Murder Actually (4 page)

“Congratulations, Violet.”

His tone was bitterly ironic and Violet flushed and looked away. Sabrina Elliott stood as if turned to stone, and then whirled around so quickly she spilled champagne down the front of her blouse.
“Oh, no! Here let me help you,” Rose looked around helplessly and then began dabbing at the splotches with a cocktail napkin.

“Don't bother,” said Sabrina. “I'd hate to take away from the joyousness of this occasion.”

“What are we drinking to?”

The voice of Jasper caused us to swing around
en masse
and Violet let out an embarrassed giggle. “I know you'll be disappointed in me, darling,” she tittered nervously. “But I'm afraid I let the cat out of the bag about our engagement. I hope you don't mind.”

Jasper's expression was thunderous, but he made a visible effort to relax and put an arm around Violet. “That's okay; it was going to come out, anyway, I guess.”

“I'm sure you'll be very happy,” Sabrina Elliott regarded them steadily for a moment and I noticed Jasper was breathing heavily as he turned back towards Violet.

“Don't you have some work to do…darling?”

“Yes, Jasper, I was just going.”

Jasper grabbed her arm and escorted her towards the front door while Alex talked to Coco in a low tone. Sabrina turned and hurried away, and I noticed Rose look after her with a worried expression.

Julia approached me and held out a bottle of champagne. I grimaced and held out my glass.

“Make mine a double.”

The revelry continued unabated thanks to the free booze and pounding rain, and I sipped from my plastic cup and tried not to yawn. I noticed it was a little before eight and decided it was time to get back to my laptop. I looked around for Charlotte and saw her standing next to the information desk as Crispin Wickford talked earnestly in her ear. I walked towards the pair to say goodnight but had scarcely taken more than a few steps before something happened that was straight out of a Jasper Ware novel.

The lights went out.

 

 

 

As the room was suddenly plunged into darkness, I heard someone scream and the sound of tinkling glass. There were shouts and exclamations and I felt a sudden surge of bodies towards the front door. I was buffeted along the information desk towards the exit, just as a dramatic clap of thunder added to the hysteria of the crowd.

“Damn.” Charlotte's voice sounded next to me in the darkness.

“Where's the fuse box?” I yelled.

“Next to the back door. I'll get it.”

I heard Charlotte move away and grunted as someone slammed into my arm.

“Nobody move!” I shouted. “Charlotte's going to fix the fuse.”

No one listened. The group, fueled by champagne and adrenaline, began trying to move as one body out the front door. I grunted as an elbow struck me in the ribs and felt another blow to my leg as I vainly tried to peer through the dim moonlight. I couldn't distinguish one face from another and had a confused impression of jumbled bodies and blank white expressions.

After what seemed like an eternity the lights came back on, glaring and intense, and the crowd suddenly stopped its desperate plunge to the exit. People stood blinking at one another, looking sheepish, I heard someone laugh.

I didn't feel like laughing.

Rose Elliott lay huddled next to the information desk, her face covered in blood.

I watched Sabrina bend over her sister, and Coco Ware hurried forward and knelt at her other side.

“I'm alright,” Rose said faintly. “It's just a little cut.”

Sabrina scowled, concern written across her face. “What happened?”

“Someone pushed me; I fell and cut my head.”

“Are you okay?” Coco asked worriedly.

Rose struggled to sit upright. “Yes, I'm fine! It's only a tiny cut. You know head wounds bleed like crazy.”

She was right. The handkerchief she was holding was already soaked and there was blood liberally spattered on both her and Sabrina.

“It must've been this.” Sabrina picked a letter opener off the floor. “I guess it got brushed off the counter and hit you.”

“You might've been killed!” Coco exclaimed.

Rose shook her head. “Not likely; look how dull it is. It just gave me a little scratch. I'm okay now. Can you help me up, please?”

They helped Rose to her feet and she handed the handkerchief back to Coco. “Thanks.”

