Posted to Death

by Dean James

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Neville Butler-Melville said, “all that work in her garden!”

  Colonel Clitheroe looked positively ill, and I could sympathize. Every time I thought of how Jane had hoodwinked and manipulated me, I wanted to throw up.

  At that point, I felt I had to get out and get some air. I made my farewells, which no one except Giles seemed to notice. I headed for the door with Giles at my heels. Lady Blitherington barely seemed to notice that Giles was leaving with me.

  Walking in companionable silence, Giles and I made our way down the lane to my cottage. Numerous vehicles stood parked in the lane around Jane’s cottage, and lights blazed all around. We paused for a moment to observe what we could. Sounds of digging and scraping echoed from the yard behind the cottage. Wouldn’t be long now, I sighed, and the police would probably have the evidence they needed.

  Giles waited until we were at the front door before saying anything to me. “I still can’t believe that Jane Hardwick, of all people, murdered Abigail Winterton! Surely, Simon, you must know something more if you’ve been in such close contact with the police! How on earth did you figure it all out?”

  I made Giles follow me into my office and sit down across from me before I said anything. I would feel more comfortable discussing this from behind my desk, as if I were consulting with a student about some research problem.

  “I talked to an old friend today, Giles,” I said slowly. “An old friend who happened to know a little something about Jane Hardwick’s past. This old friend”— here Giles grinned knowingly, for it probably hadn’t taken him long to figure out that I was talking about Tristan Lovelace, previous owner of my cottage—“told me that Jane had certain rather voracious appetites. Furthermore, that she was not always discreet in the way that she, er, terminated the relationships.”

  I had no doubt that the police would find, beneath the luxurious growth of Jane’s garden, the bodies of several young men. Young men who had, once upon a time, been rather handsome. The autopsies would reveal certain fascinating peculiarities about the remains, and the word “vampire” might even be mentioned. But more than likely it would never make it into the official report. After all, no one really believes we exist. Right?

  Giles sat and pondered what I had told him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to require any further explanation. “I suppose,” he finally commented, “that explains why Jane Hardwick was always doing something to her garden. The rest of the village speculated on her spending money like that, but no one figured out that she might be doing it to hide bodies!” Alas, one of those little tidbits of village lore I hadn’t known, but which might have gotten me to the correct solution much sooner.

  “Everyone except Abigail Winterton, that is.” And she had paid with her life. Jane, so incredibly strong, had broken the woman’s neck. During our phone conversation this afternoon, Detective Inspector Chase had confided in me the full details of the manner of Miss Winterton’s death. I could see the scene playing out in my head, and it made me sick to my stomach. To think that I was beginning to consider Jane a friend. Yet she had been pulling the strings from the moment I met her.

  I thought back to my call to Tristan Lovelace this afternoon. When I finally got through to him, at the university in Houston where he teaches, he had just reached his office and was none too thrilled to hear from me. He hated having to talk to anyone before noon. I cut through his impatience with attitude of my own.

  “What can you tell me about one of my neighbors, Tris? A woman called Jane Hardwick.”

  His snort of irritation echoed across the miles. “Really, Simon, have you called me just to natter on about your neighbors? Haven’t you something better to do than indulge in idle village gossip? Like write one of those potboilers of yours?”

  Taking a deep breath, I kept my temper. “Let’s leave aside, for the moment, the fact that you know every bit of dirt ever uncovered about your whole department, not to mention the rest of the university, and that you willingly share it with anyone who will listen.” I pretended not to hear the dig about my novels. “Instead, let’s focus on what you have failed to tell me about the only other vampire—as far as I know—in Snupperton Mumsley!”

  Tristan chuckled. “Ah, Simon, you haven’t lost that bitchy quality which so endeared you to me. For a time, at least.”

  I was biting my tongue, and he knew it. Chuckling again, indulgently this time, he went on: “Dear Jane. Don’t tell me she’s up to her tricks again? She’s worse than you or I ever dared to be, my dear boy. Can’t seem to keep her hands off any handsome young bloke who takes her fancy. The only problem is, from what I’ve heard, she still has an old-fashioned way of ending the relationship. If one could dignify it by that word.” He laughed. “That’s what I’ve been told. I’ve not seen any of this firsthand, mind you.”

