"They really helped, you know, when I needed a place here. I moved from London to settle somewhere a little more... well, relaxed, and everything went a lot easier than I thought it would. I work as the assistant store manager now, at a nearby clothes shop."

"Would I know it?"

"Oh, um, I'm not sure. It's not, like, a big chain or anything. It's called Elysium, on Lewes Road."

I nod slowly. That's one place to check out, and one name to look up. Elysium?

Clarissa comes over to put the tea down, her cat glancing at us with olive-green eyes before it goes upstairs, uninterested.

"Look, Clarissa... I hate to be upfront about this, but did you notice anything odd going on before my parents died?"

Clarissa gasps in shock, her eyes widening. "What? Died?"

I raise a brow in confusion. "You didn't know?"

"I- no! I've been at home for a while now, trying to get rid of this headache, and... oh, how awful. I'm so, so sorry, Holly."

I shrug, smiling awkwardly. "Thanks."

"W-what happened?"

"They were found dead in suspicious circumstances," I choose my words wisely, and she looks at me blankly for a moment before catching on. "It's an ongoing investigation. I'm just curious as to how it all kicked off. I mean, they were nice people, weren't they?"

"Really nice people," Clarissa agrees, nodding vigorously. "I can't believe it..."

"Did you know them well? My Mum?"

"No, not your mother."

I pause, taking a sip of tea before cupping the drink in my hands, meeting her timid gaze with my concentrated one.

"My father, then?"

Clarissa shakes her head and shrugs. "Not well, no. But he was the one who helped me get a place here. He was a lovely man."

I give her a thin-lipped smile. "Really?"

"Yeah. He even visited me at Elysium once, when I was first settling in, to ask me how I was doing. He was so-"

She stops suddenly, as if realising her rambling, and her cheeks dust pink. I watch in interest, trying to study her expression.

Okay.

It's possible that I've never acknowledged that my father was good-looking and, I don't know, attractive to other women? It's a pretty weird and, quite frankly, disturbing thought, but it still counts. So, could Clarissa have really liked my dad? He was married to Mum before I was born and seemed a faithful man - bad at hiding things anyway, and I'd never seen any kind of behaviour that suggested another woman. Not that there was. But this is a possibility, and one that links with the love letter style.

Things turned disturbing pretty quick, didn't they, Holl?

"So what?" I ask, but she shakes her head with a brief smile before drinking some of her tea. I let it go. For now.

"You never noticed anything odd about them at all before my birthday?"

"No," she replies, a small, thoughtful frown on her face. "I hadn't seen them much recently, so I suppose they'd been busy with work, like everyone. I don't understand why anyone would want them dead."

"Neither do I," I agree, finishing the last of my tea, before leaning back in my seat and looking at her curiously, ready to be a little more straightforward now.

"You were here all day then? On my birthday?"

Clarissa blinks. "I... yes."

"A bad migraine?"

She nods, her timidity rising to apprehension and uncertainty. "That's right."

"Paul and Lorraine gave you some stuff you could take with your tea, right? It might help. Though, it's never good to take a lot of pain relief when you aren't actually in pain."

She visibly flinches then, and I almost feel sorry for her. The only thing that makes me keep the eye contact and fixed stare is knowing that there's a very big possibility that she could be my RoseBlood Killer.

"What are you talking about?" she breathes, big green eyes like a deer in headlights.

"Well, all your curtains are open," I mention, waving casually to the windows and afternoon sun. "No windows open for any fresh air. And I thought you'd be taking painkillers right now - unless you took them before we got here, which is always one way of looking at things."

Clarissa lets out a shaky breath. "I do have a... what are you trying to say?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," I tell her with a half-smile that's supposed to be reassuring, but doesn't soften the worried expression on her face. "I just need to make sense of everything that's been going on. And, anyway, someone called Joseph Brunsley might come asking about all of this soon. He's head of the CID, and apparently the investigator of all this."

She shakes her head slowly, biting her lip. "This is all awful..."

I go for another approach now, softening the questions and pairing them with a painfully sweet smile.

"Clarissa, have you heard of or spoken to anyone who might know about their deaths? I think it's right for me to know, don't you? Of course, you don't have to tell me, but it might make it easier when you're asked again or something. This must be such a big thing to handle for you right now."

"Well," she dithers, "me and another woman were talking about the neighbourhood earlier this week, in the Co-op. I... well, the subject of your father did come up - but it was all good things, really. See, he's... see, I don't feel right saying this, since you were his daughter. But... well, you know, he was kind of charming. I- I mean, polite, handsome - she said that too. But it was a little odd when she promised he'd never act like th-"

She stops abruptly, hands clutching the bottom of her blue jumper tightly and her eyes looking anywhere but at me.

"What? Who was saying this, Clarissa?"

She shrugs, looking down at the ground. "I don't know her name."

"But you'd met her before?"

"No, no. But she was really friendly, and it just came up."

"What did she look like?"

She pauses, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't... remember."

I can't help raising my brows at that. "You don't remember?"

"I- no. And I don't have to say, do I?"

I stare at her in slight disbelief. Is she protecting a potential murderer? Making this whole story up to distract me?

Alright, fine. Leave it there. There's only so much you can get out of a person in one day.

"Of course you don't." I get up, smiling lightly. "I should be going. Thanks for the tea. Sorry about your migraine, and being the bearer of bad news."

"Oh, it's fine... yeah, you're welcome."

I start leaving the room, but before I do, I can help but turn and add one last thing.

"I'd consider closing a few curtains, though. It might help the pain go quicker."

Then I'm gone, and she's still sitting in her seat as I glance at the window when I walk back up her street, nibbling at her lip nervously as she stares at a corner of the room in thought.

So, there are a few new facts to add to the casebook.

The RoseBlood Killer

What I know:

Bobby Cassia could have been the main target concerning the murders, though Judith could have had some importance too. It has come to my attention that some may have seen Bobby as good-looking and 'charming', which suggests previous relationships or crushes. This is a gross thing to have to investigate, but I can take it, and it's the logical approach.

Yes, so stop cringing and face the facts, I think to myself, and roll my eyes as I continue writing.

It's at times like these I could really do with hacking into the Co-op's CCTV and finding out exactly who it was Clarissa was gossiping with. Unless, of course, there was no woman, and Clarissa wanted to shift the spotlight. However, she seems like the sort of person who would need time and thought whilst making up stories like that, and she looked genuinely embarrassed when she stopped herself from saying any more.

Her curtains weren't drawn in her house even though she claimed to have a bad migraine that'd been going on for a few days. There are no witnesses to support her claim of staying home during the birthday party. She bites her lip, plays with her clothes and looks away when she's nervous - she's a very timid person naturally, so the visual giveaways are easy to spot.

Follow up:

Visit Elysium, the shop where Clarissa Newman works.

Get Clarissa's workmates' opinions on Clarissa, and compare them.

Keep an eye out for the killer, and try getting information out of Brunsely when he next visits.

And, knowing him, he'll probably be back sooner than I want.