by Morgana Best
A hush descended over the room. No one spoke, so I continued eating my toast. By the time I had eaten a whole slice, no one had spoken. I thought I would be able to pre-empt them from further lies, so I said, “I think you said people couldn’t be turned into vampires, but I’ve given it a lot of thought, and that doesn’t seem right to me.”
“Well…” Aunt Maude began, but Agnes shushed her. “She’s going to find out sooner or later, Agnes,” Aunt Maude said sternly, “and she’ll be angry if she knows we’ve lied to her.”
“I agree with Maude,” Dorothy said nervously.
“Well, that’s just typical of you, Dorothy,” Agnes snapped at her.
“I’m still here,” I said, waving my hand at them. “I take it then that a vampire can turn someone else into a vampire?”
Aunt Agnes rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t want to worry you, Valkyrie. It’s such an unpleasant business, and it very rarely happens. I didn’t want to tell you because it was too much for you to take in all at once.”
“It’s forbidden,” Aunt Maude said.
“Forbidden?” I asked, wondering if they were going to tell me about the Cleaners. “By whom?”
Aunt Agnes looked daggers at Maude. “You know, just by vampires. It’s just not the done thing. I don’t know when I can last remember a case of it.”
I was disappointed in them. It seemed Linda had not been lying, after all. She had been telling the truth about being turned, and I wondered what else the aunts were keeping from me. The evidence was pointing to the fact that Cleaners actually did exist.
“Please tell me as much as you can about it,” I said. “I won’t be upset, I promise.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Valkyrie.” Agnes did not look the least bit sorry at all, but she took a deep breath and continued. “You’ve just had so many shocks in the short time you’ve been here, not least of which have been two murders. I didn’t want to give you overload.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Now could you tell me about turning someone?”
Agnes’s eyes narrowed. “What brought this on?”
I thought for a minute. “I have an analytical mind, and I figured that vampires couldn’t all be genetic. After all, I studied Classical Literature, and it’s always been my belief that what people consider mythology was actually stuff that did happen at some point—maybe changed or altered someway in transmission, but I’m pretty sure it happened.”
Aunt Dorothy and Aunt Maude looked confused. “What does that have to do with vampires?”
Aunt Agnes frowned at them. “See what I have to put up with, Valkyrie! All right, if you must know, it’s like you see on TV to a degree.”
“Tell her how it happens, Agnes,” Maude said.
A slow red flush travelled up Aunt Agnes’s face, its depth rivalled only by the colour of her hair and her glasses. “Well, this is exactly how it works. The vampire has to bite someone and drain most of their blood. When that person is almost dead, the vampire will offer some of its own blood to the victim, and then that victim will become a vampire.”
Aha, so it is just like on TV, I thought. Aloud I said, “Does that happen often?”
Aunt Agnes drummed her fingers on the table. “No, and don’t look so shocked, Valkyrie. You asked me to tell you. Now can you see why I didn’t want to?”
I shook my head. “No, not really. It sounds disgusting, but I really need to know.”
“Why?” Aunt Agnes said, still clearly annoyed. “It’s not as if you’re going to bite someone and drain their blood, now is it? It’s not something that happens in polite society these days. In fact, it rarely happens.”
“Maybe it happens and you just haven’t heard about it,” I said.
Aunt Agnes scowled. “Have you seen it on the news? Any accounts of police finding a body drained of blood? No, of course you haven’t. And have you heard of any witnesses saying they saw a vampire running along the street? That is just ridiculous, Valkyrie. It doesn’t happen anymore. Witches’ Brew has done away with all that type of bloodlust.”
“About the blood lust,” I said. “Even before I drank the Witches’ Brew, I would faint at the sight of blood. The thought of drinking blood makes me want to vomit.”
“That’s because genetic vampires never get blood lust,” Aunt Maude said. “If Witches’ Brew didn’t exist, you might eventually become a little sickly, but you certainly wouldn’t get any blood lust.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked straight at Aunt Agnes. “Is this true?”
“Of course it is,” she said.
This time, I did believe her. “So only vampires who are turned are likely to have blood lust?”
Aunt Agnes nodded. “And they don’t always have it. It’s just that if any vampire was going to have blood lust, then it would have to be a made vampire, never a born vampire.”
“There’s so much to learn,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“And that’s why we didn’t want to tell you,” Aunt Agnes said.
Aunt Maude set down her knitting. “I said you should tell her.”
“So did I,” Aunt Dorothy added.
Aunt Agnes clasped her hands tightly, and then said through clenched teeth, “Sisters, we have bigger problems. The police have not yet solved this murder, so I think we should start looking into suspects.”
I was at once suspicious. “Why can’t you leave it to the police?”
Aunt Agnes set down her knife with a clang. “It’s bad for business, obviously. I suggest we all go to the fundraiser tonight.”
“Lila Sanders mentioned it to me on my way over here just then,” I said to them. “I’ll stay at home and work on the website.” I had no desire to see Lila and Lucas draped all over each other. The very thought made my stomach turn.
“You need to come, too,” Aunt Agnes said in a commanding tone. “We have uncovered another suspect.”
