The Festival Murders by Mark McCrum

Author:Mark McCrum [Mark McCrum]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2018-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

Letting himself into his hotel room half an hour later Francis found Priya slumped on the sofa. Her eyes were red; she had clearly been crying.

‘You’ve heard the news?’

‘Last night,’ she said. ‘I ran into Rory and some of the Wyveridge lot at that Joe Sacco talk, and we went on to the poetry slam and ended up in the pub. Then Ranjit phoned to say he had something terrible to tell us. When he turned up, some of them thought he was taking the piss. The rest of us were too stunned to take it in. Then they started ordering bottles of wine. A wake, they said, though I thought it was a bit early for that. That Eva woman was crying. Really howling. It was all too much for me, so I came back here.’

‘You didn’t see my note?’

‘Not till this morning. I was knackered. I lay down flat on the settee and the next thing I knew it was breakfast time.’

Francis stared out across the room, watching the bright particles of dust dancing in the sunbeam that fell across the beige carpet in a narrow strip, the triangle at its tip reaching high up onto one of the wardrobe doors. Come to think of it, ‘dancing’ was entirely the wrong word; if this was a dance, it was the slowest, gentlest, swirling waltz.

‘What’s going on?’ Priya asked.

‘I wish I knew. So what did you think? About Bryce? Before this? That he’d been murdered?’

‘No, not to start with. But then, as the police stuck around, I was beginning to wonder. You?’

‘I thought they might find something.’

‘Like what?’ asked Priya.

‘That he’d been poisoned. Or suffocated.’

‘Poisoned! Why?’

‘He just looked so peaceful, lying there. He didn’t look like a man who’d suffered a heart attack – or a stroke …’

‘But poison! Wouldn’t he have been rolling around in agony?’

‘Not necessarily. There are some very sophisticated products out there these days.’

‘But who on earth would have given it to him? And when? Considering that he came straight back here after the party and went to bed.’

‘He made himself some herbal tea.’

‘Yes,’ said Priya. ‘He made himself some tea. From one of the sachets in the room. Who could possibly have known that he’d pick Tranquillity?’

‘Someone who knew him well.’ Francis gave Priya a searching look. ‘There are other possibilities. Someone might have done something to the home-made biscuits. Or the pillow chocolates.’

‘In that case I’d be dead too.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I ate one.’

‘What! When? You told me you went in there, saw him and immediately started screaming.’

‘I did. But then when I went back up to the room to say goodbye I saw there was a second chocolate. On my side of the bed. Which I’m embarrassed to say I polished off.’ She smirked guiltily. ‘It sounds a bit macabre, doesn’t it, but I needed that fix.’

‘I see.’ That explained that then – unless this was a brilliant double bluff.

‘It never occurred to me,’ she muttered. ‘I could have bought it too …’

‘I’m glad to have that explanation.

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