Murder is Fashionable (A Dodo Dorchester Mystery Book 2) by Ann Sutton

Author:Ann Sutton [Sutton, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Dodo sat bolt upright in bed. She had dreamed of Claude plopping into his seat at the fashion show, a dripping hypodermic needle in his hand, a ghastly grin on his handsome face.

As she waited for her heart rate to drop, she considered that if the poison had been administered as the show began, it did give Claude a window of time in which to insert the needle into the unsuspecting girl and then rush to his seat, making Dodo his alibi.

She bristled. Had this man used her in more ways than one? Now that she had crossed Michel off her list, everything seemed to be pointing to Claude: he was in a romantic relationship with the victim that she had recently broken off; he was missing in action when the show began; and he was someone who would have the connections and the means to buy an exotic poison.

Though the image of the noose tightening was personally satisfying, Dodo had to admit that there were still some loose ends that infuriatingly, did not align with this theory. Claude had certainly succeeded in embarrassing Dodo by letting her think he was really interested in her. She felt like a fool but- were her personal feelings coloring her deductive skills? If it was him, she should create a case against him to present to the inspector. She grabbed a pad of paper from the nightstand to organize her thoughts.

The desperate love letter at Valérie’s. Verify that is was from Claude with a sample of his handwriting.

Sandalwood scent on the love letter. I have not smelled that on Claude.

The poison. Where would Claude have purchased it? Perhaps that job best left to the police.

Stolen sketches. How do they fit in? Is it time to tell Inspector Roget about them?

Confessing that she had removed evidence from the victim’s home was a problem. At the time, she did not know about the existence of the fashion designs and merely wanted to ensure the other drawings were given to Valérie’s parents. Perhaps she could beg for mercy?

Not her style.

She sank back into the pillows, chewing the end of her pencil. Was Valérie murdered in a crime of passion or was it all to do with her sketches? This, it seemed, was the crux of the matter.

Her conscience told her that she should bring the inspector up to speed and determine if he had any information that would help her decide, but since she had nothing concrete, and he would likely be very angry that she had removed the drawings without permission, she pushed that notion to the back of her mind for now.

The boyfriend had not mentioned the sketches, but the poor boy had been in a state of shock and she herself had known nothing of them at the time she interviewed him.

She must go and see him again.

She rang the little bell that was on the side table and Lizzie appeared within seconds.

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Have you been to Montmartre? You know the place with all the artists?”

“No, m’lady.

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