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“Almonds?” I remembered something else, something from Mrs. Scarlett’s murder. “That’s cyanide.”
“I knew that,” Christina said. “The heroine in my first novel kills her husband with a little cyanide mixed into his coffee every morning—”
“That’s chronic poisoning, where a little bit of poison builds up in the system over time. What we’re talking about here is a lethal dose of poison administered directly into Hugh’s bloodstream.”
“That’s one way to put a stop to the rotten bastard,” Vivianne said. “I won’t say I’m sad about it, even though it ruins all my plans. Ialmostwish I’d done it myself, although of course, I did not. But how did the cyanide get into Hugh’s pen? He never lets that ugly thing out of his sight. Apparently, Stephen King dropped it at a party, back when Hugh was just an editorial intern, and he picked it up and kept it and it’s given him good luck ever since. Every book he edits with that pen turns into a bestseller.”
“He lost it this afternoon, remember?” My heart raced as the pieces slotted together. “He had it in the morning, but then he was looking for it all afternoon, and this evening it was right back next to his chair. Someone must have stolen it and added the poison in the afternoon, before bringing the pen back and replacing it on Hugh’s table.”
“And where would they have got the cyanide from?” Vivianne demanded. “That’s not something you find lying around.”
“They have some in the metalworking workshops,” Quoth said. He added quickly, “We took a tour of them before the painting class started. It’s used in some metalworking finishes.”
“Then that could have been anyone,” Killian said. “We’re right back where we started.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie said. “Perhaps you need thirty-three years on the force to see it, but the picture is becoming clearer. The pen went missing after Mina’s boyfriend tried to make Hugh choke to death, creating the perfect distraction so Mina could pocket the pen. And we’ve just established that anyone could have stood behind Hugh and stabbed him with the pen if the only intention was to get the cyanide into his bloodstream.”
“But, once again, I still wouldn’t have been able to navigate around all over you without Oscar…” I said, but I trailed off as I realized that Charlie was right. In his scenario, I was a plausible suspect.
I realized something else, too.
Heathcliff couldn’t have been in the room, butQuothcould.
The vent they described wasn’t large enough for a human to fit through, but a shapeshifting raven could have flown in and out easily, and no one would have noticed him with the lights out.
But that’s absurd. Quoth would never kill someone…
But was it absurd? All my guys had seen how much Hugh upset me. And they made it perfectly clear that they were willing to do anything for me. Even murder.
Donna did find them in the closet together after Heathcliff attacked Hugh.Andthey lied to me about it by saying they only texted each other.
I forgot sometimes that I was dating men who grew up inside storybooks. They were all the villains in their stories – Morrie, the Napoleon of Crime who was responsible for half that is evil and all that is undetected in Sherlock Holmes’ London. Heathcliff, the gothic antihero who would orchestrate the downfall of an entire family because he was so broken over Cathy’s death. And Quoth, the grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore, an ancient symbol of death and foreboding.
As much as I loved them, theywerestorybook villains. And nothing is off-limits for a villain when the one he loves is threatened.
Did Morrie, Heathcliff, and Quoth get rid of Hugh…for me?
CHAPTERTWENTY
Icouldn’t say anything about my disturbing thoughts in front of the other writers, who bickered back and forth about the facts of the case, taking it in turns to blame each other until Christina was in tears and Charlie pounded the table so hard it cracked.
I kept trying to catch Heathcliff’s eye, certain that with his brutal, bitter honesty, he would be the first to crack.
But it was quite difficult to catch someone’s eye when you’re blind.
Kelly-Ann, the artist who ran the painting workshops and art studio, poked her head around the door and told Jonathan that the staff had finished serving supper and the guests had been escorted back to their rooms with candles and flashlights. “On the radio, they’re saying it could be days until they get through to us. We need to try and get the power back on, but you’re the only one who knows how to operate the generator.”
“I have to guard these miscreants,” Jonathan said.
“We’ll take over for a bit.” Kelly-Ann stepped into the room, and I saw a couple of cleaners and chefs behind her. “We may not have the brawn, but several of us should be fine to guard them for a bit.”
“Fine.” Jonathan stood and pointed at Heathcliff, Morrie, and Quoth. “I’ll take those three with me, andyou,” he nodded at Donna and Christina. “You can come too and go to the bathroom since you’re so desperate.”
Morrie kissed me on the head as he got up to leave. “Don’t you worry, gorgeous. Things will be back to normal in no time. We’ve almost cracked this case.”
Yes,I thought glumly.That might well be true. But I don’t know if I want to know the answer.
The staff poured in. They carried a couple of supper trays with some cold meats, cheese, crackers, relish, and some slices of Victoria sponge cake. I had to ask one of the staff members if they could get me some cheese and crackers, since I couldn’t see to do it myself in the dark without getting my fingers all over the food.
