I smiled at her and managed to croak out, “I think I’ve learned a few tricks from a certain old lady.”
Mrs. Ellis grinned back, then turned to the three guys. “You boys should be watching out for her. You can’t just let her run around getting strangled.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Heathcliff growled. “We should wrap her in cotton and lock her in the shop. It’s the only way she’ll learn.”
“That’s true.” Mrs. Ellis stepped forward to embrace Heathcliff and Morrie. As she moved toward Quoth, she noticed Grimalkin in human form luxuriating on the one comfortable chair in the corner of the room. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Mina’s grandmother,” Grimalkin simpered.
“Grandmother?” Mrs. Ellis peered at Grimalkin’s perfect skin. “Would you care to join my knitting group? The ladies and I would love to hear about your skincare secrets.”
Grimalkin looked like she’d rather take a bath with a puppy than endure Mrs. Ellis’ knitting group. She stood up and ducked under Mrs. Ellis’ outstretched arms. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I hear a mouse in the hallway that needs attending to.”
Mrs. Ellis settled into Grimalkin’s vacated chair. “I had to take two separate flights to get here, and I left behind a distraught Greek pool boy. So I expect a grand tale. Tell me all about the murders.”
“It was Angus Donahue, Danny’s friend,” Morrie explained. “It turns out that he’s a bit of a serial killer nutjob. All those years ago, Angus killed Beverly’s daughter, as well as another girl in Barchester, and two more a couple of years before that in Stoke-on-Trent where he did his police training. He confessed everything to the police.”
“Please, Mr. Moriarty,” Mrs. Ellis beckoned for him to continue. “I demand every sordid detail.”
“With pleasure,” Morrie grinned. “Angus was dating Abigail, but he didn’t like her seeing other guys. He confronted her about it, and she laughed in his face. So he took the leopard-print scarf from her bed, wrapped it around her neck, and squeezed the life out of her. He figured he could pin it on Danny or Jim, so he left the room in a mess and the door open. Only he found out later that another cop had arrested them earlier that night, and they were in the cells at the time. They took DNA from Abigail – evidence from the sexual intercourse she’d had an hour before her death. Only Angus tampered with that evidence, corrupting the results so it wouldn’t point to him. Any of his fingerprints at the scene were discounted because he was the lead investigator. He got away with it for all those years.
“When Danny reformed and was looking for a cop to consult with for his books, he met up with Angus. Our killer supplied sordid stories from his past cases, and Danny twisted them into best-selling novels. That is, until Danny pressed Angus for details on the garrotings for his latest novel. Angus, figuring he was safe by now, helped Danny concoct a story that was so clever it could never be true – the story of a coroner who framed a crook for the murders by tampering with evidence. While Danny wrote The Somerset Strangler, it occurred to him that details of the story rang a little too true, and that there was one person who absolutely could have killed Abigail – Angus.
“When Danny announced he was writing a memoir but that Angus wasn’t allowed to read it until it was published, Angus grew worried. He was safe as long as Danny stuck to fiction, but with non-fiction… Danny could be on to him. At the party, he found out Danny had given a copy of the memoir to Brian, but not to him, and his suspicions were confirmed.
“Amanda told him that night how she’d conspired to get Beverly Ingram to come to the event, and that she’d also leaked a copy of the memoir to her. Angus knew Beverly would be reading the book with a fine-toothed comb, looking for evidence to convict a killer. He had to silence them all. And when he saw Beverly at the party wearing that scarf, he realized this was the perfect chance. That night he picked up Beverly’s scarf from the footpath outside the shop, went back to the hotel with Amanda, then pretended to fall asleep until she got annoyed and snuck off to Danny’s room, where she was when Danny left in the morning.
“Just after five a.m., Angus rang the front office, put the tape on play, and then snuck out the front of the hotel while Miranda was delivering the towels. Later, he told Amanda he’d corroborate her alibi and say she was with him, so the police wouldn’t suspect her as the last person to see Danny alive. In fact, she was the one corroborating his alibi.
