been shot inside the house, the killer would have needed an accomplice to help transport the body over to the bluff.”
“…or a forklift,” muttered Blaise.
Norman uttered a snort of laughter.
Liz ignored them both. “But if he was killed out on the grounds somewhere—”
“—then they could just roll him to where they needed him to be found,” Norman supplied.
Throwing them a disapproving look, Liz went on stubbornly, “If he was killed outside, that would explain why Norman and Blaise’s search came up empty. Vaile handed us a red herring when he said the clues had been left around the house.”
“Okay, who was outside at the approximate time of Wylde’s murder, between 7:30 and 8:30?” Norman said. “That’s our suspect pool for the simulation. And maybe for Gareth Wylde’s real-life fall as well.”
“Farley, for sure,” said Selena.
“According to the script, Baker and Warfield, on the veranda,” Hugh added. “And don’t forget Lois.”
“And Georgina, with her weak alibi,” Liz put in.
“All right, then. Why don’t we conduct the next round of questioning and see what emerges?” Hugh suggested. “We still haven’t established a motive for either of the murders, or the two attacks. Let’s focus on that while following our leads.”
* * *
Larry and Selena climbed the stairs to the upper north wing and rapped on the door to the Wyldes’ quarters. When Georgina opened it and saw them standing in the hallway, she smiled and waved them inside. “Gareth,” she called over her shoulder, “we’ve got company. Put something on before you come out here.” To her guests, she explained, “He’s taking cool showers to stay awake.”
“How’s he feeling?” asked Larry. “Is he complaining of any other symptoms?”
“Complaining? Gareth complains constantly. But from the concussion so far, he’s just experiencing the headache and some slight blurring of vision,” Georgina replied.
“Okay. Keep a record,” Larry advised her. “When medical help arrives, they’ll want to know time of onset and degree of severity. And now we have some questions for both of you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Both of us?”
Gareth Wylde emerged from the washroom then, wrapped in a voluminous baby blue plush robe. “I’m the corpse,” he proclaimed. “The only person I speak to is the medical examiner.”
“We don’t mean to alarm you,” said Selena, “but there’s a strong likelihood that your accident earlier tonight was not an accident.”
There was no misinterpreting the poisonous glare Gareth directed at his wife on hearing these words. Georgina’s expression, meanwhile, remained puzzled and a little anxious.
“We realize that your memory of the event has been affected,” Selena continued. “Still, anything you can recall that might help us to determine when it happened and who you were with at the time—”
“I already told you,” he snapped. “It was dark, and I don’t know.”
“This isn’t part of the simulation, is it?” Georgina said uncertainly.
“I’m afraid not,” Larry told her. “We haven’t made this publicly known, but we have reason to believe that someone on this island was hired to kill either Tony Court or your husband, possibly in order to frame him for another murder.”
“For Arthur’s death, you mean?” Georgina sank onto the edge of the bed, her face now the portrait of horrified indignation. “That’s unspeakable!”
Court had been right, Selena mused. This woman was good.
“Now, Mr. Wylde, you told me earlier that there was still some daylight when you fell,” Larry said.
Wylde let out an impatient syllable. “It was twilight. Pay attention, Holmes. The sun was more than halfway below the horizon. Everything was grey and blurry.”
