Page 23 of A Very Bookish Murder
‘I bloody wellknowso!’ Della exclaimed loudly. Then, lowering her voice: ‘She’d return your manuscript, highlighting all the things she considered to be wrong, but she’d be saving your ideas, your plots, and use them later on as one of her own. That is what shedid!’
‘Surely, as a well-established writer, she had plenty of ideas of her own?’ Ally suggested.
‘She did well with her first book, bestseller, blockbuster, and all that, and so she thought she could do no wrong. But she was short of ideas so she’d wait a respectable amount of time, and then out would come the next book when she’d stolen someone else’s plot. Time and time again!’ Della looked around. ‘I came up here on her so-called writing retreat to confront her, and I don’t think I’m the only one. I just happened to be the first to open my mouth.’
Ally thought for a moment. ‘So why did the others not agree with you when you accused Jodi? Why are they pointing a finger at you?’
‘Because I am the scapegoat,’ Della replied. ‘They all want to divert the blame away from themselves. I bet that even the half-dozen women whodidn’tgo to the loo were pipped to the post. Someone was very, very clever!’ Della narrowed her eyes, nodded in agreement with herself and headed off towards the biscuits.
Ally’s thoughts were beginning to crystallise. What if Della was right? Perhapsallthe women had come north with the intention of killing Jodi Jones, but only seven had had the opportunity!
Perhaps Joyce reallyhadhad her idea stolen. Perhaps Penelope was quite capable of murder. Perhaps Morwenna still bore a grudge about her husband’s affair with Jodi. But what about Millie and Brigitte? What was it with Brigitte and that diary? And the enigmatic Laura? Could theyallhave had their ideas and plots stolen by Jodi Jones?
When Ally got home, she realised that she only had one further suspect for the moment: Morwenna, although she did seem a little unlikely. She sat down with coffee and the board, wrote ‘Morwenna’ on a Post-it and positioned it at five o’clock,although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She was aware that she wasn’t making much progress so far.
She sighed, hung the painting back on the wall and began to prepare some supper for Ross when he came up later. She then wondered if Brigitte’s husband had showed up.
Brigitte’s husband, who was called George, had arrived in the afternoon as planned, but Ally didn’t set eyes on him until the following morning when George appeared with Brigitte at breakfast time. He was English, short and stocky, good-looking and had dark hair and a trendy little beard. He also seemed to be considerably older than Brigitte, and he reminded Ally of someone, but she couldn’t think for the life of her who it was. They both looked rather pleased with themselves, so Ally assumed they’d had a good night in what had briefly been Jodi’s bed. He seemed pleasant enough and, like most men, ate everything on offer.
Ally had set up two tables, one for Brigitte and George, and one for the other three. Most of the women settled for a simple continental breakfast, although Penelope wanted ‘the lot’.
The women had now organised some sort of schedule that enabled them to have writing and critiquing classes, morning and afternoon, determined to do something constructive while they were booked in at the Craigmonie. It meant that they left the malthouse at half past nine to begin their first session at ten or ten thirty. This also meant that the rooms were vacated quite early and Morag was able to get their cleaning done without interruption.
Ally was curious about George as Brigitte had given her no indication as to what he might be doing all day. But after they’d finished eating, George approached Ally and complimented her on the breakfast. Then he added, ‘In case you were wondering,I shall be joining the ladies today, while I’m here, down at the Craigmonie Hotel.’
‘Do you write too?’ Ally asked.
‘No, I’m a publisher, small time, and mainly textbooks, dictionaries, educational – not at all the sort of thing these ladies write! But I’m happy to help with the critique, and I shall take my laptop with me so I can continue working – if I can find a quiet corner.’ He hesitated. ‘I know we’re only booked until tomorrow, but I wondered if we might stay on for another week, because it is very beautiful here and neither of us have been this far north before?’
‘I’ve no further bookings for that room for a few weeks yet,’ Ally replied, ‘so I’d be very happy to have you stay on for another week.’
After they’d gone, Ally wondered about the significance of this. Perhaps Brigitte knew a thing or two about Jodi, via the publishing world? It did seem highly unlikely though that Jodi would be having textbooks or dictionaries printed. Nevertheless, rumours would undoubtedly circulate in the publishing world, true or otherwise, and Ally couldn’t help but wonder if there were more secrets in Jodi’s past that might be uncovered?
TEN
After Morag had cleaned the bedrooms, had her mug of tea and gone home, Ally decided to take her still-life down from the wall and maybe move Brigitte to six o’clock. But, just then, she heard the doorbell, and hastily hung the board up again. She had a visitor: Amir Kandahar.
‘Good morning, Ally,’ he said. ‘I hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time?’
‘Not at all,’ Ally replied. ‘Do come in. Do you mind if we go into the kitchen?’
‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I’m very fond of kitchens. And this,’ he added as she led him inside, ‘is a particularly nice one.’
‘Rigby liked a cup of tea and shortbread,’ Ally told him.
‘Let me carry on the tradition,’ said Amir, ‘but no milk in my tea, please. And one spoonful of sugar.’
‘That’s exactly how I take it.’ Ally was now feeling more than ever that here was a kindred spirit, particularly as he made a great fuss of Flora. As she handed him his tea, she asked, ‘Have you any news?’
He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, not a great deal. I’ve interviewed all the women at the retreat now and believe that we can discount those who didn’t leave the room in the periodin question. I’ve also interviewed the Craigmonie staff who were on duty and the few guests who were in the hotel at that time, none of whom were anywhere near the writers’ retreat section, apart from one or two people in the bar, and they were in full view of the bar staff the whole time. That now leaves the seven possibilities: the four who are staying here – Joyce Williams, Penelope Fortescue-Rawlins, Brigitte Atkins and Millie Day – plus the three ladies at the Craigmonie: Della Moran, Laura Pike and Morwenna Davies.’
‘Did you know that one of them, Brigitte Atkins, has now been joined by her husband who is a publisher of educational books?’
‘That would exclude him publishing most of these women’s books then, from what I gather,’ Amir added with a smile. ‘The French lady did in fact inform me of this, and I’ve checked with the company who have confirmed that they concentrate on textbooks, dictionaries and educational stuff, and I gather that Miss Jones’s work did not quite fit in to any of these categories.’
‘Hardly!’ Ally confirmed with a grin.
‘However, since all of these women are writers, or aspiring writers, I cannot rule any of them out because of their possible connection, however slim, with the publishing world.’ He shuffled some papers. ‘I understand that Miss Jones was accused of plagiarism by a couple of the suspects?’