  “So while you were in Snupperton Mumsley, you never observed anything untoward?” I persisted.

  “No, dear boy, I didn’t,” Tristan said a trifle testily. “Jane prefers to surround herself with those who are easily led”—well, ouch!—“and I was not one of those, as you well know.”

  I sighed into the phone. Tristan and Jane had been the proverbial oil and water, then, while Jane must have thought I was completely dense and suggestible. After all, I had been like an eager little puppy, so delighted was I to find a new “friend” ready-made in Snupperton Mumsley. I was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, nevertheless, because Letty Butler-Melville’s motive was so compelling.

  Quickly I sketched out the scenario for Tris, and he agreed, a bit reluctantly, that Jane could have killed Abigail Winterton in order to keep the postmistress from raising a stink. “I saw Abigail Winterton, late one night, wandering through the village. That must be how she got on to Jane.”

  Tristan laughed. “Yes, Simon, poor Abigail was a chronic insomniac, and many a night I looked out my window, when taking a break from work, to see her slinking about the village. At two and three in the morning. Since Jane usually confined her trysts to the wee hours of the morning in order to keep the villagers in the dark”—and he actually had the nerve to chuckle us own atrocious pun—“Abigail Winterton was one of the few besides me who would have caught on to her dead-of-night dalliances.”

  I came back to the present. Giles had sat patiently while I was lost in my thoughts. He cleared his throat now and brought me back to the present. “What do you think will happen to Jane Hardwick now, Simon? I just can’t imagine someone like her languishing in a prison cell.”

  I laughed bitterly. “That depends, Giles, on whether the police were able to catch her.”

  “What do you mean, Simon? Why wouldn’t they have caught her?” Giles stared at me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Did you help her elude the police?”

  I shook my head. “I planned all this with Detective Inspector Chase, Giles. Jane thought I was going along with her little scheme to frame someone else for the murder, but I had already suspected that she was the killer. So I set up a second plan to trap her with the help of the police if she turned out to be the murderer. Which she did.”

  Giles’s face lightened. “Then how could she get away from the police? Surely they were watching for her?”

  How could I explain this to him without revealing the complete truth? “You see, Giles, Jane is apparently somewhat experienced at this. Making a quick getaway, that is. When she left the vicarage tonight, she probably got out of the village as fast as she could and has gone to ground somewhere. The police should have been waiting for her outside the vicarage, but she could have gotten away from them. I don’t know. But I’d be willing to bet she won’t stand trial.”

  Giles didn’t appear too pleased with that, but at least he no longer seemed to think I had helped Jane escape justice. Human justice, that is.

  I couldn’t tell him that Jane would be facing justice of another kind. Vampire justice. With the advent of our chemical alternative to bloodsucking, vampires had become increasingly wa
ry of preying upon humans. So much so that there were vampire vigilantes who made sure that offenders like Jane didn’t repeat their mistakes. When Giles left tonight, I had one final phone call to make. I felt a bit like Lord Peter Wimsey, meting out justice. But it had to be done.

  And that was probably why Jane had attempted to kill me. Because she knew that, one way or another, I’d expose her. Neither human nor vampire justice would have had much appeal to Jane. Getting rid of me and framing Letty Butler-Melville for the murder provided her with the best way out of a sticky situation.

  “If nothing else,” Giles said, “I suppose we can get back to life as usual in Snupperton Mumsley.” He grinned. “What a welcome you’ve had, Simon!”

  I laughed again, less bitterly this time. “How right you are, Giles. How very right you are.” I stood up. “Now, my dear boy, it’s time you were on your way.” Giles stood and waited until I had come from behind my desk to stand beside him. He looked at me, his eyes full of longing. “Are you sure I must go home tonight, Simon?”

