An Invitation to Murder: An amateur sleuth murder mystery (A Mary Blake Mystery Book 1)

by AG Barnett

  “Mary tells me you’re a writer, Emily?” Dot asked. “Must be fascinating!”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Emily answered, looking over her shoulder nervously at the back of Dave. “I mostly just sit at home on my own, hunched over a keyboard.” She shrugged and gave a nervous laugh.

  “Don’t worry about Dave,” Mary said with a whisper. “His bark’s much worse than his bite.”

  Emily gave a forced whimper of laughter, before looking down at her hands.

  “Here we go, ladies!” Dave said, returning with four short, golden brown drinks that looked potent.

  “Where’s Pea got to?” Mary said, looking towards the door in hope that he would arrive and provide further dilution to Dave Flintock’s presence.

  “The others have all arrived by train at the station down the road. Percy went to pick them up.” Emily answered.

  “We don’t need him to have a good time, do we, ladies?!” Dave said, leaning back on the sofa next to Mary and casually putting his arm around her. She elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him spill half his drink onto his lap.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?!” he roared, standing.

  “Reminding you to keep your dirty little paws to yourself,” Mary said sternly.

  He snorted, his round cheeks reddening. “You’d think in your situation you’d have the good sense to be nice to people like me who can help you out,” he muttered before turning and heading towards the hallway in search of a bathroom.

  “And you’d think that lecherous little worms like you would have died out in the Stone Age!” Mary called after him.

  “The little weasel!” Mary said to herself, clutching her glass tightly.

  “Come on, Mary,” Dot said soothingly. “He’s just trying to rile you. Ignore him.”

  “He is awful, isn’t he?” Emily said next to her.

  “I think you’ll find most people in this industry are,” Mary said bitterly.

  “I’ve only met him once and…” Emily began before her pale cheeks suddenly reddened and she shook her head and took a sip of her drink, which made her cough and wince.

  “You don’t have to drink it,” Dot said. “I’ll make you something less toxic.” She took the glass from her and headed over to the bar.

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said, eyes watering. “I’m not really used to hard drink.”

  Mary gave a small laugh, which she managed to turn into a cough as she realised that Emily was serious.

  “What were you going to say about Flintock?” she asked by way of distraction.

  “Oh, it’s just that...” She looked over her shoulder towards the door, but there was no sign of the agent and so she continued. “It was a few months ago at some launch party or other. He said he could help my career and get me writing on some of the big shows if I ‘played my cards right,’ and then he pinched me on the bottom!”

  Mary sighed in sympathy. “He’s an arse.” She frowned and thought about this. “So, he must be compelled to pinch arses on other people.”

  Mary had been lucky in her career. She had attended an open audition on a whim when on a shopping trip to London and, to her complete surprise, had landed the part. Within the week she had signed Terry Hope as her agent. At the time he had only had a few, small-time clients, but he had been a friend of a friend of her brother from school and so again she had found the easy route. But she was all too aware of how many sharks there were in the TV world, and Dave Flintock was a great white shark with sharp, bloodied teeth.

  “I’m sorry you got replaced on your show,” Emily said with a sympathetic smile.

  “Oh, thanks,” Mary sighed. “I guess it’s all part of the business.” She shrugged. “I just hate the reasons behind it. Just because a woman finds herself sagging in certain areas, it doesn’t mean she’s past it.”

  “Exactly the right attitude,” Dot said as she returned with Emily’s drink. “You need to get back out there and show them. There’s no use crying over spilt milk,” Dot added.

  “I guess that rather depends on whether the milk in question is a perky little thing with annoyingly perfect hair.”

  There was a silent pause in the room.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Dot said, frowning.

  “Sorry,” Mary said. “I think I got a little lost in the metaphor there.”

  Voices sounded from the hallway. The high tinkle of a woman’s laugh rang out above them.

  They looked up as Pea burst through the doorway, his eyes wide and flicking around the room until they landed on Mary.

  “Mary, I’m sorry I didn’t realise,” he said, rushing over to her.

