Murder and a Song (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) by Nancy C. Davis Page B
Authors: Nancy C. Davis
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her partner Daryl Hardy,
both 46 years of age – folk music fans, apparently, and you can tell from the
look of them. They were sharing a tent
in the meadow.”
“Were?”
“A
few hours ago, Mr Hardy was found dead.
Ms Carter claims to have woken up beside him in their tent and seen a
knife protruding from his back. He was
long gone. She screamed the place down,
eventually someone took notice, and we went out to the scene.”
“Was
there any evidence at the scene?” asked Pattie.
“Just
a lot of junk food wrappers and a couple of empty beer bottles. We’ve got forensics working on the body and
the knife, but there was nothing near the tent. The whole ground is already churned up. We decided not to put a stop to the festival:
there’s sixty thousand people on that site, and we’re expecting another twenty
more thousand by tomorrow.”
They
had arrived at the interview room. The
door was open and the room was empty, just a table with recording equipment and
a few chairs. The Detective Constable’s
partner, D.C. in training Juliette Palmer, arrived to hand Pattie the case
file.
“Strictly
speaking, we’re not asking you to consult on this one,” explained Constable
Palmer. “The current position is that Ms Carter is our prime suspect and we
have no reason to believe otherwise, but Ms Carter asked if there were any
private investigators in the county and of course we thought of you. She is maintaining her innocence.”
“And
why don’t you believe her?” asked Pattie, taking the file.
“Because
the knife that was buried in her boyfriend’s back…? It was hers.”
Chapter 3
After Pattie had a chance to catch up
on the details of the case, the suspect was brought to the interview room in
handcuffs.
“Hello,
Ms Carter. If you have a lawyer, then I
advise you to have them present,” said Pattie. “I’m not a licensed detective,
although I’m often used as a consultant in certain cases.”
Blossom
sat down opposite Pattie. She looked ten
years older than her real age, heavily lined with straw-like brown hair and
hooded eyes. It seemed as though decades
of partying had aged her prematurely.
She said, “I have a lawyer and he’s on his way up from Cornwall. He’ll be a few hours. I just want to get started.”
“Alright,”
said Pattie with a smile. “I’ll get us some tea. Have you eaten today?”
“No. I don’t want anything.”
“I’ll
ask one of the officers to stay with us.
That’s procedure in these situations.”
D.C.
Downey nodded at his partner, then said, “Constable Palmer will sit in on the
interview. She’ll observe and only step
in if there’s a breach in protocol. I’d
better get back to handling the festival.”
He
closed the door and the three women took seats.
Pattie set up the recorder and took out a pad to make notes. Someone came by to give Pattie a cup of tea
and Constable Palmer a coffee. Blossom said
that she couldn’t stomach anything.
“I
threw up a few times,” she explained reluctantly.
“That’s
quite normal. You’ve had a very rough
morning. I was sorry to hear about your
partner.”
Blossom
said nothing, just looked at the table.
“Had
you been together long?”
“Just
a few months.”
“Maybe
you could run me through what happened, as far as you know?” suggested Pattie,
her pen poised.
Blossom
nodded. “Okay. Daryl and I drove up from
Cornwall day before
both 46 years of age – folk music fans, apparently, and you can tell from the
look of them. They were sharing a tent
in the meadow.”
“Were?”
“A
few hours ago, Mr Hardy was found dead.
Ms Carter claims to have woken up beside him in their tent and seen a
knife protruding from his back. He was
long gone. She screamed the place down,
eventually someone took notice, and we went out to the scene.”
“Was
there any evidence at the scene?” asked Pattie.
“Just
a lot of junk food wrappers and a couple of empty beer bottles. We’ve got forensics working on the body and
the knife, but there was nothing near the tent. The whole ground is already churned up. We decided not to put a stop to the festival:
there’s sixty thousand people on that site, and we’re expecting another twenty
more thousand by tomorrow.”
They
had arrived at the interview room. The
door was open and the room was empty, just a table with recording equipment and
a few chairs. The Detective Constable’s
partner, D.C. in training Juliette Palmer, arrived to hand Pattie the case
file.
“Strictly
speaking, we’re not asking you to consult on this one,” explained Constable
Palmer. “The current position is that Ms Carter is our prime suspect and we
have no reason to believe otherwise, but Ms Carter asked if there were any
private investigators in the county and of course we thought of you. She is maintaining her innocence.”
“And
why don’t you believe her?” asked Pattie, taking the file.
“Because
the knife that was buried in her boyfriend’s back…? It was hers.”
Chapter 3
After Pattie had a chance to catch up
on the details of the case, the suspect was brought to the interview room in
handcuffs.
“Hello,
Ms Carter. If you have a lawyer, then I
advise you to have them present,” said Pattie. “I’m not a licensed detective,
although I’m often used as a consultant in certain cases.”
Blossom
sat down opposite Pattie. She looked ten
years older than her real age, heavily lined with straw-like brown hair and
hooded eyes. It seemed as though decades
of partying had aged her prematurely.
She said, “I have a lawyer and he’s on his way up from Cornwall. He’ll be a few hours. I just want to get started.”
“Alright,”
said Pattie with a smile. “I’ll get us some tea. Have you eaten today?”
“No. I don’t want anything.”
“I’ll
ask one of the officers to stay with us.
That’s procedure in these situations.”
D.C.
Downey nodded at his partner, then said, “Constable Palmer will sit in on the
interview. She’ll observe and only step
in if there’s a breach in protocol. I’d
better get back to handling the festival.”
He
closed the door and the three women took seats.
Pattie set up the recorder and took out a pad to make notes. Someone came by to give Pattie a cup of tea
and Constable Palmer a coffee. Blossom said
that she couldn’t stomach anything.
“I
threw up a few times,” she explained reluctantly.
“That’s
quite normal. You’ve had a very rough
morning. I was sorry to hear about your
partner.”
Blossom
said nothing, just looked at the table.
“Had
you been together long?”
“Just
a few months.”
“Maybe
you could run me through what happened, as far as you know?” suggested Pattie,
her pen poised.
Blossom
nodded. “Okay. Daryl and I drove up from
Cornwall day before
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