Coco put the handkerchief in her bag as Alex approached. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Of course I'm alright,” he said irritably. “Why wouldn't I be? What's the matter with Rose? She's a mess.”

“She fell and hurt herself.”

“This place is a death trap. The lights must've gone out because of the storm.” He suddenly pulled away from Coco. “Careful! You got blood on my cuff.”

“I'll rinse it out when we get home.”

“Let's go, then; I think we can safely assume this party is over.”

They steered their way through the crowd as Charlotte re-emerged from the back of the store. Her face was flushed and her hair tousled. When she saw Rose she let out an exclamation of distress.

“What happened?”

“It's okay, Charlotte. Rose cut her head, she's fine.”

Charlotte pulled a box of band-aids from behind the counter and applied one to Rose's head, then looked around the room. “What a mess! I think we've had enough excitement for one night. Let's wrap it up before someone gets killed.” She turned towards me and began to clap. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out and supporting Ms. Gray and
The Cheesecake Diaries
. Have a safe trip home.”

There was a scattered smattering of applause as those remaining headed towards the door. I signed a few final copies of my book and said goodnight to Rose and Sabrina.

Julia was among the last to leave and gave my arm a squeeze. “That was quite a party, Betts.”

I smiled at her wanly and promised to call the next day. The last stragglers finally deserted the picked-over remnants of appetizers and warm champagne. After everyone had gone I stood with Charlotte at the front door and we silently regarded the trampled remains of canapé and scattered champagne glasses. As much as I needed to get back to work, I felt guilty for leaving Charlotte with such a mess.

“I'll stay and help pick up,” I said.

Charlotte passed a hand over her brow in a weary gesture. “Thanks, Elspeth, I really appreciate it. I'm exhausted, but I can safely say your book reading was a huge success.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “It was a good turn-out. My agent will be happy.”

Even as I spoke the words I knew they weren't true. My agent, Paula, wasn't a happy person. In the eight years of our relationship I'd never seen her happy. I used to think it was her chosen profession that made her so frenetic, but then realized Paula would be the same whether she was a waitress or an executive. Paula was Paula. She'd asked me to give her a call later that night to let her know how the evening had gone, and I figured she was probably still up drinking.

“I'll be right back, Charlotte,” I called out.

“Alright,” I heard Charlotte's voice muffled from somewhere in the back of the store, and I walked over to the red rope that separated the ground floor from the upper floors of the shop.

The rain fell steadily, creating a doleful drum on the ceiling. The lights were off but there was a faint glow coming through the windows. I groped past poetry anthologies and biographies trying to find the light switch.

It had to be there somewhere. My hands passed over the cold leather volumes, and I was almost to International Classics when I noticed something on the floor about twenty feet ahead of me.

It was so dark…nearly impossible to see anything…what was it?

My eyes strained against the blackness as I crept a little closer. It looked like a pile of clothes, or maybe an old blanket?

What was it?

My mind raced over the possibilities; sorting, rejecting, seeking, trying to find a logical explanation that didn't involve something horribly creepy.

I got a little closer and stopped again. I couldn't keep going, I didn't want to know. Just then a dramatic bolt of lightning lit the night sky and I could clearly see the pile in the corner. I gasped and tried to breathe.

It was Jasper Ware.

He was sprawled full length on the oak plank floor, his feet pointed towards the front of the shop and his head towards the window. One arm was stretched straight over his shoulder and the other was at a ninety-degree angle towards the right. A broken champagne glass lay next to his hand, and his watery brown eyes were half-closed and glistened strangely. As I bent over to get a closer look at the body I felt a sudden rush of blood to my head. Something dull and dark was sticking up from the middle of the pool of blood on his chest. I stood up quickly and tried to take a deep breath.

The hilt of a bloody dagger was buried deep in Jasper Ware's chest.

For a second I thought maybe it was some awful hallucination brought on by cheesecake and cheap champagne. I closed my eyes, and then opened one and looked down again. He was still there; still there and still dead. I thought I might faint in an elegant heap, but I realized this would only put me in closer proximity to the body, so I took a deep breath and did what any self-respecting heroine would do.