“Angus then used a tape recording of their lovemaking to create a false alibi and get Miranda away from the front desk so he could sneak out after Danny. He still had the scarf from Abigail’s murder, which he’d stolen from the evidence room years ago. He snuck up behind Danny, garroted him, then stole away when he heard us coming down the stairs.”
“Impressive,” Mrs. Ellis said.
“That is next level genius,” Morrie said. “I’ll be remembering that one. It was a trick Danny used in one of his books. That’s how I figured that out.”
“And Brian Letterman?”
“Angus had already deleted the manuscript off Danny’s computer before the police searched his room. But he know that Brian had received that early copy. He knew that if he read it, Brian would know Angus murdered Danny, so he garroted Brian before he could talk. It was inconvenient that Beverly Ingram wasn’t there to take the blame, but he tried to pin the murder on Jim by claiming he’d seen him walking into the Sunday School room with Brian, even though Jim had that phone call from Amanda, who wanted him to leak chapters of her book on the internet and stir up a social media frenzy. That’s why he stole Penny’s mourning veil after she took it off to drink her tea. It was all very clever, and of course, no one suspected Angus because he was an ex-cop.”
“But what happened to poor Mina?” Mrs. Ellis leaned over to squeeze my hand.
“Amanda sent her an article about Penny Sledge, which made Penny look like the murderer. Amanda wanted to ruin both her husband and Penny to stir up a media frenzy before her erotic novel came out. That’s why she leaked Danny’s memoir to Beverly Ingram and gave her a ticket to the event.”
“That nasty bitch!” Mrs. Ellis said, a hint of glee in her voice.
“Indeed.” Morrie smiled. “Our lovely Mina was on her way to show the article to the police. Only Angus had got to the station first with free coffee and cronuts for all his ex-cop buddies, all laced with strong sedatives. Once he cleared the station he went downstairs, intending to hang Beverly in her cell with the leopard-print scarf and kill the last person who might realize he was the murderer. But then Mina bloody Wilde shows up with a purse full of dangerous insects and threatens to spoil the whole thing. And the rest you know.”
“I’m so pleased you’re all right,” Mrs. Ellis gave me another hug, and a wet kiss on the cheek.
“We never would have found you if it hadn’t been for Grimalkin. She sniffed me out outside Penny Sledge’s house, and led me straight back to you. You were passed out. I was so scared that we were too late, but I found a faint pulse and called an ambulance. They arrived just in time.” Morrie squeezed my hand. “I don’t know what–”
“Yoo-hoo!” Mum’s voice echoed down the hall. “I’ve been trying to get in to see you for nearly twenty minutes but some very rude nurse told me I wasn’t allowed. I waited until she was called away and snuck past—” Mum tried to push the door open, but Heathcliff’s bulk was in the way. He slid aside, smushing Morrie against the wall, and Mum stumbled into the room.
“Oh, hello, boys, Mrs. Ellis.” Mum set down a bunch of flowers on my bedside table, and leaned over to kiss me. “Mina, I’m so glad you’re doing better. One more day and you can go home. I bet you’re pleased.”
I nodded. I was desperate to see the shop again. Heathcliff had been grumbling that ever since the police arrested Angus and let Beverly go, the shop had been wall-to-wall people. In fact, he’d been an hour late getting to the hospital this evening because he couldn’t shove everyone out the door fast enough. The two romance authors who cancelled – Betha
ny Jadin and Marie Robinson – called to reschedule. They offered to run a reader party with lots of swag and booze and a couple of sexy male models. All the tickets to that had already sold out.
We were going to be able to pay the mortgage this month, with a bit leftover to save for the tagging system. It was going to be okay.
“I’m dying for some real food again,” I croaked. “Maybe when I get out we can all go to the pub—”
“Oh, Mina, no. That food is so unhealthy. All that sugar and preservatives and saturated fat. I’m going to make sure you get all your vitamins and nutrients with my newest business venture.” I groaned as Mum lifted an enormous object out of her tote bag and onto the bed. “It’s a fruit snack machine. It’s for people who want to be healthy but who can’t stand the idea of eating fruit. You stick a whole apple or peach or fruit of your choice into this compartment, push the button, and the machine snap-dehydrates the fruit, slices it, covers it in salt, and spits it out here. They’re fruit crisps – delicious and healthy. Isn’t it remarkable?”
