The Stardust Readers Retreat #5
The detective scanned the room again. “We will be conducting interviews today. Some of you will be interviewed more than once. Once we’ve collected your statement, I will reevaluate whether we need you to stay here longer.”
Everyone in the room shifted in their seat. The mood in the room shifted, no longer just a tragic accident, but now an uncomfortable puzzle to be solved.
Ruiz gestured toward the service corridor door. “The victim, Victor LaRue, was found behind that door, in the service hallway. That area is a restricted area for use by staff and authorized personnel only.”
Eleanor’s chin lifted slightly, like she couldn’t help herself.
Ruiz’s eyes flicked to her for a beat, then away, as if logging the reaction for later.
She continued with her speech. “If you had conflict with him, if you witnessed conflict involving him, or if you had contact with him after the ball began last night, you will tell us today.”
Bennett smiled wide. “Conflict defines all of Victor’s dealings with, well, everyone.”
Ruiz looked at him. “Our interview should be interesting then.”
Bennett’s smile faltered.
Eleanor cleared her throat as she stepped forward, still clutching her clipboard. “Detective, I can provide you with the full schedule, vendor lists, staffing rosters, room assignments—”
Ruiz held up a hand. “Thank you. Officer Patel will take anything you have. But right now, I need you to sit.”
Eleanor froze for half a second, as if the concept of sitting while the world burned was offensive. Then she nodded once and moved to an empty chair, placing the clipboard carefully on the table. She rolled a corner of the top paper until she couldn’t, then unrolled and pressed it flat.
Jo watched her fiddle with the papers in front of her.
Eric leaned over and whispered. “I bet she’s been up all night.”
Aspen’s head swung from Eric to Eleanor and back. She huffed in agreement before settling under the table, resting her head on Jo’s foot.
Ruiz clasped her hands behind her back as she paced from one table to the next. “Josephine Hart. Eric Vale. I’m going to start with the two of you.”
Jo’s stomach flipped.
Eric’s hand brushed hers, a quick reassurance. “Together,” he murmured.
They stood and walked toward Ruiz. Jo could feel eyes following them—readers, authors, staff. Somewhere in the room, someone whispered their names like they were still on a panel. The detective escorted them to a table in the corner of the room, as far from the others as they could get.
Ruiz studied them the way she studied everything else: with attention, not judgment. “You two found the body.”
Eric nodded. “Our dog did. That is, Jo’s dog did.”
Ruiz’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Your dog has become the most reliable witness on this property.”
Aspen lifted her head, ears perked as if she’d understood she was being praised.
Jo couldn’t help it. “She’d like that on the record.”
Ruiz’s gaze dropped to Aspen. “Noted.” She looked back at them. “Walk me through last night from the moment you sat down at your table.”
Jo took a breath. Her mind tried to leap forward to the service door, to the stillness, to the way Eric had turned her away. She forced it back to the beginning of the night.
“We started by standing in line to get a drink. Victor argued with Ms. Fontaine and Ms. Peck while we were in line. Ms. Peck even got into it over the champagne vendor with Mr. Crowe. After we found our table,” Jo began, “we danced. One song. It was . . . normal. Until it wasn’t.”
Ruiz nodded. “And the dog?”
“I leashed Aspen to the table,” Jo said. “I wrapped her leash around the table leg and made sure it was secure before the dance. Like a responsible dog mom.”
Aspen’s tail thumped once, smug.
Eric’s voice stayed even. “When the song ended, Jo turned to check on her. The leash was slack.”
Ruiz’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Slack how?”
“Still tied,” Eric said. “But empty. Aspen was gone.”
Ruiz’s gaze flicked briefly toward the service door again.
Jo’s hands went cold. “We looked for her. Eric suggested the food area first.”
“And then?” Ruiz prompted.
“A bark,” Jo said. “Sharp. Insistent. From behind that door.”
Eric’s jaw tightened. “The door opened easily.”
Ruiz’s eyes sharpened. “Easily?”
Eric nodded once. “Not locked. Not stuck. Just . . . there.”
Ruiz didn’t react outwardly, but Jo saw it. The way her attention narrowed in on the door.
Ruiz turned her head slightly, addressing the resort security guard. “Mr. Haskins. Is that door supposed to be locked?”
The guard cleared his throat. “During events, ma’am, it’s usually . . . managed. For catering.”
Eleanor’s head snapped up.
Ruiz looked at her. “Managed how?”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened on the edge of the clipboard. Her voice was smooth when she answered, too smooth. “Sometimes it’s propped briefly to accommodate staff moving trays. It’s . . . standard.”
Ruiz’s gaze held Eleanor’s for a beat too long.
Then she looked back at Jo and Eric. “Continue.”
Jo swallowed. “I ran through the door. Aspen was in there. And then . . . ”
She couldn’t say it.
