Murder Actually (3 page)

“Thanks for defending me, Bootsie,” I said dryly.

“No problem! I hope to be a published author some day and I hope I can take criticism with your degree of
sangfroid
. By the way, did you get a chance to read my new chapter?”

Bootsie was in the habit of emailing me bits of steamy, fleshpot erotica which I tried not to read before meals.

“I didn't,” I hoped my tone conveyed regret rather than relief as I continued. “I've been so busy with my deadline I haven't even had time to read the paper.”
Crispin held up his camera. “Don't say that, Elspeth, there's always time for the
Gazette
. Now, how about a picture for the
Out and About
page?”

Before I could respond, Bootsie grabbed me tightly and beamed. I endured the bright flash and tried to remember if my good side was the right or left.

“How's the news business, Crispin?” Bootsie asked.

“I can't complain.”

We heard a snicker and turned to see Jasper Ware approach us, trailed closely by Violet.

“Since when?” Jasper demanded. “I heard you've been rock bottom for three years now.”

Crispin's brows snapped together in an angry frown. “You know how the economy is going, Jasper. There are ups and downs in any business.”

“I wasn't aware of too many ‘ups' for the
Gazette
, but I have a few ideas on how to drum up some business. Local news is fine in small doses, but it's a snooze, and then you have all that kid stuff and old people crap. People are looking for something sensational…some scandal they can sink their teeth into. Take it from someone who understands the buying public.” He let out another donkey bray.

Crispin hunched his narrow shoulders and pushed up his glasses. “Are you suggesting the Gazette become some cheap, sordid tabloid?”
Jasper laughed again. “Not cheap,” he boasted. “But with
a change in format and the right social media I guarantee your old paper will be turning a profit within a year.”

Something flashed across Crispin's eyes for a second, something dark and dangerous, but before he could respond our attention was captured by a loud announcement from Charlotte.

“Everyone take a seat, please. I'd like to get started.”

There was a graceless scramble as everyone tried to get a chair at the back of the room, and after a brief introduction I took my place behind the podium. There were about fifty people there, most unknown to me, which made my job easier.

I read aloud the first chapter of
The Cheesecake Diaries,
keeping one eye on the clock above the front door. I had learned early in my career there's nothing worse than an author who won't shut up (
see
, Jasper Ware). I glanced over my audience. Violet Ambler was marking pages on a manuscript in red ink, and next to her Jasper examined his fingernails. Sabrina Elliott fanned herself with a pad of paper, while Coco Ware eyed me suspiciously as though any minute I might start enacting pornography. Crispin Wickford fiddled with his camera and Alex Ware surreptitiously pulled out a flask and took a healthy swallow. Good idea, I thought. My writing always sounded better after a few drinks.

I finished my reading and closed the book. “I'll take questions now.”

This was apparently the moment Jasper Ware had been waiting for and I watched as he jumped up, his large Adam's apple bobbing excitedly.

“Wouldn't you agree, Elspeth, that the romance genre is oversaturated and most authors are just using the same tired story over and over?”

I managed to smile. “Some might make the same argument about the mystery genre, Jasper.”

“Yes, but mysteries have a brain. I mean, have you ever
tried
to write a mystery?”

I was about to respond but his raucous voice continued relentlessly. “You need to have character development of a whole group of suspects. You have to establish motive, clues, and red herrings. You have to decide if you want to stab, shoot, strangle, or poison your victim, and then find the murder weapon. Most importantly, you need to create an atmosphere that invites murder. All you need for a romance,” he made a deprecating gesture towards my book display. “Is two people and a dessert.”

It sounded pretty good to me.

“I don't like mysteries,” I said.

If there wasn't a collective gasp, there was at least a gratifying silence.

Jasper sat forward in his chair and stroked his chin. “Really?” his tone was incredulous. “What don't you like about them?”

I caught Julia's eye and saw her shake her head slightly, but I was beyond tact. “They are trite, banal, and completely improbable. You have a dark and stormy night, a group of people brought together through some contrived event, a bloody dagger, a missing earring, and finally the brilliant denouément, where the murderer conveniently breaks down and confesses to the crime.”

Jasper flushed angrily and his face settled into a scowl. The events in
Deadly Harbor
were eerily similar to the scenes I'd just described, and I saw Sabrina lean over and whisper something to Rose.

“Right, Elspeth,” Jasper sneered. “And plot devices like catered weddings and bake sales are the stuff of Brontë and Austen.”

I flushed and gathered up my notes. It was one thing for me to acknowledge my work was fluff; it was quite another thing coming from the likes of Jasper Ware.

“Things like that don't happen in real life, Jasper,” I said.

“They happen more often than you think. I mean, look around you!” He gestured around the room just as another rip of thunder made a dramatic crash. “Tonight would be a perfect night for a murder. Let's face it, you're much more likely to be killed tonight then you are to find true love.”

“I think certain people are more likely to be murdered than others, Jasper.” I glanced at the clock and saw I was over my time limit; I noticed Charlotte making urgent motions toward her wristwatch. “But in the interest of time, let's agree to disagree.”

I nodded towards Charlotte and she started to applaud, then stepped up to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to have a champagne toast for our author, if everyone could please grab a glass.”

There was an excited babble as two young men in white jackets brought glasses and bottles of champagne from the back of the store. Although the wine was tepid and served in plastic cups, I thought it added a white-trash Gatsby-esque gaiety to the proceedings.

“Here's to Elspeth Gray and the success of
The Cheesecake Diaries
,” Charlotte announced loudly.

While the rest of the party obediently raised their glasses, I noticed Jasper Ware smirking in a corner. The glass didn't hit his lips as Violet Ambler approached and began gesturing towards a display that featured Jasper's latest book. Jasper put down his drink and grabbed Violet's arm as she made an angry sweep over the crowd. Jasper shushed her with a chop of his hand and then turned back towards me. When he caught my eye, he raised his glass in mock tribute.

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.