  “What is it?” Mary said, a prickle of fear rising up her spine at her brother’s tone and pale face. His face was like an open book to her, and right now PANIC was written on it in big bold letters.

  “Just remember, I didn’t know Freddie was dating her until you told me earlier!” Pea said, his face bright crimson.

  Mary looked up at the door with a sudden sense of dread. A petite, blonde figure shimmied through the door. The golden ringlets of her hair fell perfectly on her shoulders, framing an angelic face.

  “Oh!” the woman squealed, her hands clasping either side of her face. “Mary Blake! How exciting!” She rushed across to the sofa, perched next to Mary and took her hand. “I want to know everything about you! I simply have to do you justice when I start playing Susan Law!”

  Mary glanced to Pea over Melanie Shaw’s shoulder where he was standing, worry etched across his face.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Mary said, her eyes returning to Melanie’s. Her voice was steady, even though her heart was pounding. It was taking all her strength not to run from the room and drive straight back to London.

  “Do you know that you are one of my heroes?!” Melanie said with long eyelashes fluttering. “It is such an honour to be following in your footsteps.”

  “Oh, right,” Mary answered, feeling slightly bewildered.

  “Oh yes, I’ve been a fan of yours since I was really little.”

  Mary forced a smile and nodded as inwardly her anger rose. She couldn’t help but feel as though this was a deliberate dig at her age.

  There was a moment of awkward silence as Melanie gazed at Mary with her large blue eyes, as though waiting for a reaction before more voices came from the doorway.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mary Blake!” a voice boomed from across the room. Freddie Hale wore a pale blue shirt that was open at least two buttons too many. White chinos finished at the ankle where his sockless feet disappeared into a pair of cream loafers. To Mary’s mind, he looked as though he was due to step onto a golf course rather than into a murder mystery weekend in November.

  “Hello, Freddie,” Mary said rather weakly. She was getting the sinking feeling that this was going to be a long weekend.

  “And would you look at this!” he said, opening his arms at Mary and Melanie on the sofa. “Last year’s model sitting here with the new upgrade!” He laughed and then stopped, a false look of concern on his face.

  “Oh, it’s not awkward, is it?” he said dramatically before bursting out in laughter again.

  “The only awkward thing in this room is your acting,” Mary said, finding some of her old spirit lying under the pool of misery and gin inside her. She rose and moved past Freddie to where the final two guests had entered and were watching silently.

  Steve Benz was a slight, ordinary man apart from his shock of white hair and pale skin. He had always given Mary the faint impression of a ghost, but a friendly one. In her brief run-ins with him over the years he had always come across as one of the nicer sorts you found in this industry.

  “Hi Steve,” she said, kissing him on both cheeks. “How are you?”

  “You know, can’t complain,” he said, shrugging.

  Mary sensed an awkward silence building in the room and realised that all eyes were on her, waiting to see her reaction to Melanie being a guest here for the w
eekend. She was determined to show them that she wasn’t a broken woman just yet.

  “Right then, who thinks we should get nicely lubricated before we have dinner and start murdering each other?” she said more loudly than was necessary.

  There was a smattering of laughter, punctured by the high ear-piercing giggle of Melanie Shaw.

  Mary forced a grin onto her face and headed towards the small bar.

  Chapter Four

  “And that,” said Mary theatrically, “is how I know that you are the murderer!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pea, who was grinning with the rather waxy appearance of someone who had had too much to drink.

  “Oh, just wonderful!” Melanie squealed next to her. Mary forced a smile at her.

  Three hours ago, Pea had begun by showing everyone to their rooms. Mary always felt strange being back in her childhood room, as though she was intruding on her younger self somehow, and the feeling hadn’t changed when she had entered that large but rather damp-smelling space she had once called home.

  Once everyone had unpacked and poured themselves further drinks, they had begun acting out the convoluted plot of the murder mystery evening Pea had arranged. With an increasingly drunken cast, there had been a not unrelated increase in goodwill between all involved.