  I searched his face for a moment “Yes, Giles, for now, I think that would be best. We have plenty of time. Don’t let’s rush anything.” He smiled ruefully, and I accompanied him to the front door. He held out his hand, and I grasped it. “See you tomorrow, Giles. Don’t forget, you have a job now!” Laughing, Giles strode out the door and down the walk. In the glow of lights from Jane’s cottage, I could see him as he turned and blew me a kiss. Smiling, I shut the door and went back to my desk and reached for the phone.

  SNEAK PEEK FROM FAKED TO DEATH

  Chapter One

  Treachery, thy name is Nina!

  I was relieved to find that I had not spoken those words aloud. In fact, for once in my death, I had been struck speechless.

  One could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the room after Nina’s words of greeting to That Woman. Then came a collective intake of breath before gabbling broke out all over the room. I was almost dizzy from the assault of words coming from all around me.

  Nina had severely damaged my credibility. Lady Hermione now eyed me as if I were something just retrieved from the nearest rubbish tip. How on earth was I to respond to this, other than by outing myself as the real Dorinda Darlington? If I did, who would believe me now that Nina had spoken?

  I made two quick decisions. The first was that I would find myself a new agent forthwith. Hitting Nina in the pocket book was the only kind of threat she’d understand. Fortunately for me, I had nothing new under contract via Nina, so I was free to shop around for agents.

  The second decision was that I would go along with Nina for the moment. She was playing some sort of deep game. I doubted it would be to my advantage, one way or another, but I’d hold my tongue and see how this played out.

  “Dr. Kirby-Jones!”

  Lady Hermione rattled the rafters, as usual.

  “Have you been playing some sort of game with us and baiting this poor young woman?” Lady Hermione’s expression boded nothing but ill for yours truly.

  “No, Hermione, he has not!”

  Isabella Veryan’s sudden defense of me was quite a surprise. I turned to look at her in astonishment.

  Lady Hermione appeared just as startled as I. “Belle! What do you mean? What do you know about this?”

  Isabella came to stand beside me, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “I’ve not known Simon all that long, Hermione, but I’m an excellent judge of character, and if he says that woman is an impostor, then I believe him.” She tossed her head in the direction of Nina and Dorinda. “Moreover, that viper would swear the sun was shining in the midst of a torrential downpour if it suited her purposes.”

  Oh ho, I thought. Bad blood between Isabella and Nina. Who would have thought it?

  “Dear Isabella, so forthright as always.” Nina’s voice slid lazily forth, like the hiss of the viper Isabella had called her. “I had forgotten how dearly you love to hold onto a grudge, no matter how misguided.”

  “That’s doing it up a bit brown, Nina.” George Austen-Hare had entered the fray. Now I had him on one side of me and Dame Isabella on the other. “We all know what you did to Isabella over the rights to her backlist when she changed publishers. Nothing short of criminal, that was. No wonder she left you. Bloody piracy, that’s what it was!”

  I had had no idea Isabella was no longer a client of Nina’s. Nina certainly hadn’t advertised that fact; it must be a fairly recent development.

  Nina’s eyes narrowed at George’s barb, and I thought for a moment she would come off the sofa and attack poor George with her bare hands. Instead she settled for something deadlier.

  “Ah, George, George,” she cooed. “I truly am delighted that you’re still able to peddle your male sex fantasies under the guise of romantic suspense. I didn’t mind the money, frankly, but your feeble attempts at getting me in bed were more than I could bear. I hear you don’t have that problem with your current agent.” Her mouth twisted in a moue of distaste. “The poor dear must be truly desperate for clients to have to stoop so low.”

  I could feel the sheer rage boiling within poor Austen-Hare. I couldn’t blame him. I had seen Nina nasty before, but nothing to compare with this. She was begging to be murdered, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone obliged at the rate she was going.

  I had also had no idea that George Austen-Hare had defected, along with Isabella Veryan. No wonder Nina was so thrilled to have Ashford Dunn signed up now.

