| |
The scream had come from the table set up for our signings. The stacks of books had already been brought out, as well as our name tags, and plenty of pens. The four authors were there as well, since we’d start in about twenty minutes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; nobody was on the ground or appeared hurt. Yet Wendy had her arm around Sophia, and Gregor came up to her with a bunch of napkins.
Sophia turned for a brief moment, and I gasped. There was blood coming out of her nose. A lot of it. Part of her dress was covered in it. A crowd was starting to gather. DC Daniels showed up by her side with an ice cream cone. Ice cream was dripping over his hand.
I rushed forward. She was about my size and my flat was close. She clearly needed a new dress and some privacy. “Here, we’ll go to my place.”
“She’s bleeding a lot,” George said. “Should we call an ambulance?”
She shook her head. “It’s just a bloody nose.” Her voice was muffled because of the napkins pressed against her nose and mouth.
“I’ll take her. It will be fine.”
Carl was leaning against the table and had a peculiar look on his face. He was the only one not panicking, but he also showed no concern whatsoever.
I wrapped my arm around Sophia and headed to the bookshop. Eddie rushed over as soon as we stepped inside. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
“She’s fine. She just needs some space. I’ll get her upstairs, clean her up. All will be well. Please stay here.” The last thing we both needed was a panicked Eddie.
The people who were in the shop followed us with interest. From the corner of my eye I spotted Miles chatting with Christina and Eleanor. They hadn’t seen us yet as they were in the far corner and engaged in conversation.
I used the back door, and we went up the stairs to the flat. “This way,” I said and directed her to my bathroom. I helped her take off her dress and luckily, by that time, the bleeding had stopped. I cleaned the blood with wet towels and then put her in one of my dresses; a purple one that brought out her eyes. While she was undressing, I observed several small bruises on her arms and legs.
“I hope those bruises weren’t caused by a person,” I said. It was none of my business, but the sight worried me.
She glanced at me over her shoulder and flashed me a smile. “No, I just always bump into things and sometimes I’ll even have bruises when I wake up, not knowing how I got them. Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it.”
I sighed with relief. At least it was nice to know I wasn’t the only clumsy person. I had a massive bruise on my leg after I bumped into the corner of the coffee table the other day. I also had the uncanny ability to pass an open door and hit my arm on the door handle.
“So the nose bleed, does that happen often?” I asked.
“No, but this morning I fell out of bed and hit my nose, maybe that’s why it started bleeding.”
Detective Black popped up next to me. “I don’t think that can happen.”
“Thank you for the dress. It fits me nicely.” She turned around.
The fabric hung loose around her hips and chest, but it was only noticeable if you paid close attention.
“I’ll get it back to you as soon as possible,” she said.
“Are you okay enough to get on with the show?” She looked a bit pale, but otherwise fine.
“Absolutely.”
Downstairs she chatted briefly with Eddie, assuring him that she was fine. By now, Eleanor and Miles were gone, and Christina was helping a customer. I checked my watch. We were going to be late. I dragged Sophia away from Eddie, and just as we were about to leave, Pandora was in front of the entrance, staring us down.
She must have been attracted by the scent of blood and was now hungry for more.
I grabbed Sophia’s hand. “Let’s go through my aunt’s store.”
“What?” She glanced at Pandora, before I pulled her along. “It’s just a chicken.”
“Ha, just a chicken. Famous last words, sweetheart. That is not just a chicken,” I said as we went into my aunt’s store. Nancy was showing a customer how to do a rain dance. It looked like she had ants in her pants.
We were about to head out through the front entrance, when Pandora was there as well. Still staring.
“She’s been sent from the depths of hell to torment us.” I stared back.
Sophia laughed, then looked into Pandora’s eyes. She turned serious, then shivered. “Okay, I think I believe you.”
Just as I was about to return to the back room to get Nancy’s broom, Pandora glanced behind her and shot off in the other direction. When I looked up, Alistair strode over.
“Are you girls okay? Did the mean chicken scare you?” He grinned at me.
“You survive one battle with demonic poultry and all of a sudden you think you’re the man, huh?” I put my hand on Sophia’s back. “Let’s go.”
Alistair sniggered.
The seats in front of the small self-made stage were filled as we arrived. The mystery authors were already on their wooden chairs. I was going to introduce them and start off with my reading, so it was show time.
My stomach fluttered as if I’d swallowed butterflies with ADD. I checked to make sure the authors were ready, grabbed a copy of my latest novel, which was on my chair, and stood in front of the microphone.