  That is, apart from Melanie Shaw.

  “See, she’s not bad, is she?” Dot said as the various members of the play broke apart and headed either to the bar for a refill or to the sofas where they were sitting in front of the roaring fire.

  “You’re kidding me?” Mary said, looking at her in disbelief.

  “No, why, what’s wrong with her? I thought she’d been very nice to you?”

  “Bloody hell, Dot, you really are clueless. She’s not being nice to me, she’s sticking the boot in whenever she can!”

  Mary looked at the blank expression on her friend’s face and was reminded that the subtleties of human interaction were not her forte.

  “Listen,” she said, putting her arm around Dot. “When she is saying how great I used to be when she was growing up and how the old shows really showed great energy and all that nonsense, what she’s actually saying is that all of that stuff is missing from recent shows. She’s also reminding me that I’m old and washed up.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Yes! And have you seen her with Freddie? If those two are a legit couple then I’m a Peruvian taxidermist. She’s as cold to him as haddock. When Pea showed them to their room, she insisted on them having separate rooms and Freddie didn’t seem too happy about it. She’s been teasing poor Emily about getting fired from her last job, and there’s something funny going on with her and Steve Benz.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s drinking like a fish and keeps trying to whisper to her for some reason, and she keeps either muttering back to him or blanking him. All very mysterious if you ask me.”

  “Do you know?” Dot said, eyeing Melanie from across the room. “Now you mention it, I saw Dave Flintock and her arguing about something in the hall earlier on. Well,” she said, pausing with a frown, “at the time I thought they were arguing, but now I think about it, Melanie seemed to be quite calm and even smiling. Dave was bright red with anger about something though.”

  “She was probably winding him up like she is everyone else,” Mary answered bitterly. “Oh, speak of the devil,” she added as Melanie made her way across from the bar with a small tray of drinks.

  “Here we go!” Melanie said, handing Mary a flute of prosecco. “Pea says we’re going to find out who the murderer is now, so I got us some bubbly.” She turned to Dot, who was standing with a stony look on her face. “Oh sorry, I didn’t get you one! But then, servants don’t get the bubbly, do they!” She laughed in her high, piercing giggle and turned away from them.

  Mary watched Dot’s eyes turn to stone, her jaw tense.

  “Told you,” she said softly, handing Dot her drink.

  Obviously, Melanie had been referring to Dot’s role in the murder mystery, but still. There had been something there that suggested Dot was Mary’s servant in real life. She had called Percy “Pea” as well. No one other than Mary did that.

  “OK!” Pea shouted above the 50s’ rock and roll that had been playing since they had finished dinner, Pea’s favourite. “We have three more envelopes to read!” He moved around the room, handing one envelope to Steve Benz, who was standing with Emily Hanchurch, one to Freddie Hale, who hovered with his agent Dave Flintock, and one to Melanie.

  “Oh, how exciting!” Melanie squealed, fanning her face with one thin hand.

  “Now Steve, sorry, Alfonso, you get to open yours first!” Pea said excitedly.

  Steve Benz, who was playing the role of Alfonso, took another large swig of whiskey from his tumbler and set it on the grand piano behind him. He opened the envelope and began reading. As a prime suspect in the murder, there was a slight tension in the air as everyone waited to see if he was about to confess. He didn’t. Instead, the character of Alfonso explained how he, in fact, had an alibi for the crime, which let him off the hook.

  Mary watched Steve Benz’s pale, twitchy face as he stumbled through his lines. Something seemed off with him, as though his mind was elsewhere, and it wasn’t anywhere good. She had noticed a closeness between him and Emily Hanchurch and had decided they would make a cute couple. She wondered if he was working up the courage to make a move and that was what was testing him.

  Freddie Hale went next, delivering his lines with the usual flair and boyish charm that had endeared him to so many of the nation’s housewives. His character was also innocent of the crime.

  All eyes turned to Melanie.

  “Oh my!” she cried when Freddie had finished. “Does this mean I did it?!”