I screamed.

 

 

 

Chief Bill Liddell of the All Hallows Police Department arrived at Inkwell a little after nine. He pushed his way through the crowd of people that had gathered near the entrance and saw me standing by the information desk.

“What have you done this time, Elspeth?” he asked wearily.

His tone suggested he'd resigned himself to the fact that I'd killed Jasper Ware, and that my descent into madness and homicide came as no great shock.

“Nothing,” I exclaimed. “I gave a book reading tonight and when I went to make a phone call I found the body lying there.”

Liddell sighed and pushed out his
paunch. He was white and solid, like a slab of pork belly, and his hair protruded from his head at various angles happily immune from the pungent administrations of hair tonic. Liddell had a nervous habit of rubbing his fingers together and smelling them, and I watched as he took a deep sniff of his thumbnail.

“C'mon, let's go.”

I followed him silently up the stairs and took a deep breath as we approached International Classics. Someone had covered up Jasper's body with a sheet, but it was still gruesome. I shuddered and looked away. Liddell pulled back the sheet and examined the body for a few minutes before turning towards me.

“Do you know him?” Liddell asked.

I nodded. “Slightly. It's Jasper Ware. He's a writer.”

Liddell scowled. “What time did you find him?”

“It was about eight-thirty. I was helping clean up after the book reading and came up here to make a phone call.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No.”

“Did you touch anything?”

I shook my head.

Liddell glanced around and scowled. “Was this area off limits tonight?”

“Yes. Charlotte had the second and third floors roped off for the book reading. She wanted everyone to stay on the first floor for security.”

“But you didn't.” Liddell sounded accusatory and I hurried to defend myself.

“Charlotte was downstairs and I wanted some privacy for my call.”

“Did you notice anyone go upstairs during the party tonight?”

I shook my head. “No, sorry, I didn't see anyone.”

Liddell motioned towards a tall, broad-shouldered officer in blue. “How about it, Jack?”

Sergeant Jack Wilkins flipped open his notebook and began to read aloud. “The victim is Jasper Ware, age forty-nine. Mystery writer. He lives at 90 Sleepy Hills Lane with his wife, Nora Ware. The deceased was attending a book reading tonight hosted by the manager of Inkwell Books, Charlotte Whipple. The deceased arrived a little before six and according to several guests was somewhat intoxicated. According to Ms. Whipple, the lights went out around 7:55 p.m. She went and fixed the fuse and the lights were restored around 8:00. Presumably the murder was committed during that time.”

“Small window,” Liddell noted. “What about suspects?”

“Yes, sir, too many. There were fifty-five people at the book reading tonight according to the guest book. Ms. Whipple had a rope across the stairs to keep everyone on the first floor, but as you can see it would've been easy to duck underneath.”

“What about the back door? Could someone have snuck inside?”

Jack shook his head. “The back door was unlocked but the alley has a lot of a dirt and debris. We couldn't find any sign of footprints in or out.”

Liddell let out a sound between a grunt and a groan. “So, it looks like it was one of the guests.”

“Yes, sir. We've made a list of everyone who was here and are in the process of getting them to come downtown and make a statement. It might take some time.”

“What a nightmare.” Liddell knelt down again by the body. “Doesn't look like there's much chance of suicide judging by the angle of the knife, but I guess anything is possible. The weapon looks unique, that should tell us something.”

“Yes, sir, we have our photographers on it now and can get some experts as soon as we remove the body.”

“No doubt as to cause of death?”

“There aren't any other wounds on the body but we'll have to wait for Doc Lewis to tell us officially.”

“It's an interesting pose: one hand pointing directly up over the head and the other at a ninety degree angle to the left. Doesn't look natural, does it?” Liddell followed the direction of Jasper's outstretched hand and I followed his gaze. Jasper was pointing towards a large collection of Bibles in foreign languages. “No signs of a struggle.”

