Faked to Death

by Dean James

I won’t repeat the names he was calling Nina and me—this is not that kind of book, after all—but he was every bit as fluent with trash talk as Nina. I didn’t pay much attention to his words; I was too busy focusing on the nasty little gun clutched in his right hand.

  “I ought to shoot both of you right now!” Dunn stood there, chest heaving, his handsome face contorted in rage. He waved the gun in a menacing manner, and Nina started backing up until she was standing beside me. The space between us and Dunn was a mere six feet or so. At such close range, he couldn’t miss if he fired at one of us.

  During the commotion, I had pressed the button on my mobile phone that would speed-dial Giles and give him the prearranged signal. Right now he should be talking to one of the policemen out in the hall, explaining just how urgent it was to get Robin Chase upstairs and into Nina’s room. Help was on the way.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you idiot!” Nina was screeching at Dunn. “What’s the point of killing us? It’s all over, Ash; it’s all over!” I couldn’t believe it, but she started sobbing. Amid the sobs, I could make out what she was saying, over and over: “We’d have made millions. Why? Why?”

  “Wanda Harper got greedy, didn’t she, Dunn? And then poor Norah Tattersall saw what you did and tried to blackmail you and Nina.” I tried to introduce a note of calm into the proceedings while I was stalling, waiting for the police to arrive.

  “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” Dunn sneered. “I ought to blow your head off right now.” He held the gun out and prepared to shoot. I could read his intentions in his eyes; indeed, I felt them emanating from him.

  This put me in an interesting dilemma, one I hadn’t quite anticipated. If he did shoot me, how would I explain the fact that he didn’t kill me, or at least injure me very badly?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Where the heck were Robin and his merry men?

  I hadn’t expected this much of a delay once I had given Giles the signal. I couldn’t believe that all the police had left Kinsale House since I had come to Nina’s room. Surely Giles hadn’t fallen asleep, leaving me without a backup.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Ash,” Nina was saying. “There’s no point in shooting either one of us. Don’t make it worse. One of my clients is a high-powered barrister who has never lost a murder case. I’m sure he’ll find a way to get you out of this.”

  “Shut up, Nina,” Dunn said, making a step toward us. “You don’t know how much I’d enjoy putting a slug in your head right about now. How stupid do you think I am? What will it matter if I kill two more people?”

  “How stupid do we think you are?” I laughed loudly, as much to try to rattle Dunn further as to cover up any signs of approaching rescuers. “My dear Dunn, we know how stupid you are. It’s obvious that Wanda Harper was the brains of the operation. She even outsmarted little ol’ Nina here, and that takes some doing.”

  Beside me I could feel Nina simmering at the boiling point. If the police didn’t get here in the next minute, she was going to do something we might both regret. I could try jumping Dunn for the gun, but if it went off and a bullet struck me, I’d have some very interesting explanations to manufacture. The lack of blood would give the whole game away.

  I didn’t want to anger Dunn enough to provoke him into shooting, but I did want to keep him off balance if I could. “Come on, Dunn, put the gun down like a good little boy. Let Nina’s barrister look after you. Nina will make sure he does a good job for you, and he probably won’t even expect to be paid, after Nina gets through with him.”

  Dunn waved the gun in my direction again and called me one of those unimaginative names that homophobes often use, telling me to shut up. “I know Nina will screw anything in pants, but even she can’t work miracles.”

  Two things happened then. Nina launched herself straight at Dunn, fingers curled into claws, ready to scratch his eyes out. At the same time, Robin and two of his men burst through the door from Dunn’s bedroom, shouting for him to drop his gun.

  Dunn dropped the gun, as much from the furious swiftness of Nina’s attack as from surprise at the burst of sound behind him.

  It took two of Robin’s men about three minutes to subdue Nina, and by that time Dunn was begging for protection. His face was decorated with deep scratches, which were beginning to bleed profusely. After they pulled Nina off him, he went away quite happily with Robin’s men.

  Panting, Nina sat in a heap on the floor. Robin bent to offer her a hand, and Nina accepted it, rising to her feet in a graceful motion. “Thank you, Detective Inspector. I don’t know what came over me, to act like that. What you must think!”

  “That was rather a dangerous thing to do, Miss Yaknova,” Robin said in a tone of mild reproof. “Dunn could very easily have shot you or Dr. Kirby-Jones.”

  From the look Robin directed at me, I suspected that he thought it would have been no more than I deserved.

  “He didn’t, did he, Detective Inspector Chase?” I smiled. “And now you have the murderer and can wrap the case up. All signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  “I suppose I should thank you, Dr. Kirby-Jones,” Robin said, eyes glinting at me from over Nina’s head.

  “No thanks are necessary, my dear fellow,” I said modestly. “I’m delighted to do what I can to assist you.”

  “I said only that I should thank you, Dr. Kirby-Jones, not that I would.” Robin’s broad smile and Nina’s unladylike guffaw did not disturb me in the least.

  Enter Giles from stage left, startling us all. “Simon, are you okay? What happened? I couldn’t wait any longer.” He had flung the door open with a bang and advanced rapidly in the room. His hand clutched my arm, and the urgency of his tone and his concern for me touched me.

  “I’m just fine, Giles; no need to worry. Dunn is safely in custody now, and Detective Inspector Chase can now wrap up another case successfully.”

  “Good!” Giles said, letting go of my arm. “It’s a good thing Simon did your work for you, Detective Inspector. There’s no telling how long this might have dragged on.”

  Ah, jealousy! The dear boy still hadn’t learned. Robin glowered at Giles, but when he spoke he ignored him completely. “I shall of course take statements from both you and Miss Yaknova, Dr. Kirby-Jones, but first I must attend to Mr. Dunn. Perhaps in the morning, however?”

  “Certainly, Detective Inspector,” I said, and Nina nodded. The rush of adrenaline had subsided, and now Nina looked very tired indeed. She had much to contemplate, with one of her star authors turned into a double murderer, not to mention the fact that she had alienated several of her other prime money-earners.

  Robin inclined his head politely to us before leaving the room. At some point Robin would no doubt get over his little snit that I had beaten him to the solution of another murder case. I would remind him in the morning that I had no intention of seeking any public credit for what had happened, and maybe that would put him in a better frame of mind.

  “Nina, is there anything we can do for you right now?” I asked.

  Nina, in the act of lighting yet another cigarette, cut her eyes up at me. “No, Simon, dear,” she said, expelling smoke, “I think you’ve done quite enough for now.” Her eyes narrowed. “Was that little deal you offered me just a ruse to get Ash to confess, or did you really mean it?”

  “Why, Nina,” I said, batting my eyelashes at her. “I’m devastated, simply devastated, to think that you’d consider me capable of that kind of manipulation. Why, you’d think I was just as bad as you!”

  “Ha, ha, Simon,” Nina said. “Very funny.”

  “Just remember all this, Nina,” I said, turning serious. “We can continue to do business, but you’re reformed, as of this moment. Got it?”

  Nina nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind letting the others know that you’re sticking with me, Simon, there’s a dear.”

  “I’ll tell them, Nina, but it’s up to them whether they choose to have anything further to do with you.”

  “Yes,�
�� she said, “I know. Que sera, and all that.” As Giles and I left her, she was reaching for the phone, perhaps to call her barrister friend on Ash’s behalf.

  On the way to our rooms, Giles turned to me, an indignant frown on his face. “I can’t believe that you would keep that woman as your agent, Simon, after all she’s done to you and to the others.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the adage, Giles: ‘better the devil you know,’ etc.”

  “I suppose, but aren’t you taking some risks with her?”

  “Perhaps.” I paused in front of my bedroom door to look into his eyes. “But for now, at least, I have the upper hand, and I rather prefer that position.”

  “Don’t I bloody know it,” Giles said under his breath as he followed me into my room.

  “I was beginning to think that you had fallen asleep again, Giles,” I said, making myself comfortable in a chair. “It took a bit longer for the police to arrive than was strictly comfortable.”

  Giles’s wounded look made my lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. “Simon! How could you think I would let you down like that? No, don’t answer; I know you’re just having me on!” He plopped down on my bed and scowled at me. “I got your signal and went to the copper on duty in the hall right away. But what we didn’t know was that Dingleby had just reported to Chase that someone had taken a gun from the gun room.”

  “Ah, so that’s where Dunn got it,” I said. “I had wondered what he was doing with a gun.”

  “Because of that, it took a couple minutes to get the message to Chase, but I must say, once he heard what I had to tell him, he couldn’t get upstairs quickly enough.” Giles pouted at me. “He couldn’t let Dunn hurt a hair on your head; that’s for sure.”

  “Giles, dear boy, you sound almost as if you wish Dunn had shot me.”

  “Really, Simon, you’re impossible!” Giles sat up on the bed. “Of course I didn’t want him to shoot you.” Then he grinned. “But if he had, I would have been quite happy to nurse you back to health.” How disappointed Giles would have been, not to mention startled, when Dunn hadn’t harmed me. Perhaps at some point in time I would be ready to tell Giles the truth about just what I was. But not now. Not just yet.

  With a sudden insight, however, I realized how much it would bother me if Giles, upon learning the truth, wanted nothing further to do with me.

  “Thank you, Giles; I appreciate your care and concern.” I kept my tone purposely light. “Now, off to bed with you. Tomorrow will no doubt be a long and tiring day, but thank goodness this is all over.”

  “Good night, Simon,” Giles said, getting off my bed. “See you in the morning.” He paused at the door of his room and blew me a kiss.

  “Incorrigible,” I called as he shut the door between us.

  I took my last pill of the day and made ready for bed. I needed only a couple of hours’ sleep; then I would get up and try to get some work done. I had a new historical novel to plot, and I might as well get going with it.

  ***

  The next morning, as Kinsale House began to come to life, I rang Dingleby and requested that I might have a moment of Lady Hermione’s time before she became too involved in the activities of the day. I asked also whether Isabella Veryan might join us, and Dingleby responded that he would ring me back.

  In about five minutes my phone rang, and Dingleby informed me that Lady Hermione and Isabella would see me in Lady Hermione’s own sitting room in fifteen minutes’ time. Dingleby instructed me on how to find the sitting room, and I made my way there at the appointed time.

  “Good morning, Dr. Kirby-Jones,” Lady Hermione boomed at me as I entered upon her instructions.

  “Good morning, Lady Hermione, Isabella,” I said. The two of them were seated at a small table, sipping coffee. I glanced appreciatively around the room. This was perhaps the only chamber in all of Kinsale House that had been decorated by someone with any sense of taste. Subdued colors, no fringe or tassels, a sense of light and comfort—it was a revelation.

  “Do sit down, Dr. Kirby-Jones,” Lady Hermione said, her voice dropping to an almost tolerable level. “Would you care for some coffee?”

  “No, thank you, Lady Hermione,” I said, sitting down in a chair facing the two of them.

  “What did you want to talk to us about, Simon?” Isabella spoke in a tone more friendly than I had expected.

  “I thought perhaps you both might like to know what happened last night,” I said.

  “I have spoken already with Detective Inspector Chase,” Lady Hermione said. “He was somewhat brief, however. I’m sure you might provide some of the details?”

  “I’d be delighted to,” I said.

  They listened intently as I gave them a thorough explanation of what had happened, and how I had discovered the piece of information that had led me to the truth.

  “You were gambling a bit, weren’t you, Simon?” Isabella observed with a wry smile.

  “A bit, Isabella,” I acknowledged, “but once I realized that Dunn was a fake, I knew that he had more to lose than anyone.”

  “Yes,” Isabella said. “Millions of pounds, to be exact.” She shook her head.

  “It was cleverly done,” I continued. “Wanda Harper had hit upon a very attractive young man with a modest bit of writing ability, and between her and Nina, they were turning him into a hugely marketable commodity.”

  “And that seems to be what it’s all about these days,” Isabella said. “Sad, isn’t it?”

  “I deeply regret ever having invited that young man to Kinsale House,” Lady Hermione said.

  “There was no way you could have known, Hermione,” Isabella said. “How could any of us? We all trusted Nina at one time, and look where that got us.”