  “Why don’t you open the bloody envelope and find out,” Dave Flintock rumbled.

  “Oh Dave, if you didn’t want to join in, you shouldn’t have trekked all the way out here just to spy on Freddie and me!” Melanie gave a short giggle and began opening the envelope.

  Mary exchanged a meaningful look with Dot. Again, this was only a mild chastisement, just a meaningless retort really, yet there was something else behind it. A hidden, poisonous barb behind the sweetness.

  Melanie began reading a confession of how she had committed the murder, shrieking and giggling with delight as she did so.

  Mary scanned the eyes in the room.

  Pea’s were glassy from alcohol, but she had the impression he was actually listening to what Melanie’s high voice was saying. He had enjoyed the whole murder mystery game, throwing his heart and soul into encouraging the others to take part and playing his own role with a gusto that more than made up for his lack of acting ability.

  The eyes of the rest of the room told a different story.

  Freddie Hale’s were the hardest to read. His brow furrowed and his eyebrows knotted in what appeared to be fierce thought. There was emotion there as he stared at Melanie, but whether it was love or maybe even hate, Mary couldn’t tell.

  Dave Flintock’s emotions regarding Melanie Shaw were more obvious. His mouth was twisted into a foul sneer and his eyes glistened with alcohol and contempt.

  Emily Hanchurch was perched on the stool of the grand piano, swaying slightly. Her eyes were set on Melanie, and a faint smile played upon her lips as though she was enjoying some private joke.

  Steve Benz was standing silently, sipping at his whiskey, his face expressionless but his eyes sunken and sad.

  Mary realised Melanie had finished reading and Pea had begun clapping. No one else joined in and he looked around, bewildered.

  “Well, maybe we should all have a nightcap and head off to bed, eh?”

  “First sensible idea anyone’s had all night,” Dave Flintock grumbled.

  “Well I thought it was tremendous fun,” Melanie chuckled. “Just because Freddie’s not going to be your golden ticket anymore, Dave, there’s no need to take it out
on everyone else.”

  “You jumped-up little…” Flintock began, stepping forward.

  “Steady on, Dave,” Freddie interjected.

  Dave spun his glare towards him. “You haven’t got a clue, have you?” he shouted. “She’s spun you a load of crap and you’ve bought every line.”

  “I think maybe you should go to bed,” Freddie said, his face reddening as he stepped in front of Flintock and puffed out his chest.

  “You’re bloody welcome to him, darling.” Flintock jerked his thumb towards Freddie as he snarled at Melanie. He rose and glared at the both of them for a moment before storming out into the hallway.

  “Well, there’s nothing like a bit of drama to liven up the party!” Melanie giggled once the door had slammed behind him.

  “Let’s all just call it a night,” Steve Benz said quietly.

  “Oh!” Melanie laughed. “What a surprise, Steve Benz giving up on something.”

  Mary looked between them, shocked at this sudden outburst from Melanie, who seemed to have dropped any pretence of sweetness. She had spat Steve Benz’s name as though it was an insult.

  “I see you’ve been hanging around with Emily all night,” Melanie said, smiling at the tall, red-haired woman next to him. “That will be a match made in heaven, a washed-up writer and a has-been director.”

  “Come on, everyone!” Pea said hurriedly. “Let’s all just try and get along, eh?” He looked at his watch and grinned. “I almost forgot! It’s eleven!”

  “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Mary asked, wary of what Pea was going to make them all join in on next.

  “It’s my last little surprise!” he said triumphantly. “There’s a meteor shower expected tonight, I thought we could all go up on the roof terrace and watch it.” He gestured towards the heavens. “Come on, everyone, we can have our nightcap up on the roof! I got Hetty to make up some mulled cider!” He turned and headed out of the room with the rest of the group in tow, glad of a distraction from the sudden tension. He gathered everyone’s coats from the large coat stand in the hallway and gleefully led them up the wide staircase like the Pied Piper, a broad grin plastered across his face.