Page 12 of A Very Bookish Murder (Ally McKinley Mystery #3)

‘I’m actually Welsh,’ the woman said, ‘but my mother had become obsessed with Winston Graham’s Poldark books about Cornwall, and so I had to be named Morwenna.

And I actually moved to Cornwall in my twenties because of an unfortunate incident.

’ She glanced around and lowered her voice.

‘I knew Jodi Jones because she had an affair with my husband.’ She spoke quite matter-of-factly.

Ally felt her jaw drop. ‘ She had an affair with your husband ?’

‘Yes, not that she particularly wanted him on a permanent basis, of course, but that was what Jodi did. Always trying to be the femme fatale. Tom was weak and stupid, but of course he came crawling back when she eventually spat him out. And do you know what?’

Wide-eyed, Ally shook her head.

‘I didn’t want the bugger either! So we divorced and I took myself and my daughter down to Penzance, where we’d spent many happy holidays.

I’ve remarried and we’ve lived there for thirty-five years.

And we love it!’ She paused. ‘Have you tried these biscuits? The ones with the chocolate on them? They are so yummy!’ With that, she picked one up, dunked it into her tea and popped it into her mouth a split second before it disintegrated.

‘Wow!’ Ally exclaimed. ‘I suppose it’s fair to say that you didn’t like Jodi much?’

‘ Hated her at the time,’ Morwenna agreed cheerfully. ‘But I don’t hold a grudge against her now because, let’s face it, she did me a favour in the long run, and I have another husband now. Still, I think it’s for sure that she’s upset somebody badly round here, don’t you?’

Ally nodded as she gulped her tea and wondered exactly why Morwenna had come on this course.

‘In case you’re wondering why I’m here,’ Morwenna continued blithely as if she’d read Ally’s mind, ‘I came on this course partly out of pure curiosity. I wanted to see what she looked like now. And I suppose I must have given her a bit of a shock because she didn’t know my new surname, and so she wouldn’t have known it was me until I got here. ’

‘I’m coming to the conclusion that Jodi was less than popular generally,’ Ally admitted, wondering just how crowded her suspect board was going to become.

Was Morwenna really not bothered by something that had happened so many years before?

Surely her pride would have been dented a little?

She would require adding to the board, probably at four or five o’clock.

Morwenna was now chatting with Anne, the retired nurse, and Ally turned her attention to the rather drab woman sitting on her other side. She had long, straight hair, pale skin and a permanent frown. She was certain that this was the seventh woman who’d admitted to visiting the ladies’ room.

‘I’m Laura,’ she said, confirming Ally’s suspicions. ‘I think I’m a suspect cos I left this room during that coffee break.’

‘I bet you wish you hadn’t,’ Ally remarked with a smile.

‘Bloody right!’ said Laura, draining her cup and waving at one of the other women who was standing by the trolley. ‘I’m going up for a refill.’ With that, she stood up, headed towards the tea trolley and began chatting to her friend.

Ally was none the wiser whether Laura had any history with Jodi, but then there hadn’t been much time for her to be particularly forthcoming. Ally made a mental note to try to find an opportunity to talk to her again.

She looked around and decided that this was as good a time as any to make her escape when Della Moran appeared at her side.

‘I enjoyed your talk,’ she said politely.

‘Well, thank you,’ Ally replied. ‘I had nothing prepared because they only asked me last night. How are you?’

Della shook her head. ‘Women can be very bitchy,’ she said.

‘They all seem so nice individually,’ Ally remarked with a sigh. Except Laura, she thought, who was bordering on rude.

‘They’re all trying to save their own skins,’ Della continued, ‘which is why they’re giving me a hard time. But, believe me, I’m not the only one whose stories she pinched! And I really wish I was staying up at your malthouse because they’re all gunning for me here.’

Ally thought for a moment. ‘Brigitte’s husband is due to arrive today and she’s moved into what was Jodi’s room, which is a double. Penelope’s now on her own in a twin-bedded room so I suppose you could always move in with her.’

Della rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘She’s so fecking loud! ’

‘I’m told she snores loudly too,’ Ally added with a grin.

‘I think I’ll stay right here then,’ Della said.

Della was a very attractive woman with her shoulder-length red hair and very blue eyes, which was a quite unusual combination. Ally estimated that she was in her fifties and wondered how, from somewhere near Belfast, she had become involved with Jodi.

‘The thing is,’ Della went on, ‘Jodi Jones was supposedly a reputable editor as well as a successful writer. She advertised her editing and proofreading skills in the writing magazines and online. She had her own website. And she charged a bloody fortune to look through your manuscript. “Let me sort out your books and I can almost guarantee publication” she spouted. So people did. And I’ll bet that half of the women in this room probably did. ’

‘Was she a good editor?’ Ally asked.

‘Yes, she was. She was excellent, and she was considered to be worth the money. But that’s not all she did!’

‘Really?’

‘Oh no!’ Della leaned forward and placed her hand on Ally’s arm. ‘Like I said, she pinched all her ideas from other people’s stories.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Ally asked.

‘I bloody well know so!’ 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 she did !’

‘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 who didn’t go 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? Perhaps all the women had come north with the intention of killing Jodi Jones, but only seven had had the opportunity!

Perhaps Joyce really had had 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 they all have 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?