Murder Actually Read online

  After a few drinks, everyone began to feel a bit festive. The rain drummed down on the tin roof of Inkwell creating a cozy, intimate effect, and a small buffet table at the back of the room offered fruit and cheese, smoked salmon, sausage rolls, chicken puffs and, of course, cheesecake. I took two small plates, one for me and one to give to Blue later, and piled them high before retreating to a snug alcove where I could watch the action and enjoy the food.

  Charlotte cleared her display dais at the front of the store, and a few couples shuffled around the impromptu dance floor to the strains of Ella Fitzgerald. I watched Violet and Jasper make a slow circuit, and saw Alex Ware drinking heavily from his flask as he scowled at them. Coco cornered Bootsie Spright and solicited items for the St. Anne’s Rummage Sale, and I noticed her tote bag was bulging with book donations from Charlotte. Crispin Wickford flitted around taking pictures, while Sabrina and Rose cornered two easy chairs in the reading nook and settled in with a bottle of champagne.

  My presence was largely undetected in my little alcove, and I ate steadily as I listened to the snippets of conversation going on around me.

  “I’ve always been a sucker for romance, and if you give me a recipe for pie or cake, then I’m getting double my money’s worth…”

  “Romance! I’m not even sure if I still believe in it. I mean, look at her! Divorced, late-thirties and living alone with her cat! What can she know about romance…?”

  “You’d think Jasper had invented mysteries, the way he goes on and on about his books. The only mystery is why Nora puts up with his crap. I swear sometimes I’d like to take him by the neck and strangle him with that ridiculous scarf…”

  “What is this? Mushroom…?”

  “Jasper Ware is nothing more than a hack; a talentless hack…”

  The last voice understandably caught my attention, and I peered through the crowd to try to pinpoint the speaker. I didn’t see anyone in my vicinity but noticed Julia beckoning from the other side of the room. I was on my way to join her when Jasper stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

  “What is the ultimate goal of a writer, Elspeth?” His voice was slurred and I took a step back from the onslaught of whiskey on his breath.

  “I don’t know; I guess it depends on the writer.”

  He laughed and slipped an arm across my shoulders. “No, no, no…you’re not thinking about it. C’mon. What’s the ultimate goal of a writer?”

  “Truth,” I said finally.

  “Ahhhh, so there is more to you than cupcakes and sunsets,” he leaned towards me and forced me up against a stack of shelves. “I thought so. You know, Elspeth, I’ve had my eye on you for quite awhile. You might understand me if you let yourself.”

  “Doesn’t Nora understand you?”

  He adopted a mournful pose; putting one hand to his brow. “I’m afraid she doesn’t. As a fellow artist, you know how we suffer for our work. Nora is a wonderful person but she isn’t the least bit creative.”

  I arched my brows in surprise. Nora taught autistic children, an endeavor I thought required more creative energy than Jasper and I had combined. Jasper must’ve realized my expression was less than flattered, and his arm fell away as he drew himself up to his full height and wavered uncertainly on his feet.

  “As I was saying, the ultimate goal of a mystery writer is to solve a real-life mystery,” his grand pronouncement was a bit tempered by a slur that turned the word ‘mystery’ into ‘myshtery’. “That’s what I’m doing, Elspeth. I’m solving a real-life mystery.”

  “Good for you. I’m sure you’re uniquely qualified.”

  He peered at me blurrily, and I was glad when Violet Ambler approached and slipped one of her shoulders under his arm.

  “Isn’t it time to go, Jasper?”

  He scowled down at her. “The revisions you did this morning weren’t right. I left the corrected proofs on your desk. You better get back to the studio and finish up so we can go over the changes later.”

  Violet moved away reluctantly as Alex approached Jasper. Jasper looked at him a moment and then smiled. “Hello there, little brother. I’m looking forward to our meeting in the morning. I’ll be at Ware Realty around ten.”

  Alex flushed and I could hear him exhorting Jasper in low, angry tones.

  “Don’t give me that crap,” Jasper said loudly. “Of course you have time! You have those account books ready for me or I’ll get the law involved. I don’t think either of us want that, do we, brother?”

  Jasper stormed away and grabbed a glass of champagne, and I watched Coco Ware approach him and say something in an urgent tone. Their eyes locked briefly before he shook off her restraining hand and stalked towards the dance floor.

  I was so absorbed in the scene I didn’t notice Violet Ambler approach me.

  “Do you have a minute, Elspeth?”

  I looked at her curiously. Her brown eyes were surprisingly shrewd behind her horn-rim glasses, and her grey suit was a bit too dressy for the occasion. Violet struck me as the type of person who was desperate to be taken seriously.

  “Do you want me to sign your book?”

  “No, thanks. I didn’t buy a copy.”

  I guess that would teach me to think too much of my writing prowess. “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “I just wanted to let you know you shouldn’t take Jasper too seriously,” she lowered her voice and tugged on my arm. “I know he’s a horrible flirt, and a lot of girls have gotten their hopes up, especially since he and Nora are getting divorced,” she tittered and adjusted her glasses.

  I observed her in amazement. “Divorced?...” I stopped, unsure what to say and more unsure if I wanted to say it.

  Luckily, Violet had already continued. “It just happened. One night Jasper and I were discussing the bludgeoning death of one of the hookers in The Killing House Rules, and the next minute our eyes locked and we just knew…”

  “Knew what?”

  “Knew it was true love,” she returned impatiently, and then laughed. “Jasper might pretend he’s not a romantic, but deep down he’s all roses and moonlight,” she glanced around and then moved a little closer to me. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you since it’s going to come out soon anyway. Jasper is divorcing Nora and he and I are going to be married next year.”

  I heard a sharp intake of breath and noticed Alex and Coco standing close by, and just beyond them Rose and Sabrina Elliott. Crispin Wickford looked up from his camera, an expression of disgust on his face, and Charlotte Whipple paused in the act of passing a platter of stuffed mushrooms. I watched the tray crash to the ground and saw her bend over to pick them up. Alex recovered first and slowly raised his glass.

  “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.

  Chapter 3

  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 blood
y 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.

  Chapter 4

  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.