A Masked Murder, page 13
“Would you like to see the bedrooms? How many children do you have?”
Quickly, before the situation could become awkward and force one of them to lie, Autumn chipped in. “Actually, we already had a brief look around, on behalf of a friend who’s thinking of moving here,” she said, just so that he didn’t think she was a liar or a time waster. “And it is lovely, but it’s yard space, more than bedrooms, that I was wondering about. Do you have any other homes available on larger lots?”
She knew that the houses up on the hill had the advantage of more space. Stafford would have lived in a very spacious home. These lots were so close to the water that you could practically fish from your front porch, but they were smaller in size. If you wanted to live on a stand where you could barely hear the neighbors, then up the hill was the better choice.
“Now that you mention it,” Gavin rubbed his hands together, “I might just have the perfect property coming onto the market soon. Very soon, in fact. Just a couple of small administrative details to iron out, that’s all.”
“Really?” Autumn said, sounding as eager as she could. “Which house is that? Is it standing empty at the moment?”
“Not exactly.” Now, Gavin’s gaze slid away, suddenly shifty. “Not exactly. You see, there was a – um, well, the current owner tragically passed away. Not in the house, of course,” he added quickly. “At an event. It was a very sad set of circumstances, though fortuitous in that it allowed this amazing home to become available.”
He wasn’t quite rubbing his hands – but he almost was. He was clearly not in the least upset by the chain of events that had led to him being able to acquire this property for his books.
“Did you know much about what happened?” Ben asked.
Autumn was starting to worry, as they chatted. Both she and Ben were fairly well known on the island, although the estate agent himself was new to the area. But if somebody walked in who recognized either herself or Ben, then Gavin might start to get suspicious about why they were asking him, when they were locals who should already know the situation.
She found herself glancing nervously at the door when she heard footsteps and voices from beyond, as Gavin replied.
“Oh, I’m not sure myself, you know. It was at a local event, I believe. Maybe the excitement was too much for the poor man, and his heart failed, or he had a stroke. Something like that, but as I say, I’m really not sure. He was an artist, you know, and his sister has already been in touch with me about a possible sale, seeing she inherits from him. The home’s in immaculate condition.”
Autumn had to struggle to keep a straight face at that whopper about the excitement being too much for Stafford. Of course, Gavin knew the situation. But he didn't want to spook these potential buyers, and he wasn't giving away what he knew.
The fact he was willing to tell such a blatant lie was making Autumn extremely suspicious about his real motives and his past actions.
“So, what event was this exactly?” Ben asked. He’d obviously decided that it would be better to keep Gavin talking, and try to work the conversation around to his whereabouts at the time. Autumn thought it would have worked brilliantly, but then, what she’d been dreading happened.
Through the archway walked none other than Mrs. Hayman, accompanying a couple that Autumn had never seen before, and who she guessed immediately must be from the mainland.
Her gaze fell first on Ben, and Autumn saw the doting expression in her eyes. Then, her head turned, and she saw Autumn standing beside him.
The doting expression vanished, and in its place, she saw a glint of fury. Yet again, Autumn was monopolizing ‘her’ vet. Her thoughts were visible on her face.
Mrs. Hayman stared from one to the other of them, and then opened her mouth to speak, and Autumn knew that whatever she said was going to be the precursor to disaster.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Mrs. Hayman!” Autumn decided that the only way to deal with this was to head the angry woman off at the pass, before she had the chance to ask what Autumn was doing at a show house, with the local vet. She wasn’t sure the ‘friend on the mainland’ story would wash with Mrs. Hayman, and if the murder was mentioned, then Gavin would know for sure they’d been stringing him along.
“Autumn Ray,” she said sourly. “It must be a very quiet time at your bed and breakfast, if you’re out here on a Sunday afternoon? Or have all guests left because of the –”
“Absolutely not,” Autumn said. “We have had a guest check out early, but that was just because he’d done all his shopping. We’ve got a crack in the wall being fixed, and other than that, business is good,” she said, trying not to think of Mrs. B, who’d been spooked into wanting to leave.
She guessed a similar situation was playing out at bed and breakfasts around the island.
“Well, that’s a shame, because my friend Hettie Middlefield is bursting at the seams with guests,” Mrs. Hayman said. “She had to turn two people away just this morning, and it’s always a difficult situation when people want to extend their stay. She’s struggling with that problem right now. So is Connor, across the road. You know his place? Hillside Haven?”
“Hillside Haven is one of the most beautiful guesthouses on the island,” Autumn agreed. Her heart was going at speed. She could tell that Mrs. Hayman, always the gossip, was desperate to mention the murder, and if the conversation veered around that way again, she’d have to deflect it. Never mind deflecting it, it would be more like taking a strike at it with a baseball bat, and hoping to connect.
Ball sports were not Autumn’s strength.
“So, are you aware of when our next committee meeting is?” Mrs. Hayman asked, homing in on the topic again from a different direction. “Because we’ll need to discuss the –”
“Absolutely. It’ll be very important to discuss every aspect. I feel honored to have been part of the committee,” Autumn gabbled. She could see out of the corner of her eye, that Gavin was regarding her curiously. Ben kept trying to distract his attention by talking to him as Mrs. Hayman harangued her, but the conversation kept fizzling out.
