A Twisted Web - Benoit Blanc

Three - Police Inquiry

The police were back - this time to ask questions. Flora wasn't sure why the investigation was taking so long - it had now been a week since Harlan's death - and hadn't they already ruled it out as a suicide? 

Everyone was called back to the house, including Marta, who had been the last person to see Harlan alive. 

"Marta!" Flora answered Marta's knock at the front door.  She rushed to hug her.  "I'm so sorry about the funeral."

"It's fine, Flora. Please, don't apologize.  I'm not sure I could have faced it."

"It was difficult," Flora agreed. "But I'm glad you're here now." Marta nodded.  "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too."

"Hey, Kiddo." Linda stepped into the room, giving Marta a very awkward sort of side hug. "Good to see you.  I really wanted you to come to the funeral, but I was out-voted."

Flora just rolled her eyes. 

"Prick!" came Richard's voice echoing through the hall. He was on a phone call. 

"Richard!" cried Linda.

"He's not coming," Richard said, ending the call and holding up his cellphone.  "Ransom. The little shit."

"Richard!" scolded Linda. 

"Are you really that surprised, Dad?" said Flora.

"No, I'm not."

"Excuse me, thank you for your patience." A police officer in a suit stepped out of the library.  "We'll see you all one at a time now."

"I'll go first," offered Linda, and followed the officer into the library.  

One by one they went to be interviewed. It seemed like an eternity before it was Flora's turn.

"Ms. Drysdale, we'll see you now, please," the same officer said, gesturing for her to follow him into the library after Meg's interview. 

"Hello, Ms. Drysdale. Thank you for speaking with us," said the other officer. "We understand that this is a difficult time."

An empty chair sat before Harlan's ring of knives. Flora took a seat. 

"We're very sorry for your loss," said the officer who had come to collect her.

"Thank you."

"I'm Lieutenant Elliot," said the officer who was seated before her. "And this is Trooper Wagner. We would just like to ask you a few questions."

"Okay." He didn't introduce the third man - she hadn't realized there was anyone else.  He was sitting in the far corner of the room by the piano, bathed in shadow, so she could barely make out his features.  This gave off a mysterious aura around him.  He didn't speak up, and so she  asked, "And who are you?" 

"This is Detective Benoit Blanc," Elliot explained.

"'Benoit Blanc'?" Flora repeated.  "I've heard your name before - wasn't there a New Yorker article about you? What are you doing here?"

"Detective Blanc has offered to consult on this case. He's not officially with the police department," Elliot continued to explain, leaving Flora confused as to why Blanc wasn't just answering himself.  

"Very well."

"We will be recording this conversation for reference." Elliot set up his cell phone, tapping the record button. "For the record we are here with Florence Drysdale, daughter of Linda and Richard, sister to Hugh. Granddaughter of Harlan. The second-eldest grandchild." He gestured to her. "Ms. Drysdale. Maybe you could start by telling us a little bit about yourself."

"Okay... Well, I'm named after my grandmother, Florence Thrombey. Granddad always said he knew exactly how he was going to win her heart, that it popped into his head just like with one of his book plots. And he did. Three kids and four grand kids later, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"You work as a travel writer?" Elliot prompted.

"Yes, I do. I've written articles and I have a blog. I got my granddad's writing gene."

"I've read your blog," piped up Trooper Wagner. "You've been to some really cool places!"

His obvious enthusiasm made her smile. "Yes, thank you."

"Did he ever consult you for his books?"

"Oh yeah, he'd tell me his ideas all the time."

"Did you ever help with the writing of the books at all?"

"Oh no, fiction isn't my genre. Granddad was the author of the family."

"Is that a slight English accent I hear?"

"Yes, I've been living in England for the past several years. After college I traveled and never got rid of my wanderlust, it would seem. I did come back and visit every once in a while."

"I see.  So we understand that you were away during the party?" Elliot asked.

"Yes, I was. I did Skype call the family though as I couldn't be there. I wish I was there now though... But I had no idea that would be the last time I would-" She broke off suddenly. "I just can't believe my grandfather's gone.  And I just can't believe that he would take his own life."

"I know this is difficult, Ms. Drysdale, but all the evidence we have points to a suicide," said Elliot gently.

"Then why, if you don't mind my asking, are you continuing the investigation? Seems like a closed case to me."

"We're just trying to paint a picture of the evening. What time did you make the Skype call to your family?"

"But, like you said, Ms. Drysdale, you can't fathom that your grandfather would do such a thing as take his own life." Blanc finally spoke, ignoring Elliot's question to her.  He had a smooth Southern accent. 

"Benny," sighed Elliot.

"I doesn't make sense though, does it, Lieutenant," continued the detective. "Doesn't make any sense at all.  Everyone in the family seems equally shocked that Harlan would take his own life, so it doesn't add up."

Elliot sighed again. 

"What are you saying then?" Flora pressed, addressing the mysterious detective.

Blanc leaned forward in his chair, the shadow across his face darkening, only adding to the ominous nature of his next words.  "I don't think it was suicide. I'm betting on murder."

(Yay, they've met! ;) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :))