by Cathy Ace
PRAISE FOR CATHY ACE’S WORK
The Cait Morgan Mysteries
“Ace is, well, an ace when it comes to plot and description.”
The Globe and Mail
“In the finest tradition of Agatha Christie…Ace brings us the closed-room drama, with a dollop of romantic suspense and historical intrigue.”
Library Journal
“…a sparkling, well-plotted and quite devious mystery in the cozy tradition, all pointing to Ace’s growing finesse at telling an entertaining story.” Hamilton Spectator
“She has a great way with words. It is wonderful to read an intelligent woman’s writing.” MysteriesEtc
The WISE Enquiries Agency Mysteries
“…a gratifying contemporary series in the traditional British manner with hilarious repercussions (dead bodies notwithstanding). Cozy fans will anticipate learning more about these WISE ladies.”
Library Journal, starred review
“In my review of Cathy’s first book, ‘The Corpse with the Silver Tongue’ I compared her style of writing to Agatha Christie. While this book features four protagonists, the style is still the same. I also loved the setting…I strongly recommend this book and all of Cathy Ace’s books.”
Lynn Farris, examiner.com
“A brilliant addition to Classic Crime Fiction. The ladies…of the WISE Enquiries Agency will have you pacing the floor awaiting their next entanglement…A fresh and wonderful concept well executed.”
Alan Bradley, New York Times bestselling author of the
Flavia de Luce mysteries
“Cozy fans will enjoy their chitchat as much as their sleuthing.”
Publishers’ Weekly
” …a pleasant mélange with a garnish of death and danger.”
Kirkus Reviews
Other works by the same author
(Information for all works here: www.cathyace.com)
The Cait Morgan Mysteries
(Published by TouchWood Editions)
The Corpse with the Silver Tongue
The Corpse with the Golden Nose
The Corpse with the Emerald Thumb
The Corpse with the Platinum Hair*
The Corpse with the Sapphire Eyes
The Corpse with the Diamond Hand
The Corpse with the Garnet Face
The Corpse with the Ruby Lips**
*Winner 2015 Bony Blithe Award for Best Canadian Light Mystery
**Finalist 2017 Bony Blithe Award for Best Canadian Light Mystery
The WISE Enquiries Agency Mysteries
(Published By Severn House Publishers)
The Case of the Dotty Dowager
The Case of the Missing Morris Dancer
The Case of the Curious Cook
The Case of the Unsuitable Suitor***
***Finalist 2018 Bony Blithe Award for Best Canadian Light Mystery
Short Stories
Steve’s Story in ‘The Whole She-Bang 3’****
(Published by Sisters in Crime, Toronto)
****Finalist 2017 Arthur Ellis Award for Best Short Story
MURDER
KEEPS NO
CALENDAR
CATHY ACE
Murder Keeps No Calendar
Copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Four Tails Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at this address: [email protected]
Cover artwork: Four Tails Publishing
ISBN 978-1-7751754-0-7 (print book)
ISBN 978-1-7751754-3-8 (electronic book)
Stories and novella contained within the anthology ‘Murder Keeps No Calendar’:
Dear George
First edition copyright © 1988 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
The Corpses Hanging Over Paris
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Domestic Violence
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Negroni
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
A Woman’s Touch
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
The Corpse with the Fake Purse
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Tea For Two
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Shannah’s Racecar
Copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
The Corpse That Died Twice
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
The Trouble With The Turkey
First edition copyright © 2015 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Miss Parker Pokes Her Nose In
First edition copyright © 2007 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
Tidings Of Comfort And Joy
First edition copyright © 2015 Cathy Ace; second edition copyright © 2017 Cathy Ace
DEDICATION
For my family, with love and thanks
CONTENTS
JANUARY: Dear George
FEBRUARY: The Corpses Hanging Over Paris
MARCH: Domestic Violence
APRIL: Negroni
MAY: A Woman’s Touch
JUNE: The Corpse with the Fake Purse
JULY: Tea for Two
AUGUST: Shannah’s Racecar
SEPTEMBER: The Corpse that Died Twice
OCTOBER: The Trouble with the Turkey
NOVEMBER: Miss Parker Pokes Her Nose In
DECEMBER: Tidings of Comfort and Joy
Afterword and acknowledgements
JANUARY
Dear George
January 1st
So here it is, the first day of the year I kill George. This diary will be a record of what I do this year, so that one day – when I’m long gone – everyone will know how clever I was.
I’ll tell you, dear diary, absolutely everything. It’ll be like we’re partners. Yes, partners. No one else will know our plans. You see, it’s time; after ten years of gradually hating dear, sweet George more and more, day after day, month after month, I’m going to do something about it. I’m going to stop him snoring. Stop his armpits smelling. Stop him scraping his knife on his plate. Stop him eyeing up young girls. Stop his palms sweating. Stop him picking his nose when he thinks I can’t see him do it. Stop him dead.
I’ll keep you hidden underneath my one and only frilly nightie. George never looks in that drawer, so no one will know you’re there – except you and me. And we won’t be telling, will we?
Today’s been a big day; I decided to kill George, I found you, and it was sunny. Sunny on the first day of the year, in South Wales – not what you’d expect. I’ll take it as an omen.
January 28th
I think I’m doing very well to find the time to tell you all about what’s been going on every day. I make time to talk to you because you’re so special to me. You understand me. Not like him.
He’s out at his club again with his ‘mates’, tonight. I expect they’ll all be sitting there cracking dirty jokes, and he’ll be busy chatting up that new barmaid. We saw her on
the High Street last week when we were going to the ironmonger. Said hello to him and everything, she did. Even called him Georgie. Georgie! Of course, he had to tell me who she was. Introduce us to each other. Little tart. All boobs and no brain. Mind you, I feel better knowing that I’ll be at George’s funeral in July.
Oh, that’s right, I haven’t told you yet, have I? I decided yesterday that I’d kill him on July 4th. It’s Independence Day in America, you know. Good that, eh? The day I get rid of George will be celebrated by millions of people. And they won’t have a clue.
February 1st
I’ve been thinking. I don’t know how I’ll manage when George is dead. We haven’t got any money in the bank, no savings or anything, and I’ve never had a job. Not since we got married, anyway. George wanted me to give up work when we married. I don’t think I could do anything really. Except awful things like working in a shop or a factory like I did in my teens, and I really don’t want to do that again. It was horrible then, and it would be horrible now. I don’t know how to get around this one at all. What shall I do?
Oh yes, that’s a good idea. Get George to insure his life, then I’ll get the money when he’s dead. You’re very clever. Almost as clever as me. I don’t know much about insurance. I wonder if I could talk to Iris about it? She knows about lots of things; she’s always surfing the net. Her son set it all up for her. She could find out for me. Or maybe I could use one of the computers George is always saying I should try at the library. Maybe he’s actually made a useful suggestion. I’ll think about it.
February 4th
I’m going to talk to George about life insurance tonight. When he comes to bed I’ll raise the topic, all casual, like. We agreed a hundred grand, didn’t we? That’s how they say it, you know. ‘A hundred grand.’ It’ll be grand when I’ve got it, I can tell you that much. Yes, I know you think that’s greedy, but I’ll want to live it up a bit when boring old George has gone. I’ll tell you tomorrow how it goes. I’ve got to have a bath now. It’s Saturday; we always do it on a Saturday, unless George doesn’t feel like it. Knowing my luck, tonight he will.
February 5th
I had to tell George that I wanted us both to insure ourselves, just so I didn’t make him suspicious. Joint life insurance, they call it.
He said we can’t afford it, but I explained to him about how you can insure two people, and when one of them dies the other one gets the money. The one who’s left hasn’t got any life insurance on themselves, but I told him it’s cheaper than us both insuring ourselves. As two separate people. Oh, you know what I mean. I understood when I explained it to him. He actually sounded impressed that I’d worked out how to use the computer in the library and print from it. See? Old dog, new tricks.
I ran into Iris today, and she said I looked tired. That’s because George came in very late last night and woke me up. He never smells of drink, but I know he’s been knocking it back, on the sly. Probably vodka. They say that doesn’t smell at all. George says he’s always busy at the Country and Western Club, but I know it’s just an excuse to go out boozing to a place where he knows I won’t follow him. Maybe next Saturday I’ll go along with him, see what he really gets up to. That would blow his little cover story for late nights out.
February 12th
Sorry I didn’t talk to you last night; I got all dressed up, and when George came in from doing a bit of shopping in town, I told him I was going out with him to his club. That shocked him. And you’ll never guess what we did – we did go to the blessed Country and Western Club! Lots of people said hello to him as we went in, and then they kept coming up to him to ask him questions about all sorts of things. Lots of women, that is. But he didn’t drink at all – only orange juice. He did that to make me think he never ever drinks, but I know different.
Anyway, even though he didn’t drink, he still wanted to do it when we came home. Honestly, you sit in the corner all night not talking to anyone, listening to that awful racket, and you still have to come home and do it. Terrible. I don’t think I’ll bother again.
February 27th
We signed the insurance papers today. What an idiot. He didn’t have a clue. Now, when I kill him, I’ll be rich too. I can hardly wait. The 4th of July seems a very long way away.
