The café was emptier than Raoul expected for a Friday morning, especially given Violet's description of the Tuesday afternoon scene from just three days prior.
Raoul settled into a corner table with a view of the door and ordered Virgil's last drink. He didn't have any good reason beyond wanting to see if anything about it might be off somehow. It had been a few days and chamomile tea in a café was unusual, though the employees mentioned it sold decently well, especially on late evenings.
Maybe a bit of relaxation would net him some clues. It was a flimsy justification, but he'd take it.
The detective opened up his notebook and looked over his personal anecdotes and the currently limited evidence he has available.
Violet Vale. Last person to see Virgil alive without knowing it. By her account, and he believed her account, the afternoon had been ordinary. Warm. Virgil behaved in a way she'd read as relieved. All seemed well, and they'd had plans to meet again later that evening for rehearsal.
Vincent Vale. Found the body. Not as close to Virgil as he should have been, in his own words. And yet somehow he was the first person to find the body.
He found himself looking out the window.
A case without a cause of death was one kind of problem. A case without a motive was another kind entirely. The toxicology report was coming but until it arrived he had a body, a locked room, a café cup, and two conversations that kept turning over in his hands like something he hadn't found the right angle on yet.
Motive, then. That was the next thread worth pulling.
With a very enticing inheritance hanging over the Vales' heads, Raoul wondered if the potential inheritance might be reason enough. The Vale's were a family with money enough to matter and reasons enough to want it.
He left enough on the table to cover the tea and went to find out who stood to inherit.
Unfortunately the will, as it turned out, was not going to be easy to get to.
Violet had been perfectly willing to help. That much was clear from the way she'd answered the phone. She was direct, there was no preamble, and she was already pulling up whatever she could find before he'd finished asking.
Much like Virgil, it seemed Violet had a talent for predicting what the next person was trying to say.
She had the name of her mother's solicitor halfway out of her mouth when she stopped.
"Hang on," she said. There was a muffled exchange on her end, brief and not particularly warm. Then she came back. "Vincent says no."
"Vincent isn't my client."
"Oh he is. At least the way he's been acting around the house lately." Things fell silent for a moment. Then, quieter and considerably more amused, she started spoke again: "He's making the face."
"What face?"
"The face that means the conversation is over." He could hear the grin in it. It seemed that Violet was at least able to smile, even if just a little. "He says anything to do with the estate goes through the solicitor directly. That you're welcome to submit a formal request." Another pause. "His words, not mine. I'd have phrased it worse."
Raoul sighed, thanked her, and hung up.
He leaned back in his uncomfortable office chair for a while. Everytime he felt he'd found something to pursue someone came and stole the momentum from under him.
Vincent Vale, Raoul just couldn't get a read on him. The man seemed the type to make moves solely on his own terms. He was perfectly cooperative at the restaurant, precise with his statement, forthcoming about the family. Though now it seemed Vincent had decided to shut whatever door he'd previously held open between the two of them.
He made a note of the solicitor. If things in the investigation got bad, he'd likely have to subpoena this person later. Though proving the will mattered would be a long shot, especially since Raoul himself wasn't so sure yet.
The toxicology report arrived that afternoon.
The detective had it expedited. He didn't think this would do anything beside give him confirmation. He just needed his theories validated by evidence. He was the type who struggled to make headway until he had something concrete to move from. It was a fundamental rookie hangup and he recognized it, but he didn't exactly ask for this case in the first place. Everyone would just have to deal with it.
Everyone including himself.
He'd read the first part, an analysis of the café tea, which was easily the only thing that didn't quite belong in that room. Clean. No tampering or substances existed in the chamomile, not even in trace amounts.
Okay fine, he could deal with that. He'd been certain something was tampered with it, but the drink wasn't his main concern.
He read further. And as he read on he felt an ice cold disappointment wash over him. He then sat down and read it again.
It was not what he'd expected. All this time he'd had a working theory, though it was vague at best. Poisoning, drugging maybe. Even if it wasn't malicious, something like carbon monoxide in the room or accidental tampering with the drink could've done Virgil in.
He wasn't sure how exactly, but it could've been done. It was a rough idea, as all early theories tended to be. But this report had walked in and quietly set his burgeoning theories and suspicions on fire.
There was nothing.
No poison. No foreign substances. Nothing introduced from outside that could turn up on a toxicology report.
Raoul set the toxicology report down and looked at it for a long time. He stared blankly at that piece of paper like it had personally betrayed him.
His only hope was that the autopsy report would arrive and show something the toxicology report couldn't. Although, to the detective's dismay, it felt increasingly as though Raoul was chasing ghosts. Maybe he was too trusting of suspects? Perhaps he wasn't asking the right questions?
Raoul picked up his phone and called Vincent. If nothing else, turning this new intel around on his own wouldn't help. He needed more info.
"Mr. Boa." Vincent answered on the second ring, and his tone had already arrived somewhere.
"And good day to you Mr Vale. Listen, we need to talk."
"No."
Raoul clicked his tongue. The shutdown came so quick he was momentarily off balance. "Not no. Yes. I have some questions for you, and I'd recommend meeting up to talk in person."
"If this is about the solicitor, then it'll have to be a hard no." Vincent huffed. The sharp authority in his voice cut Raoul down a step. "I believe Violet already explained the situation."
Raoul remained silent for a few seconds then sighed a little too heavily. That will was still important to Raoul's case. Even if most of his theories had just gone up in smoke, he figured this estate must be a strong enough motive for someone to cut Virgil out of the picture.
"Fine. Fine I understand. I heard the instruction loud and clear earlier." His acquiescence came quickly, but felt too shaky to be true. "Now back on track. Your brother's toxicology report came back. Not the full autopsy yet but it's a start."
A pause from Vincent's end. Shorter than expected. "And?"
"And I think you'd want to know what it says." He let that sit for a moment. "I'm happy to share it with you directly. All I'd ask in return is a conversation with your mother's solicitor."
The silence on the other end wasn't exactly uncomfortable but it set Raoul's nerves on fire. He knew needed to be calm to think straight, but he was admittedly getting pretty desperate.
Fortunately for the detective, the silence was the thinking kind rather than the hostile kind. That was the only reason Raoul took as a reasonable sign.
"The report first." Vincent said.
"The meeting first." Raoul countered. His smirk could be heard through the phone. He held rather important information, whether he liked the results or not. "And if you're amenable to reason you'll get the report. Over coffee, if you'd like."
Another pause. Raoul knew well by now that negotiation with the likes of Vincent was mostly just a matter of not talking too much. Let the man weigh the options on his own.
"The restaurant," Vincent said at last. "Tomorrow. Noon."
He hung up without further ceremony.
Raoul set the phone down and turned back to the report on the desk. No foreign substances were found in his body, nor was his tea spiked with anything. Seemingly anyway. This case was beginning to feel more and more like a headache.