“So you two are locals?” Gavin asked, looking from her to Ben, this time with a different expression in his eyes.
“Yes, they are.” Mrs. Hayman answered him herself. “They’re both locals. We all are, except for these two guests that I’ve brought along. They are considering moving here, but are looking for a home with excellent security features, after the murder – the one that Ms. Ray was so unfortunately caught up in last night.”
Now, Gavin was staring at Autumn in horror.
“You never said you knew about that?” he asked.
“Why would I want to mention such a sensitive subject?” she retaliated, feeling herself turn deep red. “I assumed nobody would want to speak about it, but it seems that some people do.”
“It’s natural to want to discuss a tragedy,” Mrs. Hayman interjected.
"You – you were asking me about it?" Gavin spluttered to Autumn. "Why were you asking me when you knew all along?"
“I don’t know,” Autumn mumbled, unable to think of a more coherent response. “I guess I was just making conversation.”
"Making conversation? It genuinely sounded as if you knew nothing about it." He glowered at her, all the angrier for now, having been caught out in a lie himself.
Everyone was watching the confrontation between the two of them now, as if a real live movie was playing out in the fancy kitchen. The guests from the mainland were looking fascinated, as if they hadn’t realized such quirky locals lived here.
“If you want the truth,” Autumn had to force out the words, hoping he might think she was referring to somebody else, “I was just wondering if someone had killed Stafford because they wanted to benefit from the sale of his house. I mean, it’s a concern for a buyer.”
“Are you talking about me having a motive for murder?” Gavin’s voice rose incredulously.
“No, no,” Autumn said, but it was too late. Gavin was looking appalled. “Me? You seriously suspected me, a leading real estate agent, of having gotten hold of that property through criminal means? Madam, you need your head read!”
She saw Mrs. Hayman nodding in agreement as Gavin continued. “I should sue you for slander!”
Just as Autumn was wishing the floor would open and swallow her up, Ben spoke up.
"Actually," he said, "it's not Autumn's fault at all. I picked up that snippet of conversation and told her about it. It was idle gossip from a client of mine. So we came here to check it out and find the truth."
Folding his arms, he stared calmly at Gavin as a shocked silence descended.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want people gossiping about that?” Ben asked.
“No, no, absolutely not.” Now, Gavin’s earlier wrath had eased, and he was looking thoughtful, as if he suddenly realized the consequences of this gossip.
“Were you at the masked ball?” Ben asked, causing Autumn to feel a flare of pride for his courage under fire.
"I was – well, I was there for a short time. Only until about nine. I left because I had to do a conference call with a client on the mainland who wanted to watch a video of a property and give his input. I was on the call for about an hour, from nine-thirty, and after that, I didn't think it was worth going back," Gavin said.
“Well, I’m very glad that we’ve straightened that out,” Ben said. “If any of my other clients mention your name, I’ll be able to say that you have personally proved to us you knew nothing of the incident and were not there at the time. I am sure that will be a very good thing, sir.”
“I guess it will,” Gavin said faintly. With his alibi proven, he was still looking horrified at the thought of the gossip circulating around the island. He turned to Autumn. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn,” he said.
“And I’m sorry I misled you. We were anxious about bringing the subject up in the best way.”
After the tension had been ready to explode, it had eased again. It felt as if Autumn could now breathe in the kitchen, and that the air was no longer about to ignite.
Mrs. Hayman looked huffy, as if she’d hoped to watch a war, but it had been averted by a timely peace treaty.
“Is that the time?” Ben said, checking his watch. “We’d better be going. Come, Autumn, let’s head down to the harbor.”
They left quickly, heading through the entrance hall, and out, onto the quiet road.
“Well,” Ben said, as they walked, both of them intent on putting some distance between themselves and the home. “That was more stressful than I thought it would be.”
“It was very stressful,” Autumn agreed.
“You kept your nerve brilliantly,” Ben praised, causing her to blink.
“Me? I was wishing a hole would open up and bury me inside it. You kept your nerve perfectly. But it’s harder than you expect, trying to get information from people, especially when you can’t really ask for it as directly as the police can.”
“Yes. I was surprised by how challenging it was.” But Ben didn’t sound put off. Instead, he sounded encouraged, as if he’d enjoyed the adrenaline rush.
“The problem is that we now have no more leads,” Autumn admitted.
Ben nodded. “That is a setback.” He shook his head. “All I can say is that from what Mrs. Hayman said, maybe the island is not as impacted by this as we were worried it would be? I mean, it’s a huge concern for you, and that’s a major worry, but maybe the damage is more limited than we feared?”
He was fumbling his way through the words, obviously not wanting to belittle Autumn’s plight, while still focusing on the bright side. She liked his sensitivity in doing that.
“Mrs. Hayman might just have been saying that out of spite, though,” she admitted.
“She doesn’t seem to like you much.”
“She doesn’t like me at all,” Autumn said.
“Well,” Ben said, after a pause, “seeing we’re walking in the direction of the harbor, and the rain’s holding off, how about we go and have some food? It’s time for a very early dinner, I think?”
