The Interviews: Sylvia and Bonnie
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Sunday 14th June
“Ah, Miss Moulin. Glad to have caught you. Can we talk?”
Sylvia reluctantly agreed and they stepped into Amelia’s office. It came as a bit of a shock to them both to see Amelia lying there. They had almost forgotten she was still in the room, and the blanket that they had put over her earlier didn’t do much to camouflage her.
“I’m really not sure what more I can tell you, Hazel. I arrived here this morning to find her dead. Pierre told me not to get the police involved. Baffles me how he thinks you can sort this mess out.”
“Well, I’m a highly respected and discreet investigator, so…”
“I just want the body moved so that I can tidy this place up and get some work done.”
Hazel’s eyebrows raised towards the ceiling.
“Well, I do. I’m not being insensitive, but there are things to be done.”
“Very well. I’ll be as quick as possible. I wouldn’t want my investigation into your colleague’s death to be an inconvenience.”
“It already is.”
The hairs on Arty’s back bristled and he let out a low growl of disapproval.
“Sylvia, please, sit down for a few minutes with me.” Hazel had read somewhere that this could be a good tactic when interviewing suspects, something about disarming them with friendliness and lowering their status.
“I get the feeling, from the way you are talking now and the comments you made to me earlier, that you did not like Amelia. I think you wanted her job. That is why you argued with her so much, even in front of clients. Kyle Rockfort told me all about the wine incident.”
“Well, I was right on that matter. Don’t you agree?”
“I really don’t know, and I really don’t care. What I do care about is finding Amelia’s killer. You were one of the last people to see Amelia alive. It wouldn’t be out of the realms of possibility that after Kyle finished speaking with Amelia last night, you and Amelia went in the office, you argued, you picked up an ashtray and hit her with it.”
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Artemis and Hazel were taking what they deemed to be a well-earned break. They had found a secluded stream on the course and were both now paddling happily, feeling the refreshing water running between their toes.
She had been thinking about a phone call she had had with Dr Bonnie Clyde earlier. It had been extremely short and nothing useful had seemed to come from it, other than a suspicion that the doctor was in a relationship with Pierre Laurent. Everyone else she had spoken to so far seemed to respect Pierre, but none had admitted to liking him, not even his daughter, Anna.
Hazel sat on the bank and took off her sandals, then she unravelled her scarf and dried her feet. Arty lay on his back next to her, panting in the sun.
She had not long been to the spa and so didn’t fancy trekking back over there today to speak to Bonnie in person, and any risk of the doctor driving off was diminished by Sid’s instructions not to let anyone leave, and the fact that her car seats were now sodden by the earlier rain.
It took several rings for the call to be answered.
“Dr Clyde. How can I help?”
The doctor was always efficient and blunt to the point of rudeness, Hazel had noted. Maybe there was a different side to her when dealing with clients, she thought.
“Hazel Durette here. Are you busy?
“I’ve just finished with a client. What can I do for you, Miss Durette?”
“Would I be right if I were to say that you are in a romantic relationship with Pierre Laurent?”
Hazel moved the phone away from her ear to avoid the peel of nervous laughter emanating from its speaker.
“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s just a friend.”
“That’s not what Mr Laurent told me,” lied Hazel. Another tactic she had read about, although she did think this maybe a little unethical.
“I am aware that Pierre had asked Amelia to massage the clubs accounts a little ahead of an audit. From information I have seen this was to cover up some unusual activity involving the mayor, Victor Brassard. On Friday morning this information was released to the press, but before they went to print, Brassard made the story go away.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow. What has this got to do with me?”
“You obviously care for Pierre a great deal … I would suggest that you may even be in love with him.”
Hazel heard Bonnie sigh, but without the aid of body language she couldn’t tell what that sigh meant.
“Now, this isn’t an accusation or anything … its just a theory … but if you thought that Amelia went to the press instead of helped Pierre, potentially bringing down his business … and you confronted Amelia about this last night …”
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And with that, the phone call ended, just as abruptly as it had began. Hazel lay back on the grass, looking up at the now cloudless sky, and Artemis crawled over to lie next to her, basking in the warmth of the sun.
"Episode Nine: J'accuse" will follow tomorrow, and the killer will be revealed!
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