Free MURDER at CRAWFORD HOUSE (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 3) by Leslie Leigh Page B

brush-off his jacket."
                  "Explain."
                  "Well, I pass his room after dinner, because his room was near the top of the stairs. I looked in and I saw him brush his coat. Over and over again he brush like his life depends on it." Jürgen pantomimed the motion.
                  "Ok, so go on."
                  "That's it. I thought he was strange as I always did."
                  "Well, what did you do after that?"
                  "Why you ask all these things?"
                  "It's just... I want to find out what happened to Bertie."
                  "They say he had a heart attack. That's what you say."
                  "I know, but I want to figure out all the steps he took along the way that eventually led up to his death in the bathroom. That's all. It's just for my own...interest."
                  Jürgen shook his head. "You're beautiful but you’re very strange."
                  "I've heard that often. Did you hear or see him go into the bathroom?"
                  "Yes, that I saw."
                  "What time was that?"
                  "Oh, I don’t know. But I did see him, and then I shut my door. I heard the bathroom door close and the water go on for a long time. A few minutes later I hear footsteps pass my door. Then I hear smaller footsteps."
                  "Smaller?"
                  "Yes, like a smaller person walking. The footsteps come past my room and stop at the bathroom. I hear them jiggle the door handle."
                  "The bathroom door handle."
                  "Yes. It was locked I guess."
                  "Ok."
                  "And then the small footsteps walk past my door again."             
    #
                  As soon as she could, Allie got back to her room and jotted down a bunch of notes about her conversation with Jürgen in her journal. Whenever she wrote, she had a tendency to mutter under her breath. This was enough to awaken Del, who stirred and moaned and lifted her head, staring blankly at her roommate.
                  "Whah you doin? Stahp talking."
                  "Hold on," Allie said softly. "I just spoke with Jürgen."
                  "Ah you still talkin' to him?"
                  "Shush. Go back to sleep."
                  Del yawned noisily and rubbed her eyes. "I can’t sleep with you muttering."
                  "Then go downstairs," she said dismissively. "There's a monk down there making us breakfast."
                  "Excuse me?"
                  She looked up from her journal, annoyed at the interruption. She did little to hide the annoyance in her voice. "Actually, it's not a monk, it's just a brother. He's from a brotherhood next door, a mile away. Go say hi. He's making us breakfast. There's coffee down there too."
                  With a tired roll of the eyes, Del got up without a word and headed to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Allie scribbled as much as she could remember from the conversation, and wrote herself little notes in the margins.
                  This murder – murder, indeed, perhaps she was a bit premature with that charge – Bertie's death occurred in between two bedrooms: Jürgen's and Rachel's. So Rachel was next. She decided she'd better go in blindly to this conversation. Although she never really had much luck with this approach in the past, it felt right to do it this way. It helped her build conversational chops, and relieved her of the pressure of having to stick to a script.
                  It was early still. She decided to wait until after breakfast.
                  When Del came out, Allie was standing there waiting for her. She