The vampire knitting club were an odd collection, but they had a knack of talking through problems, and sometimes they’d say exactly the right thing at the right moment to cut through the clouds and reach the sunshine of truth. I wanted to be alert enough to catch those moments.

  I chose sparkling water, and Rafe prepared it himself, even popping in a fresh lemon slice. While the English preferred their drinks lukewarm, there was always a bucket of ice for me. He popped three cubes into the glass and passed me my fizzy drink. Then he sat down on the settee beside me. Nyx immediately roused herself out of the deepest slumber and came over to settle in his lap.

  “I’m sorry she’s so clingy,” I said.

  He glanced up at me and back down at the cat. “It makes a nice change.”

  Ouch.

  There was an awkward silence. I sipped my drink and heard the ice cubes rattle around.

  “Time of death was approximately three a.m., by the way,” he said. He must have known I was staring, for his lips quirked up in a half-smile. “I had a feeling you were wondering.”

  I asked what condition the body was in.

  “Cause of death was strangulation. With a plastic cord. It was clean and quick. Almost like she was garroted.”

  I swallowed. Just hearing that word made my throat hurt. “Any clue where the rope came from?”

  “Oh yes. From Jemima’s laundry room. It was a clothesline.”

  “Jemima as the murderer fits with the theory that her friend thought she’d make a quick buck by blackmail.”

  “It does. Very stupid murderer though, to do the deed in her own house, using her own laundry line.”

  “When they found the body, was it…” I trailed off.

  “All traces of the hex were gone, if that’s what you mean.”

  It was. “So Margaret was right. The hex ended with death.”

  “This one, anyway.”

  “As awful as it is, I’m glad that Violet and Margaret and I, and poor Aunt Lavinia, didn’t turn out to be responsible.”

  He looked at me very seriously. “Far be it from me to lecture you, but there’s a lesson to be learned here.”

  I nodded. I was way ahead of him. “I can’t take part in spells with Margaret, not when I don’t even know what they are. The four of us together are very powerful.”

  “You on your own are very powerful. I suspect, and I believe you do too, that in reversing a curse, you could have turned something that was painful and unpleasant into something lethal.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Of course not. Nevertheless…”

  Point taken.

  William sent Olivia in to call us to the table, and not many minutes later, he walked in bearing three plates: one for Olivia, one for me and one for him. For Rafe, he poured a glass of wine, a deep, rich burgundy.

  I would have said William Thresher was not capable of making a bad meal. I’d have been wrong. The chicken was overcooked and tough, he’d burned the potatoes, and the vegetables were cooked to mush.

  I didn’t say anything. I was too grateful to get a meal.

  One bite in and William reached for our plates. “This is inedible. Lucy, Olivia, I can only apologize.”

  I grabbed his wrist before he could get his fingers on my plate. “Take my food away and die,” I said. “I’m too hungry to care.”

  Olivia nodded. “It’s fine, William. We know you’re under stress.”

  He looked very distressed. “A man has his standards,” he said.

  “You can make it up to us. I’ll expect a fabulous, perfectly cooked meal next time you invite me for dinner.”

  “I’m only grateful you’ll give me another chance.” He sawed into his own chicken with exaggerated vigor as though he were in my country cutting down a redwood.

  However, as merely adequate as the food was, I think we all felt better for eating. We adjourned to the lounge for coffee and didn’t have too long to wait before the vampires began to show up for knitting club.

  Normally we started at ten o’clock, but given the circumstances, everybody was there and ready to go by nine. I had to give them credit, though. Rafe had called this meeting with sleuthing in mind, but every single one of them brought their knitting. Which meant that I had to haul my sorry mess of a rug out of the bag and sit there and pretend like I was going to knit.

  Clara sat beside me and swapped projects as she had done the first night. I didn’t think anybody was going to be fooled, but at this point, I didn’t really care. The only chance that rug had of ever feeling my feet on it was if someone else knit it.

  Rafe, presumably since we were gathered at his home, took charge of the meeting right away. “I assume, given the nature of this evening’s meeting, that we can dispense with our usual project update.”

  Hester made a sound of mingled fury and frustration. “But I just finished a coat. And it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I want to show—”

  “We’ll meet again Thursday, Hester. You can show us then.”

  Silence Buggins, never one to let a pause be birthed, jumped in and said, “Do you have any idea what tiny stitches I’ve had to use to knit myself a proper undervest? I used a variety of techniques which you will never see once I begin wearing the undergarment.”

  She was about to embark on showing her project anyway when Rafe gently stopped her. “Thursday, Silence. We’ll look forward to hearing about it on Thursday.”

  She sniffed, and a very rare thing happened. She and Hester shared a glance that showed them united on the same side for once. Hester even moved to sit beside Silence and said, “You can show me it when we have a break.”

  “And I’d be very pleased to admire your work,” Silence replied.

  Rafe quickly laid out everything we knew about the murder. Theodore described his meeting with Peter Bedworth, the art gallery owner, and said, “As much as the man seemed pleased to be rid of Felicity Stevens, he didn’t seem to have any grudge to hold. In fact, he hadn’t heard about her death. When I told him, he seemed rather sad.” Theodore checked his notebook. “He’d known her family, you see. It’s how she got the job in the first place. Seemed very sorry to hear the news.”

