Free 02 Blue Murder by Emma Jameson Page B

right?”
    “ Right,” Hetheridge said.
“We’ll have to reference the crime scene photos to be absolutely
sure, but yes, I seem to recall fake axes. Not to mention the fact
virtually every last one of the male party guests had a backpack.
Not surprising, since they were all students. And a backpack or
large satchel would make it easy to bring real weapons onto the
scene.”
    “ So in this scenario, Murder
Boy is an invited guest,” Kate said. “And at least nominally a
friend of Emmeline’s …”
    “ Murder Boy?” Hetheridge
raised an eyebrow.
    “ Have to call him something.
Right. Murder Boy does Clive in the back garden. By the time Kyla
Sloane finds the body, Murder Boy’s upstairs, doing Trevor Parsons
in the attic. Probably he means for Trevor to die there. That way
Murder Boy can slip back into the party, maybe even hook up with
another guest to give himself an alibi. Best-case scenario, neither
corpse will be discovered until dawn. MB probably never dreamed
Trevor would have the strength to blunder down the stairs with the
axe still in his head.”
    “ Wouldn’t
he? If MB , as you
call him, hated Trevor enough to kill him, wouldn’t he know Trevor
was an athlete in peak condition?”
    Kate shrugged. “Statistically, murderers
never plan more than five minutes past the act itself.”
    “ Statistically, this case is almost certain to prove an
aberration,” Hetheridge said. “And Trevor did blunder down the stairs to die in
front of everyone. Yet there’s no evidence MB panicked as a result.
Quite the opposite. If your scenario is correct, MB rejoined the
party, cool as you please, and accepted his interview along with
the rest. Begging the question — did MB betray himself during his
initial interview? Can we sift through those statements and find
something amiss? Or is MB so calm, so perfectly controlled, he’ll
always think before he speaks? Even if confronted again and
again?”
    “ You mean the way Sir Duncan
Godington did?” Detective Sergeant Paul Bhar asked from the
doorway.
    “ Precisely.” Hetheridge
leaned further back in his chair. It was clearly such an ingrained
habit, especially when his mind was working double-quick, Kate
doubted he even realized he was doing it. Listening to the
well-worn chair creak in protest, she suspected he might one day
lean back a bit too far, and end up landing on his ancestral
dignity. God knew Bhar was counting on it.
    Except today Bhar looked rather less
mischievous than usual. On the way to work he’d purchased a grande
drink from Starbucks, doubtless a creamy, sugary latte. In Kate’s
half-starved state, the mystery beverage’s aroma was almost
pornographic.
    “ Composure and affability
were Sir Duncan’s signatures. Along with his good looks,” Bhar
added, rolling his eyes.
    “ Hey! Can’t believe I forgot
you had a role in the Sir Duncan legend.” Kate grinned to let Bhar
know that yes, she was unabashedly curious. “The guv hasn’t spilled
a word, beyond the fact you were once assigned to the case. So
let’s hear it.”
    “ Pull the other one,” Bhar
snapped. “Kate. Please. How can you not know?”
    Kate’s grin widened. “I have exactly two
snouts here at the Yard. Our guv,” she gestured to Hetheridge like
a spokesmodel showing off a car, “and intrepid young detective Paul
Bhar. So if the guv hasn’t told me and you haven’t told me, I have
no way of knowing, now have I?”
    “ You only have yourself to
blame if you have no friends.” Bhar sounded uncharacteristically
harsh. “So the lads hazed you in the beginning. Get over it. Forget
past slights, stop being so prickly and if someone tries to make
small talk with you, meet them halfway! Stop bucking like you’re
under interrogation, for Christ’s sake!”
    Kate’s smile didn’t falter. Inside, however,
she felt like she’d suffered a hard slap — the kind that didn’t
ache until the initial numbness wore off. What did Bhar mean by all
that?
    “ Sorry,