  “Nina did betray us, Isabella,” I said. “But I think perhaps you’ll find that she’s turned over a new leaf.”

  “About bloody time!” Lady Hermione said, and I had to smile, hearing her utter such a vulgar word.

  “Simon, do you think...” Isabella said, “Well, how much of what happened here will come out?”

  “Hard to say,” I responded. “Nina won’t be too eager to volunteer information. It’s in her best interest to keep everything as quiet as possible. The truth about Dunn and his partnership with Wanda Harper will have to come out, but I don’t know about anything else. Dunn knew it all, of course, since he and Wanda Harper were in on it all, and he may sing like the proverbial bird if he gets the chance.”

  Lady Hermione and Isabella stared at each other, dismay apparent on their faces.

  “Perhaps, if I might be so bold as to suggest,” I said, “a preemptive strike might be in order?”

  “That’s all very well in Izzy’s case, Dr. Kirby-Jones. She can leak the story of her reunion with her long-lost son to the press, and it will be quite a heart-warming story.” Lady Hermione frowned, and I could sense the panic beneath her words. “But that wouldn’t work in my case.”

  Isabella laughed, the first carefree sound I had heard from her since I had entered the room. “Hermione, my dear, the time has come to put your fears aside and let Dingleby make an honest woman of you at last. You know he’s wanted to for the past year.”

  Lady Hermione blushed. “Ridiculous,” she said. “At my age.”

  “Nonsense,” Isabella said firmly. “He adores you, and you adore him. What else matters?”

  As I left them, they were planning not only Lady Hermione’s wedding but Isabella’s intention of alerting the press to her new status as the mother of a fellow best-selling writer.

  Isabella’s final words gave me much to consider. Perhaps it was time I faced up to the truth and had a long talk with Giles.

  Perhaps.

  SNEAK PEEK FROM DECORATED TO DEATH

  Chapter One

  Dead people hate housework just like everybody else.

  Otherwise a vampire like me wouldn’t have let a stranger have the run of Laurel Cottage twice weekly. I don’t keep a coffin hidden somewhere o
n the premises—there’s no longer any need to hide in one during the day, thanks to some lovely little pills—but I nevertheless felt a bit nervous hiring a strange person to come in to clean.

  Violet Glubb seemed perfectly ordinary in most respects. Other than her unfortunate name, that is. She was reasonably attractive, if one liked the type. Women, that is. I don’t, at least not in that way.

  Violet had a pretty face and a fair figure and was about twenty-five or thereabouts. If she were older, she concealed it well enough behind a facade of youthful exuberance and a limited vocabulary. She also seemed very much to want the job, expressing her willingness to keep Laurel Cottage in order for the not-so-modest sum I was offering. Since any other charpersons in Snupperton Mumsley, the Bedfordshire village I now called home, had thus far neglected to express the least interest in the advertisement I had posted in the village shop-cum-post office over a week ago, the job was Violet’s for the taking.

  She accepted the job, shaking my hand with great vigor and smiling up at me with sparkling enthusiasm in her eyes. Evidently she loved to clean; indeed, she lived to clean, if she were to be believed. I was her second client in Snupperton Mumsley, her first being Jessamy Cholmondley-Pease, the wife of one of our local councillors. She had time for at least another one or two, however.

  “You might check with Lady Prunella Blitherington at Blitherington Hall, Miss Glubb,” I said. I wouldn’t normally wish such a fate on anyone, but Violet Glubb seemed capable enough to face even a harridan like Lady Prunella.

  She interrupted with a giggle, “Nobuddy calls me that, Mr. Kirby-Jones, just plain Vi will do.”

  “Ah, yes... Vi,” I said, wincing at her high-pitched amusement, “Anyway, Lady Blitherington often seems in need of assistance at the Hall.”

  She giggled again. “I heard tell of her, Mr. K.-J., down at the pub. They do say she be a right battle- ax.”

  We both turned at the sound of a loud guffaw emanating from the doorway of the sitting room. My assistant, Giles Blitherington, stood there clutching his sides in mirth. Whether he was laughing at my new nickname or the all-too-apt description of his mother remained to be discerned.