Page 2 of A Very Bookish Murder
Ally had had auburn locks herself at one time, but the approaching grey now necessitated some expensive highlights and lowlights. Nevertheless, a fabulous scarf like that would make a very eye-catching addition to her wardrobe.
Jodi cleared her throat, waved her pen in the air and began to talk. She spoke eloquently about writing in general, about her online critiques for aspiring writers, and about publishing and publishers, that ultimate aim. All went well for about forty minutes until Jodi began to speak about original ideas. ‘It’s so important you come up with some new ideas, something original that no one else has thought of.’
Suddenly Della, the red-haired Irish lady, stood up and shouted, ‘That’s all very well, Jodi Jones, but I am here to accuse you of downright plagiarism! Your latest novel,Love Bites, is almost a replica of my book,Crossed Swords, which was published four years ago!’
For a moment, there was a horrified silence, then mayhem ensued.
‘Nonsense!’ some of the women called out.
‘Jealousy!’ shouted some others.
‘No,’ said Della firmly, ‘if you bothered to read these books, you’d see exactly what I mean.’
‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ Jodi said. ‘You’re grasping at straws, Della Moran. Just because my book sold and yours didnot!’
Everyone was on their feet now, the class in chaos, but no one was able to stop Della Moran, who was still in full flow. ‘Everyone who read my book has commented on how you copied my story!Everyone!’
‘We haven’t come all this way to hear you two arguing,’ Penelope shouted in her clipped, authoritative tone, coming round to stand between Della and Jodi.
Jodi, breathing heavily, called out, ‘Let’s take a coffee break, everyone. Miss Moran here has, for reasons of her own, disrupted this class with her ridiculous claims. We all need to calm down and’ – here she consulted her watch – ‘I suggest we reconvene in twenty minutes at four o’clock.’ With a look of pure hatred at Della, she turned and marched out of the room.
Now everyone was on their feet, voices raised, questioning, horrified. All attention was focussed on Della Moran, who, far from being in any way repentant, was standing in front of the group where Jodi had just been.
‘She copied my bloody plot, and the only reason I’m here today is to expose her for what she is. And how many other authors’ plots has she stolen? I’m here to tell you thatthis is what she does!’
There were gasps all round. Of belief or disbelief? Ally wondered.
‘No, no, she writes great books!’ someone said.
‘Iloveher books!’ said someone else.
At this point, two waiters came hurriedly in, looking a little bemused, with pots of tea, coffee and biscuits. There was a rush towards both the refreshments and the ladies’ room, everyone chatting animatedly and excitedly.
It was one of her guests, Joyce Williams, who nudged Ally. ‘I bet you didn’t expect things to be this lively,’ she said.
Ally certainly hadn’t but, not having read Della’s book, was in no position to comment.
Slowly, everyone began to gravitate back towards their seats, balancing cups and saucers, waiting expectantly for Jodi’s return and, hopefully, some more exciting revelations. But after fifteen minutes there was still no sign of Jodi. Ally reckoned she’d probably gone through to the bar for a stiff drink, and who could blame her?
They waited and they waited. Della was still surrounded by some excited women and appeared to be in her element. ‘This is the woman who’s charging you a fortune to come up here, mainly to flog her own bloody books and which are full of other people’s ideas because she hasn’t got any of her own!’ Della said, loudly and clearly.
Ally decided this might be a good time to make her escape. She could make the excuse that she was checking on Jodi’s whereabouts, and then slip quietly away.
‘I’m going to check on Jodi,’ she called out to Joyce, who was standing nearby with Penelope and Millie next to the biscuits. ‘I have to say that this has been more interesting than I could ever have imagined!’
They giggled. ‘I bet she’s having a drink in the bar,’ Joyce said, echoing Ally’s thoughts. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Ally first glanced into the bar to see if Jodi had opted to go there, but there was no sign of her. She then pushed the door of the ladies’ room open, followed by Joyce, but the place appearedto be empty. There were four cubicles, but one was closed with an ‘Out of Order’ sign hanging on the door.
‘She’s hardly likely to be in there!’ Joyce said.
Nevertheless, Ally gave the door a push because it didn’t appear to be locked and, just at first, it wouldn’t open. There seemed to be some obstacle behind it. When, with much effort, she, together with Joyce, succeeded in pushing the door half open, they saw the cause of this impediment.
There, in a heap on the floor, with that beautiful scarf bound tightly round her neck, was Jodi Jones.
TWO
Joyce screamed. Ally, too horrified to make a sound, kneeled by Jodi, whose face was red and flushed with small patches of broken blood vessels marring the surface of her skin. And on the underside of her chin were livid scratch marks where she’d obviously tried to fight against the force of the scarf biting into her neck. With shaking hands, Ally loosened the scarf and pulled it as gently as she could from around Jodi’s neck. She knew that she shouldn’t really be touching the woman, but she had to check if she was breathing. There were angry red weals where the scarf had bitten in, but what caught Ally’s attention most was the large red birthmark on the left side of her neck.
