Framed by a Forgery Page 12

  She had an idea. If Hounslow and Fairfax were as eager to resolve this case as she was, then they wouldn’t mind helping her with the investigation, would they?

  She leaned forward. “Hounslow, I’m going to catch the killer.”

  He frowned. “You?”

  She nodded. “I’m good at this stuff. Trust me. But I need you to do me a favor?”

  “What is it?”

  “Lord Fairfax had the paper of the letter analyzed, didn’t he? That’s how he knew it was a fake.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “And, is there any chance you could get me a copy of the results?”

  Hounslow looked at her skeptically. “You think he’s lying? The police saw the report. It’s all official.”

  “It’s not that,” Lacey said, in a lowered voice. “It’s just, between the two of us, the detectives here are a bit… meh. I don’t trust them to do a thorough job. I’d rather cross all the t’s and dot all the i’s with my own eyes. You’d be surprised how often they miss things.”

  Hounslow regarded her cautiously for a moment. “I doubt Lord Fairfax will allow it.”

  “But I’m sure he’s already tired of being cloistered in his castle by now?” Lacey replied. “And I know he hates wasting time. So, perhaps if you make it clear to him that I work much quicker than the police, he’ll be more likely to help?”

  Hounslow was silent for a beat. Then he nodded. “Okay. Yes. If you think you can solve this case before the cops, I’ll get you what you need.”

  Lacey nodded, satisfied. That Hounslow and Fairfax were willing to help her in her investigation gave her all the evidence she needed that they were not the culprits. Which begged the question—who was?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lacey waved goodbye to Hounslow from the door of her store, watching as he got back into the Rolls-Royce and drove away. She’d found their meeting rather illuminating, not least because she no longer suspected him or Lord Fairfax of the killing, but because the report he’d promised to send her may well provide a clue for her to pursue.

  She shut the door and paced back inside the store, mulling over what her next steps should be.

  She’d not made it ten paces when she heard the door open again behind her and the bell tinkle. She turned to see Gina and Frank come clattering in, coffee cups in hands, chatting away like old friends.

  Lacey folded her arms and glowered at them. “You left without telling me.”

  “We left a note,” Gina said. “Didn’t you see it?”

  “You put Chester in charge!” Lacey cried.

  Now it was Frank’s turn to defend their actions. “Don’t worry,” he said, pointing into the upper corner of the room. “The security cameras are rolling now. If anything bad had happened, it would’ve all been caught on tape.”

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s just great,” she said, sarcastically. “How reassuring.”

  Gina frowned at her. “What’s got your goat?”

  “Nothing,” Lacey replied, sighing. “It’s just… I’ve hit a dead end with the investigation. Lord Fairfax isn’t our man.”

  “He’s not?” Frank asked. “But you were so sure he was the best suspect before.”

  “That was before I met his valet,” Lacey replied.

  Frank and Gina exchanged a surprised look.

  “You met up with his valet?” Gina asked. “The big beefy guy?”

  “While we were out?” Frank added, gulping as if in fear.

  Lacey smirked. “Yes, actually. So perhaps you two should think a little more carefully before swanning off and leaving a dog in charge! Luckily for you, he didn’t come to kill me. What he did do was make it really clear that Lord Fairfax isn’t behind the murder. Which leaves me back at square one. Without anyone with a clear motive.”

  “Well, not quite square one,” Frank said. “Lord Fairfax might have had a more concrete motive than others, but the original, more obvious motive is still on the table. Money.”

  Lacey paused for a moment to think it through. “You’re right. The money motive still stands. Ronan’s huge windfall. Gina’s… intimidation theory.”

  She grimaced at the chilling theory Gina had put forth, that Ronan had been threatened for his pin number by the perp, so they could access his funds that way.

  Gina puffed herself up proudly. “And if I’m right, which I suspect I am, then the killer would have to be someone who knew how much Ronan had earned from the auction. They must have been one of the attendees.”

  “Which narrows the suspect pool down to… several dozen people,” Lacey said, with a heavy sigh. How was she going to investigate dozens of people?

