Free Untimely Death by Elizabeth J. Duncan Page B

everything else of a cultural nature. Phil braced himself as Fletcher advanced toward him, notebook in hand. It wasn’t the questions Phil minded; it was the New York accent, reminiscent of society characters in old black-and-white movies, combined with a pseudo-British vocabulary that really annoyed him. As far as Phil or anyone else knew, Fletcher had never been further east than Boston.
    “Ah, Phil! The very fellow! I was going to ring you. Need a quote, if you’d be so kind. Were you here to see Lauren Richmond? Did she try to commit suicide? Or was she poisoned? What are the police doing about it? Should the rest of the community be concerned? Do we have a mad poisoner in our midst?”
    “Tell you what, Fletcher,” said Phil. “Give me a call at the office later today, and I’ll have a proper statement for you. Let’s do this right, shall we?” Old chap , he added to himself. A smile teased the corners of his mouth as he thought about Fletcher Macmillan interviewing Lauren Richmond. Both so ambitious and self-absorbed with a hugely overinflated sense of their own importance and talent. He snickered as he pressed the elevator button. He could hardly wait to read the story.
    But first, he had to call Ray.
    “We’ve got a problem,” he said when Ray picked up. “A couple of them, actually. Lauren says she didn’t take the Tylenol herself.” He listened for a moment and then answered Ray’s question. “Yes. I do believe her. And there’s something else. Macmillan’s sniffing around, and he used the same word Lauren did— poison .”

Chapter 12
    “Charlotte, Brian Prentice called while you were out.” Aaron handed her one of her scrap pieces of paper with a number on it she could barely read. “He wants you to call him before four. He’s at home in his bungalow.”
    Charlotte sighed and sat down at her desk. She’d dreaded this moment since Brian and his wife had driven past her on the day they arrived, and although she’d managed to avoid him when she spoke to the cast about Lauren’s handbag, she knew she couldn’t put off the inevitable much longer. She thought about sending Aaron off on an errand so she could return Brian’s call in private, and then decided to grasp the bull by the horns.
    “Aaron, I’m going over to the bungalow to speak with him. It’s not even three o’clock, so I should be in time. You can hold the fort here.”
    She slipped on her green plaid spring coat and walked through the grounds to what was known as the “starbungalow.” Simon had told her that Lady Deborah spent her days in New York City, lunching, visiting museums and galleries, usually returning late afternoon in time for a sherry before dinner. If her car was parked outside the bungalow, Charlotte would turn around and return to her office; if not, she and Brian could have their awkward meeting and get it over with. She doubted he’d been looking forward to it, either. She wondered if he’d known she would be here when he signed his contract to appear in this summer’s productions. Still, everything between them had happened a long time ago, and he probably didn’t care one way or the other about any of it now. Why should he? Come to that, why should she?
    Lady Deborah’s car was not there, so she knocked on the frame of the screen door.
    “Come in, darling. It’s open,” Brian’s voice called from the sitting room.
    A feeling of discomfort surged through her. Darling? Obviously he was expecting someone else. She hurried back down the wooden steps. Feeling a little foolish but overcome by curiosity, she sidled over to the nearest tree and ducked behind it. At the sound of an approaching vehicle, she peered around the tree to see a taxi pulling up. Out of the taxi hopped Lauren, who paid the driver and then bounded up the short path to the bungalow. Then, apparently realizing someone might be watching, she slowed her pace, put one foot deliberately in front ofthe other and leaned heavily on the