CHAPTER 5
THIRTY-SIX MINUTES
“Whatever happened in the Blue Study, it was not a fireplace accident.”
Ellis ended the call before Romy could ask the next twelve questions.
She remained at her desk with the phone in her hand. The office was dark except for the monitor, desk lamp, and kitchen lights Leo had forgotten to switch off.
The 6:31 photograph filled her screen: Celeste’s silk panel, gilt frame, narrow ventilation gap, upper fireplace wall. Everything exactly as Romy had left it.
She enlarged it until the pixels softened.
Nothing useful appeared.
Photographs were honest only about what they contained.
Romy checked the time.
12:16.
She should go home.
Instead she opened a blank document and typed:
6:31. BLUE STUDY CORRECT.
Then she stopped.
Thirty-six minutes separated that photograph from Sebastian entering at 6:57. Or perhaps the twenty-five minutes before his arrival mattered. Or the five between Sebastian entering and Marcus appearing publicly in the courtyard.
Timelines offered structure before meaning.
Romy shut the laptop.
This time she left.
At eight forty-two the next morning, Leo was waiting outside Pattern House with coffee.
Romy looked at him through the windscreen as she parked. He lifted one cup.
“You were instructed to arrive at nine.”
“I negotiated.”
“You lost.”
“I arrived anyway.”
Romy got out and accepted the coffee.
“Flat white. No syrup,” Leo said.
“Good.”
They went inside.
Daylight made the office feel ordinary again. Leo put a paper bag on the worktable.
“Breakfast.”
“You’re very confident for someone on day two.”
“Day one ended in a murder. I felt day two required pastries.”
He produced two croissants and a pain au chocolat.
“Three pastries for two people.”
“I assumed investigative stress.”
She took the pain au chocolat.
Coffee, pastry, sample boards, a radiator clicking because it objected to September.
For three minutes, nobody was dead.
Then Leo said, “So what did Ellis want?”
Romy told him.
The fireplace had never been connected.
Leo stopped chewing.
“Then the carbon monoxide had to come from something brought into the room.”
“Possibly.”
“Unless there’s another system.”
“There may be service infrastructure we haven’t seen.”
“But not a live fire.”
“No.”
He looked toward her computer.
“And the vent was changed after six thirty-one.”
“Yes.”
“So we need who went near the room.”
Romy studied him.
Not excited.
Focused.
That distinction mattered.
“Exactly.”
“We can build the timeline.”
“Part of it. Event archive, photographs, videos, witness statements we actually have access to.”
“And social posts.”
Romy frowned.
“Guests were posting?”
“Constantly. A woman livestreamed the drawing room for fourteen minutes.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It should be.”
Romy opened the Show House shared media folder. Pattern House had contributor access because its contract included documenting conservation measures before, during, and after installation.
Ordinarily she resented the quantity of photographs designers generated.
Today she wanted every one.
Official preview images. Volunteer shots. Social-media captures collected for publicity.
Hundreds.
“We’re not searching for pretty rooms.”
“I know.”
“We are locating the Blue Study, the service corridor, the landing, and everyone who moved through those spaces between six thirty-one and seven oh-five.”
“Why stop at seven oh-five?”
“Marcus begins his speech then, and we know Sebastian is alive at least until somewhere close to seven.”
“Do we?”
Romy looked at him.
“Not yet.”
He nodded.
Correct answer.
They began.
At 6:34, an official photographer captured the landing. The Blue Study door was open. Nobody visible inside.
At 6:36, a volunteer photographed two floral arrangements near the staircase. Imogen appeared in the background carrying styling tools toward the Yellow Bedroom.
At 6:39, a designer’s selfie caught Sebastian’s shoulder at the edge.
At 6:42, Celeste was downstairs speaking to Marcus. At 6:43, she was gone.
Leo leaned toward the screen.
“Back up.”
Romy did.
A sponsor’s 6:44 photograph was meant to show the restored balustrade.
Instead it showed Celeste pushing open the Blue Study door.
The timestamp read 6:44:18.
“Private access,” Leo said.
“Apparently.”
“Could she have changed the spacer?”
“Yes.”
“She watched me explain it,” Romy said. “And Imogen having the screwdriver earlier does not mean Celeste used it.”
“She wanted the gap closed.”
“She also accepted my refusal.”
Leo gave her a look.
“What?”
“You think accepting means agreeing.”
“I think we record what happened, not what motive we want.”
“I didn’t say motive.”
“You said it with your eyebrows.”
“My eyebrows are independent.”
Romy enlarged the image.
Celeste’s right hand was empty. Her left held a phone. No bag. No tool.
“Find her coming out.”
At 6:46, another guest photographed the landing from the opposite direction. Celeste stood outside the Blue Study speaking to a woman in a green jacket. The door behind her was shut.
Two minutes.
Perhaps less.
Leo said, “Long enough.”
“To do many things.”
