CHAPTER 17
THE EASY ROOM
By six o’clock, the murder had become simple.
Not in the police station.
Not in the Blue Study.
Not in the evidence.
In public.
That was enough.
Romy stood inside Pattern House with the television muted and watched Celeste Arden’s photograph fill the screen.
The image had been taken months earlier at an awards dinner. Celeste wore black silk, diamond earrings, and the expression of a woman who expected cameras to find her.
The caption below it read:
DESIGNER HELD IN PRYCE MURDER INVESTIGATION.
A second line followed.
PLAGIARISM FEUD AT HEART OF POLICE CASE.
Romy folded her arms.
“No.”
Leo looked up from the worktable.
“What?”
“They don’t know that.”
“They know she was arrested.”
“They know Sebastian was writing about her.”
“They know about the charcoal.”
“How?”
Leo glanced toward the television.
“Journalists.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Romy picked up the remote and raised the volume.
A reporter stood outside Merewick station while evening traffic moved behind her.
“Sources close to the investigation have confirmed that police are examining a bitter professional dispute between Pryce and celebrated designer Celeste Arden. Pryce was reportedly preparing an article alleging that Arden had taken credit for work created by junior members of her studio.”
The report cut to an old clip of Sebastian on a design panel.
He looked amused.
Alive.
Romy hated that more than the coverage.
The reporter continued.
“Police have also been examining materials recovered from Arden’s vehicle.”
Leo looked at Romy.
“Materials.”
“Cowards.”
“You don’t actually want them saying charcoal.”
“No.”
“But you object to them not saying charcoal.”
“Yes.”
“That seems difficult.”
“It is their job to suffer.”
The report returned to the studio. A legal commentator used the phrase “compelling circumstantial picture.”
Romy switched the television off.
Leo waited.
“That helped.”
“No.”
“Tea?”
“Yes.”
He went to the kitchen.
Romy looked at the dark screen.
The case had compressed itself for public use.
Sebastian threatened Celeste.
Celeste begged him not to publish.
Celeste possessed charcoal.
Celeste had access to the room.
Celeste had lied about the charcoal.
Celeste was arrested.
Beginning.
Middle.
End.
No Halden Collection.
No false provenance.
No altered textile backing.
No 6:55 notebook entry.
No Marcus carrying the plate-warmer and burgundy felt into the service corridor.
Those details had become inconvenient because the new version already worked.
That did not make the new version wrong.
Obvious did not mean false.
Neat did not mean false.
Simple did not mean false.
The front door opened.
Nina entered without knocking.
“You’re famous again.”
Romy stared.
“Please leave.”
“I brought pie.”
“You may stay.”
Leo returned with tea.
Nina placed a paper-wrapped parcel on the worktable.
“Steak and ale.”
Leo looked delighted.
Romy said, “You cannot keep feeding my staff.”
“I can.”
“It creates expectations.”
“Good.”
Nina began unpacking plates as though Pattern House belonged partly to her.
Perhaps it did by now.
Romy sat.
Her phone rang.
Nell Ashby.
She looked at the name.
Nina said, “Answer.”
“Why?”
“Because ignoring rich women with committees rarely improves things.”
Romy answered.
“Nell.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“You are.”
A pause.
“I see.”
“But continue.”
Leo covered a laugh with his tea.
Nell’s voice remained careful.
“The committee met this afternoon.”
“That sounds enjoyable.”
“We discussed Pattern House.”
Romy stopped.
“What about it?”
“We are preparing a revised public statement.”
Her attention sharpened.
“What revised statement?”
“One making clear that the police investigation is focused on deliberate interference with the Blue Study after your documented inspection.”
Romy said nothing.
Nell continued.
“We are prepared to state that Pattern House’s conservation work was completed properly and that there is currently no evidence of accidental restoration failure.”
There it was.
The sentence Romy had wanted for days.
Not perfect.
Enough.
“What changed?”
Nell hesitated.
“Circumstances.”
“Celeste was arrested.”
“Yes.”
Romy looked at Nina.
Nina had already understood.
“So now it is safe to clear me.”
“That is unfair.”
“No. It is accurate.”
“The committee could not speak before police direction was clearer.”
“The police direction was clear yesterday.”
“We needed legal approval.”
“And today you have it.”
“Yes.”
Romy leaned back.
“What else?”
Another pause.
There was always something else.
“We would like Pattern House to remain formally attached to the Asterleigh restoration through closeout.”
Romy frowned.
“You froze my invoice.”
“The undisputed amount can now be released.”
“How generous.”
“Romy.”
“What does remain formally attached mean?”
“It means we would restore your contract status for final conservation closeout once access restrictions are lifted.”
“That is not currently possible under my insurer.”
“We understand.”
“Do you?”