“No, sir.”

“Not much blood, is there?”

“No, sir, but we can probably assume the murderer at least got something on his or her hands.”

Liddell turned back to the body with a grunt. “Okay, let's get to it.”

Sergeant Jack knelt down beside Liddell, and I watched as they began to catalogue the items in Jasper's pockets. The right hand coat pocket held a crumpled letter addressed to the deceased from Bryant Ross Publishing and two wadded twenty-dollar bills. The left-hand pocket had a comb and a black notebook filled with names and numbers, mostly women. The trouser pockets held pens, loose change, receipts and Jasper's wallet. As Sergeant Jack flipped through the contents I noticed a number of credit cards and a large wad of cash. Mixed up with the money was a slip of paper.

“What is that?” Liddell demanded.

Sergeant Jack handed it to his boss. “It looks like a book list, sir.”

I edged closer to Liddell and read the short list of titles:
A Case of the Mondays: Self-Help for Daily Life
;
Hotel Du Lac
; and
A Tale of Two Cities
. It was hardly a glimpse into the twisted mind of a homicidal killer, although I'd always considered self-help books a slippery slope.

Liddell bent again over the body. “He has something in his hand.”

Sergeant Jack bent down and carefully extracted a small scrap of paper from Jasper's right hand.

“It's a note, sir.
Meet me in International Classics at eight
.”

“Is it signed?” Liddell asked hopefully.

Sergeant Jack shook his head and Liddell sighed. “Alright, let's get this cleaned up.”

As Jack began bagging the items they'd found, I glanced down the stairs and saw a small crowd forming at the bottom. Rose and Sabrina Elliott were at the front of the group, and I turned back to Liddell.

“Can I go talk to the locals?”

“Don't go too far, Elspeth, we'll need you to come to the station and sign a statement.”

“Sure thing, Chief.”

I gave a mock salute and walked down to the Elliott sisters. I noticed they'd both changed clothes since I'd seen them.

“Charlotte just called us. What happened, Elspeth?' Sabrina asked eagerly.

I explained to them about finding Jasper's body and the dagger and Sabrina nodded. “I've been expecting something like this!”

I was a little taken aback. Expecting Jasper Ware to be stabbed in the chest with an antique dagger at a romance book reading? Even for a fiction writer it seemed a bit of a stretch.

“I heard there was something odd about the body. The arms didn't look natural.”

“Yes,” I said. “One was directly overhead pointing towards the window and the other was ninety degrees to the right pointing towards some Bibles.”

Sabrina nodded. “Poetic justice, don't you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“The murder scene. It's just like the one from Jasper's first book,
Deadly Harbor
.”

Everything suddenly clicked into place. That's why it all seemed so familiar! The one and only book I'd read of Jasper's featured the murder of a writer, a bloody dagger, and the position of the arms on the body as the main clue.

I shook my head. “That's crazy.”

“No, it's all here, Elspeth,” Sabrina said decisively. “Rose was just telling me about it. The scene of the crime is a bookstore in a small town in the Hudson River Valley. The murder weapon is an antique dagger, and the arms on the body point toward the Hudson to the north and towards a stack of Bibles to the west, giving us the initials of the murderer,
NW
. Or in this case, Nora Ware!”

“Nora,” I exclaimed. “That's ridiculous.” But even as I spoke the words I felt a frisson of doubt.

“Was the wife the murderer in
Deadly Harbor
?” I asked.

Sabrina flushed and seemed to lose a bit of her composure. “Well, I don't really remember that part, it's been a while since I read it.”

“Yes, you do, Sabrina!” Rose declared. “I was just telling you before Elspeth got here: the murderer was the jilted fiancée! She killed him with the dagger she'd bought as a wedding gift.”

The enormity of what she'd said finally dawned on Rose and she flushed and looked away. “Of course, it's all just silly nonsense. In the book the fiancée's initials were
NW
and your initials are
SE
.”