Okay, stay calm, Maggie. This is going to be fine. Except for if I forget words. Like, all of them. And that can’t happen, so it will be fine.
I managed a smile. “Hilo,” I said. Damn it.
“It helps to pick either ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’” Detective Black said and snorted.
Nobody in the audience made a sound, much to my relief. I glanced around, remembering Alistair’s advice. I found him in the audience, standing to the side. He had taken his sunglasses off, though he had to hold his hand up to shield himself from the sun. He smiled at me.
I also spotted the book club ladies, and even Olivia had left the bakery to come look. It helped. “I’m Maggie Matthews and with me today are four other mystery authors. Which means that for the first time you’re looking at people who have committed a lot of murders. At least, I hope it’s your first time.”
There was a short chuckle from the crowd.
I introduced the other authors, their latest books, and then told them about mine. I started reading a passage where Detective Black talks to a widow who lets him know she’s the killer, but without explicitly saying it. It is a tense scene.
Afterwards the audience applauded. There was a loud whistle from Eleanor, and Alistair followed suit. I smiled and took a bow, then sat down on my chair while Carl got up. He tapped his book and then sauntered over to the microphone, as if he was enjoying all those eyes on him and wanted to drag it out as long as possible.
He cleared his throat and started talking about himself and his books. Instead of a brief intro, he took about six minutes to do this. Several people yawned.
Finally, he opened his book and started reading a passage. He chose to read the passage where the detective finds the body. He only got three lines in when someone in the audience shouted.
“Thief!” A woman with a dark, long braid stood up. She was in her mid-to-late forties. “You stole my manuscript, that is my story.”
The crowd started murmuring.
Why did this have to happen now? The first thing I organise, and bam, trouble. Alistair had started moving forward in case she’d make her way over to us. This way he could intercept her.
Carl continued reading.
“Thief. You don’t have a creative bone in your body, you charlatan.” She was at the edge of the seats so it wasn’t difficult for her to approach us. Except that Alistair got there first.
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down or leave. You’re disturbing the peace,” he said in a professional tone. He had switched to police mode.
“Disturbing the peace? He’s disturbing justice.”
I got up and told Carl to keep reading, which he did, while I made my way over to her. “I hear you,” I said to her, calmly. “And I’d like to hear what you have to say, follow me.” I glanced at Alistair to signal for him to come as well, just in case she was deranged.
They both followed me to the church where it was cool inside and quiet. There was a family of tourists with cameras around their necks, who were just leaving. We were the only ones.
I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth, but she was obviously upset, and the best way to get her to calm down was to listen and validate her feelings. “What is your name?” I asked. “I’m Maggie.”
“Rachel. Rachel Farris. I met him in a writing class. We hit it off. We even had a brief fling.” She blushed at this. “I told him about a story I was working on, and he helped me brainstorm. We talked about it a lot. I typed the manuscript on my computer. He broke it off with me around the time I finished the manuscript. Then he disappeared, changed his number. He had also deleted the manuscript. I didn’t realise that at first. Thought it was just my computer malfunctioning. But then his book came out. It had a different title, but everything else was the same. Everything!” She burst into tears.
Alistair and I exchanged a glance.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible,” I said.
“It still is. He is getting credit and money for something I wrote. It’s ridiculous. It’s unfair.” She stomped her foot in anger and glanced at the cross at the end of the church. “Don’t you worry, though. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Justice will be served, and he will be punished.” Then she stormed out of the church, leaving only a delicate flowery scent behind.
“That always leads to murder,” Detective Black said.
Alistair sighed. “That was...interesting.”
“The first reading I organise and someone gets threatened. Publicly.”
“Hey, you did great,” he said and put his hand on my shoulder. “Everybody was riveted. You chose a good piece to read out. You’re a talented author.”
He sure knew what to say. I smiled at him. “Thank you.” There was applause, which meant that Carl was done. “We better get out there,” I said. “And hope there’s no more drama.”
––––––––
THE REST OF THE READING went without any hiccups. The longest queue for autographs was right in front of me, but that was not surprising since I was the local mystery author. It didn’t mean that the others weren’t doing well, but still Carl huffed and puffed and glared at me.
Afterwards, the other authors enjoyed the festival while I retreated to Nancy’s for a sandwich. I made one for her as well and brought it down, so we could eat it at the counter. Nancy pretty much never left her shop, not even for lunch.
