I smiled and wondered how I’d never thought of him this way before. “She did have a slight accent, didn’t she? You think she may have run into Zac in Paris? Maybe they were planning an art heist together. Remember, the money in Zac's pocket was euros.”
“Maybe,” Henry agreed and snuck another cookie from the basket. “Want another?”
“Oh, no thanks.” I shook my head. “But then why would she admit she was interested in one of the paintings in the main foyer?”
“No idea. Unless it's worth a lot more than you realize and she's trying to get it.”
“Maybe. Well, there’s one more guest on the list, and then there’s the staff. That’s a lot of people to suspect. So we’ll need to narrow this down quickly.” I pulled up the spreadsheet on my phone. “The final guest is Farley Arnold. He lives on an estate a few milesaway. He claims he was returning a horse he’d borrowed while his grandson was visiting him.”
“So he could have been out on the property?” Henry asked.
“Yes, but I think he’s in his mid-seventies. I have a hard time picturing him chasing someone at high speeds and shooting them.” I frowned.
“You think there was a chase?”
“I guess they could have met up. Something about the four-wheelers being out makes me wonder about that, though. I’m not sure why I didn’t hear them. Let’s see what he says.” We knocked on door 218 and an older gentleman with gray hair, glasses, and a cane opened it. He hardly looked like a killer.
“Hi Farley. I’m Georgiana, do you remember me? We’ve met several times,” I said, offering him my hand and releasing a bit of soothing magic like I had with the others.
Farley raised his bushy eyebrows and gave me a hearty handshake. “Well, of course I remember you, kiddo. I’ve seen you at the Pemberley Fall Gala for years now. I wouldn’t forget that.”
“Oh, well I was away at school for a while—finishing my undergrad degree.”
“That’s right.” Farley eyed the basket of cookies in Henry’s arms.
“We made these to share. Have one,” Henry said, holding out the basket.
“Gingersnaps are my favorite. Would you care to come in for a minute?” Farley asked, opening the door widely. The guest rooms usually had a small sitting area with armchairs and a loveseat, and one or two queen-sized beds and an attached private bathroom. This room was similar to the others, but it also had a large bookshelf with several classic editions on the shelves instead of a television set.
Henry and I entered the room and sat like we had in Daphne’s room. But Farley immediately settled onto an armchair, anticipating a long friendly chat.
“Are you a reader, Mr. Arnold?” I asked. “Most of the guest rooms come with a television, if you would prefer one?”
“No television for me. Rots your brain… I requested this room. I was good friends with your parents, and they mentioned that they kept a guest room with only books.” He smiled happily at the bookshelf. “Just as comfortable here as I would be at home.”
“I enjoy reading as well. We do have another library on this floor if you need more options. But we actually stopped by for something a bit more important,” I said. The third library was the largest and the one we shared with our guests, though I’d always preferred my own.
“All right, I’m listening.” Farley grinned. “You’re not here to sell me a magazine subscription, are you?”
I laughed. “No. I wish it were something like that. We actually had a tragedy this afternoon. Someone was shot on the property.”
“Oh, those poachers.” Farley cursed. “I’m glad my grandson wasn’t out there. Are they all right?”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t a hunting accident, and the victim died. We think this was murder,” I said.
“Murder? Not the best day for that if they were hoping to make a clean getaway,” he grumbled. “Of course, it might be helpful for the police.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond.
Henry continued the conversation. “What time did you arrive, Mr. Arnold?”
“I see how it is. Guess I can’t blame you. You should ask questions. I just arrived before the squall, probably 2:00 p.m. Who was it that go shot, anyway?” Farley asked.
“Just a young man, not sure who he was,” Henry bluffed.
“Sorry to hear it.” Farley signed a cross over his heart. “Be careful who you get mixed up with, especially when you’re young. Well, and when you’re old—people start wanting to get into your will. Money makes ‘em crazy.”
“Mr. Arnold, I have no suspicion of you,” I spoke truthfully. “We just wondered if you saw anything suspicious. You were returning a horse, correct?”
