Page 20 of Honey Mead Murder

By the time Murphy finished his message to his solicitor, Sarah had responded to his text. She told him to leave the napkin on the counter. One of the detectives would swing by to pick it up along with the camera footage. Of course, they’d also want Graeme’s statement regarding it.

“Brilliant. Bang goes my day.” Graeme sighed. “Well, they do say no good deed goes unpunished. Last time I offer to help you clean up.”

“Don’t I pay you for this shite?” Murphy snickered at his younger brother.

Teasing each other a little more, they returned to cleaning up the pub. They’d made good progress on getting all of the glasses into the kitchen and sweeping up by the time Detective Constable Smith arrived. He placed the napkin into an evidence bag, took the disc with the security footage, and got a brief statement from Graeme.

“Could you both try to keep out of the investigation? Please? For my sake and Sarah’s?” Elwin Smith had grown up with them. He’d been in the same class as Graeme at school. “I’d prefer not to interrogate either of you about something I know you didn’t do.”

“We didn’t plan to find a napkin, Elrond.” Graeme grinned when his old schoolmate glowered at him.

“I am not an elf.”

“You’ve got the ears.” Graeme held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“You’ve never had to try.” Elwin closed his notebook and shoved it into his pocket. “Just stay out of the investigation. Don’t think I didn’t hear about you lot being bang in the middle of the dust-up between the Fishwicks earlier.”

“With those ears? Bet you hear loads.” Graeme darted away when Elwin started towards him. “Oi. Police intimidation.”

“If you two could act for all of a minute that you aren’t in primary school, I would greatly appreciate it,” Murphy interrupted after watching the two old friends pretend to swat at each other. “Can you tell us anything about the investigation?”

“Not officially.”

“Unofficially?” Graeme leaned against the counter. “C’mon, Elwin. Give us a hint of something, or I’ll tell your mum what really happened to her favourite garden gnome.”

“You absolute bastard.” Elwin was, for the briefest second, more of a stroppy teenager than a detective constable. He finally gave a shrug and answered them. “We’re looking into his wife. And after the domestic in the village, we’re also going to be questioning the Fishwicks, since they both attended your mead tasting.”

“We know that,” Graeme complained.

“You should’ve been more specific. I best get this napkin to forensics for testing. Try not to stumble on any other scraps of paper or bodies, will you?” Elwin headed out of the pub, waving the evidence bag at them. “And don’t leave the country.”

“I remember when you two….”

“Nope. Not going down an embarrassing memory lane with you.” Graeme cut him off before he could even start. “I’m going to get this last tray of glasses into the dishwasher, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to jog on, or I’ll be late to pick Maisie up.”

Ten minutes later, Murphy found himself alone in the pub. They’d gathered all of the glasses and other dishes. He’d swept the floor and picked up all the rubbish.

Once Murphy had dealt with the rubbish bags, he turned his attention to mopping the floor. He’d grabbed a disinfectant. Unfortunately, his gaze kept drifting to the spot where Ronald had died.

Was anyone ever going to be able to step foot in the pub without thinking about a man dying there?

After mopping for the seventh time, Murphy decided he’d done all he possibly could to sanitise the area. First, he made sure everything was dry, then switched to the cleaner specifically for wooden floors. It would keep him from ruining the finish if he hadn’t already.

For the briefest second, Murphy considered putting a sign on the spot. Here died Ronald. It was macabre and probably in bad taste. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he should simply ignore it.

A problem for another day.

They wouldn’t be able to open the pub for a few days. He didn’t know if the police would want to come back since they’d missed the napkin. And he wasn’t ready to play host to a bar full of curious villagers who’d all have questions.

Murphy left the pub, locking up behind him. He wanted to check on things in his office before heading upstairs to his little flat above the brewery. He paused when he noticed an unfamiliar car parked beside his. A man stepped out and started towards him. “Can I help you?”

“You sent someone to bother my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Murphy frowned. It took him a second to place where he knew the man from. “Bertrand Donelson. You’re Ronald’s brother.”

“You sent someone to bother my girlfriend.” Bertrand was a little taller than his brother had been. He had an inch or two on Murphy and attempted to loom menacingly over him. “The bloody hell are you on about?”

“I haven’t sent anyone to do anything.” Murphy hadn’t exactly lied. He didn’t ask Teagan to hang around her auntie’s place. “Think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”

---