Page 19 of Honey Mead Murder

“Bertrand.”

“No hesitation at all? Why?”

“Motive. How often do you hear on true crime docs about how they followed the money to the killer? It’s a devil of a thing.” Teagan parked in their usual spot. They tapped their fingers against the steering wheel. “People do funny shite when they’re afraid of losing access to their cash.”

“I doubt we can count on Bertrand getting into a row in the middle of the street.”

“You let me worry about Bertrand. His girlfriend pops into my auntie’s hair salon all the time.” Teagan ran their fingers along the side of their hair. “My dye job could use a touch-up. Maybe I’ll find myself there the next time she is.”

“Simple as that?”

“You’d be amazed at what people natter about when getting their hair done.” Teagan shooed him out of their vehicle. “Are we open for business tomorrow?”

“Think I’ll take the day. The police don’t want the pub open. It’s not been that long. We’re not going to be ruined if we’re shut for a week.” Murphy got out of the car. He crouched down to grab a stray bit of the police caution tape. “I’ll probably spend the time cleaning up the mess the forensic team left. Sanitise the place.”

“Why don’t you let us give you a hand? I’m sure Maisie and Graeme wouldn’t mind either. It’s why you employ us, after all.” Teagan made him promise to give his brother and sister-in-law a call. “I’ll chat with you later.”

Once Teagan had driven off, Murphy decided to step into the pub. He hadn’t gone inside since the police had taken him in for questioning. The mess wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated.

There was fingerprint powder dusted over multiple surfaces. Glasses were still strewn about; some had been knocked over, with sticky mead remnants on the floor or the bar counter. It wasn’t going to be easy to clean up the liquid.

“Well, shite.” Murphy rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. He balled up the caution tape in his hand and took stock of everything. “Maybe I should call in reinforcements.”

Grabbing the large rubbish bin from the kitchen, Murphy dragged it out into the pub. He tossed the caution tape into it and began clearing up the trash. He’d deal with the glasses next.

He’d just finished with the first phase of his plan when the pub door opened. Graeme gave a low whistle when he got a good look at the state of the pub. He rolled up his sleeves and came over to join his brother.

“Maisie’s visiting her mum, so when Teagan called, I thought I’d give you a hand.” Graeme began gathering up some of the glasses off the floor. “What’s with all the dust?”

“Fingerprints, I assume.”

“Ah.” Graeme carried a load of glasses into the kitchen and returned with one of their large serving trays. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I thought I’d make a head start.”

“Stubborn bastard.” Graeme shook his head. He began stacking glasses onto the tray, carefully balancing them on the counter. “You don’t have to sort everything out on your own, Paddy. Just because you’re the eldest.”

“I wasn’t trying to do it all.” Murphy finished dumping another stack of rubbish in the bin. He’d picked up all the larger bits already, so he grabbed the broom and began sweeping. “This helps me organise my thoughts. The last few days have been absolutely mental. I’m trying to sort through the chaos.”

“Fair enough. You’re still a grumpy, stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been like that since I came out of the womb.” Murphy smirked before dodging the crumpled napkin thrown in his direction. He frowned when he noticed ink on it. “What’s this?”

Carefully unravelling the napkin, Murphy squinted at the smudged words. He moved closer to one of the lamps on the wall for better lighting. It didn’t help.

Flattening the napkin out a little more, Murphy managed to make out half of the sentence. Do it now. The writing was too smudged for him to identify the penmanship or figure out the whole meaning. It was an extraordinary thing to find after a murder, though.

Murphy didn’t think it was a coincidence. “Where was this?”

“Squashed under the bar.”

“Where specifically?” Murphy came around to see where Graeme was pointing. Under the bar counter, there was a small gap. It was perfect for a squashed napkin. “Why here?”

“The bowls of dry ice were set up right above it.” Graeme gestured to the counter above the gap. “I only noticed because I’d bent down to pick up a glass right in front of it. Never would’ve seen otherwise. They’d shoved it all the way inside.”

“Maybe they were running out of time? Someone came up to them. Maisie was back and forth the whole night. She might’ve been heading towards the killer without even knowing it.” Murphy set the napkin down on the counter. He took a photo with his phone before texting his cousin. “I’ll let Sarah know what we found. The last thing I need is the police assuming I’m hiding something.”

“Text Evan as well. He’ll want to be updated on any interaction with the police.” Graeme had an excellent point. He nodded towards the camera behind them. “Good news is the security footage will show how and where I found it, so they can’t accuse us of anything.”

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