Kate and Jack looked at Sara in question.
“I gave the inspector bits of the script as we wrote it. He knew what was going to happen.” She smiled at him. “And he anticipated Mrs. Aiken’s actions.”
“It was the best writer’s course anyone ever had,” the inspector said cheerfully. “To see the work in progress of two such talented, world-renowned authors was an honor. I never thought—”
Byon and Sara were smiling in such a pleased way that Jack stepped forward. Otherwise, the praise-hungry writers and the fanboy just might go on all night. “So you knew beforehand what Nicky and Mrs. Aiken did?”
“Yes,” the inspector said. “And we predicted that she’d catch on to what we were doing and she’d flee. We were ready for her.”
They all looked at Puck, who had an expression of horror on her face. Maybe her mother wasn’t a murderer, but she was certainly an accessory.
“Mind if we borrow your lights?” the inspector asked. “We need to retrieve the remains.” He looked at Sara, Jack and Kate in a way that said what he was thinking: He should arrest them for concealing evidence. Should bring charges against them. Should lock them up.
Kate gave him a big-eyed, pleading look. Jack turned as belligerent as his father often was. The infamous Wyatt temper was ready to show its ugly face. Sara did her best to smile as from one writer to another—then she handed him a business card. “It’s from my agent,” she said brightly. “He said to call him anytime. He’d love to hear your account of this.” She waved her hand about.
The inspector looked at the card and took a full minute to consider. Finally, he walked past them and left the chapel.
Sara’s legs gave way in relief and she fell against Jack. He helped her to a bench. Kate sat beside her, Jack on the other side. They held hands.
“Do you think English prisons serve afternoon tea?” Jack asked.
“With scones and clotted cream?” Kate asked.
“I never, ever, never want to know,” Sara whispered.
Byon placed himself in front of them, his hands on his plump hips. “You are not going to give that man the rights to this story! I am going to put this on the stage. No two-penny paperback novelist is going to overshadow my work. I—” He broke off because Sara, Jack and Kate were laughing.
“Extreme competition,” Jack said.
Sara grinned. “I haven’t even told my agent about the inspector.”
“You may have to promise him a book just to get him to help keep us out of jail,” Jack said. “Especially if he’s like you and thinks prison gives writers time to work.”
The others were leaving the chapel. They knew when they were being excluded, and those three were as solid as an oak tree trunk.
“Your agent can deal with the inspector,” Kate said. “Blood and Crumpets. That’s a nice title.”
“Diamonds and Tea,” Sara said.
“Puck Finds the Dead Man,” Jack said.
They broke into more laughter, falling on each other. They were alone in the chapel.
Twenty-Six
THREE DAYS LATER
“I don’t like it,” Jack said. “It’s all too pretty. What’s that thing critics say and Sara complains about?”
They were alone in the small drawing room, and Kate had a glass of white wine. “That’s a long list but in this case, I think you mean that the book’s ending was tied up with a bow.”
“Right,” Jack said. “Critics of romances want...?” He looked at her.
“Death of the hero or some such,” Kate said. “They call it ‘keeping it real.’ Critics love misery.”
He was swirling single malt scotch around in a Waterford crystal glass. “I still don’t like it. There are holes in this story.”
“The murderer was caught. She even confessed. I can’t imagine what you don’t like.”
He sat down beside her, staring at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
“I feel bad about Mr. Howland, if that’s what you mean. He didn’t seem like he wanted to die.”
“I agree. He and I had a good time that night and...” Jack took a drink of his whiskey.
“Mrs. Aiken said she didn’t have anything to do with his death,” Kate said softly.
“And we trust the word of a woman who cold-bloodedly killed a man?”
They sat side by side in silence. The last few days had been traumatic.
When the police got Mrs. Aiken to the station and began questioning her, she stayed true to her nature. She crossed her arms over her chest and said she’d done what she had to. There was no other choice.
“He was going to charge Master Nicky with attempted murder.” She seemed to believe that anyone would have done the same thing.
“So you shot him,” the inspector said.
She shrugged.
“Would you answer that question aloud?”
“Yes! Is that what you want to hear? I shot him and good riddance. He was a thief and he got above himself. Somebody was going to get rid of him someday.”
“Might as well be you. Is that it?”
Again, she shrugged. Then she leaned forward. “The real criminal is whoever killed dear young Nicky. That’s who you should hang.”
“Can’t execute a bottle of rum, now can we?” the inspector said. “So let’s start at the beginning. Where did you get the gun?”
After hours of interrogation, the inspector went to Oxley Manor and told Sara as much as he could. He couldn’t give details but she knew them. Nicky raped Diana, then threatened her with one of his father’s pistols. When Sean defended her, Nicky shot him. The wound hadn’t been life-threatening, but Nicky was scared of the consequences. As he always did, he went running to the person who was the closest he’d ever had to a mother: Mrs. Aiken. And, as she always did, she took care of the problem.
