The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Rhys Holyoake Recalls

"The mobile in my truck," Fiona said, chewing the corner of her Danish. "It's a beluga, not a whale. His name is Rupert."

"Even better," Viola said and addressed Imogen, "My point is, she cut into Rupert. And got stuck in Mr. Oakby Snr's wood stain like a fly on a trap. I'm sure an anonymous letter should do the trick."

Imogen gave it a thought - and then nodded.

"We just need to make sure it can't be traced back to either of us," she said. "And Fiona is right, we shouldn't threaten to expose her, or pretend we're the real burglars. We'll just stick with something like 'I know what you did in the Oakby Manor and in the Old Fire Station.'"

"I'd skip 'I know' as well," Fiona added another suggestion and lifted her face to Viola to get it wiped again. "Maybe just write the locations and the dates. Also, if it wasn't her, it'll just make no sense to her, and she'll ignore it."

"Good point," Viola said and mannerly sipped her coffee.

They debated the mechanics of writing and delivering an anonymous letter, and then switched onto the discussion of Imogen's upcoming exhibition. Ten minutes later the door to the shop opened, and Rhys Holyoake burst in, like a large beast  - or a very big bull in a wee china shop.

"Is everyone alright?" he barked at the three of them.

Imogen shrunk in her chair, Fiona frantically blinked several times momentarily ceasing her chewing, while Viola gave out a long, martyr sigh.

"And good day to you too, Rhys," she said and beckoned a waiter. "Do sit down, please. Have some tea and a scone. Or a dozen," she added quietly. "There's no immediate need for you to battle dragons and move mountains."

Holyoake grumpily greeted them and obediently tucked himself on a chair.

"We need to move Esther," Fiona said. "Imogen and Fiona think that the burglars were planning to open the container. They've gotten my key and probably my finger print. All they needed was the combination to unlock it."

The waiter popped up near their table, and Rhys ordered a coffee and three scones.

"So, how would they get the combination then?" Rhys asked Imogen.

She sat up straighter under an intense gaze of his electric blue eyes. His trust in her mental abilities was rather flattering, though.

"I assume they'd need someone on the inside," she started tentatively. "A connection. Someone who works in the security company."

"Or in the computer firm servicing the locks," Viola suggested.

Rhys gave his wife an admiring look, sipped the coffee brought over by the waiter, and chomped off half a scone in one go.

"Carolina previously worked in the Fleckney Savings Bank. They use the same computer firm, CyberFleck, for servicing their security system as most of the businesses in the county," Imogen said. "The same as the Town Hall. And some of the insurance companies in Fleckney. They maintain servers, and install and upgrade software for pretty much any institution here. I've dealt with them on many occasions."

Rhys stopped chewing his second scone.

"I use them too," he said, drawing his eyebrows together. "And so does my security company."

"I bet, so do the companies where Ms. Skinner and the Darlings had insured their jewellery," Imogen muttered.

"So, how do we prove any of it?" Viola asked. "There's clearly a mole in CyberFleck, someone who's feeding data to the burglars."