I was about to reply that reality was becoming stranger than fiction, but just then Liddell came back down the stairs. He eyed me narrowly and I sensed further interrogation was imminent. Before I could get away someone clapped me hard on the back.

“Wow, Betts, you've really done it this time! A real life murder mystery!”

Julia glanced around excitedly and I grimaced. As much as I disdained mysteries, Julia adored them. She was a sucker for any locked room, caper, cozy or whodunnit that crossed her path, and she chattered on about Dalgliesh, Lewis, Jury, Alleyn and Wimsey like they were old friends. It was widely known that Julia's penchant for mystery novels often spilled over into real life, and on numerous occasions she'd been convinced something dark and sinister was going on in All Hallows. If every one of Julia's suspicions had panned out our town would have more mysterious deaths than St. Mary Mead, Carsely and Maggody combined.

I tried to shush her as I saw Chief Liddell look over at us and frown. “Please don't say I've done it, Julia, you're going to send me to the electric chair!”

She snorted. “They don't use the death penalty here; you'll just get life in prison.”

I was hardly cheered by her legal assessment. “How did you hear about it?”

“Charlotte called me. She's been phoning all over town; it's free publicity for her store. Here comes the press!”

We watched Crispin Wickford scurry down the stairs, and I noticed his cheeks were red and splotchy. “I saw the body! I thought I was going to be sick. Isn't it terrible?

“Yes, it's awful,” I agreed.

“Apparently, everyone who was here for the book reading is a suspect.” He turned to the Elliott sisters. “Would either of you give a statement?”

I listened as Rose and Sabrina filled him on the details. They got to the part about the dagger and Crispin paused in his writing.

“No hard feelings, then, Elspeth?”

I regarded him uneasily. “Hard feelings about what?”

“About that argument you had with Jasper tonight.”

“I would hardly characterize it as an argument,” I noticed Chief Liddell was watching us closely and I lowered my voice. “We merely agreed to disagree.”

“Didn't you specifically mention a dagger?” Crispin persisted.

“Yes, but that particular weapon fits the plot of dozens of mystery books, not just Jasper's.”

“Still, it's an interesting coincidence.”

“It's no such thing!”

“Whatever you say, Elspeth,” Crispin assumed an expression of oily bonhomie. “But Rose and Sabrina were just telling me that Jasper's arms were positioned to the south and east, just like in
Deadly Harbor
.”

“North and west,” I corrected automatically.

Crispin closed his notebook and observed me in triumph. “I think I have enough for my article, but I'll have to move the story on the Bracebridge Festival.” He said the last somewhat reproachfully, as if my inconsideration in finding the body of Jasper Ware had a deleterious effect on more worthy local events.
We all turned as Chief Liddell approached. He observed each of us before addressing me.

“Did Mr. Ware do or say anything tonight that seemed out of the ordinary?”

I shook my head. “He was no more offensive than usual.”

“Yes, he was, remember, Elspeth?” Rose broke in eagerly. “He announced his engagement to Violet Ambler! We were all shocked, especially since Jasper is still married to Nora…was still married…” Rose's voice trailed away again as Liddell regarded her sternly.

“Are you telling me that Mr. Ware announced his engagement to another woman, here, tonight?”

Liddell sounded incredulous and I hurried to explain. “It wasn't really an announcement; it was more of an accident. I mean, Violet Ambler was talking to me about it and the rest of the group overheard us.”

“What exactly did Mr. Ware say?”

“Well, he didn't really say much, Violet did most of the talking. She said Jasper was divorcing Nora and that she and Jasper were going to be married sometime next year.”

“Was Nora Ware at the book reading tonight?”

I shook my head. “I never saw her.”

Liddell was silent a moment and then gave his fingers a final sniff. “I'm afraid you're going to have to come down to the station with me, Elspeth; I need to hear more about this book reading.”

I'm sure you can appreciate my conclusion that book readings are a very bad idea.