“And…?” I pressed, wondering if something more than friendship was developing between my cousin and Reggie Lyons.
She smiled. “And I expect to see a bit more of Inspector Laszlo.”
“Indeed?” I asked, my brows rising. I had not necessarily anticipated this development, but I was not entirely surprised.
“He has telephoned me once or twice.”
“How charming of him.”
“You don’t really object to him, surely,” she said. “After all, he spoke very highly of you.”
“Did he?” I was unimpressed, but I was a bit curious to know what he had said. I had, after all, solved the murder.
“Yes, he said that he was, at first, less than pleased to receive a phone call from a Scotland Yard inspector ‘singing your praises’ as he called it.”
Had Inspector Jones sung my praises to Inspector Laszlo? The thought pleased me.
“He said that he knew there must be something in it, however. And then, when you were run off the road, he knew that it must mean something. He thought the knife in the car seemed a bit too obvious, thought that Beatrice and Reggie must be hiding something. I think he was very impressed at how you unfolded it all and made Lucinda confess.”
“Well, he is, perhaps, not as wretched as I first thought him,” I admitted ungraciously.
Laurel laughed. “It will serve you right if I fall madly in love with him and scandalize everyone by marrying a policeman. Then we shall both have husbands that the other dislikes.”
“I suppose I could learn to like him, in time,” I said.
She hesitated. “I am loath to admit it—I never thought I would say such a thing—but it seems to me that Milo has changed. Not much, mind you. But there’s an attentiveness in him that I have never seen before, and I notice a difference between the two of you. You’re more settled, happier.”
“Yes,” I said. “We’re happier now than we’ve ever been.”
“I’m glad,” she said sincerely. “But don’t tell Milo I said so.”
* * *
MILO AND I were in the entrance hall preparing to take our leave when Mr. Winters came down the stairs. I had not seen much of him since the night Lucinda had been arrested. Where he had been keeping himself I didn’t know.
“I’m glad I’ve caught you, Mrs. Ames. I was worried you’d gone.” Today his eyes were bright and there was a focus in them that I had not often seen there. He looked as though he had wandered, at least momentarily, from his dream world into ours.
“I’m glad you came to say good-bye to me, Mr. Winters,” I said. “I was hoping I would be able to see everyone before I left.”
“I’ve just finished your portrait,” he announced. “Will you come and see it?”
I was surprised. I had not, of course, had the opportunity to sit for him since that first time, and in all the excitement I had actually forgotten all about the painting.
“Of course,” I said.
“Wonderful.” He turned and started in the direction of the conservatory.
“Am I invited?” Milo asked me in a low voice. “I’m not sure he even noticed me standing here. Perhaps I shall be intruding in the conservatory.”
“Perhaps he won’t much notice if you’re there or not,” I retorted, following Mr. Winters.
We went to the conservatory and Mr. Winters moved quickly to the easel. “I do hope you like it,” he said, turning it toward us.
We stopped before the easel, and my breath caught in my throat. It was a flattering portrait, to be sure, but it wasn’t my appearance that impressed me about the painting. It was what Mr. Winters had done with the colors, the way in which the light and shadows played across the room behind me. He had conveyed a sense of sadness and hope, the exact emotions that I felt now that the mystery at Lyonsgate had been solved. There was something otherworldly about the painting, just as there was about Mr. Winters himself.
“It’s breathtaking,” Milo said. “You’ve captured her completely.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said softly. “I love it.”
Mr. Winters smiled. “I’m so glad. It has been a long time since I’ve painted, you know. I think that I might take it up again. There are still people who want to be painted, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes,” I answered. “And I shall be your devoted supporter.”
“Once people see this painting, I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of subjects,” Milo said. “Now, what do I owe you for it?”
“Oh, no,” Mr. Winters said, his eyes on me. “Mrs. Ames has given me enough.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I shall treasure it.”
* * *
“GARETH WINTERS IS a fine artist, isn’t he?” I asked Milo when we were in the car and safely on our way back to London. The sun was shining and roads had dried. I felt light and carefree.
“Wonderful,” Milo agreed. “He did such a fine job, in fact, that I’m thinking perhaps we should commission him to paint you in the nude after all. A companion piece.”
I glanced at him disapprovingly. “I think one portrait is quite enough.”
“If you insist.”
“And what, now?” I asked. We would want to spend some time in London, of course, but I knew Milo would not want to stay there for long. He never much liked remaining in one place for extended periods, and I felt sure that he would be anxious to get away from the city before the month was out.
“Now, my love,” Milo said, “I intend to take you straight to Italy.”
“I thought as much,” I replied. “Well, you’ll hear no arguments from me. I am in desperate need of a holiday after this.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’ve already secured a villa.”
“I’ll have Winnelda begin packing as soon as we get home. I suspect she will be terribly excited at the prospect of a trip to the continent.”
“Winnelda is not going to Italy.”
“Oh?” I asked, surprised. “Why not?”
“Because it annoys me when she scurries about, popping in and out of rooms unexpectedly. Parks won’t be coming, either. Just you and me, alone in that Italian villa.”
I had a good idea of what he was implying, but I couldn’t resist asking. “Who do you suggest tend to our clothes while we’re there?”
He gave me a wicked smile, confirming my suspicions. “We won’t be needing any.”
ALSO BY ASHLEY WEAVER
Murder at the Brightwell
Death Wears a Mask
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ASHLEY WEAVER is the technical services coordinator at the Allen Parish Libraries in Oberlin, Louisiana. Weaver has worked in libraries since she was fourteen; she was a page and then a clerk before obtaining her MLIS from Louisiana State University. She is the author of two previous Amory Ames mysteries, Murder at the Brightwell and Death Wears a Mask.
Connect with her online at www.ashley-weaver.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Also by Ashley Weaver
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
A MOST NOVEL REVENGE. Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Weaver. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.minotaurbooks.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Weaver, Ashley, author.
Title: A most novel revenge: a mystery / Ashley Weaver.
Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2016. | Series: An Amory Ames mystery | “A Thomas Dunne book.”
Identifiers: LCCN 2016010565 | ISBN 9781250060457 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781466865686 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Women private investigators—England—London—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Historical. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3623.E3828 M67 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016010565
e-ISBN 9781466865686
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover illustration by John Mattos
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First Edition: October 2016
A Most Novel Revenge Page 27
