Gemstone Butterfly

Although he definitely had to arrive an hour early to ask about what happened the previous evening, it would be completely out of character for him to say, “Good morning, Miss Castle. Could you come to my office?” Instead, he would walk into the office, carefully place his hat on the coat rack, stand in front of the mirror for a few seconds, smooth his hair, straighten his tie, and only then, comfortably settle into the large swivel chair in front of the polished walnut desk, press the abalone button, and the buzzer on Page’s desk would sound. Page picked up her notebook, walked into the office, and sat down in a chair. Mr. Halsey waved to her to put the notebook aside, “Forget the notebook. I want to ask you a few questions.” She looked up at him, as if she hadn’t anticipated this interview in the past ten hours. “Were you with Kimberly last night?” She nodded. “That article was terrible. I don’t like our company’s name being associated with such things in public. One of our employees is dead, and two other employees found the body, possibly a murder, which tarnishes the company’s reputation.” “I’m sorry,” she said. He cleared his throat, “Well. I know, before you came here, you worked in the newspaper industry.” “A bit, and for a small paper.” “You have insights. I plan to hire another secretary. From today, you will be the public relations consultant for this company. Your primary responsibility is to ensure there are no more articles like the one in this morning’s paper.” “Your new job will come with a significant raise. Of course, you’ll continue with your internal publication column. I like how you make office gossip so entertaining with your chattiness and humor, making the employees feel important. No, no, no need to thank me. This appointment is experimental. I want to see how you handle the various rumors about Stella Lynn’s death that we are bound to face. Now, tell me about what happened last night, in detail.” He paused, looking at her over the top of his glasses, as if suggesting, in some way, she bore personal responsibility for Stella Lynn’s death. Page told him about the anonymous letter, the visit to the Royal Pheasant nightclub, and her conversation with Don Kimberly. “Then you weren’t with Don Kimberly?” Halsey asked. “No, if you mean dating.” “The paper said you were out on a dinner date with him. The police told me the same.” “That’s a misunderstanding.” Halsey pursed his lips, “Since they think you and Don Kimberly were on a date, merely visiting Stella out of friendliness, I think it’s best to leave it unchallenged.” “May I ask why?” “It’s best not to change what’s already been published; it would put you in a difficult position.” “The police are wrong to think we were out together.” Halsey smiled at her, “Then we can say with a clear conscience, right? Alright, we’ll let them think you were out on a dinner date with Don.” “But that claim is baseless. The maître d’ knows we didn’t come in together, and the restaurant staff knows.” Halsey furrowed his brows, then reluctantly gave up his point, “Then I think you should tell them the truth.” Page waited a moment; she didn’t mention the jewel-encrusted butterfly she had taken from Stella’s stocking. Halsey brought his fingertips together, “What about the fragments of that letter?” he asked. “In my desk.” “I think we’d better have a look,” he said. She brought them in and handed them to him. “Can you be sure these fragments are from the envelope?” “Yes. You can see the calligraphy is consistent, and this was the only handwritten letter sent to me in the afternoon mail.” Halsey’s gaze searched through the paper scraps, deep in thought. “How did Kimberly explain the letter?” he suddenly asked. “He didn’t explain, nor could he.” The phone on Halsey’s desk rang loudly three times, he picked up the receiver, “Hello, this is Halsey.” He frowned for a moment, then said, “Normally, this call should have gone to Miss Castle’s desk. But—oh, I understand… Very well, I’ll see him. Yes, bring him in.” Halsey hung up the phone and looked at Page over the top of his glasses, “There’s a detective named Nelson outside, do you know anything about him?” “No.” “He wants to talk to me. The receptionist was at a loss, so she called me directly. The call should have gone through your office, but now that it’s happened, I don’t want to provoke any hostility from the police. You should go out and meet him.” She nodded in agreement and went to the reception area, where the receptionist was just opening the door for the visitor. He wasn’t what she expected. He looked more like a successful accountant or bond salesman, tall, dressed plainly, with a pleasant voice. “I’m Fred Nelson,” he said, “from the police headquarters.” He held out a business card holder as if waiting to be asked for identification. He presented a gold shield badge and handed Page a card with elegant embossed decorations, with a gold shield police badge in the top left corner. “Mr. Halsey is waiting for you.” “Are you his secretary, Miss Castle?” “Yes.” “I need to see both of you,” he said, “I believe you and your companion discovered the body.” “I was with Mr. Kimberly.” He nodded. “Do you want to see Mr. Kimberly as well?” she asked. He shook his head, “Just you and Mr. Halsey.” “Please follow me.” She led him into Halsey’s office. Nelson shook hands with Halsey and said, “I took the liberty of having your secretary present during our conversation, Mr. Halsey.” Halsey smiled at him, “That’s fine, no problem. Please, have a seat. What can we do to assist you? I’ve never liked to see such unfortunate tragedies; we’re somewhat like a big family here, and these tragedies deeply hurt us.” “Did you have a personal relationship with Miss Lynn?” Nelson asked. Halsey’s calm, composed eyes surveyed the detective from over the top of his glasses. He hesitated for about two seconds, as if considering how to respond to the detective’s question, then simply said, “Yes.”