39. Breakfast Debrief

Detective Brampton opened his car door and felt the summer heat rush in. One of the perks of being a Detective Sergeant was the air-conditioned car, and feeling that blast of hot air reminded him how far he’d come from his foot patrol and traffic duty days.

Another perk was freedom to get out of the station any time of day. Breakfast at Rosy’s was a great way to start the day, a good place to sit and think. The squad room would be alive with energy, phones ringing, people asking questions and well-meaning colleagues interrupting him every few minutes. He wanted time alone, but he was also hoping Kathy would show up to report on her meeting with Madeline.

He’d barely settled into their usual booth when Lucy appeared at his elbow.

“Hello, detective,” she said, drawing out the first word. “Is it a coffee morning or a tea morning?” If he said coffee she knew he’d eat, drink and run. If he ordered a pot of tea, he’d spend some time sitting and thinking. Lucy prided herself on understanding her regulars.

“Definitely a tea morning, thank you Lucy.”

When Kathy walked in Brampton felt a rush of pleasure. She wore a plain beige linen dress that ended just above her knees. Her legs were smooth and brown, her sandals were low and comfortable and a well-tailored jacket made it all look professional.

“Hello Sandy. Ready for the next round?”

“Ready when you are partner.”

She slid into her seat, smiling at being called partner. “I saw Madeline yesterday and we’ve got something.”

Lucy had been standing by the table and when Kathy paused she jumped in. “Tea for you too, Kathy?”

“Yes, please Lucy. I’m starving, but I need to think about what I want. I see Sandy’s got a big pot, but he’ll be needing it all for himself.” He didn’t argue. “So just a cup of tea for me to start.”

Lucy bobbed a little curtsy and turned back to the kitchen.

“So, what did you find out? Do we know how her prints got on the dagger?”

“Yep,” said Kathy, and held his eyes. He waited then made an exasperated noise. “Please do go on,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

“I got it, but I don’t know how much it helps.”

She told him about the sisters doing catering gigs, and when she got to the part about working at the Stormont Estate his eyebrows shot up.

“It gets weirder,” she said. “Gordon thought it was a good idea to show the catering staff some of his treasures including the dagger. Rivers was there too. I get the impression he never misses an opportunity to show off and he joined in. Stormont was giving the girls a sort of primer in case guests asked them about Stormont history.”     Brampton looked skeptical and she tipped her head in acknowledgement. “I know, they’re there to serve drinks and he’s coaching them on family’s history, but he invited them to hold it, which explains Maddy’s prints on the knife, along with a few others. She says some of them shrank away but she’s not easily spooked. Blades don’t bother her. Afterall she is a surgical nurse and sees flesh cut all the time. It sounds plausible to me.”

Brampton considered, then said, “There’s a clear print from Madeline’s thumb near the hilt. If she’d used it to stab someone, her prints would be on the handle.”

“I’m not ready to rule her out,” Kathy said stubbornly.

Lucy arrived with the tea. “Any decisions yet about breakfasts?”

“Oatmeal for me with brown sugar.” Brampton seemed bent on avoiding bacon.

“Brown toast with blueberry jam for me, thanks, and better put some fruit on his oatmeal Lucy, we don’t want him getting scurvy.” Kathy sipped her tea gratefully and continued her report. Sandy just smiled at her ordering for him.

“Madeline’s getting Shaye’s house and plans to live there. I don’t know how happy she’ll be. It wouldn’t suit me to live in a place where somebody I love was murdered, but she wants to keep the good memories of times she shared there with her sister.”

Brampton shrugged. “Lot of people preserve a room just as the victim left it. If she can hold onto happy memories and not be bothered by bad ones, that’s her call. Anything else?”

She told him about Ashbury’s photographs, the girls, the beach shots and the startling news that he’d photographed Catrina Somers before her death.

“He’s bringing me his collections next week.”

Brampton wondered what she expected to find.

“I won’t know until I see it, but I have a feeling.” Her famous spidey sense, he thought. It made him smile. She saw it and said defiantly, “It would be remiss to not look at pictures someone has of two dead women! And he’s got pictures of Channel Lane Point. Those were Shaye’s dying words.”