  “Or does it?” Frank said.

  Lacey pricked her ears up. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Frank said, “that Ronan was killed the evening after the auction. Which means whoever killed him hung around in town for several hours after.”

  Lacey’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re right!” she exclaimed, straightening. “Most of the attendees left town right after the auction, but the perp must’ve stuck around. A local would’ve spotted them, for sure. An aristocratic type like that would stick out like a sore thumb, especially since they all brought their bodyguards with them.”

  Gina frowned, looking perplexed. “But I don’t recall anyone hanging around town after. Do you? I mean, we got to the Drawing Room for our celebration drinks pretty sharpish, and there wasn’t a single person there gossiping about having seen an aristocrat wandering around town.”

  Lacey deflated. “No. I suppose not.” Then she was hit by a sudden thought and clicked her fingers. “Unless… they weren’t ‘wandering around town’ after all, but instead, keeping out of sight.”

  “Hiding?” Frank queried.

  Lacey nodded. “Sticking close by, but unnoticed.”

  Gina shuddered. “But where?”

  “A hotel room!” Lacey cried, excitement fizzing up through her.

  Frank and Gina exchanged a wide-eyed look of surprise.

  “Of course,” Gina said.

  “Whoever killed Ronan had a room booked in Wilfordshire!” Frank added.

  Lacey wasted no time, going straight into action mode. She swept her car keys up from the counter and whistled for Chester. He came bounding up to her side as she went around the back of the counter and marched toward the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Frank asked from behind.

  Lacey paused at the door. “I’m going to start at The Lodge,” she said over her shoulder. The former retirement home turned swankiest B&B in Wilfordshire was run by her good friend Suzy. If any of the aristocrats from the auction had stayed anywhere, it would be there. “So no more playing hooky, you two, because Chester is coming with me. And we all know Boudica is a useless guard dog.”

  At the sound of her name, Boudica lifted a sleepy head from her paws, huffed through her nostrils, then promptly went back to sleep.

  Filled with resolve, Lacey pulled open the door, making the bell jangle. With her trusty dog at her side, she left the store, determined to solve this case once and for all.

  *

  Lacey turned her car into the parking lot at the Lodge and leapt out of the vehicle. She and Chester practically jogged up the wide stone steps together, and in through the automatic double glass doors that swished open for them. Then they hurried through the foyer, passing a couple of guests admiring the ornate stone fountain in the middle, and onwards to the wide corridor where the large wooden reception desk was positioned.

  Lacey was immediately relieved to see that Suzy was on desk duty.

  Her young friend was dressed in her smart managerial gear—a navy suit, her wavy mouse brown hair curled up into a bun—but the puppy fat on her cheeks still betrayed her youth. She jumped to her feet at the sight of Lacey and Chester and hurried around the desk. Despite the smart heels she was wearing she still managed to float over to Lacey like a fairy.

  “I’ve been so worried!” she crie
d, throwing her arms around Lacey. “I saw what happened in the papers. Are you okay?” She drew back, holding Lacey by the shoulders at arm’s length, staring into her eyes with concern.

  “I’m in shock, to be honest,” Lacey said. “I was set to make a lot of money. Now it looks like I’m going to lose a bunch instead.”

  Suzy frowned with pity. “I’m so sorry, Lacey. I can’t believe that man tricked you into selling a fake.”

  “Actually,” Lacey said, “I don’t know if he did. I think he really thought the letter was real.”

  Suzy did not look convinced. “Hmm. Well. We all know how karma works, don’t we?”

  Lacey shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. She didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, and she certainly didn’t like Suzy’s implication that Ronan got what was coming to him. No one deserved to meet the kind of grisly end he had, even if they were a fraudster.

  “Can you help me with something” Lacey asked Suzy, changing the topic.

  “Of course,” Suzy said, meaningfully. She took her hand and squeezed it. “Anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  “I’m looking into the auction attendees,” Lacey explained. “To see if any of them stayed around in Wilfordshire the evening after the auction.”