Perhaps we should reconsider that date.
As soon as he’s out of the way I can go on a lovely cruise; people would expect me to get away after all the fuss and the police and all that. I suppose it’s the only way to do it; shoot George, then ring the police and give myself up, telling them it was a terrible accident. Besides, I want to see his face as I pull the trigger. I have to see the realization in his stupid eyes of what I’m doing to him; see him getting the point for once in his pathetic, miserable life.
It’s all his fault anyway. For keeping the gun. If I hadn’t seen it in his desk drawer last year I’d never have got this brilliant idea. It’s probably illegal to have it; but that’s alright with George because it was his high-and-mighty father’s. I’m going to take it out onto Fairwood Common next week to check that it works. It’s pretty quiet there, especially at this time of year. Who wants to wander about the Gower in the winter? Lovely it might be, but it can be bitter. And bleak up on the common. There’ll still be buses running though. Not many, but some.
There are only three bullets in the gun, but I need to use one just to make sure I know how to make it shoot properly. I’ll take the bus on Monday and wait until there’s no one around. Just the sheep. As long as I don’t point it at anything except the ground, it can’t do any harm, can it?
Anyway, goodnight now. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as tidily as usual today, but that copperplate is very hard to keep going, and my hands are sore from wringing out the bedroom curtains this afternoon. Still, the washing machine man will be here tomorrow and then it’ll be working again, I hope.
March 6th
I shot the gun today. I didn’t realize it would make such a noise. It frightened the life out of me. Ha! What a funny thing to say; it won’t frighten the life out of George, it’ll shoot the life out of George. Oh, that does make me smile. It was so loud it frightened the sheep on the common. My word they can shift when they want to. No one heard me though; it was far too cold for anyone to be out on a day like this. I hurt my wrist a bit; I held the gun in two hands like they do on the telly, but it still pushed back a lot. It was very powerful. At least I know I can do it.
George didn’t suspect a thing, of course; I’d put the gun back in the drawer by the time he got home from work. Not that he ever goes to the desk except to pay bills every month. Sometimes I wonder if he even notices that I’m here, let alone things around him in the house.
March 13th
I did the washing today; much easier now the machine’s fixed. Even so, one thing I really hate is the way George refuses to use tissues, and will insist on using real hankies. I’m the one who’s got to wash them. They’re revolting. But he won’t listen to me. I’d make him wash them himself, but he wouldn’t get them clean, and I’m certainly not having her next door seeing dirty washing on the clothesline. Not that I could put it out today. Too wet. It’ll all just have to hang around on the clotheshorse until it’s dried off.
I was doing the ironing from yesterday’s load when I tried to work out how many of George’s shirts I’ve ironed since we got married – it’s thousands. I feel as though I’ve ironed them all today.
I’m getting tired more quickly these days. Getting headaches too. George isn’t at all sympathetic. He says I should get my eyes seen to. He’ll find out if there’s anything wrong with my eyes when I hit him with that little bullet.
April 27th
Our wedding anniversary. What a bundle of laughs today was, dear diary. I gave George a card and a pair of socks. He gave me a box of chocolates – then he ate all the soft ones. Pig. I hate him. Do you know he actually laughed at me as he ate the coffee cream? He knows it’s my favorite.
Dear, dear diary, I know we agreed that we’d wait, but I can’t any longer. He’s horrible to me all the time. He hates me as much as I hate him, I’m sure of that, or he wouldn’t have eaten all the soft ones, would he?
More than twenty years ago today I promised to love, honor, and obey him. Well, today I’m promising to love, honor, and obey myself. Please don’t be upset, I’ll keep you in the picture. I’m going to do it a week on Saturday, when George gets back from his big ‘Annual Hoe Down’ thing at his club. Then there’ll just be you and me. And the money, too, of course.
May 6th
I know I’m early, but I had to talk to you – I’m so excited! I’ve smashed the glass in the back door, inwards, like we agreed, and I’ve put my big shopping bag in the middle of the living-room floor and filled it with all our bits of silver. It’s already dark, and the gun is safe in my dressing-gown pocket. I’ll tell the police I was in bed with a headache when I heard the noise. I’ll tell them George kept the gun by the bedside – because he’s just the sort of idiot who would – and I put it in my pocket and went downstairs.
I’ll tell them how terrified I was when I saw a shadowy figure at the door coming toward me, that I thought it was a burglar or a rapist, and I shot at it. Then I’ll tell them how I discovered it was my dear, sweet George.
They’ll see how upset I am and I’ll get away with it.
It won’t be long now. He never puts the lights on when he comes home. I’ll put you away for now. We may not be able to talk for some time.