“Or nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Romy entered it.
6:44 Celeste enters Blue Study.
6:46 visible outside.
They continued.
At 6:47, Adrian appeared near the west stair.
At 6:48, another image matched Leo’s memory: Adrian at the service-side door, master key in hand. A waiter blocked half his body, but the key and open door were visible.
Leo leaned back.
“That is much worse now that we know he lied.”
“Yes.”
“He said he adjusted the door closer. Could that explain the key?”
“Yes.”
“Could it explain why he denied it?”
“No.”
Romy added:
6:48 Adrian unlocks service corridor.
Stated reason: sticking door closer.
Initial denial.
The timeline was beginning to look less like a line and more like a queue of people with reasons to lie.
By 9:36, they had reached 6:51. Romy’s coffee was cold. Leo had eaten the remaining croissant.
At 6:52, Leo found his own photograph.
Marcus Fenn crossing toward the service corridor with the brass plate-warmer tucked against one side and the burgundy felt folded over his arm.
The narrow gold woven edge showed clearly.
Leo looked pleased with the image quality.
“You got lucky,” Romy said.
“I composed it.”
“You were photographing a man carrying furniture protection.”
“I was documenting movement.”
“You were bored.”
“Both can be true.”
She checked the timestamp.
6:52:11.
Marcus looked relaxed. He had glanced toward the camera.
Behind him, one of the Blue Study corridor doors stood partly open.
No other person visible.
Leo pointed at the felt.
“That was under the plate-warmer in the dining room.”
“Yes.”
“So he took both.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said he was borrowing his own property.”
“That did not answer why.”
“No.”
Romy added:
6:52 Marcus approaches Blue Study service corridor carrying brass plate-warmer and Fenn Found burgundy/gold felt.
The felt was too distinctive to ignore.
Which made it dangerous.
Obvious clues had a habit of becoming conclusions before they earned the right.
At 6:53, Marcus disappeared from the visible photographic record.
At 6:54, a journalist photographed the entrance hall. No Marcus.
At 6:55, a sponsor captured the dining room. No Marcus.
At 6:56, a drawing-room video showed the staircase and landing. No Marcus.
Romy tapped the table.
“Four minutes.”
“More than four.”
“From 6:52 to at least 6:56.”
“He could be in the service corridor.”
“Could.”
“Or Blue Study.”
“Could.”
“Or morning room.”
“Yes.”
Leo looked at her.
“You’re really committed to ruining every satisfying conclusion.”
“It’s part of your training.”
At 6:57, Sebastian appeared.
A short video showed him crossing the upper landing, phone in hand, black notebook under his arm.
He paused outside the Blue Study.
Looked at the screen.
Opened the door.
Entered.
The clip ended because whoever filmed it had turned toward a tray of drinks.
Leo replayed it.
“Could Marcus already be inside?”
“Yes.”
“Celeste or Adrian?”
“Unlikely unless either returned unseen.”
Romy added:
6:57 Sebastian enters Blue Study.
Then the archive thinned.
Nothing useful at 6:58 or 6:59. At 7:00, guests began gathering toward the courtyard, but the Blue Study door was not visible.
At 7:01, Leo found a photograph of Sophie Trent at the end of the hall speaking to a television producer.
Romy knew Sophie vaguely. She ran a restoration textiles studio in Bath and had contributed two embroidered seat covers upstairs. In the photograph, she was looking toward the Blue Study.
“That proves nothing,” Romy said.
“No. But maybe she saw something.”
Romy checked the event contact list.
Sophie’s mobile number was there.
Leo looked at her.
“You’re going to call?”
“I’m going to ask one question.”
“Does Ellis know we’re doing this?”
“We’re not conducting interviews.”
“What are we doing?”
“Asking a textile specialist whether she remembers seeing Sebastian.”
“That sounds like an interview.”
Romy gave him a look.
Leo mimed locking his mouth.
Sophie answered on the fourth ring.
“Romy?”
“Were you on the upper hall around seven last night?”
“Yes.”
“I have a photograph placing you there at seven oh-one.”
A pause.
“All right.”
“Do you remember whether the Blue Study door was open?”
Another pause.
Longer.
“Yes.”
Romy sat straighter.
“You’re sure?”
“I looked in.”
Leo stopped moving.
“What did you see?”
“Sebastian.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“He was standing.”
Romy exchanged a look with Leo.
“Where?”
“Near the writing desk.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did he see you?”
“No.”
“What was he doing?”
“I couldn’t tell. Looking at something on the desk, perhaps.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“I did.”
Romy closed her eyes.
Of course she had.
“Sophie, I should have asked that first.”
“You probably should.”
“Ellis has your statement?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give him the time?”
“As close as I could. I remembered because the courtyard call had started and I was on my way down.”
“Approximately seven oh-one?”
“That sounds right.”
Romy thanked her and ended the call.
Leo was already typing.
6:57 Sebastian enters.