  Suzy nodded along. “Because that’s when the murder took place.”

  “Exactly,” Lacey said. “And I’m wondering if you can tell me whether any of them booked rooms here.”

  Suzy twisted her lips. She didn’t like to talk about her guests with non-staff members. It had gotten Lacey in hot water with her before. But this time, she seemed less resistant.

  “I’ll check,” she said, finally.

  She let go of Lacey’s arm and went back around the desk to the computer. She bent forward and started typing on the keyboard.

  “Okay, so we had the Witherbottoms,” she said, reading from the screen. “Dame Penelope Marsh. And Sir Julian Gardner.”

  Lacey’s eyebrows went up at the prospect of new leads. But then Suzy dashed her hopes.

  “BUT,” she said, “none of them stayed the night after the auction. They all stayed the night before instead. All of them checked out that morning. Sorry, Lacey, it looks like none of them were in Wilfordshire at the time of the murder.”

  Lacey felt herself deflate. “Okay. Thanks for checking.”

  “Oh, hold up,” Suzy said. “We did have a cancellation. Clare Peterson, from the V&A museum. She was supposed to stay that night but she cancelled her room. That might mean something, right? It’s certainly unusual to cancel a room when it’s already too late to get a refund.”

  But Lacey shook her head. She remembered the museum woman from the auction. She’d left early, clearly unimpressed by Lord Fairfax’s antics. She’d even rolled her eyes before leaving; Lacey remembered the moment distinctly. Besides, she was looking for someone who’d stayed in town the night of, not someone who’d left!

  “I’m pretty sure she went home,” Lacey said. “I mean, she left the auction mid-way when she got fed up with Lord Fairfax’s antics.”

  “Oh yes, the oh-so-special Lord Fairfax,” Suzy said with a wry chuckle. “Carol’s been telling me about him!”

  At the mention of the other B&B owner in Wilfordshire, Lacey hesitated. “Carol?” she asked, curiously. “What did she have to do with Lord Fairfax?”

  “He was staying at her B&B,” Suzy said. “Apparently he made her order duck eggs in specially, because he won’t eat anything else for breakfast!”

  Lacey listened carefully to what Suzy was telling her. It hadn’t occurred to her that any of her elite auction attendees would choose to stay in the gaudy, Barbie-pink inn on Wilfordshire’s High Street.

  But if it was good enough for Lord Fairfax, perhaps it had been good enough for one of the others.

  It was time to pay Carol a visit.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lacey drove back to town at a clap, Chester half-hanging out the window as they went, tongue-lolling, wind ruffling his fur. She parked right outside the pink B&B, and they hurried through the ornately carved wooden doors and into the gaudy pink-walled, red-velvet, gold-gilded foyer.

  Though Lacey had been here plenty of times, the decor always took her by surprise. It was always so much worse than she remembered. So much clashing pink, red, and orange. So many flamingos. Just standing in the foyer was enough to give her a headache.

  “Lacey?” came the disembodied voice of Carol from behind a large, potted fern on the desk. “Is that you?”

  Lacey approached, craning over the leaves to see the portly woman sitting behind it, lit by the glow of her computer screen, which had several different security camera screens running at once.

  “What are you doing here?” Carol continued, standing. Her gaze slid disapprovingly down to Chester at Lacey’s feet. “And why did you bring your dog?”

  “Chester’s harmless. He comes with me everywhere,” Lacey said. “You heard about the murder, I presume?”

  Carol was one of the biggest gossipers in Wilfordshire, rivaled only by Taryn. There was no way news of this magnitude could pass her by.

  “Of course I did,” Carol replied, in a distinctly unpleasant know-it-all tone. “Was it another one of your auction attendees?” She chuckled judgmentally. “What am I saying? Of course it was! They always are!”

  Lacey narrowed her eyes. While there was no love lost between the two women, there was no need to be so impolite.

  “I came here to ask for your help,” she said.

  Carol smiled smugly. “Oh, of course. I’m always happy to help those less fortunate than myself.”

