A Novel Murder

by K. C. Wells

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  More from K.C. Wells

  Readers love the Merrychurch Mysteries by K.C. Wells

  About the Author

  By K.C. Wells

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  A Novel Murder

  By K.C. Wells

  Sequel to Roots of Evil

  A Merrychurch Mysteries Case

  Jonathon de Mountford is struggling to placate his father and keep his boyfriend, Mike Tattersall, happy, but it’s proving difficult. Offering to host the first Merrychurch Literary Festival proves to be a welcome distraction. But the small event takes on new proportions when famous author Teresa Malvain agrees to appear. She’s a former resident of Merrychurch, coming home after seven years to talk about the inspiration for her murder-mystery series, set in a quaint English village.

  Life imitates art when she dies suddenly, apparently the result of a severe allergy. Then it becomes apparent that Teresa was not universally liked. When Jonathon and Mike take a closer look at Teresa’s stories, they realize her fictional village isn’t so fictional after all. If they’re right, there are a few people out there who don’t want anyone else reaching the same conclusion. Has someone in Merrychurch already gotten away with murder?

  Jonathon and Mike can’t resist investigating her death, aided by a couple of people keen to help them discover the truth. But they’re trying to work out what is fact and what is fiction, and the line between the two is constantly blurring. And as for their relationship, Jonathon finally comes to a decision….

  For my husband, Andrew, who is so good at planning a murder that he is making me nervous….

  Acknowledgments

  THANK YOU to my beta team, as always. I couldn’t do this without you.

  Chapter One

  February 14, 2018

  JONATHON DE Mountford relieved the circulating waiter of two champagne flutes and handed one to Mike Tattersall. “Here. You look like you need another one.”

  Mike leaned in close. “What I need is to get out of this tux and into a bath. Preferably with you.”

  Jonathon was glad he wasn’t sipping his champagne. “Don’t say things like that when I can’t react.” They were in the ballroom of the Grosvenor Hotel in London, two of perhaps a thousand guests at an exclusive charity ball. The entertainment was over and the dancing had begun, with champagne flowing like water.

  Considering the price of the tickets, that was the least Jonathon expected. The Valentine’s Day ball was to raise money for children in need, and so far, the total amount for the event was in the millions.

  For him, however, the highlight was not the five-course dinner, or the celebrity acts, or even their magnificent surroundings, but the sight of Mike in a tux. That was a first, and the only downside was that Jonathon couldn’t make it obvious he was drooling. There were enough photographers mingling with the guests to make him wary of being caught on camera, although ironically that was the purpose of their attendance.

  Right on cue, Ruth Ainsworth sauntered over to him, holding her own glass of bubbly. “Don’t you think it’s time we danced?” She flashed Mike a smile. “If Hubby doesn’t mind, that is.”

  Mike huffed. “Hubby. Yeah, right.” He waved his hand. “Go on, enjoy yourselves. Someone has to.” He put down his glass on a nearby table, then held out his hands for theirs. “I’ll mind the champagne. Just don’t expect there to be anything left when you’re done. I need all the alcohol I can get to survive this shindig.”

  Jonathon gave him a warm smile. Thank you, he mouthed before leading Ruth by the hand to the dance floor. He put his hands on her waist, she looped her arms around his neck, and they glided to the music, joining the hundred or so couples who were already similarly engaged.

  “Not a same-sex couple in sight,” Jonathon said sadly as they circled the room.

  Ruth sighed. “Then you’re not looking hard enough. I saw two men dancing together ten minutes ago.” She caressed his cheek. “It wouldn’t matter if half the couples dancing were LGBTQ. That still wouldn’t mean you could dance with Mike.” She glanced over in the direction of Mike’s table. “He hates this, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not the only one,” Jonathon assured her. “And as for hating it, which part? He’s met some people who think having a lot of money is an excuse for a lack of manners. Others who’d look down their noses at him if they knew he owns a pub. Yet more who’ve only come here to be seen.” Jonathon could understand Mike’s discomfort. This was not his usual terrain. Merrychurch seemed a long way away.

  “Is that what we’re doing?” she said quietly. “We’ve attended two charity balls in two months. So we’ve contributed to charities. Big deal. That’s not why we’ve come. We’re here so your father gets to see photos of Jonathon de Mountford dancing with the Honorable Ruth Ainsworth in the society pages. So he can think he’s won—for the time being, at least.”

  It was Jonathon’s turn to sigh. “Do you think we can call it a night after this number?”

  Ruth gave a mock gasp. “Am I that bad a dancer?”

  He laughed. “You’re a wonderful dancer. But I’d rather have Mike in my arms. No offense.”

  “None taken. The idea was to buy us some time while you came up with a plan. Are you saying you have one?”

  “Unfortunately, no, not yet.” Jonathon looked across the room to where Mike sat, steadily draining his glass. “I asked him to come because I couldn’t bear the thought of him not being with me. But it’s torture. Not sitting too close to him. Not staring at him when he looks so….”