  We all thought about that for a minute. “That doesn’t mean anything,” Sylvia said. “I’ve pretended to be sad for all sorts of dead people. And usually it was me that caused them to be that way.”

  A ripple of vampire humor went around the room. William and Olivia and I did not take part in the hilarity.

  “From what you’ve described,” Alfred spoke up from a far couch, where he was busily knitting a colorful pair of socks. “My money’s on William’s financial planner.” Then he turned to William. “Sorry, old chap. I’ve got a good man myself, if you’re in the market for a new advisor.”

  I felt like we had a couple of steps to go through before we worried about finding William a new financial planner. Chief among them, proving that his current one had committed murder.

  “We should get inside Jemima Taft’s office. Discover what it is that was so vitally important that Felicity might blackmail her for it,” Dr. Christopher Weaver said, not even pausing in his complicated stitchwork.

  Sylvia nodded. “Perhaps Lucy should pose as a prospective client. Theodore could drive her up in the Bentley; he’s a very good chauffeur. He plays that role frequently. In fact, it was he who drove us here tonight.”

  She glanced at me, in my usual attire of jeans and a handmade sweater. This time one that Silence had made me. I didn’t wear it very often because she had knit lace all around the collar and cuffs. The work was amazing and intricate and the stitches so tiny they looked like actual lace, but I felt like a Victorian maiden when I wore it. Besides, it was a little tight around the neck, and the way we kept talking about poor Felicity being strangled and garroted, the last thing I wanted was anything around my throat.

  Sylvia continued, “We’d have to get you dressed well enough that she’d believe you had money, of course. Your grandmother and I could take you shopping to the designer boutiques.” And then a wicked gleam came into her eye. “And I’d lend you some of my jewelry, but we all know how that turned out last time.”

  We all burst out laughing, even the mortals this time. If there was anything that was going to break the ice between me and Sylvia, it was her joking about the last time she’d lent me her jewels.

  When the laughter died down, I said, “I appreciate it, but I think she’s already got a pretty good idea of my financial situation. She’s seen my shop and”—I put my hands up—“the way I dress, the way I live.”

  Sylvia made a rude noise. “That doesn’t mean anything. Look at the way William acts and dresses. Even worse, Olivia over there with the dirt ground into her hands. There are more rich people you’d pass in the street, my dear, than there are blowhard billionaires, believe me.”

  I did believe her.

  “If Felicity was blackmailing Jemima, we must discover what she had on her friend,” Gran suggested.

  “Could it be something to do with this top-secret deal she’s putting together?” Quickly I outlined as much as I could remember of the Hurst and Havers takeover.

  There was a moment of stunned silence.

  “Hurst and Havers? Are you certain, Lucy?” This news had made all of them stop knitting, so it must be big.

  Chapter 24

  “Yes. I’m sure. What’s the big deal? It’s a tailor, right?”

  “It’s a tailor the way the Hope Diamond is a chunk of coal,” Alfred said. “Hurst and Havers have created my formal wear for nearly two hundred years. It’s a British tradition. I thought its finances were solid.”

  “I guess not.”

  “But any number of decent companies would love to bid for it. That’s why this deal is so secret,” Alfred said, nodding.

  I was glad he understood. I’d had to really work to dredge up the details of the secret deal, first, because I hadn’t been that interested, and second, because there was a lot of champagne under the bridge by the time Jemima let the secret slip out.

  Theodore said, “Essentially, it sounds like Jemima is the front person putting together a big-money deal with partners who don’t necessarily know each other.”

  They all nodded. He looked at my puzzled face. “We do it all the time in our world. We find a mortal to be the coordinator, and we may not even know the other parties.”

  “It sounds like some shady, illegal drug cartel.”

  “It’s not,” Rafe said thoughtfully. “Very rich people who shun the spotlight, as we do, rarely want their business dealings to be public. In this case, privacy is crucial because the minute word gets out that Hurst and Havers is for sale, the price will go sky-high. Even I hadn’t heard a whisper of their financial troubles.” He looked quite irked that he hadn’t.

  “Jemima was horrified when she realized she’d been speaking out of turn while in her cups, especially in the Wainwright Hotel, where she was surrounded by wealthy, well-connected people.” I cast my mind back to our walk. “She didn’t know she’d talked. When I told her, she was stunned.”

  “If she’s experiencing alcohol-induced amnesia, then she’s got a problem,” Theodore said.

  I looked around at the vampires, all working away. I was glad Clara was working on my rug because I couldn’t concentrate on murder and knit at the same time. “She’s as cool as a cucumber in her professional dealings. Completely trustworthy and confidential. Right, William?”

  “Oh, yes. The soul of discretion.”

  “Goes for dinner with her clients and doesn’t even sip wine. And then in the evening, she gets together with her best friend who lets her rip. She was tipsy when I bumped into her and Felicity at the pub and flat-out drunk last night. I bet that’s not the first time she’s said things and didn’t even remember she’d said them.”