  Lacey clenched her jaw with irritation. The sooner she was out of here, the better. Carol was more infuriating than Taryn.

  “I wanted to know if any aristocrats stayed here the night of the murder,” Lacey asked. “I heard a rumor.”

  “Yes, Lord Fairfax stayed,” Carol replied arrogantly, looking very pleased with herself. “I was truly honored to have a royal guest. Not our first, mind you.”

  She pointed to a gold frame on the wall behind her. The photograph inside showed a much younger, slimmer version of Carol, standing side by side with an entirely unrecognizable and obscure member of the British royal family. Perhaps the forty-fifth in line to the crown? Lacey thought, wryly.

  “Did anyone else stay that night?” she asked.

  “Oh no,” Carol replied. “Lord Fairfax made certain he was the only one. He paid to have an exclusive booking.”

  Lacey’s eyebrows rose. “By which you mean he booked out the entire B&B?”

  “All three floors,” Carol said with a nod.

  “Just for two people?” Lacey continued.

  “That’s right.” She faltered. “Wait, how did you know it was for two?”

  “His valet goes everywhere with him,” Lacey murmured in reply, recalling Hounslow’s words from earlier.

  Disappointment made Lacey’s shoulders sag. The killer couldn’t have used Carol’s B&B as their hiding place, because Lord Fairfax had made sure he didn’t have to rub shoulders with anyone lesser than himself, and had paid for the privilege. She should’ve anticipated Lord Fairfax would do something so extra as to book an entire B&B for just himself and Hounslow. Now, what had seemed like a potentially promising lead had turned into yet another dead end.

  “So is it true about the duck eggs?” Lacey asked, just making conversation now that her hopes had been dashed.

  “Yes, that’s true,” Carol said, looking ever so proud of herself. “I bought them specially for him, along with Egyptian cotton sheets and organic shampoo for the shower. Customer service is very important to me, Lacey, especially when the customer is royalty! I didn’t even think twice about cancelling the other guest that was already booked in. The moment Lord Fairfax asked for exclusivity, I was prepared to give it to him.”

  Lacey’s curiosity piqued. “Wait. What happened?”

  “I had another guest booked in,” Carol repeated flippantly, �
��but when we got the last-minute booking from Lord Fairfax, we cancelled his room here and moved him to the Lodge. Suzy was grateful for the custom.”

  Lacey recalled Suzy checking her computer for the guests booked in at the Lodge the day before and after the auction. Perhaps this individual had been missed off her list because he was a last-minute transfer from Carol’s, and hadn’t gone the usual route.

  “Who was the guest?” Lacey asked, hope buoying her suddenly. “Another aristocrat?”

  “No, no. Just an ordinary chap,” Carol replied. “John Smith. He had a bit of a rock star thing going on, wearing his sunglasses inside.” She rolled her eyes with disapproval.

  “Oh,” Lacey replied, her brief moment of hope dashed once again. It sounded like Carol’s cancelled guest wasn’t an aristocrat, just some random person who happened to be in town at the same time. She didn’t recall any of the aristocrats attending her auction having anything close to a “rock star” vibe, and she was sure she would’ve remembered seeing someone wearing sunglasses inside. “Did he say why he was in town?” she added, just in case.

  Carol shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I didn’t ask. I don’t make a habit of being nosy about my guests’ personal lives.”

  “Hmm, okay,” Lacey replied. “It doesn’t sound like he was here to attend my auction, though.”

  Carol let out a large, theatrical gasp. “You me to say someone stayed in Wilfordshire for some reason other than to attend one of your oh-so-amazing auctions! Goodness! How novel!”

  Lacey narrowed her eyes. She didn’t appreciate Carol’s sarcasm. In fact, this whole conversation with Carol had only served to make her more infuriated and on edge. She’d left the store on a high, determined to find the truth, absolutely certain she was following the right path. Now, she’d been left with nothing. She was back at square one.

  “Well, I’d better let you get on with your day,” Lacey said, testily. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of customers in need of your stellar services…”