  “Edible?” Ruth’s lips twitched.

  Jonathon chuckled. “You know me far too well.”

  “Why do you think I told Clare she couldn’t come? I knew how much willpower I’d need, and frankly, I haven’t got that much. But I want her here. I want to dance with her, hold her, laugh and joke with her like all the het couples are doing right now.” Ruth’s face tightened.

  “You’re getting tired of it all too, aren’t you?” Jonathon hated all the subterfuge.

  “Yes,” she replied promptly. “I loved the idea back at Christmas, when we talked about being seen together to let your father think we were actually considering his stupid suggestion, but now? I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the public smiles and fending off questions from friends who want to know if wedding bells are in the future.”

  Jonathon snorted. “If they were really your friends, they wouldn’t be asking such idiotic questions. Unless they want to know when you’re marrying Clare, which is totally acceptable.”

  “Have you asked him to marry you?”

  Jonathon’s gaze was once more on Mike. “Not yet, no. I didn’t want to propose, then keep him waiting for years. If I’m going to get down on one knee, it’ll be because I
already have a date in mind.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry. I’m picturing you kneeling in Merrychurch’s tea shop, proposing over the coffee and walnut cake with all the old dears clucking around you.”

  He widened his eyes. “Oh, I like that.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I already have the ring.”

  Ruth gaped. “You dark horse. When did you get that?”

  “When I went shopping after the New Year’s Eve ball. Mike stayed at the hotel.” Jonathon grinned. “I guess I wiped him out.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the details of your sex life.”

  Jonathon smirked. “We were dancing. Not everything that comes out of my mouth is dirty.”

  “No—only a mere 99 percent of it.” Ruth frowned. “Wait a minute. You were dancing with me all night. Mike sat and watched. How did that wipe him out?”

  Jonathon bit back a smile. “We were dancing in our hotel room.”

  Ruth arched her eyebrows. “Ah-ha. And now we have the truth. Horizontal dancing.”

  He wasn’t about to deny it. At that moment he caught sight of a photographer getting closer. “Paste on your smile. We’ve got company.”

  “I was thinking of something more along these lines.” Ruth gave him an adoring look.

  He snickered. “Don’t overdo it, or my father really will be expecting imminent wedding news.”

  “Too much? Got it.” Ruth smiled at him as they danced past the man with the camera, both she and Jonathon turning their heads in his direction. Once he’d taken his photo, Ruth leaned in. “Now dance me over to where Mike is, and the three of us can sit, drink, and talk—providing he hasn’t finished off all the champagne.”

  “That works for me.” Jonathon steered them in Mike’s direction, loving how Mike’s face lit up when he saw them approaching. He took in the state of the glasses and signaled to a nearby waiter for more champagne.

  They had plans to make, and a council of war required sufficient alcoholic lubrication.

  MIKE PROPPED himself up on the pillows and watched Jonathon undressing. “So what am I missing at the Grosvenor? Because I thought we were staying there. What’s it like?” Not that he was complaining about Jonathon’s choice of hotel. The bed was as supremely comfortable as the last time they’d stayed there, and the unexpected bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket was a pleasant surprise. The Soho Hotel had been his treat for Jonathon’s twenty-ninth birthday, and they’d had a wonderful weekend.

  “Swanky. Expensive. You’d hate it.” Jonathon flashed him a grin. “Besides, we had a great time when we were here last. I thought you might like to relive the experience.”

  “Which part? The bath? The shower? The bed? The carpet? The lack of sleep?” Mike looked Jonathon up and down as the clothing fell away to reveal his lean form. “As handsome as you look in a tux, I much prefer you out of it.”

  Jonathon’s phone buzzed, and he groaned. “I thought I’d put it on silent. It had better not be my father.”

  “Then don’t look,” Mike suggested. “Whoever it is can wait. This is our first Valentine’s Day together, and I’ve spent most of the evening not being able to touch you. I want to make up for lost time.” He gazed at the red roses standing in a vase on the table. No one had ever bought him flowers on Valentine’s Day, let alone roses, and the romantic gesture was perfect after spending an evening keeping Jonathon at arm’s length.

  Jonathon glanced over at his phone, then climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over to him. “It was a great dinner, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Mike agreed, temporarily distracted by Jonathon’s obvious arousal. His own erection was already tenting the soft white sheet that covered it.

  “And the entertainment was top-notch?”

  “It was.” Mike smiled. “But all I could think of was the finale when I finally got you to myself.”

  “I’m sure Clare was thinking exactly the same thing. She had to wait until the ball was over before she got to see Ruth.”

  Mike’s eyes glittered. “And I’m sure they’re not wasting time answering texts or talking.” He crooked his index finger. “Now come here and kiss me.”

  “Don’t you want more champagne?”

  Mike shook his head. “All I want to taste is you.”

  Jonathon’s face glowed. “As if I could refuse an invitation like that.” He straddled Mike’s lap, and their lips met in a soft, tender kiss. He looked Mike in the eye. “Love you.”

