CHAPTER 8 #2
He settled at a temporary workstation in the corridor with the camera archive.
Romy joined Ellis, Anika, Adrian, and the fire officer inside.
The room felt colder than she remembered, though the temperature had not changed.
Sebastian was gone.
The place where he had fallen was marked. His notebook had been removed. The writing desk remained.
The silk panel still hung above the fireplace, but the separation Romy had photographed was gone.
From directly in front, the alteration was almost invisible.
From the side, it was obvious.
Romy pointed.
“That return should sit forward.”
Anika crouched beside the fireplace.
“Six millimetres?”
“Yes.”
“Exact?”
“Nominal six. It could vary by a fraction because of the old wall surface.”
“Material?”
“Neutral conservation spacer with reversible attachment points.”
“Would compression close it?”
“Not from normal handling.”
“Failure?”
“No visible break.”
Anika studied it without touching.
“What would make it sit this close?”
“Deliberate adjustment. Or packing behind the return to change the angle.”
Ellis said, “Packing with what?”
“I don’t know.”
Anika switched on a portable inspection light.
“Let’s find out.”
The silk panel could not simply be removed.
Not yet.
Instead Anika worked from the accessible side where the scene team had already documented the gap.
She examined the lower return, then the upper, then the grille backing.
Her movements were slow enough to become hypnotic.
Ellis lasted four minutes.
“Anything?”
Anika did not look at him.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That you need patience.”
Romy looked down to hide a smile.
Anika changed magnification.
Then stopped.
“Here.”
Ellis moved closer.
Romy waited until invited.
Anika pointed to the internal edge behind the decorative mounting.
A cluster of fibres clung where the panel support had been pressed toward the grille.
Dark red.
Burgundy.
Romy recognized the resemblance immediately.
Not proof.
Resemblance.
The shade was very close to Marcus Fenn’s display felt.
Anika used tweezers to collect several fibres into a sterile sample container.
“I’ve seen material like that,” Romy said.
Ellis turned.
“No.”
“I haven’t accused anyone.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say Marcus uses burgundy wool felt with a narrow gold edge.”
“Similarity.”
“Yes.”
“Not identification.”
“Yes.”
“Not ownership.”
“I know.”
“Not proof he placed it there.”
“I know.”
Anika looked between them.
“Do you two always conduct evidence discussions like a married couple assembling furniture?”
Romy nearly dropped the inspection light.
Ellis looked offended.
“No.”
“Absolutely not,” Romy said.
Anika nodded.
“Good. That sounded unhealthy.”
Adrian laughed.
Ellis looked at him.
He stopped.
Anika held the sample vial to the light.
“Burgundy textile fibres, compressed at the backing edge.”
“Could they be from the room furnishings?” Romy asked.
“Possibly.”
Romy reviewed Celeste’s scheme mentally.
Blue silk. Lacquer. Velvet upholstery. Wool rug. Decorative bindings.
“Nothing burgundy near the grille.”
“That helps. It does not settle source.”
Ellis looked at Romy.
She raised both hands.
“I said nothing.”
“Your face did.”
Leo had ruined everyone.
The fire officer moved toward the writing desk.
“We should look at the warmer.”
It stood on the floor beside the desk, tagged and photographed.
Romy had not seen it this clearly since the dining room.
The brass plate-warmer was perhaps eighteen inches across, with curved feet and pierced side panels. Decorative now, but once intended to retain or distribute warmth around serving plates.
The burgundy felt that had been under it in the dining room was absent.
Anika approached.
“Was this moved during emergency response?”
Ellis checked the scene log.
“Documented where found. Shifted only after full photography for responder access, then returned to marked position.”
“Found where?”
“Near the desk.”
Romy looked at the floor marker.
Not beside Sebastian’s body.
Close enough to matter.
Anika crouched.
“Exterior has older tarnish. Expected handling marks.”
She angled the light into the interior.
Stopped.
Romy felt the room change because Anika stopped moving.
“What?” Ellis asked.
Anika adjusted the light.
“Dark deposit.”
“Old?”
“Maybe.”
Romy leaned slightly closer.
The inner brass showed black-grey dusting in patches. Some areas looked greasy. Others dry.
It did not resemble ordinary tarnish.
Anika took one swab, then another, and collected a particulate sample.
Adrian said, “That thing came from Marcus’s stock.”
Ellis looked at him.
“Helpful. Also already known.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Don’t.”
Adrian folded his arms.
Romy understood the impulse.
Once suspicion moved away from you, it became tempting to help it settle elsewhere.
Anika examined the sample under a portable loupe.
“Interesting.”
Ellis said, “You enjoy that word too much.”
“It means I don’t know yet.”
“What do you know?”
“The deposit is not uniform.”
“Meaning?”
“There is historic grime. There is also material sitting on top of it.”
Anika gestured Romy closer.
“See the difference?”
At first Romy saw only black.
Then she did.
Older dirt lay flatter against the brass, settled into scratches and pits of age.
The newer material sat looser.
Dry.
Granular.
Caught around the edges of the pierced openings.
“Fresh particulate,” Romy said.
“Likely.”
“Combustion?”
“Possibly.”
Ellis looked at her.
“Possibly.”
Anika smiled.
“You want certainty before the laboratory earns it.”
“I want useful.”
“Useful is knowing we have two visually distinct deposits.”
“And one appears recent,” Romy said.
“Yes.”
Adrian stared at the warmer.
“Could that produce the carbon monoxide?”
Anika did not answer immediately.
“A plate-warmer is an object. It produces nothing by existing.”
“If something burned inside it?”
“Then the source would be what burned, under whatever conditions applied.”
Ellis said, “We are not reconstructing mechanism beyond evidence.”
“Agreed.”
Romy thought about Marcus carrying the object at 6:52 with folded felt over his arm.
Sebastian entering five minutes later.
The fireplace disconnected.
Gas line dead.
Chimney capped.
Somebody had brought a source into the room.
Maybe.
The thought was dangerously clean.
Ellis seemed to read it.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t spoken.”
“You’ve solved it three times in your face.”
“I’m considering.”
“Consider alternatives.”
“Fine. The plate-warmer could have contained residue before Marcus brought it into the corridor.”
“Yes.”
“The fibres could have transferred through routine transport.”
“Yes.”
“Somebody else could have used both objects after Marcus left them.”
“Yes.”
“Marcus himself could still be involved.”
Ellis stared.
“You saved that for last deliberately.”
“I like completeness.”
Anika smiled.
“You’re both exhausting.”
They continued the site review.
By eleven thirty, the technical picture had sharpened without becoming comfortable.
No live gas line.
No active fireplace.
No chimney failure.
No approved heating appliance.
No historic service system capable of explaining lethal carbon monoxide in the Blue Study.
That did not yet prove murder.
But it destroyed the easiest accident theory.
During a break, they gathered in the old service pantry downstairs.
Someone had left tea bags, milk, and a tin of biscuits for the police team.
Anika made tea without asking permission.
Romy approved.
Leo appeared with his laptop.
“Anything?”
Romy looked at Ellis.
“General findings only.”
“Historic systems ruled out,” Romy said.
Leo’s eyes sharpened.
“So external source.”
“Unidentified source,” Ellis corrected.
Anika handed Leo a mug.
“Never let a detective hear you skip an adjective.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re the photographer?”