  “A definite liability to the kind of people she works with.”

  William said, “I think I will look for a new financial advisor if that’s the way she behaves.”

  That line of Rafe’s about most murders being solved within twenty-four hours had somehow stuck with me. I felt the clock ticking. Felicity had been killed around three in the morning. It was nearly ten now. That left us five hours. I knew it was an arbitrary deadline, but I felt spurred on by that ticking clock. Panicky, like time was running out.

  And then it hit me. No wonder I thought time was running out. It actually was.

  I stood up. “I know who it is,” I said. “And there’s no time to lose.”

  I’d always found it pretty difficult to surprise vampires. They’d seen and done it all. However, my statement did raise some eyebrows.

  “But who is it? How can you possibly know?” Alfred wanted to know.

  “No time. I’ll explain later. William? Do you know where Jemima’s office is?”

  “Yes. It’s difficult to find, though. There’s no plate outside.”

  “We need to go there right now. Before it’s too late.”

  I was already up and grabbing my bag.

  “But—”

  “Get in the car, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Naturally, every member of the vampire knitting club jumped to their feet, as did Olivia and William.

  “I can’t take all of you. William, you’ll have to come.” There was no question of Rafe coming along. He was already by my side. Sylvia’s penetrating, theatrical voice rang out.

  “Theodore, drive them in the Bentley. Don’t argue. He’s an excellent driver. And a good man in a pinch.”

  None of us could argue with that.

  I knew that Rafe wanted to take his own car, but he must see, as I did, that this way we’d be free to jump out without having to worry about finding parking, which was always a nightmare in Oxford.

  We ran out into the night and piled into the Bentley.

  The road leading from Crosyer Manor back into Oxford is generally a peaceful, scenic drive. It’s one lane either way with trees that meet overhead, really pretty in certain lights when the sun peeks through and makes lace of shadows on the road. There are thickets of trees, the remains of Wychwood Forest, and rolling fields with stone cottages and farms to look at. But at night, when you’re in a screaming hurry down a winding road with no streetlights, trying to save somebody’s life, let’s just say it’s not the Autobahn.

  “Call Jemima. Tell her you need to see her urgently about business.”

  “What business? I barely look at my monthly statements. I leave all that to her.”

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t have any investment statements to worry me.

  “You think you’ve found a discrepancy in the accounting,” Rafe suggested. “That will get her attention.”

  Oh, good one.

  William had his mobile phone out and was trying to call Jemima. Naturally, Jemima Taft wasn’t picking up. He left a message. Several messages as he kept calling. Then, on the fourth, he just said, “Call me. It’s urgent.”

  “It was Jemima who was the intended victim,” I said, finally seeing the truth. “Not Felicity. Everybody remarked on how similar they were. Similar size and build, similar hairstyle, a little bit similar in looks. But the killer didn’t know that Felicity had gone to stay at Jemima Taft’s house.”

  “But there were two of them in the house,” Theodore reminded me. “Why not kill both women?”

  “The guest room is on the main floor. But Jemima’s bedroom is on the top floor. He must have gone inside the room in the dark, seen a woman who looked like Jemima, killed her and left. Job done.”

  “But why?” William asked. “If it was Jemima who was the target, what was the reason?” He stiffened. “She isn’t really stealing clients’ money, is she?”

  “No. She’s an excellent financial advisor but for one fatal flaw. She drinks, and then she talks.”

  “She was spilling secrets,” Rafe said, nodding.

  “Exactly. The killer needed to stop Jemima blabbing the most delicate, confidential secrets all over Oxford every time she got drunk.”

  “But how did the killer know she was doing it? You said yourself she was the epitome of discretion all day long in her business dealings.”

  “Because he overheard her,” I said. Suddenly I saw the scene playing out in my head. How had I been so stupid I hadn’t seen this before?

  To William, I said, “He was even at your dinner party. Remember how she said that was such an important dinner party? And she and Nico were both fussing over the menu? She brought together people who, between them, could buy the struggling business and could afford to turn it around, thus making yet another fortune.”

  “But how did Felicity end up being at the dinner? Perhaps you’ve wronged her, Lucy, and she had the high net worth required of Felicity’s clients.”

  “No. She was a last-minute addition. The only other woman couldn’t make it. Rather than re-order the table, she invited Felicity, who was desperate to marry rich.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Are you saying that Nico is our killer?”

  “It had to be someone at that dinner, but I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

  Theodore looked rather pleased with himself. “I was waiting until later, but I did do a little digging on everyone who was at your dinner. I think Lucy’s right. All of them seem perfectly legitimate on the surface, but when you dig, it’s like you tunnel down and find yourself popping up back at the surface again. That always makes me suspicious.”

  I smiled, because for all his cherubic looks, Theodore was suspicious of everything and everybody.

  He followed William’s directions, although I suspected Theodore already knew where we were going. He wouldn’t have been much of a private investigator if he hadn’t already checked out Jemima’s place of business. Her investment firm was located in the upper floor of an elegant stone building on Broad Street. The street level contained a gift shop, but according to William, the investment firm offices took up the second and third floors.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20