Eric’s arm slid around her without making it a big thing, just enough to steady her. “The victim was on the floor. Victor. He wasn’t moving.”
Ruiz nodded, absorbing it. “And who was in the vicinity when you found him?”
Jo’s mind flashed to Starla’s scream. To Eleanor in the doorway. To the sudden flood of bodies and chaos.
“Starla,” Jo said slowly. “She screamed. She was close.”
Ruiz wrote something in her notebook.
“I think she fainted.” Jo added.
Eric added, “Eleanor arrived right away.”
Eleanor’s pen froze mid-scratch against her clipboard.
Ruiz looked up. “Right away?”
Eric didn’t flinch. “As if she’d been nearby.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Ruiz’s voice stayed calm. “Thank you. That’s enough for now.”
Jo blinked. “Enough for now?”
“For the first pass.” Ruiz gestured toward the chairs. “Find a seat. My officers will bring you back for follow-up. If it’s necessary.”
Jo nodded; her head spun when she stood, nausea hitting her out of nowhere.
As they returned to their seats, Eric leaned close, his voice barely audible.
“Door wasn’t locked,” he murmured. “That’s not nothing.”
Jo’s gaze drifted to Eleanor, still sitting too straight, clipboard in her lap like armor.
“No,” Jo whispered back. “It’s not. It also wasn’t being managed.”
Under the table, Aspen let out a soft, thoughtful sigh. It sounded like she knew exactly how this story ended. And wasn’t thrilled about it.
Detective Ruiz consulted her notebook. “Bennett Crowe.”
Bennett stood, buttoning his suit jacket before joining the detective. He smiled like he was at a press event instead of a murder investigation.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m ready for your questions.”
Ruiz didn’t return his smile. “Where were you between the end of the dance and the discovery of the body?”
“I was at a party with authors. What do you think I was doing?” Bennett flashed his teeth again.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking the question.” Ruiz didn’t sound amused.
Bennett’s smile died. “Networking. Introducing myself to authors, readers, anyone who would listen. After all, events like this are all about being seen.”
“Did anyone specific see you?” The detective tapped her pen against her teeth.
Bennett shrugged. “I assume several people did. Unfortunately, I wasn’t keeping a list. Didn’t know I needed to.”
“Did you speak with Victor LaRue?”
“Briefly.” His answer was succinct.
Ruiz raised an eyebrow. “How briefly?”
“A minute or two. He wasn’t in the mood to chat.” He picked an invisible speck off his cuff.
Jo shifted in her seat. Eric placed his hand over hers.
Ruiz looked up from her notes. “What was his mood?”
“Irritated. Victor lived his life in a constant state of irritation.” Bennett’s pasted-on smile failed to reach his eyes. “He was unhappy with the champagne.”
“You handled the champagne distributor?” Ruiz watched Bennett’s every movement.
“I made sure there was champagne to drink after the original distributor backed out.” Bennett corrected. “Victor insulted the original distributors and what I was able to arrange to replace them. Ungrateful.”
Eleanor’s hand tightened around her pen. Her knuckles turned white.
Ruiz noticed the event organizer’s reaction before returning her attention to Bennett. “So, it would be accurate to say Victor was unhappy with the choices you made.”
“Victor was unhappy about many things. It’s one of his defining traits.” Bennet shrugged.
Jo watched Bennett’s hands. He hadn’t stopped moving since he sat down. Adjusting cuffs. Smoothing fabric. Picking at things only he could see.
Ruiz leaned back. “Did Victor threaten you?”
Bennett laughed. A short, sharp sound. “Victor threatened everyone. That was how he negotiated.”
“Did he threaten your career?” Ruiz maintained her casual position.
Bennett’s smile thinned. “He enjoyed reminding people how much influence he had.”
Ruiz studied him. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Bennett held her gaze. “He asked me to align with a specific narrative he was pushing. I declined.”
Jo’s pulse ticked up. Eric shifted in his seat.
Ruiz nodded once. “Thank you. Please remain available.”
Bennett rose smoothly. As he passed Jo and Eric, his gaze flicked to them before focusing on people he found more important. Like Eleanor Finch.
“Terrible business,” he murmured. “A real stain on the weekend.”
Eleanor pursed her lips but didn’t respond with words.
Then he walked away.
Eric leaned closer to Jo. “He’s not lacking in motive.”
Jo whispered back. “He’s lacking empathy.”
Aspen huffed pointedly.
Ruiz stood, her eyes scanning the room looking for her next suspect. They stopped when they found Starla Fontaine reclining on the only chaise in the room.
“Starla Fontaine,” Ruiz called the former showgirl’s name. “It’s your turn.”
Starla moved with grace and perfect posture, every motion controlled. Her expression a perfect mask of composure.