When Mrs. Aiken got to the stables, Sean was wrapping gauze around his midsection. The bleeding had stopped, but he knew there was a bullet inside. If he hadn’t been waiting for Nadine, he would have driven himself to the hospital. But he was determined to wait for her no matter what. Blood and a bullet weren’t going to make him desert her.
Mrs. Aiken showed up in a rage. How dare he say anything bad about darling Nicky?
Sean, weak from blood loss, calmly told her he was going to file a police report. “Your precious Nicky won’t get away with this.”
Just as calmly, Mrs. Aiken picked up Bertram’s gun and shot Sean in the head. She told the inspector she was very annoyed that she was left with a dead body to deal with.
She took off her apron, wrapped it around the gun and hid it between the bales of hay. “How was I to know that slut would find it?” she asked the inspector. “What was she doing sneaking around in the middle of the night? You should question her.”
Mrs. Aiken dragged the body into one of the horse stalls and the poor animal was crazed at the smell of blood. “I was hoping he’d trample that ungrateful wretch. It would have solved everything!”
But the horse didn’t so much as touch Sean’s lifeless body. When Mrs. Aiken came back with Nicky, Sean was where she’d put him—but the gun was gone. Mrs. Aiken didn’t have time to do a thorough search and figured she’d look for it later.
She and Nicky rolled the body in an old rug and put it in the back of one of the utility trucks. They’d only gone a short distance when the body nearly fell out. “But Nicky tied it down,” she said proudly.
“This would be when you were in front of the old chapel?” the inspector asked.
“I guess so. Somewhere near there.”
“Then what?” he asked.
Her voice softened. “Nicky was a lonely little boy. I did my best, but I had too many responsibilities to take care of. And that daughter of mine was no help ever. Lives in a fairy world, she does.�
��
“Where did you and Nicky take the body?”
“To an old well that only Nicky knew about. It was a dangerous place. I didn’t like to think of him being inside that thing, but sometimes he had to hide from his father. He—”
“What about Sean?”
“Oh. Him. Nicky had a ladder that went down the side. He climbed down and I lowered the body. Wasn’t easy. Nicky hurt his hands on the ropes.”
“Poor guy,” the inspector mumbled. “Had a hard life.”
She cocked her head at him, seeing if he was serious or not.
“Then what?”
“He came up and we cut the ropes. The next week, Nicky had some...” She lifted her hands. “Something put on it as a cover.”
“An iron grid,” the inspector said.
“Yes, that’s right. Nicky knew how to take care of problems.”
“A true saint.” The inspector closed his notebook. “I’m charging you with the murder of Sean Thorpe.”
“Don’t matter,” she said. “Nothin’ matters since somebody killed Nicky. After that, I didn’t care about—”
The inspector stood up. He couldn’t stand to hear more about Saint Nicky.
“Tell my daughter to bring me some clothes. And I need somebody to talk to who will understand that I did what I had to. I had no choice.”
“We’ll be sure to find that person.” The inspector left the room.
He went directly to Oxley Manor, and he and Sara isolated themselves and talked. Later, Sara told Jack and Kate everything.
“He said he’d never met a more cold-blooded person in his life,” Sara said.
“Don’t tell Nadine that part of the reason Mrs. Aiken felt justified in killing Sean was because he was a thief,” Kate said.
“I agree,” Sara said.
The two women were looking at Jack, who was oddly silent. “She keeps saying someone killed Nicky.”
They knew he was thinking of his half brother, Evan. His death hadn’t been an accident.
“Want to stay here and investigate?” Sara asked.
“No!” Kate and Jack said in unison.
“Still planning to go to Scotland?”
“Yes,” Kate said.
“With all my heart and soul, I want to leave here,” Jack said. “And I swear that if we see a dead body, I’ll grab Kate and run away.”
“Good idea,” Sara said. “I’ll ask the inspector when you can leave.”
That had been days ago. They’d had to stay there while the police called each person in to give a statement about that night. Thanks to Sara and Byon’s play, they had all remembered things that they hadn’t thought were important.
Diana’s testimony was invaluable. After she talked to the police, the others gathered. Diana cried when she told them that she didn’t know Sean had been shot. “I wouldn’t have left him if I’d known.” After she rode away, she’d done as Sean had said—she’d gone to her girlfriend, who’d taken her in. As they’d planned, the next night, she took Sean’s suitcase when she went to meet him at the pub. “But he didn’t show up,” Diana told them. “I knew something was wrong. I felt it. I should have gone back to Oxley but...” She looked at Kate.
“You couldn’t bear to see your rapist,” Kate said.
“I thought Nicky was my friend. I was going to marry him. How could I go to the police about him? Or even confront him in front of our friends?” She looked at her hands. “I took the coward’s way out.”
Sara spoke up. “If you’d gone back, I think one of them would have killed you too.”
Jack and Kate nodded in agreement.
Chris took his mother’s hand. “I’m glad you didn’t return. Glad you left the country and had me.”
She smiled at him. “I did—” She took a breath. “But... I did something unforgivable.”
Sara leaned forward. “Does it have to do with Sean’s suitcase?”
“Yes. It was full of money.”
