Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alexandru
Ms. Renfield hesitates, pressing her white pencil to her red lips, seeming to collect herself.
It is not a real pencil, as I discovered recently. It has no lead. It only writes on her electronic ledger.
“Let’s not tell them my grandmother was hit. I don’t want them to think I’m being accusatory.”
“What do you care?”
“It’s an empathy thing.”
I sigh wearily.
“You were human once. You understand empathy. Surely you have some shred of empathy in there.”
“A bit of advice, Ms. Renfield,” I say coolly. “Do not hunt where there is no game.”
Another baby bursts into tears.
Tedious.
“Are you going to question these peasants, or shall I?”
“I will. You just stand there and see if you can get a sense of their emotions. Do they know deep down they didn’t put the brake on the cart? Or did they park it wrong?”
The Golden Goose owners seem to be a married couple. The man has a short beard and a piece of paper affixed to his chest that says “Hi, I’m Isaac!” The woman has rosy cheeks and a similar chest paper that says, “Hi, I’m Amanda!”
Both wear matching black aprons with a gold bird embroidered on the pocket.
Amanda smiles uncertainly as we approach. “Looking for wedding catering?”
“Fact-finding,” Ms. Renfield replies, nerves spinning. “Your menu looks amazing.”
They talk for an interminably long time. Amanda gives her a menu. Isaac offers a sample of a pastry. It’s as if Ms. Renfield has forgotten why she’s here.
“We have heard about the runaway cart incident,” I say. “We require an explanation.”
Ms. Renfield turns to me, eyes wide.
Isaac’s expression darkens. “You require an explanation?”
Ms. Renfield takes my arm. “He... uh... heard about the story. He wants everything to be perfect, that’s all, and he’s the direct sort. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t,” Amanda says. “My heart goes out to those people and the newlyweds. It was an absolute disaster, but it couldn’t have been something that our team caused.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask.
“We have protocols to prevent things like that,” Amanda says nervously. “Especially when we’re doing events at Gazebo Park. We have a specific way of collecting and staging dishes to be loaded, and our team follows that protocol strictly.”
“Very strictly,” Isaac agrees. “Or they wouldn’t be on our team. When we make mistakes, we own them. This wasn’t us.”
“We think it was some neighborhood kids...” Amanda says.
Ms. Renfield nods. “So some kids… snuck up and pushed the cart down the hill?”
“Yes, they released the brake, aimed it toward the crowd, and pushed,” Amanda says with a glance in my direction.
Isaac thrums with righteous anger. “When we left the top of the hill, the cart was secure. The footbrake was on. I did it myself. And that thing sure as hell wasn’t pointed downhill. You can even tell from the pictures.”
Amanda sets her hand on his arm. “We examined the pictures afterwards.”
Ms. Renfield tips her head thoughtfully. “Did you notice who was around the cart before it was pushed? Can you think of anyone else who might’ve done such a thing aside from kids?”
Isaac rolls his eyes. “People said it was a ghost, but nobody really believes that.”
Ms. Renfield puts her hand on her chest. “We really appreciate this comprehensive explanation. I believe you’ve put our fears at rest.” She looks up at me. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Such as they were,” I growl.
Amanda smiles uncertainly. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you’re thinking of holding your event at Gazebo Park? Do you have a date?”
“Not at this time, but you’ve come highly recommended. Your Tuscan menu looks incredible!”
Once we’re safely beyond earshot, she turns to me. “You require an explanation? Did I not say that I should be the one to ask the questions?”
“But you weren’t asking the questions.”
“I was getting around to it.”
“You’ll be happy to know that they believe completely in their innocence. They harbor genuine anger about the incident. Isaac, in particular, could not be more confident.”
She turns her attention to her electronic ledger. “I would love to get a look at the pictures from that wedding. I say we hit up the photographer next.”
She’s telling me about some local photographer, but my attention is focused on a man who is walking briskly toward us. He’s roughly Ms. Renfield’s age with a face full of copper freckles. He is chewing gum. Loudly.
“Harriet,” he says.
She spins around, surprised. “Maverick!” Her pulse hitches up in a way that I don’t like.
Maverick eyes me up and down, sensing a threat. He chews busily. The gum is a crutch. I’ve seen it before. I’ve broken men like this.
Ms. Renfield touches my arm. “Alexandru, this is Maverick Cooper. We went to high school together, and he’s a policeman now. Alexandru is a friend of my father’s. He’s the one who rehabbed Kingston Manor.”
“So I’ve heard.” Maverick shakes my hand with a solid grip. He’s wary of me, but he hides it well. “The prince.”
He turns a suspicious gaze to Ms. Renfield. “Interesting to see you two here.”
“Alexandru is interested in American customs. And I was just telling him about the stairway collapse. Have you figured out who purchased the parts for the hydraulic device yet?”
“Now, you wouldn’t be conducting an investigation when I told you not to, would you?”
“We are indeed conducting an investigation,” I inform him, voice calm and final.
Maverick turns to me, still chewing gum—faster now. “Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped up in her wild wedding theory.”
I lower my voice, letting it slip into something colder. “Are you disparaging my underling’s theories?”
“Underling?”
“Oh my god! What?” Ms. Renfield interjects, too brightly. “I already know your Christmas present, Alexandru, a ‘Kookiest boss ever’ mug.”
Maverick doesn’t laugh. He just keeps chewing that gum. “They say you’re not from this country, so I’m going to take this moment to make a few things clear, just in case Harriet hasn’t: interference in an ongoing police investigation is against the law. Could be grounds for deportation.”
It takes me a few moments to register this as a threat. It’s so very unexpected and… entertaining.
“Is that funny?” Maverick asks. “You look like you think it’s funny.”
Ms. Renfield’s nervousness spins wild. “Of course he doesn’t think it’s funny!” She gives me a pleading look.
“No, it was very fierce,” I assure him. “I thank you for that information.”
His expression doesn’t change, but he’s full of uncertainty now. “You’re welcome.”
She claps a hand on my arm. “Look, Alexandru! There’s my friend Josie. Remember her?” She waves desperately. It is indeed her friend Josie.
Josie waves back and heads over.
Maverick gives me one last look and then stalks off.
Josie looks amused. “So... bringing your father’s Karsovian friend to a wedding expo. Either you secretly hate him, or you’re about to marry him.”
“We are not betrothed; we are stalking and hunting a killer,” I say.