Death of a Cozy Writer: A St. Just Mystery
"The traditional British cozy is alive and well. Delicious. I was hooked from the first paragraph.”
—Rhys Bowen, award-winning author of
Her Royal Spyness
“
Death of a Cozy Writer
, G. M. Malliet’s hilarious first mystery, is a must-read for fans of Robert Barnard and P. G. Wodehouse. I'm looking forward eagerly to Inspector St. Just’s next case!”
—Donna Andrews, award-winning author of
The Penguin Who Knew Too Much
“A house party in a Cambridgeshire mansion with the usual suspects, er, guests—a sly patriarch, grasping relatives, a butler, and a victim named Ruthven (what else?)—I haven’t had so much fun since Anderson’s ‘Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy.’ Pass the tea and scones, break out the sherry, settle down in the library by the fire and enjoy Malliet’s delightful tribute to the time-honored tradition of the English country house mystery.”
—Marcia Talley, Agatha and Anthony award-winning author of
Dead Man Dancing
and six previous mysteries
“
Death of a Cozy Writer
is a romp, a classic tale of family dysfunction in a moody and often humourous English country house setting. A worthy addition to the classic mystery tradition and the perfect companion to a cup of tea and a roaring fire, or a sunny deck chair. Relax and let G. M. Malliet introduce you to the redoubtable Detective Chief Inspector St. Just of the Cambridgeshire Constabulary. I’m sure we’ll be hearing much more from him!”
—Louise Penny, author of the award-winning
Armand Gamache series of murder mysteries
DEATH
of a
Cozy Writer
FORTHCOMING BY G. M. MALLIET
Death and the Lit Chick
A St. Just Mystery
DEATH
of a
Cozy Writer
G. M . Malliet
Death of a Cozy Writer: A St. Just Mystery
© 2008 by G. M. Malliet. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Edition First
Printing, 2008
Book design and format by Donna Burch
Cover design by Gavin Dayton Duffy
Cover art © Polk Dot Images / Punch Stock
Gargoyle Cover Element © Jorge Mascarenhas
Editing by Connie Hill
Midnight Ink, an imprint of Llewellyn Publications
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Malliet, G. M.
Death of a cozy writer : a St. Just mystery. G.M. Malliet. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7387-1248-2
1. Police—England—Cambridgeshire—Fiction. 2. Cambridgeshire
(England)—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.A4535D43 2008
813'.6--dc22
2008013803
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Midnight Ink
Llewellyn Publications
2143 Wooddale Drive, Dept. 978-0-7387-1248-2
Woodbury, MN 55125-2989 USA
www.midnightinkbooks.com
Printed in the United States of America
For my husband.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people helped this book into existence, but it might not have made it at all but for the early encouragement of playwright Terryl Paiste.
My sincerest thanks also to the tireless volunteers of the Malice Domestic conference, who further midwifed this novel via their generous award of the Malice Domestic Grant (now renamed in memory of the beloved William F. Deeck).
The members of Sisters in Crime, particularly those of the Chesapeake Chapter, were there when I needed them, which was often.
I would also like to offer heartfelt thanks to the staff of Midnight Ink, beginning with Barbara Moore.
Many thanks also to Muir Ainsley, who patiently and correctly answered all my questions about British arcana without once asking me to please leave him alone. Any mistakes in the novel are entirely mine.
And as always, thanks to my husband, for his patience, love, and support through what must have seemed to him an endless and everlasting process.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
While the city and University of Cambridge, England, are of course real, as are Scotland and Cornwall, I have entirely invented the characters in this book who act out their imagined lives against these beautiful backdrops.
Peterhouse likewise exists, but DCI Arthur St. Just is not a real-life alumnus of that hallowed seat of learning.
In some cases, I have invented a village or manor house, such as Newton Coombe and Waverley Court, and placed them somewhat randomly in Cambridgeshire.