The prospect of a meal with Ben was something she was never going to turn down.
“That sounds like a great idea,” she said.
They headed down to the harbor and walked to Lakeside Fare, the café on the street corner, which offered a variety of meals ranging from light fare, to seafood, to some basic Italian dishes. It was warm, with a beautiful view over the harbor. From this side of the island, you could see the mainland beyond. It gave it a busier feel as if the real world was just a short ferry ride away. That was why Autumn preferred the other side, for the sense of total peace it gave.
“Glass of wine?” Ben said, after they’d sat down.
“I think I need one,” Autumn replied wryly.
With the wine ordered, they paged through Lakeside Fare’s menus. Autumn was starving. This sleuthing was hard work, and she’d also had an impromptu run earlier. That had given her more of an appetite than usual, and she found herself drawn to the Italian side of the menu.
“It’ll have to be the spinach and olive pizza,” she decided.
“I think I’ll go for the seafood pasta. Is it good?” he asked.
“All the food here is good,” she replied. She was relieved to see that the restaurant was fairly busy. It hadn’t been impacted by the exodus of guests. Maybe it was only a few establishments, the ones that had accommodated the more fearful personalities, and she’d just drawn a short straw.
The wine tasted good, crisp and fruity, and a sense of relaxation filled her as she sipped. Then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t get too relaxed. This was a working dinner, and there was an important reason why they were here.
The killer was still loose – a dangerous, knife-wielding killer.
With a few sips of wine inside her, and delicious aromas wafting around the restaurant, she leaned forward on her red-upholstered chair, put her hands on the table, and said, “Who could have stabbed him? Who?”
Now that she’d gotten the topic back to the murder, she saw that Ben looked as absorbed by the question as she was.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a crime of passion?” he suggested. “Someone could have gotten really mad at him and done it in the moment.”
“They brought a hunting knife,” she reminded him. “It wasn’t in the moment, I don’t think.”
If there were traceable fingerprints on that knife, then she knew Officer Warring would have tracked the killer down. Hunting knives were sold in many shops on the island and the mainland. From the hilt, it had looked like a commonly used shape and style, one that was popular because it was effective.
Nope, Autumn felt morosely sure that the murder weapon itself wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
And that meant they were at a dead end.
Ben nodded somberly. “I guess it’s too simple to believe someone would get that mad at him in the moment.”
“Slap him, yes. But stab him?” Autumn shook her head, perplexed. “There must be a reason why someone did that. Somehow, somebody must have benefited.”
Ben counted off on his fingers. “It’s not his property, because we’ve established that the estate agent selling it has an alibi.”
"It's not the local collector who he refused to sell to," Autumn said. "That person is angry and offended and doesn't want anything to do with him anymore. He said he'd never buy one of his works, ever."
“So it wasn’t him,” Ben said.
“And it wasn’t the rival artist who lives on the island, nor was it the man that he promised to give lessons to and mentor, and never did.”
“He’s caused a lot of trouble and grief. What about his love life?” Ben hazarded.
“I heard that he had a girlfriend, but that after one disappointment too many, she moved out of state,” Autumn said.
Ben shook his head, looking as perplexed as Autumn felt.
“Were there any visible fingerprints?” he asked. “Any leads on that side?”
“The police and forensic officers checked for them, of course,” Autumn said. “They were busy with that on the night of the crime. But I guess they haven’t found anything conclusive. It would be easy to wear gloves at a masked ball, wouldn’t it?”
Ben nodded. “I saw many of the guests in gloves,” he admitted.
Their food arrived, breaking the air of frustration that now hung over the table.
Autumn’s pizza looked delicious, with a bubbly, perfectly browned crust, a sumptuous layer of cheese, and exactly the right amount of toppings. As for Ben’s pasta, that gave her a brief flash of envy. In a creamy tomato sauce, the homemade pasta had chunks of fish, shrimp and mussels.
She picked up a slice, hoping that the calories would give her brain some inspiration.
Well, for a few moments, her taste buds and stomach were too involved to allow her brain any time at all. This was delicious. Autumn didn't consider herself a greedy person, but right now, she had to admit, this food was an absolute lifesaver. It might not be energizing her brain yet, but her body was feeling a whole lot better as those calories flooded in.
“So,” she said, sighing in satisfaction, and deciding to pause before her third slice, “what haven’t we focused on yet?”
“For benefit,” Ben frowned as he twirled another forkful of pasta. “That is a powerful motive, and there has to be somewhere we haven’t yet looked.”
“I know, but where?”
“Who inherits?”
"A sister who lives in the United Kingdom."
Ben shook his head. “You know, it keeps coming back to the value of his paintings.”
Autumn shook some chili onto another piece of pizza before munching at it.
“I know. The whole art world is so complex. So full of people who desperately hate each other and want to profit. Do you think we missed someone there?”
“How about that gallery owner?”
With a pang, Autumn thought of Julian. She liked him. She really did. He was a unique, extravagant personality. She’d been to the gallery twice today, and he’d seemed more stressed each time. To be fair, that was because he was a stressful personality, someone who got uptight when anything minor happened, and lived his life in a blaze of drama.
