here?”
“That’s
Quentin,” Mae said.
A
large man sashayed over to the table. He’d taken tie dye clothes to the next
level. His shirt and his trousers were a rainbow of colours. His grey plait
rested over his shoulder, tied with a multi coloured ribbon. He had about five
crystal necklaces festooned around his neck.
Grace
edged slightly away from the possible murderer.
Shirley
exploded into a torrent of complaints. “We haven’t got any customers! That
young tart has taken them all! It’s all your fault!”
Quentin
clutched his chest dramatically. “Shirley, my darling, calm down. There’s been
a misunderstanding. I would never do anything to hurt you, to hurt any of my
ladies.”
Shirley
stood up and pointed a finger at his chest. “You gave her Mae’s table, it was
mine.”
“I
... I didn’t think you’d want it, I thought it would upset you too much.”
“You
should have asked me. And she’s charging £50 for ten minutes work. Did you
know? Are you getting a slice of the profits? Is that where the new curtains
came from? Is it dirty money?”
“I
... I ...” Quentin couldn’t get any words out. The whole cafe was watching them
now.
Grace
felt like standing up and shouting, “Where were you on the day that Mae died?”
Quentin
gulped a few times, his crystal necklaces tinkled. He held his hands up and
said, “I must admit that Autumn Rose did give me a contribution towards the
hall. She called in one day to discuss a business matter. She pointed out that
the hall needed sprucing up. She helped me pick new curtains and chairs, the
kind girl even took the old ones away. She did mention that she did readings
and that she’d love to have a table here. No one wanted Mae’s table so I
offered it to her.”
Shirley
spat, “We didn’t take the table out of respect for Mae! We were still mourning
her.” Shirley suddenly screamed. “You! You pushed Mae down the stairs just so
you could help that Autumn Rose.”
The
colour drained from Quentin. “I would never do that, never. How could you think
I would?”
Shirley
folded her arms and said, “Where were you on the day that Mae died?”
Grace
almost cheered.
Quentin
stood up straighter. “I was on stage! Playing the matinee performance of
Hamlet. And I was rather good, no matter what the critics say.”
Grace’s
shoulders slumped. She was hoping that Shirley was going to coerce Quentin into
confessing.
The
number one suspect was Autumn Rose again.
A
shrill scream pierced the air.
It
wasn’t Shirley this time.
A
woman ran into the cafe, her face white. “Autumn Rose! She’s fallen down the
steps! I think she’s dead!”
Chapter 17
People
burst into tears, there were cries of, “No!”
Amid
the confusion Grace jumped up from the table and ran out of the cafe. She had
to see the murder scene before the police were called.
She
wasn’t the only one. There were people lined up at the top of the steps,
craning their necks to see better. Grace tried to look over their shoulders but
all she could see was a leg lying at the bottom of the stairs, the rest of
Autumn Rose was obscured.
Mae
said, “I’ll get a better look.”
She
floated through the onlookers and down towards the body of Autumn Rose. She returned
within a minute, a grim look on her face. “She looks just like I looked. Her
head is twisted to one side. That necklace that you think is a camera? It’s
gone.”
Grace’s
eyes widened. Had Autumn Rose been pushed down the steps just like Mae? Who
would do that?
A
male voice cried out, “No! Autumn Rose! No!”
It
was coming from the bottom of the steps. Grace stood on her tiptoes but
couldn’t see who the voice belonged to.
“Leave
it to me,” Mae said and once again she floated through the people in front of
her.
When
she returned she said, “I think we’ve found Autumn Rose’s accomplice. There’s a
young man down there weeping over her body. He’s got one of those curly
earpieces hanging down
“That’s
Quentin,” Mae said.
A
large man sashayed over to the table. He’d taken tie dye clothes to the next
level. His shirt and his trousers were a rainbow of colours. His grey plait
rested over his shoulder, tied with a multi coloured ribbon. He had about five
crystal necklaces festooned around his neck.
Grace
edged slightly away from the possible murderer.
Shirley
exploded into a torrent of complaints. “We haven’t got any customers! That
young tart has taken them all! It’s all your fault!”
Quentin
clutched his chest dramatically. “Shirley, my darling, calm down. There’s been
a misunderstanding. I would never do anything to hurt you, to hurt any of my
ladies.”
Shirley
stood up and pointed a finger at his chest. “You gave her Mae’s table, it was
mine.”
“I
... I didn’t think you’d want it, I thought it would upset you too much.”
“You
should have asked me. And she’s charging £50 for ten minutes work. Did you
know? Are you getting a slice of the profits? Is that where the new curtains
came from? Is it dirty money?”
“I
... I ...” Quentin couldn’t get any words out. The whole cafe was watching them
now.
Grace
felt like standing up and shouting, “Where were you on the day that Mae died?”
Quentin
gulped a few times, his crystal necklaces tinkled. He held his hands up and
said, “I must admit that Autumn Rose did give me a contribution towards the
hall. She called in one day to discuss a business matter. She pointed out that
the hall needed sprucing up. She helped me pick new curtains and chairs, the
kind girl even took the old ones away. She did mention that she did readings
and that she’d love to have a table here. No one wanted Mae’s table so I
offered it to her.”
Shirley
spat, “We didn’t take the table out of respect for Mae! We were still mourning
her.” Shirley suddenly screamed. “You! You pushed Mae down the stairs just so
you could help that Autumn Rose.”
The
colour drained from Quentin. “I would never do that, never. How could you think
I would?”
Shirley
folded her arms and said, “Where were you on the day that Mae died?”
Grace
almost cheered.
Quentin
stood up straighter. “I was on stage! Playing the matinee performance of
Hamlet. And I was rather good, no matter what the critics say.”
Grace’s
shoulders slumped. She was hoping that Shirley was going to coerce Quentin into
confessing.
The
number one suspect was Autumn Rose again.
A
shrill scream pierced the air.
It
wasn’t Shirley this time.
A
woman ran into the cafe, her face white. “Autumn Rose! She’s fallen down the
steps! I think she’s dead!”
Chapter 17
People
burst into tears, there were cries of, “No!”
Amid
the confusion Grace jumped up from the table and ran out of the cafe. She had
to see the murder scene before the police were called.
She
wasn’t the only one. There were people lined up at the top of the steps,
craning their necks to see better. Grace tried to look over their shoulders but
all she could see was a leg lying at the bottom of the stairs, the rest of
Autumn Rose was obscured.
Mae
said, “I’ll get a better look.”
She
floated through the onlookers and down towards the body of Autumn Rose. She returned
within a minute, a grim look on her face. “She looks just like I looked. Her
head is twisted to one side. That necklace that you think is a camera? It’s
gone.”
Grace’s
eyes widened. Had Autumn Rose been pushed down the steps just like Mae? Who
would do that?
A
male voice cried out, “No! Autumn Rose! No!”
It
was coming from the bottom of the steps. Grace stood on her tiptoes but
couldn’t see who the voice belonged to.
“Leave
it to me,” Mae said and once again she floated through the people in front of
her.
When
she returned she said, “I think we’ve found Autumn Rose’s accomplice. There’s a
young man down there weeping over her body. He’s got one of those curly
earpieces hanging down
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