Remarkably disgusting. I tried to groan, but it hurt my chest. “It’s… it’s remarkable, all right. What happened to the Flourish patch?”
“Oh, I’m done with them. What a pack of scammers. Completely ridiculous. It’s horrible how companies like that prey on the weak and uneducated,” Mum said with a fierce scowl.
Morrie elbowed her in the side. “Tell her what happened, Helen.”
Mum blushed. “Mina’s had a traumatic experience. She doesn’t want to hear about—”
Mischief glinted in Morrie’s eye. “I know Mina. She will definitely want to hear this story.”
“Tell me,” I croaked.
“Fine.” Mum sighed. “I had a little accident with my Mercedes.”
My chest tightened painfully. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. It’s just…” Mum sighed again. “I was so excited about getting my Mercedes. I wanted to really see what it could do, you know? It wasn’t much fun just popping down to the shops at a snail’s pace. That car was built for the race-track, not for the speed bumps along the high street. I wanted to really put my foot down, enjoy my newfound wealth and freedom!”
“Mum, did you get caught speeding? You can’t do that. You could get hurt, or you could cause an accident and hurt someone else—”
“No, no! I would never speed on the road. And the nearest racetrack is down in Barchester. I thought I’d find a nice open field. You know, one of the farms that backs on to the estate, just to really open her up and see what she can do.”
“Oh, yes?” From the evil grin playing on Morrie’s lips, I knew this was going to be good.
Mum’s blush deepened. “It turns out that the field I’d chosen contained a small herd of prized Hereford cows. Of course I didn’t see them because the field is so big! It shouldn’t have been a problem. I was miles away from the cows when I let loose. Only, the grumpy farmer saw me barreling across the field toward his cattle, so he called the police!”
I let out a rasping laugh that stung my throat, but I didn’t care. Morrie was already laughing. Beside me, Heathcliff let out a snort. Quoth covered his mouth with his hand, but I could tell from the way his eyes sparkled that he was laughing, too. Mum’s face was beet red, but she continued. “The police come screaming around the corner, sirens blaring. Of course, I panic, and slam on the brakes. Except that now the wheels are so slick with cow dung that they’re just spinning free. I can’t get out. Everything I tried just buried the car deeper or splattered more dung around.”
“The police had to tow the car out,” Morrie gasped out between chortles. “One of the officers took a video and put it on Facebook. Do you want to see?”
“Hell yes.”
“Mina! Morrie!” Mum looked horrified.
Morrie handed me his phone. Heathcliff, Quoth, and Mrs. Ellis crowded on the bed to watch. I hit PLAY and watched my mother waving her arms around, the Flourish logos visible even under the layers of crap.
“Mum!” I laughed. “You’re going viral!”
“Mina, shhh!”
“You’re famous. You’ll be recognized everywhere in your Mercedes—”
“It’s no good to me now,” she snapped. “Of course, when the Flourish people saw the video, they decided I didn’t have the right attitude to be a distributor for the company, so they revoked my membership.”
Panic shot through me. “But what about the lease payments on the car? How are you able to afford—”
“It’s fine,” Morrie said. “I’ve sorted it.”
Mum placed her arm around Morrie’s shoulders and beamed. I noticed that he didn’t look quite so jovial anymore. But I was too relieved to question him about it. That would come later, when we were back at the shop, when I was truly home again…
Heathcliff and Morrie continued bickering. Mrs. Ellis and Mum launched into a loud discussion about the various kinds of foods that could be made into crisps. Grimalkin slipped back into the room in her feline form and demanded to be let under the blankets to nuzzle against my legs. Quoth leaned over the bed and nuzzled my head with his.
“I’m so happy you’re safe,” he whispered.
But am I safe? Are any of us safe? We may have caught the murderer, but Count Dracula was still loose in the world, draining blood and building his power. And that wasn’t even taking into account my grandmother being a shapeshifting feline water-nymph, my eyesight deteriorating, and Gary buying up the town and refusing to take no for an answer. I felt like the character in Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, with a sword of Damocles waiting around every corner.
