CHAPTER SIX
Kate was a bit surprised to find the FBI field office in Richmond quieter than usual for a Wednesday afternoon.
It seemed that most agents were either out on cases or attending the weekly briefing that Kate had managed to avoid.
She and DeMarco had claimed a conference room on the third floor, spreading crime scene photos, witness statements, and timeline notes across the long table in an attempt to organize everything they'd learned about Margaret Carlisle's murder.
Kate studied the photographs of Margaret's library one more time, focusing on the precise positioning of the candlestick and the careful arrangement of Margaret's body in the reading chair.
Every detail suggested someone who had taken their time, someone who understood both the Christie novel and Margaret's personal reading habits well enough to create a scene that would resonate with anyone who knew the book.
"The staging is too perfect to be spontaneous," Kate said, arranging the photos in chronological order. "This killer planned every detail, knew exactly what message they wanted to send."
DeMarco looked up from her laptop, where she'd been compiling the list of book club members Eleanor had provided. "Eight current members, including Margaret. Two former members who left the group in the past year. All women between the ages of fifty-two and sixty-seven."
"Any obvious red flags in the preliminary background checks?"
"Nothing that jumps out immediately. The usual mix of retired teachers, homemakers, a few women still working part-time.
No criminal records, no obvious financial troubles.
" DeMarco scrolled through her notes. "Sandra Morrison, the neighbor who found Margaret, has been with the group for nine years. Diana Clark joined about the same time as Margaret. The others have all been members for at least twenty years. It’s sort of nuts.”
Kate picked up the evidence report from the crime scene.
Margaret's fingerprints on the wine glass, Harold's fingerprints on her arm, and the base of her neck from when he'd tried to check for a pulse.
No foreign DNA on any of the surfaces, suggesting the killer had worn gloves and been careful not to leave trace evidence.
"I want to run this by Director Duran," Kate said, gathering the photos into a neat stack. "I need to formalize my involvement in this case beyond just consulting."
DeMarco raised an eyebrow. "You want to come on in an official basis?"
"I want to be an active partner, not just an advisor,” Kate clarified.
“This case has too many complex elements for a consulting arrangement.
" Kate stood up from her chair. "The literary staging, the intimate knowledge of the victim's habits, the careful timing around Harold's work schedule.
We're dealing with someone sophisticated, and I think it's going to require both of us working it full-time. "
DeMarco said nothing, but Kate saw the traces of a smile on her face. Kate was glad to see it; she didn’t want to give the impression that she thought DeMarco couldn’t handle the case alone.
Taking one last glance at the work they’d done so far, Kate made her way down the hall and knocked on Director Duran's open office door.
It was already open a crack, a policy on his part, so that his agents saw him as permanently approachable.
He looked up from a stack of case files, his expression shifting to mild curiosity when he saw her.
"Kate, how's the Carlisle investigation progressing?"
"That's what I wanted to discuss with you." Kate settled into the chair across from his desk. "I'd like to request an active role in this case, not just consultation."
Duran leaned back in his chair, studying Kate's face. For just a split second, she saw that same ghost of a smile she’d just glimpsed on DeMarco’s face. "What's changed since this morning? You were pretty clear about maintaining boundaries with your consulting work."
Kate had anticipated this question and had spent time thinking about her answer.
"The complexity of this case is beyond what I can effectively contribute to on a part-time basis.
The killer has intimate knowledge of both classic literature and the victim's personal habits.
The staging suggests someone making a statement that goes beyond simple murder. "
"And you think this requires both you and DeMarco working it full-time?"
"I do. There are too many variables to track effectively if I'm only involved peripherally.
" Kate paused. "Plus, I have an opportunity tomorrow night to observe the book club members in their natural environment. That kind of undercover observation requires more commitment than a consulting arrangement typically allows. And given my age, I believe I’d fit right in. "
Duran considered this for a moment. "Kate, you've been very clear about prioritizing your family life. Are you sure you want to take on a case that might require extended hours and travel?"
"This case is local, and I don't anticipate it requiring travel beyond the Richmond area. Michael is doing well with Allen, and my wedding isn't for another month. It’s sort of the perfect storm." Kate felt the familiar pull of professional engagement that she'd missed out on as a mere consultant.
Duran smiled slightly. "All right. I'll formalize your assignment to the case as DeMarco's partner. But Kate, if this starts affecting your personal commitments, I need you to be honest about pulling back. The last thing I need is for you to start resenting this work."
"Understood. Thank you."
Kate left Duran's office feeling energized in a way she hadn't experienced in weeks—outside of excitement over the wedding. The consulting work had been intellectually satisfying, but there was something about being fully engaged in an investigation that she'd missed.
By six o'clock, Kate was driving home through Richmond's evening traffic, her mind already shifting from work mode to family.
She'd spent the remaining afternoon hours reviewing Margaret's autopsy report and studying crime scene measurements.
But now she found herself remembering Allen's comment that morning about finalizing the catering menu for their wedding reception.
The house smelled of basil and tomato sauce when Kate walked through the front door. She could hear Michael's delighted laughter coming from the kitchen, punctuated by Allen's voice making airplane noises.
"Mommy!" Michael called out when he saw Kate appear in the kitchen doorway. He was strapped into his highchair, his face covered with what appeared to be marinara sauce, grinning at her with pure toddler joy.