That caught my interest. “Who?”
“Bella Barker. The cleaner.”
I jumped. “The cleaner?”
“Yes, she cleans the cottages.”
“Oh yes, her.” I had nearly given the game away. I thought they were talking about the vampire Cleaners.
The aunts nodded. “More toast, Valkyrie?” Aunt Agnes gestured to the silver toast rack.
I helped myself to another piece of toast. “Please tell me all about it.”
“Detective Oakes came here today, and said that Paul Williams had put in a report that Bella had stolen personal items from him.”
“You’re kidding!”
“That was the first I’d heard of it,” Maude said.
“It wasn’t true, of course,” Dorothy added.
“The police didn’t come to see us at the time, but it happened last week,” Agnes said. “I did see Paul yelling at the poor woman, quite viciously in fact. She had just finished for the day at the time, so she went off home. She hasn’t been back since—you know, she only does the cottages once a week or after guests have left. I thought nothing of it until the detectives came to see me today.”
“Apparently he went down to the police station and filed a report that she had stolen personal items from him,” Agnes said, “but when he got back to the cottage, he found the items, so he called the police and told them. That’s why we never got to hear about it, because the police dismissed it on the spot.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “So the detectives think that Bella was so upset by the false allegation that she killed him.”
“She is a rather strange woman,” Agnes said, “but I can’t imagine her killing anyone. However, she does have a lot of pride and she would’ve been seriously offended. She’ll be at the fundraiser tonight, so we’ll need to be there to see if she does anything suspicious.”
“What could she possibly do that’s suspicious?” I said, exasperated. “I really don’t feel up to going. I haven’t slept well lately and I wanted to have an early night tonight.”
“Perhaps you would sleep bette
r if you came back to stay with us,” Agnes said. “And at any rate, it will be good for business. You can meet all the important people in the town and network with them. We’ve already paid for your ticket.”
I resigned myself to my fate. “All right.”
Chapter 12
The air crackled with promise. Every hair on my body stood on end.
It was a large, but otherwise ordinary room, with spectacular views through huge windows over the water. The dark purple carpet was adorned garishly with crimson swirls, and the ceiling above me was an unpleasant shade of pale dirty yellow. Crisp white tablecloths had been flung over standard-issue tables. I could see the metal legs poking from underneath the folds. A faint scent of pine disinfectant hung in the air.
Despite the less than opulent surroundings, I felt like Cinderella at the ball, only it wasn’t a ball; it was a fundraiser, and there was no Prince Charming for me.
A waitress offered me something indescribable, puff pastries with unfathomable toppings, but I declined and instead took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
My aunts were huddled together in a corner, talking amongst themselves. They had told me they intended to dress to blend in, which made me wonder how they would dress if they wished to stand out. Aunt Agnes was in her signature fire engine red. Her jacket was red; her skirt was black, over black leggings at the end of which were heavy red shoes. A bright red scarf was arranged nicely over her black shirt. A pair of large red-framed glasses completed the outfit.
Aunt Dorothy looked lovely in a long, flowing blue dress that moved less than her long, wild hair did. Her shoes were heavy too, but were black. Aunt Maude was in a sensible knee-length tweed skirt topped by black jacket and masses of pearls. Her shoes were low heels.
They had abandoned me—or so I felt—to a crowd of strangers.
I walked over to the large windows that overlooked the water, the river not far from the ocean inlet. To my right, the city lights sparkled.
It could have been a magical scene, yet I did not feel magical. I had not wanted to go to the fundraiser. I had meant it when I told my aunts I wanted to stay home and have an early night. Instead, I was here, dressed in my finery, or rather, a sleeveless cocktail dress with beaded collar. I had even surprised myself in the mirror earlier, liking the way the drapes clung to my body. It was flattering, to say the least. My recent tan looked good on me, set off by the steel colour of the dress, and the sun had spun bronze highlights in my brown tresses.
Still, I wasn’t here to have fun; I was here to see if I could find out anything about the death of Paul Williams. The aunts were convinced that the fundraiser would provide information, but I didn’t share their enthusiasm.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun around. It was Linda. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re the only person I know.”
Linda laughed and nodded to my aunts.
“They don’t count,” I said with a chuckle.
“You’re attracting the attention of every man in the room.”
I thanked her, but shrugged off the compliment, as she accepted a flute of champagne from a waiter. “I shouldn’t have come,” she said. “I expect the police will think I should be at home, grieving.”
“The police surely won’t come to something like this,” I said. “I thought they only went to funerals to look for suspects.”
Linda’s face fell, and I immediately apologised. “It’s quite all right,” she said. “When the police release Paul’s body, I have the funeral to look forward to, all his relatives. They’re even worse than he was, if you can believe it.”
“Yes, you said. I know I asked you before, but had Paul been involved in any disputes lately? Was there anyone with anything against him?”
Linda snorted rudely. “Just about everyone who knew him.”
“My aunts told me today about the cleaning lady, Bella Barker, that Paul had accused her of theft.”