  “Oh, come on, man,” Dexter Harbaugh spoke up. “Slap the silly bitch, and be done with it.” He knocked back the rest of his drink, set his glass down upon a table, and ambled over to stand in front of George, Isabella, and me, facing Nina. “She just needs a little knocking around. Show her who’s boss. She works for us, after all. Where would she be without writers?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Dexter,” George snapped. “I’ve never struck a woman, not even one who tries to provoke me in such a vulgar manner.”

  “Yes, Dexter, don’t be ridiculous,” Nina said, her voice hard. “If you had the balls to actually strike a woman, you wouldn’t write about it so lovingly in your books. Talk about living vicariously!” She began laughing uproariously.

  Dexter Harbaugh’s back went rigid. Like George moments before, he simmered with rage. Taking a step forward, he picked up Nina’s cup of tea from the table and dashed its contents into her face. Nina stopped laughing and started yowling.

  Dorinda screamed and jumped up from the couch. “You animal! You could have blinded her!” Before anyone realized what she was doing, she stepped around the table and laid into Dexter Harbaugh with one slap after another. Harbaugh was too dazed at first to respond. Then his fists started flailing back at her. It took Giles and me several moments to get the two of them separated. I hadn’t noticed Giles coming into the room, but I was glad of his presence now.

  “Enough!” Lady Hermione bellowed, and I’d swear that all of Kinsale House shook like it had been hit by an earthquake.

  “This is an utter disgrace!” Thankfully Lady Hermione dropped her decibel level considerably. “I am appalled, utterly and entirely appalled, by your behavior. All of you!” She paused. She was so angry her chest was heaving with the exertion of breathing.

  “Dr. Kirby-Jones, Nina, I want the two of you to stay. The rest of you are dismissed, for the moment. Go to your rooms, and consider what you’ve said and done here. I will speak to each one of you, after I have decided whether to continue with this week’s conference.”

  The whole roomful of people had frozen into place.

  “Dismissed!” Lady Hermione barked again. Mary Monkley cowered behind her. Patty Anne Putney took Dexter Harbaugh by the arm, murmuring in his ear, soothingly no doubt, while Mr. Murbles remained his imperturbable self. They led him out of the room. Isabella Veryan and George Austen-Hare strode arm in arm behind them, with Norah Tattersall trailing in their wake. Ashford Dunn, who had hovered silently near Nina during the foregoing fracas, lingered at the doorw
ay, gazing back and forth from Nina to the fake Dorinda.

  “I think perhaps I should be here, too, Lady Hermione,” That Woman said, her voice quavering.

  “I think not,” Lady Hermione said.

  “Come on,” Ashford Dunn said, grabbing at Dorinda’s arm. “Idiot!” he hissed at her in an undertone. I could hear him, but I doubted either Nina or Lady Hermione could. “You’ll ruin everything. Come on!” Dorinda stood, wavering, but Ashford Dunn took hold of her and pulled her from the room.

  Now only Nina and I were left in the room with our irate hostess.

  Nina had wiped the tea from her eyes and face, though her eyes continued to stream with tears.

  “Dr. Kirby-Jones,” Lady Hermione addressed me in a calmer tone. “Do you have any amendment to your accusation?”

  I shook my head. “No, Lady Hermione. I still maintain that the woman claiming to be Dorinda Darlington is an impostor. I am prepared, if necessary to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Nina, do you have anything you would like to say?”

  “No, Hermione dear, I have nothing to add.” Nina affected nonchalance, but I knew she was doing a masterful job of concealing her anger.

  “I will get to the bottom of this,” Lady Hermione vowed, “and whichever of you is lying to me will regret it. Have no doubt of that.” She drew a deep breath. “Now, if you will be so kind as to leave me.” She turned to her secretary. “Brandy, Mary, if you please.”

  As Mary Monkley scurried to fulfill her employer’s bidding, Lady Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Her face had turned ashen, and I wondered whether calling a doctor might be in order. Now, however, would not be the moment to suggest that, I decided. I left her to the tender mercies of Mary Monkley.

  Neither Nina nor I said a word as we left the room. Once I had closed the door behind us, however, I caught Nina’s arm and spun her around to face me.