And there is now a castle in Scotland that exists only in my imagination.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Ruthven Beauclerk-Fisk
—eldest son of Sir Adrian, ruthless Ruthven was heir-apparent to his father’s vast fortune, until his father unexpectedly announced plans to remarry.
Lillian Beauclerk-Fisk
—Ruthven’s social-climbing wife, she mostly found murder frightfully inconvenient.
Sarah Beauclerk-Fisk
—fuddled and unhappy, she inherited her father’s gift for penning best-selling books. Did she inherit his mean streak, as well?
Albert Beauclerk-Fisk
—Sir Adrian’s youngest son. A failed actor and designated black sheep of the family, Albert’s one remaining ambition was to protect sister Sarah from suspicion of murder.
Chloe, Lady Beauclerk-Fisk
—Sir Adrian’s former wife, and the mother of his unhappy brood. Did life with Sir Adrian drive her to drink—or to murder?
Sir Adrian Beauclerk-Fisk
—a famous writer of mystery novels in the “cozy” genre, Sir Adrian had a devilish talent for making noirish mischief.
Jeffrey Spencer
—Sir Adrian’s secretary, an earnest American expat in search of his roots. His attentions to Sarah Beauclerk-Fisk enraged his employer.
Maria Romano
—Sir Adrian’s long-time cook, she was the only person at Waverley Court who seemed to have a soft spot for the cantankerous author.
William Watters
—The elderly gardener of Waverley Court saw no evil—until someone tried to frame him for murder.
Jim Tanner
—Proud proprietor of the local Thorn and Crown.
George Beauclerk-Fisk
—Ne’er-do-well son, failed entrepreneur, and playboy, his sibling’s death increased George’s chances in the inheritance sweepstakes.
Natasha Wellings
—George’s latest girlfriend: slim, dark, and beautiful. People wondered: Whatever did she see in George?
Paulo Romano
—Butler to Sir Adrian, Mrs. Romano’s son spent little time butlering and vast amounts skulking about Waverley Court.
Violet Mildenhall
—Notorious in her heyday, her marriage of convenience to Sir Adrian proved less than convenient when it thrust her into the middle of a murder investigation—again.
Martha
—Mrs. Romano’s daily help.
Constable Porter, Sergeant Garwin Fear,
and
Dr. Malenfant
— Loyal aides-de-camp to Detective Chief Inspector St. Just of the Cambridgeshire Constabulary.
DCI Arthur St. Just
—Crime halted his plans for a ski holiday when Sir Adrian’s devious machinations snowballed into murder.
Mrs. Ketchen
—Elderly maid to Chloe, Lady Beauclerk-Fisk.
Manda Croom
—Ruthven’s efficient business associate and once-besotted paramour, she viewed murder at Waverley Court as a career opportunity.
Quentin Coffield, Esq.
—a supercilious solicitor who played along with Sir Adrian’s dangerous propensity to change his will, at will.
Mrs. Butter
—Sir Adrian’s former secretary. Albert enlisted her help in learning what the secretive Adrian had been plotting.
Mrs. Mott
—a nurse in Cornwall.
Agnes Grant
—a cook who bore witness to a crime long, long ago in Scotland.
No one reigns innocently
—SAINT-JUST
_________________
THE INVITATION, THOUGH EMBOSSED
on the stiffest 100 percent rag-content paper Gribbley’s, Stationers to Her Majesty, could produce, nonetheless had more than a whiff of the prepackaged Marks & Sparks sales offering about it. Ruthven could not remember ever having seen a missive so entirely festooned with angels, or, given his background, decorated with anything more festive than black engraving on woven cream.
Yet here, naked seraphim and cherubim peeked coyly from the pink lining of the envelope, and from every corner of the thick pink card itself, grinning lasciviously as they held aloft a lavender banner announcing what appeared to be an upcoming event, perhaps the end of the world. Their sly expressions duplicated that which normally appeared on Ruthven’s own somewhat round features, which tended to hold a smirk, even in repose. He first scanned the card, then studied it more closely, then groaned aloud.