“Mike?”
A minute later, Mike entered the room. “What’s up?” He glanced at the chaos. “I’d better put this right in the morning.”
“Come here a minute.” Jonathon pointed to the bed. “What don’t you see?”
Mike joined him and gazed at the heap of items. He rubbed his beard. “Okay, you’ve lost me. What am I missing?”
“Her notebook. Remember? The A4 notebook that goes with her everywhere?” Jonathon scanned the room. “Well, it isn’t here.” His gaze alighted on the small table by the window. “What’s that?” An open cardboard box sat there. He went to it and peeked inside. “It’s a hardback copy of one of Teresa’s books.” Jonathon reached in and withdrew it. “Murderous Intent,” he read aloud.
“That’s her latest release,” Mike informed him.
Jonathon turned to face him with a wry smile. “Okay. Exactly how many of Teresa’s books do you possess?”
Mike blinked. “Er… all of them?”
Jonathon chuckled. “The things I’m still learning about you.” He leafed through the book. “Is it any good?”
“I liked it.”
“Do you find yourself reading them with your ex-copper’s head on?”
Mike groaned. “All the time.”
That was funny. “Why can I see you shouting at the book, ‘But that wouldn’t happen in real life!’” Jonathon said with a grin.
Mike huffed. “Not all the time, you understand. Just now and again. Which is strange, especially as she claimed to do so much research. You’d think she’d have a friendly copper on call for checking what she’d written.”
“Or maybe she wasn’t as diligent in her research as she’d have us believe.” A flash of yellow caught Jonathon’s eye, and he went back a page or two. “This is weird.”
“What is?”
Jonathon held up the opened book for Mike to see. “A word has been highlighted in here.”
Mike leaned over and peered at it. “Never. Okay, that is weird. Are there any more?”
Jonathon went back to the start of the book. “Let’s have a look.” He thumbed through the pages, noting each highlight. When he got to the end, he closed it slowly. “I don’t like this.” His stomach clenched.
“What did you find?”
Jonathon took a breath. “A phrase. The past never goes away.” He put down the book and glanced at the box. “This was addressed to Teresa here. Why send it to the pub?”
“Maybe whoever sent it figured as the festival was going to be in Merrychurch, it would find its way to her eventually.”
“Or else they knew she’d be staying here,” Jonathon mused. “Did she tell everyone where she was staying?”
“I’d have thought that unlikely, except after listening to Fiona, I’m beginning to think Teresa was one of those people who shared everything on social media. And she did reserve the room ages ago.” Mike reached for the book, but Jonathon stopped him with a hand to his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch it.”
Mike’s brow knitted. “Why not? You just touched it.”
“Yes, as did Teresa—and whoever sent it.”
Mike cocked his head to one side. “What are you thinking?”
“That maybe her death isn’t as accidental as it might appear.” The uneasy feeling in his stomach worsened. “Mike… can you cause anaphylactic shock?”
Mike stilled. “You mean….”
Jonathon nodded slowly. “It’s possible, isn’t it? Either she came into contact with whatever caused the reaction by accident, or else someone made sure she did.” He stared at the mess of clothing and other items. “Maybe the same person who came up here and stole her EpiPen from her suitcase. They knew she was staying here, right? How easy would it have been to sneak upstairs tonight, when the pub was so full? You certainly wouldn’t have seen anyone do that. Me neither, for that matter.”
“Yes, but someone else might have. It would be a risk. And what about the EpiPen in her bag? How did that disappear?”
Jonathon stroked his chin. “If I remember correctly, her bag was under the table. Think about how many people were clustered around her, asking questions, demanding autographs. Maybe someone snuck it from her bag in all the commotion.”
Mike glanced at the clock beside the bed. “It’s too late to call Graham. This will have to wait until morning.”
Jonathon swallowed. “Then you think I’m right?”
Mike sighed. “I think it’s a possibility. We’ll see what he says. Maybe the book and her allergic reaction aren’t connected, but….”
“But it is suspicious.” Jonathon shivered. “Let’s get out of here. And we don’t touch anything else, all right?”
Mike gave him an amused smile. “Just which one of us is the ex-copper here?” He headed for the door, with Jonathon right behind him. When they were outside, Mike closed the door and locked it. “I don’t want anyone going in there until Graham has seen it.”
Jonathon nodded. “He’ll need my prints and Professor Harcourt’s, to eliminate them from any others he might find.” Much as he hated the idea, he was starting to think that Teresa had been murdered.
The postmortem would tell them how.
“Bed,” Mike said quietly, tugging his arm. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. All I want to do is curl up with you under the sheets and forget about all this.”
Jonathon had a feeling switching off his brain might not be so easy a task.
JONATHON WAS in the middle of his second cup of coffee when Graham walked in. “Are you all done up there? There’s coffee in the pot if you want some.” Mike had taken Graham upstairs as soon as he’d arrived.
Graham sat down at the wide wooden table, placing his helmet on it. “Thanks. I’d love one. Mike’s still upstairs.” He huffed gloomily. “Great way to start my day. Seven thirty on a Saturday morning, my phone rings. ‘Good morning, Graham. Can you come to the pub? We think we’ve got another murder.’” He narrowed his gaze. “What is it with you two? Does death follow you around or something?” Graham folded his arms. “Out with it, then. Let’s hear what that sleuthing brain of yours has come up with. What makes you think she was murdered?” His eyes gleamed. “Unless we’re talking about another dead body you’ve managed to rustle up during the night?”
Mike entered the kitchen at the tail end of Graham’s remark and made a beeline for the coffee. “One dead body is more than enough, thank you very much.”
Jonathon got up and handed him another mug from the cabinet. “For Graham.” Then he sat back down and ran through their findings, while Mike poured the coffee.
Graham’s face fell. “Seriously, though, after taking a look at her room, I have to agree with Jonathon. This points to a suspicious death. We’ll know for sure after the autopsy, of course, if it turns up something that definitely shouldn’t be there.” A heavy sigh rolled out of him. “Y’know, I used to have a quiet life before you two got together. A bit of illegal parking. A rowdy party or two. Someone complaining about their neighbor’s dog barking all the time. Nice, simple stuff. And now, in less than a year, we’re talking three murders.”