Page 32 of Crime and Publishing

“Please, Vivianne,” Donna said, her voice calm despite Vivianne’s hysterics. “I can’t control the weather. I only just got this place solvent again after my parents died. If you consent to sit down and give me a no-holds-barred interview for my book, tell me more of Hugh’s juicy little secrets, I’d be more than happy to make it worth your while.”

“I can’t believe you slept with Hugh!” Killian yelled at Christina.

“You said that I should do anything to get ahead,” Christina yelled back. “So I did. I got the deal, didn’t I? I signed the contract this morning—”

“But you didn’t read it before you signed it, did you?” Killian sneered. “I thought writers were supposed to be voracious readers. But you were too busy gobbling Hugh’s speckly old man dick to worry about a trivial little thing like reading your contact. Who knows what you’ve signed on for.”

“I never would have gone behind your back if you hadn’t been so overbearing,” Christina sobbed. “Well, Hugh betrayed me, too. Now I’m going to be writing Charlie Doyle’s police prostitute book instead of seeing my own work in print—”

“It’s a policeprocedural,” Charlie pointed out huffily. “The only prostitutes in my work have hearts of gold, but they couldn’t qualify for a badge. They haven’t done the requisite training courses. And I think you’ll find the finer details of evidence collection extremely invigorating—”

“Argh!” Christina shrieked. “I can’t believe this! I don’t want to read a word of his shitty book. Killian, get me out of this.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made your own mess,” Killian shot back. “But Hugh Briston promised me I’d get to make this deal. It would have been my ticket to bigger clients. But he cut me out, and I’ll make him pay.”

“Where is Hugh?” Charlie demanded. “I thought he followed us over here?”

“He’s sitting by the fire. I can see his silhouette.” Killian stalked off in that direction. “Oi, Hugh. I have a bone to pick with you about the boning you gave my girl. I thought we had a deal—”

The door hinges creaked. With a final bang, the door flung open, and Jonathan burst into the room, holding aloft a bright torch.

“Is everyone all right in here? The generator’s poked, so I’m afraid I cannae get the power back running, but we do have lots of candles and a few flashlights—”

“No,” Killian cut in. “We’re far from all right.”

“Yes, we are most displeased with the service.” Vivianne sniffed. “I demand a car be sent forimmediatelyto take me far away from here.”

“And I want a drink!” Charlie demanded.

“All right, all right, keep yer hair on.” Jonathan swirled the flashlight around all of us, lowering the light when it rested on my face. “You’re all going to come with me to the dining room. All the guests are congregating there. Where’s Hugh?”

“He was right here with us, wasn’t he?” Donna peered around. “Hugh?”

“I see him. He’s still here by the fire.” Killian called from the other side of the room.

Jonathan came over to me. “Do you need any help to the dining hall, miss?”

“Not at all.” I patted Oscar. “He knows the way. I’ll follow you and the others, and if we can be of any help whatsoever, just let me or my boyfriends know—”

“Um, Hugh won’t be coming with us,” Killian said in a strange, croaky voice.

“Oh, stop being so ridiculous, Hugh,” Vivianne scoffed. “This is no time to act as if you can’t bear to be in the same room as me—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Killian’s voice rose in pitch. “Hugh physically cannot follow us out of this room unless someone shoves a stick up his ass and waves him around like a lollipop. He’s dead.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Vivianne said. “He’s probably found a secret stash of whisky and has been polishing it off while the rest of us have been dealing with the actual problem.”

I wanted to point out that Vivianne was the one wailing about suing while Donna and Jonathan had actually been dealing with the storm, but I bit my tongue.

Because I had to have misheard Killian, right?

“I’m sorry, Killian,” I called out. “But did you say that Hugh was hurt?”

“No, I’m saying he’sdead. He’s…he’s sitting right here in the chair beside the fire. And he’s not moving.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Idirected Oscar to follow Jonathan across the room to the roaring fire. Hugh’s chair was still visible, and his body slumped into it, just the way he’d been when the lights first went out.

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