“I thought so,” Sara said. “He’d been saving it for his life with Nadine.”
“I knew what he’d been doing with the horses,” Diana said. “It was through that that Helen and I met, so I couldn’t be too angry at him.”
“She supplied the horses and their...?” Kate asked.
“Most of them. I thought that if I took no money, I wasn’t guilty. Besides, Sean seemed desperate for money. I thought maybe he was a gambling addict or something. I never thought it was all about love.” She glanced at Nadine.
“When did you leave for Australia?” Sara asked.
“The next day. We’d booked a ship for a month later, for after I’d worked up the courage to tell Nicky I couldn’t marry him. But after what happened that night, I wanted to leave immediately. I couldn’t bear to wait.”
“Did you see a newspaper during this time?” Jack asked.
“I did,” Diana answered. “And there wasn’t a word in it about Oxley Manor.”
“Two lovers running away together wasn’t newsworthy,” Sara said.
“Especially since an earl was involved,” Nadine said. “We keep our dirt quiet.”
“And you had the suitcase full of cash,” Byon said in awe.
“Yes, but I didn’t know that for a couple of years. It was Sean’s so I didn’t open it. Besides, I just thought it held his clothes. Helen and I were busy trying to find jobs. It wasn’t easy.”
“And you had me to look after,” Chris said.
Diana smiled. “We did.” She looked at Sara. “A goat ate the corner of the old suitcase. It was in the loft of a barn and he gnawed a bit of it. When I realized what it contained, I again tried to contact Sean.”
“You’d tried before?” Sara asked.
“I sent half a dozen letters to Oxley Manor,” Diana said. “I never received a reply.”
“Of course not,” Sara said. “I’m sure Nicky or Bertram or Mrs. Aiken saw the letters and threw them in the fire.”
“So they knew you were alive,” Jack said.
“I would imagine so.” Diana lowered her head. “We should have put the money in a bank account and waited for Sean to claim it. But we were desperate.”
“Understandable,” Sara said.
“What did you buy?” Byon asked. “Something wonderful or were you sane and sensible?”
“Both. We bought a farm. Good land, a few horses. We sold produce to a few stores. We...” She trailed off. “We have never been rich.”
Sara looked at Chris—big beautiful, blond, gleaming with good health. “Looks to me like you’re fabulously wealthy.”
“I agree,” Diana said, and Chris smiled.
“I agree, too,” Teddy said loudly. “Very fabulous!”
The way she said it was so suggestive, so downright sexy, that everyone laughed. It was a good break from the horror of what was around them.
* * *
After the night of the play, Willa delighted in telling them her story of starting Renewal. She left out no details.
“It gets bigger every time she tells it,” Jack said.
“It is big business,” Sara said. “Bigger than one person can handle. And have a life, that is.”
“You said what is on my mind,” Kate said.
They smiled at each other.
“I know that look,” Jack said. “What devious thing are you two planning?”
“Willa needs help,” Kate said. “Someone who can organize.”
“And be elegant while doing it.”
Jack looked stern. “Willa’s business is none of yours. She can handle her own life.”
Kate patted him on the chest. “You’re so cute when you act like you’re in charge.” She left the room.
Sara patted his arm. “I bet Bella has lots of tools you can play with.” She followed Kate into the hall.<
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Behind them, Jack was shaking his head. “DGI,” he said loudly. “Don’t Get Involved. It’s a good motto. Use it.”
The women were too far away to hear him—or they didn’t want to.
Twenty-Seven
Jack was glad to stay out of whatever the women were planning. Instead, he gave his attention to Bella. They all felt sorry for her. Her beautiful hotel was again in the news, only this time was much worse. Skeleton Found, the headlines read. The Graveyard at Oxley. Another Murder at Oxley. Angry Spirits Invade Oxley.
They were able to keep the reporters off the grounds, but they were circling the estate, like carrion birds waiting to feast.
Several of Bella’s employees refused to come to work, and she’d fired two who had talked to the press. The newspapers loved splashing Sara’s name around for the second time. They spoke of “romance writers” as though they were filth, as the lowest of the low.
When Jack saw the women huddled together, he knew they were concocting some plan. Byon, annoyed at being excluded, said he was going upstairs to write.
“No you’re not,” Jack said. “We are going to help Bella. We’re going to do some repairs, so you need to put on work clothes.”
Byon made a face. “What happened to your being in awe of me? When we met, you were so nervous you could hardly speak. I liked that.”
Jack gave a one-sided grin. “You know that saying about familiarity. Go change and meet us in the kitchen in ten minutes.”
Clive also complained about Jack’s bossiness. “I had years of servitude here. Damned if I’ll do another thing for this place.”
“Sara will take photos of you working on construction. Adds a dimension to your character. Makes you ‘one of the people.’ Don’t you think your bosses in London will like that?”
Clive blinked a couple of times. “Give me five minutes.” He took off running.
They spent the day repairing one of the outbuildings on Oxley. Chris knew how to do everything, and Jack invited him to Florida to work for him.
“I’m staying in Australia,” he said. “My moms have made the decree.”
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