“No. I looked back, hoping he would too. He rounded the corner by the cathedral.”
Half an hour later, the detectives wrapped up the interrogation, and Sterling escorted everyone out. Once they were gone, she grabbed Fernando from the office and took him upstairs into Room 13.
— 28 —Achtundzwanzig
In Room 13, she pointed to the Professor’s paper doll on the murder board. “You got a sticker in there that saysSuspect? He and David Goldfinch were old… nemeses? Nemesi?” said Sterling.
“Nemesises?” he offered.
“Enemies. They were enemies. Point is, he’s got a motive, although his story checks out with the Ear’s. The Professor was in Room 11 with Luisa when the Ear heard someone knocking at Room 5.”
“Where were you then?” he asked. For the first time, Sterling realized Fernando had no proof ofheractivities during the murder.
“Upstairs, on the phone in the Rote Salon, with the Hungarian guy and his bitchy mistress. They certainly enjoyed having an audience.”
She returned to the matter at hand. “Okay, the phones were ringing for half an hour straight. I spoke to the mystery caller while I was upstairs, around two fifteen. Same time the Ear heard someone knock on Hedy’s door, followed by the Professor arguing with Luisa. I was back in the office at around two thirty, then delivered the ice cream cake to the Bookish Bachelors about two forty-five. Luisa left around then.”
Fernando noted down the timeline like a true professional, even if it was written in metallic purple ink.
If the Ear’s testimony was true, it provided potential alibis for the Professor, Luisa, and, most conveniently, Sterling.How’s that for divine intervention?
But one Orient employee had not yet accounted for his whereabouts between two and three a.m. Fernando.
She cleared her throat. He stopped scribbling.
“So, duringallthis, you were on break?”
“Yes,” he said, shoulders tightening. “Running lines for an audition.”
“Show me. Since you’ve practiced so many times.”
He flicked his hand dismissively. “I can’t invoke the muse on demand. Art must be coaxed from the soul. I promise, I’ll reveal all soon. Can we leave it there?”
She wasn’t satisfied with his answer. And too much hinged on his alibi to let it go any longer. But she’d allow him a little more time to sort out his shit.
“Fine,” she said. “Back to the timeline. Two fifty, Luisa leaves, the Prof partakes in self-love. Downstairs, Luisa finds the door locked and the desk empty. Some mystery man unlocks it. Handsome, generic-good-looking, tall.He had keys.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“I know, honeybunch. She said he was tall.”
“Hey, I’m above-average height in Granada.”
“And you’re a giant in my eyes,” she assured him. As were most kids over twelve.
“Tell me more. Maybe I saw him.”
“He had long brown hair in a ponytail. White, lean but muscular. Hunky except his chin mole. His shirt was translucent with sweat, so probably a white or light-colored shirt.”
Even if his description sounded nothing like Fernando, she wondered. But no, it couldn’t be him.
“Doesn’t match anyone I saw, though he sounds memorable. How the hell did he get keys?” he asked.
“No clue. Every night I lock the day staff’s set in the office.”
“Well, there is our boss.”
“Mr. K’s tall, sure. Hunky too. But he’s blond, and no moles. Plus, this guy was lean. Mr. K’s a beast. His chest barely fits through doors.”
