“Close enough to drop peanut oil into her coffee, in fact,” Mike said quietly. “And unlike the others, you knew about the allergy prior to the dinner, so you could have come prepared.”
“You… you think I killed her?” Fiona paled. “But… I ran her fan club.”
Mike nodded. “Perfect cover.” He tilted his head. “After all, you’ve had fifteen years to plan this, haven’t you? It was 2003 when your husband died, wasn’t it?”
It was as if his words took all the fight out of her. Fiona crumpled visibly. “Yes,” she said simply. “But I was only going to humiliate her. I wanted her to suffer, the way she’d made me suffer all those months, while he….” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t kill her.”
Graham placed his hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me all about it. Down at the police station.”
“Am I… am I under arrest?”
“Right now, you’re helping the police with their inquiries,” Graham said in a low voice. He gave a nod in Mike’s direction. “We can talk another time.”
“Sure.” Mike watched as Graham guided Fiona toward the door. He leaned on the bar and shuddered out a long breath.
“Are you okay?” Jonathon covered Mike’s hand with his.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect that. Not to mention Paul’s wife showing up.” He imagined she and Paul had a lot to discuss.
Jonathon’s lips twitched. “When he said she’d upset the pigs….” He gazed thoughtfully at the door. “Do you think Fiona did it?”
“I think she had the motivation and the opportunity. Just because she says she didn’t kill Teresa doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth.” Mike inclined his head to the corner where Jonathon and Graham had been sitting. “So what did Graham have to say before April showed up? It looked like a riveting conversation.”
Jonathon nodded. “It was. And I have a lot to tell you. But not here. Later.” He smiled. “You have pints to pull.”
“And I have things to tell you too.” Mike leaned closer. “We need to look at Meredith and Harold.”
Jonathon stilled. “Did they know about her allergy?”
The words stopped Mike cold. “You know what? I have no idea. I was so busy thinking about the fact that they were here and they both have motives, that I didn’t think about that part.”
Jonathon nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we have to work on.”
“When you two have finished gasbaggin’, I’ll have a pint.” Seth grinned. “A man could die of thirst in this pub.”
Mike laughed and reached for a clean glass.
Sleuthing would have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-Five
JONATHON PAUSED as he got out of the car. “So… are you just dropping me at my door like a gentleman, or…?”
Mike grinned. “Trust me. My thoughts of what I want to do with you tonight are not those of a gentleman.”
“Thank God for that.” Jonathon opened the front door quietly. It was past midnight, and he didn’t want to make too much noise, for fear of disturbing Janet.
Mike followed him into the house. “Anyone seeing your bathroom would be convinced I already live here.”
Jonathon chuckled. “I could say the same about yours. I think that’s what I’m looking forward to the most after the wedding. Having you under the same roof, permanently.” Whether Mike sold the pub or not, they were both in agreement on that score—they’d had enough of spreading themselves between two homes. He paused in the entrance hall. “I was going to make some tea before bed. Do you want some?”
Mike stilled. “Tea? Since when do you drink tea?” He peered closely at Jonathon. “Okay, where is the real Jonathon?”
He laughed softly. “Idiot. Ivy was talking about this tea she’d found that was great for drinking before bed. It’s called CatNap, and its ingredients are supposed to calm you before sleep. I bought some, but I haven’t tried it yet.”
Mike shrugged. “I’ll try anything once.”
Jonathon led him down the stairs into the large kitchen. The air was filled with the scent of bread, and Jonathon sighed happily. “Ivy’s been baking.” He went over to the whistling kettle, filled it, and placed it on the range to heat before opening the cabinet to find the box of tea. He sniffed at the contents. “I smell something lemony.”
“Never mind the tea.” Mike sat at the huge wooden table in the center of the kitchen. “How about you tell me what Graham said?”
Jonathon placed a couple of heaped teaspoons of the mixed leaves into a china teapot. “That story the police officer told Teresa? It was about Professor Harcourt.” When he caught Mike’s sharp intake of breath, he turned around, the spoon still in his hand. “And before you get carried away, there was absolutely no evidence linked to his wife’s death to suggest foul play. Everything Melinda said was true. There had been other incidents of bad wiring in the house, which was why it was going to be sorted out. And the alcohol level in her blood was high enough to show she was very drunk.”
“And what about the brother-in-law? Was that bit true too?”
Jonathon nodded. “He went to the police about a year after she died, demanding they investigate.”
Mike stared at him. “A year? He waited that long?”
Jonathon leaned against the worktop. “I know. Surely if he was suspicious, he’d have gone earlier than that. He claimed Professor Harcourt had wanted to make a change from GP to pathologist for some time, but that his sister had refused both to move nearer to London and to provide him with the money to study for a further five years.”
“I take it the wife had all the money. So the brother-in-law thought money was the motive.”
Jonathon nodded. “Then, on what would have been his wife’s birthday, Professor Harcourt organized a dinner at a restaurant with a few of her closest friends and her brother. According to the guests, during the meal, the brother-in-law drank far too much and starting repeating his accusations.”
“How did that go down?”
The kettle started to whistle, and Jonathon quickly took it off the heat, then waited a moment before pouring the water into the teapot. “According to the witnesses, Professor Harcourt was really gracious and very understanding about the whole thing. He’d had a bit to drink too, they said, but he didn’t appear to bear his brother-in-law any malice, despite the drunken accusations he kept firing at the professor.” Jonathon sighed. “One woman said she felt really sorry for him. The brother-in-law kept asking why Professor Harcourt hadn’t managed to save her—him being a doctor, after all—and how it wasn’t over. He said one day he’d prove Harcourt did it.”
“Had the police already investigated by this time?”
Jonathon gave another nod. “But it seems the brother-in-law wasn’t going to accept their findings. Anyway, when the meal ended, Professor Harcourt apologized profusely before calling a taxi. The police questioned the taxi driver when the brother-in-law was found dead. He confirmed they were both drunk. He’d dropped off the brother-in-law first. In fact, he helped Professor Harcourt get him into the house. Then he dropped off the professor. They discovered the body two days later when Professor Harcourt grew concerned after repeated calls with no response.”