“We have spoken with them.”
Romy sat straighter.
“You spoke to my insurer.”
“Our solicitor did.”
“Why?”
“To clarify that the Show House does not consider Pattern House responsible for the fatal condition.”
Romy looked at the ceiling.
Relief arrived so quickly she mistrusted it.
Nell continued.
“If the insurer receives supporting confirmation from police, they may reconsider the temporary field restriction.”
“How quickly?”
“They did not say.”
Of course not.
“But the committee wants me back.”
“Yes.”
“After Celeste’s arrest.”
“Yes.”
“And the public statement?”
“We would like you to approve the language.”
There.
Not corruption.
Not quite.
Alignment.
One respectable organization offering another a route back into safety.
“What does it say about Celeste?”
Nell went quiet.
“Nell.”
“It says a private individual appears to have interfered with the Blue Study after conservation completion.”
“A private individual.”
“The committee is not naming her.”
“But everyone will know.”
“We cannot control that.”
“You are issuing the statement after her arrest.”
“Because we can now distinguish conservation work from suspected criminal interference.”
Romy walked toward the window.
Rain had stopped.
Merewick moved outside as though nothing had happened. Shopping bags. A dog refusing to walk. A cyclist arguing with a delivery van.
Ordinary life.
Nell said, “This helps you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you sound angry?”
Because help should not depend on finding somebody else safe enough to blame.
Romy did not say it.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
“Confirmation that Pattern House accepts the committee’s summary of the safety position.”
“Which is?”
“That the approved conservation arrangement was sound, that it was later interfered with, and that no known defect in Asterleigh’s restoration caused Sebastian’s death.”
“That part is true.”
“Yes.”
“Anything about the murder suspect?”
“No.”
“Anything saying the matter is resolved?”
Nell hesitated.
“Resolved is too strong.”
“What word?”
“Contained.”
Romy closed her eyes.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“A man is dead. A designer is in custody. Police are still working. Nothing is contained.”
“That is crisis language.”
“It is bad language.”
“You do not need to approve that word.”
“Good.”
Nell sighed.
“You are making this harder than it needs to be.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“The statement helps Pattern House.”
“I know.”
“The invoice release helps.”
“Yes.”
“The insurer communication helps.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what the problem is.”
Romy looked at the whiteboard.
6:31.
6:44.
6:48.
6:52.
6:55.
6:57.
7:01.
7:03.
7:05.
“The problem is that the murder is not solved.”
Nell’s silence changed.
Not patience.
Frustration.
“Celeste has been arrested.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“You believe she is innocent?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why keep pushing?”
Because facts had not finished.
“Send the statement.”
“You’ll review it?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Nell ended the call.
Nina slid a plate of pie toward Romy.
“Eat before you become impossible.”
“I am already impossible.”
“Then fuel it.”
Romy sat.
Leo had been pretending not to listen and doing a poor job.
“What did she offer?”
“Invoice release.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Good.”
“Contract restoration after insurance.”
“Very good.”
“Public clarification.”
“Extremely good.”
Romy looked at him.
“You’re supposed to detect the trap.”
“Is there one?”
Nina said, “There doesn’t have to be.”
Romy turned.
Nina cut into her pie.
“This is what you wanted.”
“Yes.”
“Your work publicly separated from the death.”
“Yes.”
“Money released.”
“Yes.”
“Insurer encouraged to stop panicking.”
“Yes.”
“Then take the relief.”
Romy stared.
“You think I should agree.”
“I think accepting something true does not make you dishonest.”
“What if they are using Celeste’s arrest to make the truth suddenly convenient?”
“They are.”
“That does not bother you?”
“It bothers me. It also does not make your conservation work responsible for Sebastian’s death.”
Romy looked down.
Nina continued.
“You have this terrible habit of thinking fairness only counts if it arrives in an aesthetically pleasing way.”
“That is not true.”
“It is.”
Leo chewed carefully.
Romy pointed at him.
“Do not support her.”
“I’m eating.”
“Your face is supporting her.”
Nina smiled.
“Apparently faces run in the office.”
The pie was excellent.
Annoyingly.
For five minutes, they talked about Nina’s freezer failing that morning.
A plumber had diagnosed the thermostat. Nina believed plumbers enjoyed making ordinary words sound expensive.
Leo suggested a temperature alarm. Romy suggested she stop storing six months of pastry at once.
Nina told both of them to mind their own businesses.
The conversation did its work.
Heart rate down.
Shoulders looser.
The murder temporarily outside the room.
Then Romy’s laptop chimed.
Insurer.
She opened the message.
The tone was less severe than before.
Following receipt of updated law-enforcement information indicating deliberate third-party interference, the insurer was prepared to review temporary restrictions on Pattern House Conservation.