“That’s right,” Linda said. “He screamed at her in the most horrible fashion and she was highly offended. She was worried that the accusation would cost her her job. I was so sorry for her, but he was such a pig of a man.” She made a strangling sound at the back of her throat. “I’m sure you’re fed up with me saying that.”
I hurried to reassure her. “It must’ve been hard.”
She nodded. “I’ll just go and say hello to your aunts, and then I’ll be right back.”
I turned away and my heart stopped. Lucas was heading straight for me. His eyes washed over me, warming my skin. “Pepper, you look absolutely beautiful.”
I stammered my thanks. I looked behind him, but there was no sign of Lila. Had she been lying about accompanying him tonight?
No such luck. She was heading straight for him right now, as I imagined would a pig dog that latches onto its prey.
Lucas jumped when she manifested behind him and clamped her hand on his arm. “Lucas, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Her voice was thick and sugary. She was wearing—barely—a skimpy red bandage dress, so low cut I thought she was in danger of a wardrobe malfunction at any moment.
I nearly gagged at her perfume, sickly and sweetly floral with goodness knows how many dangerous chemical additives. My nose twitched and my eyes watered. “Well, I’ll leave you to your date,” I said to Lucas with a nod, and walked over to my aunts. I hoped he couldn’t read my disappointment.
Linda was still talking to them. “Linda was giving us more details about what Paul said to Bella, that poor woman,” Aunt Maude said. “Pepper, when she arrives, I want you to question her.”
I clutched my throat. “Why me? I’ve never even met her. Well, I’ve said hello and stuff like that, but I don’t even know the woman.”
“Exactly why you should be the one to question her,” Aunt Agnes said.
“What makes you think she’ll speak to me?” I asked her. “Like I said, I don’t even know her. I’ve only spoken to her in passing.”
“Which is precisely why you’re the ideal person to speak to her.” Aunt Agnes peered at me over the top of her bifocals. “I already said that.”
I felt like stomping my foot like a child having a tantrum. “All right then, if I must.”
The host asked everyone to take their seats. I had hoped I would be seated with my aunts or Linda, but no such luck. I was seated with a table full of strangers, although the woman sitting next to me was Bella Barker.
I wondered if my aunts had a hand in the seating arrangements.
At first, conversation was not possible because staff bustled around, depositing a plate of food in front of everyone. The host announced that the auction was about to begin. Until now, I hadn’t even realised that there would be a fundraising auction.
The first item to be auctioned was an evening gown, and a model paraded it around the room, weaving between the seats. Bidding was fast and furious, and it was finally knocked down to a lady in the far corner.
I watched the model as an excuse to see where Lucas was. I spotted him, and then saw that Lila was at least five tables away from him. She certainly wouldn’t be happy about that. I suppressed a smile.
Bella wasn’t betting on any of the auction items, so I thought now would be as good a time as any to speak to her. “Bella, isn’t it? I’m Pepper Jasper. I’m living in the Assistant Lighthouse Keeper’s cottage now. I’ve seen you around at Mugwort Manor.”
She glanced at me furtively and then nodded. She wasn’t exactly the talkative type. I tried to think what to say next. “I hope it’s not bad for my aunts’ business that the awful man was murdered there.” No response, so I pushed on. “His poor wife, having to put up with someone like that. She looks five years younger already, now that he’s dead.”
I shot a fleeting look at her face, but it was impassive. I tucked into my food, wondering what to say next. However, she spoke first. “I suppose your aunts told you he accused me of stealing.”
“Yes,” I said hurriedly, “and they said that he didn’t e
ven apologise when he found out that he’d simply misplaced the items.”
She nodded, her expression darkening. “Paul Williams was quite an evil man. Not that I’d wish murder upon anyone, mind you, but if I did happen to wish someone would die, then he’d be the one.”
I plastered a look of sympathy on my face. “Yes, I’m becoming quite good friends with Linda, and it seems like she had a horrible life with him.”
“Linda’s a nice woman. Paul wasn’t nice to any of his wives.”
That caught my interest. “He had other wives?”
Bella nodded. “I don’t know how many wives he had, mind you, but I know he had two for sure.”
I was intrigued. “Two others apart from Linda?”
She shook her head. “Just Linda and one other woman, Sarah. When Sarah left Paul, she married Tom Burris.”
The name rang a bell. “Tom Burris. Where have I heard that name before?” I said, more to myself than to Bella.
“He’s the guy who mows the lawns at the cottages,” she said.
I tapped myself on the head. “Of course! He’s the lawnmower man! Do you mean to say his wife used to be married to Paul Williams?”
Bella poked at her food delicately. She reminded me of a bird picking at carrion. “A terrible thing it was. She was a local girl, and Paul came here every summer. That’s how they met. When they divorced, she didn’t get a cent, and him a wealthy man and all.”
“How come?”
Bella leant closer to me. “He had it all tied up in family trusts,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Sarah went to see a lawyer, and he said that the case could drag on in the courts for years. He said that in their case, the most expensive lawyer would win. He said she would lose anyway, unless she could prove that Paul put the money in the family trust to avoid a payout in the case of divorce.”
“What an evil man!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, and then when she left the marriage, all she had to show for it were the clothes she had on her back. He burned all her belongings.”