Page 28 of Honey Mead Murder

Ella had been unpleasant as always, but nothing stood out to Seamus as suspicious. It had been a typical job, picking up rubbish from someone’s place for a fee. She had insisted everything contained in the bags and boxes was rubbish.

An obvious lie. The clothes and books were definitely not rubbish. Some were worth a fair amount of money. To his mind, grief had either made her react impulsively and emotionally, or she’d hoped to avoid anyone going through his things.

Hoped in vain.

Much like Murphy had hoped Elwin would take things in stride. It had wound up being more strident than laissez-faire. He’d ripped into them for not calling immediately about the potential evidence.

“To be fair, Detective Constable Smith, we assumed the police were looking into Ella Donelson already and would’ve been aware of her impulsive decision to unload all of his belongings.” George wasn’t making eye contact, but his point struck his target nonetheless. “There were some lovely old books thrown away. Nothing says we can’t peruse them for something we might want. Isn’t recycling encouraged? Waste not, want not? Or some shite?”

Murphy had turned away to hide his smile. He could tell Elwin had no idea how to respond. Of course, George was technically not wrong; they’d had no reason to assume the police hadn’t already combed through everything. “Well? Detective Constable?”

“Quit saying it like an insult,” Elwin grumbled mulishly at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “You’ve always been a right pain in the arse, Paddy.”

“Have I?”

“Can you both please remember there was a murder? Someone took a man’s life.” Elwin held his hand up to stop them from responding. “I know you haven’t forgotten, but perhaps you haven’t considered the person might still be dangerous? They might not appreciate you snooping around. I’d prefer not to be standing over your bodies, so please let us do our jobs.”

“Fine.” Murphy tried for sincerity. He wasn’t sure Elwin believed him. “You’re right. Just… make sure you’re careful with the books. We found this hidden between the pages of one of them.”

Elwin stared at the envelope handed over to him. He took a slow, measured breath before lifting his gaze to glower at them. “Go away now.”

They decided not to poke at him any further. Seamus was definitely chuckling at them when they made a hasty retreat. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t found anything useful.

Checking in with Lenny, they learned he’d have both vehicles fixed by the morning. He’d gotten a mate to drive the new glass out, so it wouldn’t take as long as initially feared. George drove them back to Dufftown, dropping Murphy off at the brewery on his way home.

Murphy stood outside after George had driven off, staring at the building. “Pity you can’t talk to me and tell me what you saw that night. It’d make all of this so much easier.”

The building didn’t offer any answers. So Murphy decided to spend the afternoon going through every second of footage from the night of the tasting. There had to be something the cameras picked up.

Anything to point concretely towards the killer—or killers.

Grabbing a pint out of his fridge and a massive bag of Monster Munch Roast Beef, Murphy made himself comfortable on the sofa. He had all the windows open. It was a beautiful, breezy day; a summer storm had rolled in and cooled things off.

“Right. Time for the most boring show on the telly. My pub security camera. The Real Drinkers of Honey Bear Brewery.” Murphy laughed at himself, tossing a crisp into his mouth and pressing play on the video. There were several hours of footage to go through. “This is going to take forever.”

There was nothing in the first hour. Murphy caught himself drifting to sleep a few times. Then, halfway through a clip from the camera outside the brewery, he spotted something he hadn’t noticed before. At one point, Ella and Darren had been outside together.

After a heated conversation, Darren had gone inside. Ella had stayed outside, pacing and seeming to mutter to herself. While she was there, another car pulled up.

Ella had seemed to recognise the driver. Murphy didn’t. He was a tall bloke in a fancy suit who’d walked by her without so much as a greeting; she’d followed him into the pub.

Quickly switching to the video from inside the brewery from the same time frame, Murphy caught an exchange between the man and Ronald. A flash of white. He wondered if it was the napkin; minutes later, an envelope had been handed to Ella before the man left the pub.

Murphy watched both videos multiple times. He had no skills at lip reading, so he couldn’t determine what was said—aside from Ella calling the man an arsehole. That had been easy to see. I wonder if George wants to have dinner and watch these with me? Maybe he can figure out part of the conversation.

Any excuse to spend time with George.

Any at all.

With their feelings out in the open, Murphy didn’t have to hide anything. He could invite George over. Kiss him. Romance him. They didn’t have to pretend the connection between them didn’t exist.

After sending a text to invite him, Murphy decided to hop in the shower. They’d spent a fair amount of time at the recycling centre. He didn’t want to feel grubby when George arrived.

First though, Murphy grabbed a screenshot of the man and sent it to Evan. He wanted to confirm if the man was a solicitor. His hunch proved right when he received a response just before he stepped into the shower.

The man on camera happened to be one of the Donelson family’s preferred solicitors. Murphy was even more convinced the man had handed over the divorce papers. The one thing he couldn’t figure out was why the napkin had been hidden behind the bar.

What was the point? Had someone found it and stashed it to throw away later? Or had whoever killed Ronald gotten it off the solicitor?

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