I glanced around the hospital room at all the people I loved most in the world, and a deep sense of trepidation settled in my gut. We might feel triumphant now, but an evil vampire and his plans for world domination could destroy everything and everyone I cared about.
“I don’t want to be a downer,” I whispered into Quoth’s silky hair. “But I think our problems are just beginning.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I thought you weren’t eating any of that hospital food,” Heathcliff muttered as he staggered up the steps to Nevermore, holding me in his arms. “I thought you said it was, and I quote, ‘so disgusting I’d rather drink Flourish smoothies’.”
“I stand by that statement,” I said, tightening my grip around his neck.
“Then why do you weigh more now than when you went in?”
“Hey! I resent that.” I swatted his arm. “Blame Morrie. He’s the one who kept sneaking in all those pork pies and Belgian chocolates.”
Morrie took a bow. “I live to serve.”
“I’m only kidding.” Heathcliff’s lips brushed my neck. “You’re more beautiful than ever.”
My heart swelled. Morrie dashed up the steps to hold the door open. Heathcliff carried me across the threshold. The scent of paper, old leather, dust, and cat fur permeated my pores. Nevermore Bookshop. It was so good to be back.
“Welcome home,” Quoth smiled. It was my home now, in every possible way. In the hospital, the boys had asked me to move in with them again (actually, Heathcliff had demanded, and Morrie had wheedled, and Quoth said nothing but smiled a tiny hopeful smile, and I was putty in their hands), and this time I couldn’t refuse. Jo was awesome, but between the bugs and the crime scene reenactments and the refrigerator poison experiments, being her flatmate was a living nightmare.
For the first time, I, Mina Wilde, was moving in with my boyfriend. Boyfriends. That felt big and scary, but also perfect. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew I no longer cared what the world thought about me and my relationship. We were in love and proud of it, and if people had a problem with it, they could buy their reading material somewhere else.
Please don’t buy reading material anywhere else.
“We’ve got something to show you,” Morrie said, bounding up the stairs ahead of us. Quoth stayed by my side, as if I’d injured my legs instead of just my th
roat. Morrie dragged me to his room and flung open the door.
“I’m not sure now’s the time for—” my words stopped in my throat.
The room had been completely transformed. Gone were the stark white walls and trendy industrial furniture. Instead of Morrie’s pristine iron bed with the hospital corners, the clothing rack with rows of neatly paired brogues, and the rack of BDSM accoutrements, there was a brand new bed with a black iron frame, covered in a luxurious duvet and mountains of black and red pillows. On the wall behind the bed was an enormous iron sculpture painted in brushed silver – three panels, each one depicting a stylized scene from a novel – a grand rambling house on the moors, a two chairs sitting across from each other in front of a fireplace, a magnifying glass, gun, and pipe on the mantle, and a raven sitting on a bust.
“Quoth made that,” Morrie said, as I stood on the bed to run my fingers over the metal.
“I thought you’d like something tactile,” Quoth squeezed my hand. He looked concerned. I threw my arms around him.
“But… but…” I couldn’t form words. It was all so, so perfect. “You gave up your room for me?”
“For us.” Morrie slid his arms around Heathcliff and Quoth.
“But where will you sleep?”
“Oh, gorgeous, with you in the house, I don’t intend to do any sleeping at all.” Morrie’s eyes glinted.
I wrapped him in my arms and drew him in for a deep, breathless kiss. “That was a serious question,” I said as I came up for air.
“I’ve converted a storage room on the first floor into a bedroom,” Morrie explained. “It’s basically only large enough for a bed, but I’m storing my clothes and other items in Quoth’s room. It’s just temporary, until I can put the funds together to knock through these walls and create a large room for all of us. And we have one more surprise.”
Morrie yanked me out into the hall and shoved the bathroom door. I turned my head away. “Don’t open that! You don’t know what horrors might spill out!”
Memoirs of a Garroter (Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries Book 4) Page 20