Maybe the universe is trying to send me a sign. But is it saying I should pack it in and head back to London or alert the police I’ve identified the murderer? Harry is clearly delusional if she thought this belligerent, snotty, know-it-all and I could ever be friends.
“First Harry, now this… can things get any worse?” And with that thought, my chuckles subside.
I look around the entryway, deciding what to do next. It is smaller than I expected, leaving little room for myself and Edward stand side by side. We can either face each other or turn tail and run out of the door. If the indecision on his face is any sign, he’s weighing both options.
Between running into each other around the college and now discovering we’re neighbours, it’s clear we need to find a way to be civil to one another. The college is too small to allow for anything else. My run can wait for a few minutes.
I pull my apartment door shut and slide over to the stairway, climbing up a few steps before lowering to perch on one. “If we’re going to be neighbours, you might as well sit and get to know me. You know, the real me, not the one you’ve been imagining.”
Having blocked his escape route upstairs to his own flat, I’ve left him little choice but to agree.
Edward lowers himself down, awkwardly folding his arms to avoid bumping me. “I could say the same about you. You were quick to take my head off just now.”
“We agree then, a fresh start.” I turn in his direction and hold my hand out. “Natalie Payne, pleased to meet you. My friends call me Nat, you can call me Natalie.”
“Some fresh start,” mutters Edward. “Pleased to meet you, Natalie. I’m Edward Thomas. My friends call me Edward Thomas.”
Edward shrugs his shopping tote off his shoulder, letting it rest on the stairs in between us. We stare at one another in silence until Edward finally succumbs, opening his mouth to fill the awkward gap. “I believe you uttered something about Harry earlier. I couldn’t make out the words, but if you’re having a hard time getting acquainted with her, I might be able to assist you.”
I snort. “Assist me? With Harry? That’s a right laugh. From what I hear, it’s the other way around. I should offer you a hand.”
“I have no idea what you mean, Ms Payne. Harry and I get along well enough now. When I first arrived, I admit I didn’t find her comportment to be suitably austere for such an important role. I’ve since learned that she can be austere when she chooses to be… and I really don’t want her to be that way with me.”
“Back to Ms Payne, already? Are you always so formal with other college staff?”
Edward looks me over, from my bright pink Nike trainers up my floral leggings to my turquoise jumper. “I’m not sure anyone could make you fit into the mould of a formal Oxford staff member.”
I think about correcting him and then decide it isn’t worth the effort. Although we’re both trying to break the ice and give one another a fair chance, it is definitely an uphill battle.
“Getting back to Harry, I’ve got a few reasons for having her on the brain, but foremost are her efforts to introduce the two of us. She said you’re the college liaison with the police department for the murder. Did you learn anything about their investigation?”
I don’t think Edward could look more aghast if I’d told him I was the murderer.
“Why would our Head of Ceremonies need to know confidential information regarding a formal police inquiry? I cannot fathom what you’d have to do with the situation or why on earth you and Harry would spend any time discussing the matter in the first place.”
I stare in disbelief. “What would I have to do with it? I bloody well found the body. Of course Harry and I are going to talk about it. As to why I need confidential information, well, that’s simple. I can’t get another chef to agree to cater our gala. No one is willing to set foot in our kitchen until we find out who killed Chef Smythe.”
Edward huffs out, “That’s ridiculous. There’s no indication that her death is part of something larger which would put others here at the college at risk.”
Holding my hands up, I say, “Don’t blame me, I’m not starting any rumours! People are shocked. Crimes of this nature never happen at a college. But if we don’t sort this out soon, Dr Radcliffe may cancel the gala all together.” I don’t need to fake the concern on my face.
Unfortunately, Edward seems unfazed by this possibility. “Perhaps Dr Radcliffe should cancel the gala.”
“What? How can you say that?”
Shrugging, he explains, “Investigations require time, even straightforward ones, and this case is far from simple. There were no unexplained fingerprints, no signs of a break-in. The rest of the evidence is still being analysed in the laboratory.” He pronounces every syllable in laboratory.
I ball my fists up, holding them tight against the sides of my legs. I want to wave them in the air, shout until I can make him see how important this is. Inhaling and exhaling, I calm myself. “Edward, do you understand how important this gala is to St Margaret?”
He sneers, “It’s heels up for a group of benefactors and alumni. How important can it be? Surely no one will complain if we push it back a few months.”
Horrified, my voice squeaks up a notch. “The gala is much more than a ‘heels up’ as you call it. It is a ceremony that takes place between the college and the individuals who provide important funding. Dr Radcliffe expects to raise tens of