  “Love you too. Now switch off your phone before it interrupts us again. Because I have plans for this gorgeous body.”

  Jonathon stretched his arm toward the bedside cabinet where his phone sat. “I like the sound of these plans. Do I turn out the light too?”

  “Leave it on. I don’t want to deprive myself of the best part.”

  “And what’s that?” Jonathon asked as he molded his body to Mike’s.

  Mike lifted Jonathon’s chin with his fingertips. “Looking into your eyes while I make love to you.”

  The time for talking was past.

  JONATHON HAD no idea what had awoken him or what the time was, but it was still dark outside. He eased himself across the mattress, not wanting to disturb Mike as he reached for his phone. Then he lay on his back, stuffed pillows under his head, and switched it on. The screen lit up the white sheets with an eerie glow.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  Jonathon gave a start. “Don’t do that. I thought you were asleep. And I was only checking the time.”

  Mike gave a sleepy chuckle. “Well, you’ve checked it. Now turn off the phone, get over here, and I’ll snuggle you back to sleep.”

  “Just a sec. I’ve got a few emails.” Jonathon clicked on the bedside lamp.

  “Which can wait until morning.”

  He sighed. “One look, okay?” He glanced at the screen, frowning. “Who is Heather Caldicott, and why is she emailing me?”

  Mike sat up beside him, rubbing his eyes. “Heather runs the Merrychurch library. And I have no idea why she’d be emailing you.”

  Jonathon had seen the library in the village. Someone had taken the ground floor of a thatched house and turned it into the cutest little library, with gleaming wood floorboards and dark wooden bookshelves. The selection of books wasn’t huge, but Jonathon guessed it met the villagers’ needs.

  Mike peered over his shoulder. “So what does she want?”

  Jonathon scanned the text. “She’s organizing the first Merrychurch Literary Festival this June.”

  “Great! That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  Jonathon switched off his phone. “Have you ever heard of Teresa Malvain?”

  Mike widened his eyes. “God, yes. She’s like a modern-day Agatha Christie. She writes murder mysteries set in this quaint little village. The amateur sleuth is the doctor’s receptionist.” He cocked his head. “You must have heard of her.”

  Jonathon bit his lip. “I don’t read murder mysteries. And until this moment, I had no idea you did.”

  Mike made a snuffly noise, and Jonathon managed to make out the words “guilty pleasure.” Jonathon thought it was an adorable reaction. Mike gave him a halfhearted scowl. “Get to the point. It’s way too early to be talking about this.”

  “The point is, Heather was going to hold the event in the library. Readings by authors, Q and A sessions, et cetera. But today she received an email from Teresa Malvain’s agent. It seems Ms. Malvain wants to attend the festival.”

  Mike gaped. “That’s quite a feather in Heather’s cap if she can get Teresa there.”

  Jonathon nodded. “It seems Teresa used to live in Merrychurch. But Heather now feels the library is way too small for such an event, and she wants to ask—”

  “If she can hold it at the manor house,” Mike concluded.

  Jonathon grinned. “You’re fast. Teresa Malvain as the guest of honor will undoubtedly increase the number of people attending the festival. But there’s plenty of room at the hall.”

  �
��Good. I’m glad that’s all decided. Now turn off the light and cuddle me.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “Bossy.” He clicked off the lamp and shifted across the mattress to snuggle against Mike’s firm, warm body. They lay in silence for a while, Mike’s arms around him, Mike’s scent filling his nostrils. “Tonight wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked after a while.

  Mike sighed heavily. “No, it wasn’t. I just hated that I’d gone there to be with you, only I had to act like you were nothing more than a friend. Don’t get me wrong. I know why you and Ruth were doing it. But it felt….”

  Jonathon laid his head on Mike’s furry chest. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to do that again. We’ve made my father happy for a while. But tonight made me realize something. Making him happy makes both you and me unhappy, and I don’t like that.”

  “But what’s the alternative?” Mike stroked Jonathon’s head. “You know what he wants. You married to Ruth, producing little de Mountfords, with me in the background, your dirty little secret.”

  “He can want that as much as he likes, but he’s not going to get it. And if he pushes me too far, he won’t like the consequences.” Jonathon kissed Mike’s chest, loving the hitch in his breathing. “And now we’re going to stop talking.”

  “You got some other activity in mind?” The rawness in Mike’s voice was a definite turn-on.

  Jonathon laughed softly. “I was thinking of going back to sleep.” Mike let out a low growl, and Jonathon found himself flipped onto his back, his heartbeat increasing. “Okay. Maybe not.”

  Sleep was overrated.

  Chapter Two

  June 2018

  HEATHER CALDICOTT consulted her list again, and for the tenth time since their meeting had begun, Jonathon wished she’d relax.

  “Heather, everything is running like clockwork. The caterers will arrive tomorrow afternoon to set up the ballroom, we’ve got a small army of volunteers ready to set up the tables once the dinner is over, and the banners got here this morning. They’re fantastic. The first Merrychurch Literary Festival is going to be a roaring success.”