Warning: chapter contains severely unlikeable character.

Chapter 3

I followed Sherlock into a small, dark room illuminated only by a small lamp on the ceiling, that was flickering slightly as though it had been left on for a few hours. In the centre of the room was a desk, three chairs, one behind the desk and two facing it, and a young woman, who had blonde hair and emerald green eyes. I had often seen this shade seem much brighter than their surroundings. This was not one of those cases.

She had not looked up when we walked in, nor when we took chairs opposite her, but glanced upwards at the sound of the door closing behind me. I saw that her skin was pale, and her eyelashes were strangely straight. She had a strong jaw, and a mouth that was twisted upwards into a smirk as she looked the two of us up and down.

"Ruby Kendrick?" Sherlock asked, in what could only be described as a businesslike tone. It portrayed no emotion, and Ruby seemed vaguely intrigued at this new arrival as he spoke.

"Yes," she replied, in a voice that seemed determined to match the other's coldness. I could hear the confidence and arrogance that carried her voice. Sherlock told her that he was going to need to ask her a few questions. Ruby rolled her eyes at the ceiling, and I got a sense, even more so than before, that she was quite as unlikable in real life as Crew had been.

'For co-stars', I thought to myself drearily, 'It looks like a match made in Hell.'

Sherlock fiddled with his collar absently, contemplating what he was going to say next. As if it was automatic, he asked, "Tell me, how do you feel about Mr Johnson… uh… dying?"

"Indifferent, I suppose. I haven't quite had time to think about it, but I'm quite glad that I don't have to be seen with him anymore. Though I would rather you hurried up in finding me innocent, you're costing me time," she said, apparently unbothered by the fact that this placed her, in my mind at least, at the top of the murder suspects.

"You're costing us rather more time," he replied, his voice now icy cold. "So he wasn't popular amongst you, then?"

She snorted as an answer. We both knew which answer of the two she meant.

"No, I should think most people on set hated him. But he gave a good enough performance, and made them a lot of money, so the higher ups couldn't have been less bothered by what we thought, I don't think. Business is fun, right?" she added, sarcastically.

"And yet you stayed," Sherlock said, "Despite hating him."

"Like I said, it was about the money. Otherwise, I would have walked out the moment I saw his face glare at mine."

"You would stay on a set with a man you hated for money?" His eyes narrowed.

Ruby tilted her head at him, and narrowed her own eyes down to slits, as if to say 'Wouldn't you?'

"And you maintain that you're innocent in this, then?" he asked, again, businesslike.

"Yes." she said, firmly. "I had half a mind to, a few times, but I kept myself under control. Murder wouldn't have looked good on my resume, don't you think. Oh, who are you, anyway, since you're asking so many questions?"

Sherlock blinked slowly. "Sherlock Holmes," Ruby pulled out a hand. He hesitated, then shook it very slowly, keeping eye contact with her, and stopping at the first opportunity he could.

"You're the one who's on the news all the time!" she said, brightly. "The brilliant genius, here to solve another case. By the way, between you and me, you look much better without that weird hat of yours, mister Holmes."

He again remained silent for a moment, and then walked out of the room, with long strides, watching her glower after him out of the corner of his eye.

"Success?" Lestrade asked, the moment Sherlock and I had exited it.

"Well…" Sherlock muttered, "We know that if Ruby Kendrick did poison him, her motives were probably money, or fame, but in this case, probably money, I don't see why you would ever murder someone for fame, if you're found out, that becomes infamy, though that might make the movie more successful… but even then…" He continued for a few minutes, at the end of which, he had deduced that if she had killed him, they would be likely to find some spare car keys were they to investigate the murder scene. The second man, John, was much less talkative. He had tanned skin, glasses, and dark hair that was a little too neat, but he didn't want to tell the police anything, either out of guilt or because it was a traumatic memory. I found myself, very much unlike Ruby, feeling rather sorry for him.

Apparently, John had idled Crew for a few years, and was pleased to be able to work with him at last, but it had, of course, taken a sour turn. Sherlock had been much more interested in him than Ruby however, though I thought he probably hated Ruby every bit as much as I did.

"Whoever killed Crew was clever," he told me, as we left the room, "But I doubt they have had much experience prior, if they gave a generous helping when they should have prioritised not being noticed. You need very little 1080 to kill a man. We're dealing with a first murder, and someone who wants to get away with it, not like Ruby. Or, maybe like Ruby, but I suspect John much more."

I may have talked him into letting Ruby go, if just to have one fewer suspect, and privately so that I never had to talk to her again, but Sherlock was not the kind of person to enjoy taking candidates out of the picture so early, and I could tell that whatever he said, he was still suspicious of both of them.

"So… what next?" I asked. As if he had been waiting for the question, he turned to me.

"Tell Lestrade to grab John and Ms. Kendrick, the five of us are going to the Flow Country this evening."

And without another word, he strode off towards the car park.