"Hello, sweetheart," Kate said, kissing the top of his head and noting that his hair smelled like baby shampoo and something that might have been applesauce. "Are you helping Daddy cook?"
"He's been my sous chef all afternoon," Allen said, wiping Michael's face with a damp cloth. "We made salad, garlic bread, and he personally tasted-tested every ingredient at least twice."
Kate felt that familiar warmth that came from walking into a house filled with the people she loved most. Allen had changed into casual clothes after work, and his hair was slightly mussed from what appeared to have been an energetic afternoon with Michael.
After a day spent analyzing crime scenes and interviewing grief-stricken witnesses, there was something deeply satisfying about this domestic scene.
"How did the investigation go today?" Allen asked as he lifted Michael out of his highchair.
Kate accepted a glass of wine from Allen and settled at the kitchen table. "It's complicated. And at the risk of sounding uncaring or unprofessional, it’s a very… intriguing case.”
“Intriguing,” Allen said. “Is that a professional way of saying cool?”
“Maybe. The killer’s staged the scene to replicate details from an Agatha Christie novel, which suggests someone with literary knowledge who’s also familiar with the victim's reading habits and her schedule."
"That narrows down the suspect pool considerably."
"In some ways, yes. In other ways, it opens up questions about motive that go beyond simple murder." Kate watched Michael toddle over to his toy box in the corner of the kitchen. "I've taken on an active role in the case, by the way. I'll be working it full-time with DeMarco."
Allen paused in his dinner preparations. She thought she saw a flash of irritation for a moment, but then it disappeared. "What made you decide to do that?"
"The complexity of the case, mainly. And I’ll have an opportunity tomorrow night to observe the victim's book club in action, which requires more involvement than a typical consultation."
"Tomorrow night?" Allen sat down across from Kate at the table. "Didn't we plan to finalize the music selections for the reception tomorrow evening?"
Kate felt a stab of guilt. She'd completely forgotten about their appointment with the string quartet leader. "I'm sorry, Allen. This observation opportunity is time-sensitive. Can we reschedule for Friday evening?"
Allen nodded, though Kate could see a flicker of disappointment in his expression. "Of course. The wedding isn't going anywhere. "But even as he said it, Kate could sense a change in his demeanor.
She sat down and enjoyed dinner with her family.
Conversation was easy-going and not all that different from any other afternoon, but she could still feel some tension coming from Allen.
And honestly, she didn’t blame him. But she had to hand it to him…
he was beyond supportive. He even asked a few more questions about the case as they neared the end of the meal.
After dinner, Kate helped Allen clean up the kitchen while Michael played with his blocks in the living room.
The domestic routine was soothing after the intensity of the investigation, but Kate found her mind drifting back to the case details.
During Michael's bath time, she pulled out her phone and downloaded Murder on the Orient Express to her Kindle, thinking it would be useful to refresh her memory before tomorrow night's book club meeting.
"You're reading the murder book?" Allen asked when he noticed Kate's Kindle propped against her pillow as they prepared for bed.
Kate looked up from the opening chapter.
"I want to be prepared. I've read this book a handful of times during the course of my life, but I could do with a refresher.
The killer used specific details from this novel to stage Margaret's death, so I need to understand exactly what message they might have been trying to send. "
Allen settled into bed beside her, noting the intense focus with which Kate was reading. "Kate, I'm not upset about the rescheduling tomorrow, but I want to put something on your radar."
Kate set down her Kindle and turned to face him. "What's that?"
"You're getting that look… the look you get when you’re about to completely lose yourself to a case. I understand why, and I'm not asking you to change anything. But I want you to be aware that when you get deeply involved in investigations, you sometimes lose track of everything else."
Kate felt that familiar tension: her profession and her personal commitments pulling in opposite directions. "Am I being neglectful? Because if I am, I need to know."
"You're not being neglectful about anything yet. You're being Kate Wise, FBI agent, which is who I fell in love with." Allen reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I just want to make sure you're conscious of the balance, especially with the wedding coming up."
"I appreciate that. And I appreciate your understanding about tomorrow night." Kate leaned over and kissed him softly. "This case… it’s sort of a unicorn. It’s just one of those rare mysteries that feels like something out of a movie. As grim as it may sound, it’s the kind of case that makes me remember why I love this work. "
Allen smiled. "Then solve it quickly so we can get back to arguing about whether we need assigned seating at the reception."
As Allen fell asleep beside her, Kate returned to Christie's masterpiece, reading it with new eyes. She was looking for clues, not just to Hercule Poirot's fictional case, but to the killer who’d used Christie's work as inspiration.
Her phone buzzed with a text from DeMarco. She almost felt guilty for checking it right away. It read: "Finished preliminary background checks on all book club members. Will run deeper social media analysis tomorrow. Also checking financial records and recent travel.
Kate typed back: "Sounds good. Let me know if you need an assist with any of it.
Kate set her phone aside and returned to her reading, already planning how she would observe the book club members tomorrow night.
The killer was someone who understood both Margaret's literary preferences and her personal vulnerabilities.
Tomorrow evening, there was a very good chance Kate would be sitting in the same room as that person, hearing them discuss the very novel that had inspired them to murder.