Page 8 of Honey Mead Murder

“We both know Maisie wouldn’t hurt a fly. So, what happened here? Why was the drink frothing?” Sarah followed his gaze to where he was watching her partner speaking with someone else across the car park. “Murphy?”

“He knows George is autistic, right? So he might not respond the way you expect.” Murphy worried they might misunderstand a facial expression, the tone of George’s voice, or the lack thereof. He went to move towards them, but his cousin grabbed his arm to stop him. “Sarah?”

“I’m sorry, Paddington. I think this is a conversation we need to have on the record—and I’m not sure a family member should be the one asking the questions. It’s a clear conflict of interest.” She closed her little notebook and slid it into her pocket. “C’mon. Are you still friends with that solicitor in Keith? We’ll be taking you to the station there.”

“Sarah.” Murphy thought it was a little early for him to be taken in for questioning. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“Your bar. Your mead. The way the drink was described sounded like dry ice. Maybe it was an accident. We’re bringing in Maisie and Graeme as well. We’re just asking questions. That’s our job.” Sarah began guiding him towards the vehicle she’d arrived in. “Can Teagan stay to lock up once forensics are finished?”

A worried-looking Teagan nodded. They’d been standing close enough to hear what was happening. Murphy asked them to call their mutual friend Evan Chan, the solicitor.

“What’s going on?” George deftly stepped around the detective constable who’d been asking him questions. “What are you doing? Are you arresting him? For what? He’d never hurt anyone.”

“Easy, George. It’s okay. They just have a few questions for me. They’re bringing Maisie and Graeme as well. I’m sure it’s all standard for an investigation like this one.” Murphy tried to ease George’s concerns. He wasn’t entirely sure any of this was normal. “I’ll be fine. Tea’s going to call my solicitor. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

From the worried frown, George didn’t believe him. Murphy didn’t have time for much more of a conversation. Sarah was waiting impatiently by her vehicle, and the last thing they needed was to create a scene.

They were already being watched.

“Well, if nothing else, we’ve had a memorable first date.” Murphy winked at him and then got into the back seat of his cousin’s vehicle. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He hadn’t done anything; he had to stay calm and answer honestly after speaking with a solicitor. “Sarah? How bad is it?”

“Your bar. Your mead. You had an argument with the deceased, who’d physically attacked your date. The dry ice. It’s not brilliant, Murphy.” Sarah fell silent when her partner finally joined them. “I think it would be wise to wait until we’re on the record for further questions.”

The twenty-minute drive to Keith gave Murphy enough time to think through the evening. He started at the beginning, mentally taking himself through everything he remembered. Several people had to have seen him when Ronald received his drink; he hadn’t been near it.

That, more than anything else, would likely be his saving grace. If he wasn’t near the glass, he couldn’t have dropped chunks of dry ice into it. Granted, the police likely had no concrete proof for what had killed Ronald this early.

I didn’t do it. I couldn’t have. All I have to do is make sure they know it.

SIX

GEORGE

While Teagan called Evan, George tried to calm his nerves and clear his mind. But whatever Murphy claimed, the police had taken him in for questioning. That was never a good sign.

Ever.

Noticing a couple mid-argument off to the side, George tried to inch closer without being spotted. They’d been part of the group with the Donelsons. He wanted to hear what they were talking about.

George had watched enough true crime to know the first hours of the investigation mattered. He also knew the killer had likely been someone Ronald knew. If it hadn’t been an accident. Maisie’s too careful for this to have not been on purpose.

C’mon, just a little closer.

The shadows of the building allowed him to keep out of sight. The couple were ramping up into an impressive shouting match. George kept the noise-cancellation off on his headphones.

“Darren. Her husband just died.”

“I’m only saying the bitch hated him. No one believes her dramatics were real. How many times did we hear Ella complain about Ronald? She didn’t want to divorce him since he controlled the money.” Darren seemed to consider himself quite the authority in the conversation.

“You’re daft. The Donelson money goes to his younger brother if he dies, not his wife.” His girlfriend or wife swatted him lightly on the arm. “Little Bertrand isn’t so little anymore. He’s home from university and doesn’t do much more than lounge around, from what I heard Ella complaining.”

“Don’t the Donelson brothers hate each other? So why would Bertrand come home? I’d expected him to stay in London enjoying the high life.” Darren glanced towards the pub but didn’t seem to see George. “Are you sure you heard right, Natalia?”

“I did. Besides, wouldn’t you hate the person who controls the majority of your inheritance? Ella said Ronnie threatened to cut off the allowance from his trust if he didn’t stop carousing around London.” Natalia was interrupted by her phone beeping. “Why don’t we head to the hospital? Maybe they’ll let us talk to her to find out what happened.”

Pressing himself tighter against the outer wall of the pub, George held his breath when they walked past him. Thankfully, they didn’t glance in his direction. Instead, he waited until they’d gone to speak to the police before returning to where Teagan stood.

“Well? What’d you hear?” Teagan asked once he’d snuck back over to them. “Anything interesting?”

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