I was about to take a bite out of my cheese sandwich when I spotted a golden necklace around her neck. It was simple and elegant. Something she’d never wear. In fact, she only wore silver jewellery and hated the look of gold. Said it was tacky.
“Where’d you get that necklace?” I asked, pretending to be focussed on my lunch.
She froze for the briefest of moments. “Nowhere.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“I mean,” she said, “I found it here. And I’m wearing it in case the woman returns for it. Then she’ll see it on me and know where it is.”
“Interesting.”
She glared at me. “Yes, I’m a good person that way. I’m just doing my civic duty in helping some poor woman find her necklace. That is all.”
I laughed. “Sure, you stick with that story.”
She was about to open her mouth when Rachel, the woman who had accused Carl, walked in. She smiled apologetically at me and seemed more composed.
“I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I spoke to the vicar’s wife, and she let me know you were the one that set the whole thing up. If I ruined anything, I’m sorry. Though I don’t regret accosting him, I do regret doing it at that time. It felt like the right thing to do, to expose him in public,” she said.
“I missed drama?” Nancy asked. “Why didn’t you tell me I missed drama?”
I made a dismissive gesture, then turned to the woman. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I understand your frustration. What are you going to do next?”
“I’m going to try and talk to him. I got a room at the B&B. Carl, however, is staying at the Pembroke Hotel.”
“He is?” Nancy and I said simultaneously.
“But it’s not a hotel, not right now,” I said.
She shrugged. “That’s what the other authors said.”
Nancy and I exchanged a glance.
“Anyway, sorry again. Please take care.”
“You as well. Be careful,” I said.
She smiled and then left.
Nancy looked at me. “Well? Are you waiting for a written invitation? Spill.”
––––––––
THAT NIGHT CHRISTINA and I went over to the pub for a drink. We’d had dinner at home to avoid the rush, but it was still busy at The Rose. We found a spot just as a couple was leaving. I sat down while Christina got us drinks. She returned shortly with white wine for her and a lemonade for me.
Soon she was sharing stories about horrible first dates she’d had. I laughed when she described a man who took her to see his dead butterfly collection. I could just picture the look on her face.
My attention was suddenly drawn to the bar. Alistair was looking at me. I hadn’t seen him when we came in. I gave him a smile, then focussed on Christina. I didn’t want her to follow my gaze; I wasn’t sure if she could relax with him right there.
The door banged open, and Carl walked in. “I’ve got it,” he said, and held up a statuette of a quill in an ink jar.
A group near the door applauded.
“I told you I had it. I earned this prize, along with this fountain pen,” he said and tapped his breast pocket. He still held the statuette up triumphantly. He spoke loudly and gathered the attention of others within earshot. “I earned this prize because I’m a good writer. Don’t let anybody tell you differently. I’m also very, very good in bed.”
This elicited a few shocked gasps and giggles.
I rolled my eyes and inwardly gagged.
“Why do men always feel the need to boast?” Christina asked.
“Yeah, you don’t see Poppy rushing into the pub holding up her newly knitted scarf, calling herself a great knitter.”
Christina laughed at that image.
Carl turned around and caught her eye. “Do you think that’s funny?”
He made his way over to us, and I instinctively got up to block his path to Christina. He was harmless, I was sure, but I didn’t like the look in his eyes.
From the corner of my eye I could see Alistair had gotten up as well; he was now a few steps away.
“Perhaps it’s time to leave,” I said firmly.
“Or get punched,” Detective Black said.
“You think you’re all that, don’t you, little girl?” he said. “Well, I’ve read your latest novel, and it’s shite!”
This time a lot of people gasped.
“Punch him, punch him hard,” Detective Black said.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m kicking you out,” Alistair said and walked around the nearest table to get to him.
Again the door burst open. A man I didn’t recognise stood in the doorway. His eyes went to Carl. “You,” he said and pointed at him. The man looked like he went to the gym and was a foot taller than Carl. “Have you been flirting with my wife?”
Carl shrugged. “I flirt with a lot of women, can’t remember all their names. Or faces. Or cup sizes.”
That did it.
In one swift motion the man punched Carl right in the face, and he flew back into the table next to us. It toppled over, along with Carl. He was ready to dive on top of him again, but Alistair and a few other villagers held the man back and wrestled him out of the pub while Carl was on the ground, groaning.
“Never a dull moment in Castlefield,” Christina muttered.