“That should be a popular one.” Heather’s expression grew solemn. “Even if it has lost its main speaker.”
Graham chuckled. “In which case, I might tell Mike to join you. Especially as he’s got a thing for murder mysteries. I can cope without him.” He gave them a polite nod, then left the ballroom in search of Mike.
Jonathon spied Fiona among the already-seated attendees and went over to join her, placing his agenda on the empty chair next to him for Mike.
She gave him a warm smile. “Have you ever been to one of these panels before?”
Jonathon shook his head. “This is my first book festival.”
“Well, it starts with general introductions, and then the authors share a little about what they’re working on. Then it’s time for questions, and that’s the best part, as far as I’m concerned.” She gave a gleeful smile. “You never know what some people will ask.”
There was an expectant air about her that Jonathon found intriguing. “You’re planning something.”
Fiona opened her eyes wide. “Me? I just have a couple of questions ready, that’s all.” Her eyes gleamed.
Jonathon had a feeling one or more of the authors was in for a grilling.
MIKE WAS thoroughly enjoying himself. He’d asked questions about the authors’ research when it came to accuracy concerning police procedures, and it had become apparent that most of them knew their stuff. A couple had seemed uncomfortable, however, to have their work questioned by a former detective, but he’d made it clear he was asking from the standpoint of fiction reflecting reality. The audience had listened with rapt attention, and Mike had received a ripple of applause when he retook his seat.
The microphone was passed to Fiona, who rose to her feet. “I have a question for Phil McCallister. I’m sure you were saddened by the unexpected death of Teresa Malvain.”
Phil gave a solemn nod. “As we all were. Teresa was an exceptional writer who will be sorely missed.” Applause followed his words.
Fiona’s eyes shone. “But surely in your case, that sadness was tinged with relief.”
Phil frowned. “I… I don’t quite understand.”
“Well, surely with her dead, the lawsuit dies with her.” Fiona tilted her head to one side. “Doesn’t it?”
Phil blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, no sound issuing forth.
Fiona’s brow furrowed. “She was suing you, wasn’t she? She claimed you plagiarized Murder Most Hideous, the fifteenth book in the Summersfield series.”
“A claim which I most strenuously denied,” Phil declared loudly. Mike watched him with interest, noting the flush on his cheeks and the widened eyes.
“Of course you did,” Fiona remarked. “You’d hardly admit it, right? But the word out there is that fighting the accusation in court is about to bankrupt you.” She smiled. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. No more Teresa, so no more court case. And you can deny it to your heart’s content.”
Phil stared at her, his pallor increasing. “There was never any basis to her accusations.”
“Obviously her lawyers felt differently, if they decided to proceed with the case.” Fiona’s smile widened. “But we’ll never know now, will we?” She sat down, passing the microphone back to the helper amid stunned silence. A moment later, another reader stood to ask a question, and the tension dissipated. Phil shuffled the papers on the table in front of him, then poured himself a glass of water, his hand trembling slightly.
Mike glanced across Jonathon to meet Fiona’s satisfied gaze. “Wow. You really rattled him.”
“That was my intention.” She let out a contented sigh. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who was thinking that.”
Jonathon tapped Mike’s knee. “Now that barb of Teresa’s at dinner makes sense.”
“Which barb? She fired so many.” The memory of that dinner hadn’t left him.
“Remember when Phil said he was on the fourth book of his series? Teresa muttered something about how it was debatable that he wrote it.”
Mike smiled. “You would’ve made a great police officer. Your memory is excellent.”
Jonathon gave him a warm smile. “Glad to know I have my uses.”
Mike laid his hand on Jonathon’s knee. “Mind you, you have other skills that I value just as highly.” He grinned. “But the less said about those skills, the better. At least in public, at any rate.”
Fiona erupted into a loud cough, and Jonathon gave him a mock glare. “Behave.”
Mike snickered. “I am behaving. Badly.” He turned his attention back to the panel. Phil was nodding in all the right places, but his gaze kept flickering in Mike’s direction. Judging by the way he was nibbling on his lip and touching his collar all the time, Phil was nervous.
Mike found that very interesting indeed.
When the panel came to an end and the applause had finished, Mike glanced at his watch. “I’m going to see how Graham got on. Hopefully he’s had a few witnesses come forward.”
“I’ll get us some coffee and meet you in the study. I’ll bring one for Graham too.” Jonathon leaned in, as if to kiss Mike on the cheek, then checked himself and withdrew.
Mike was done hiding. He shifted closer and kissed Jonathon lightly on the cheek, which drew an aww from the lady behind them. Mike caught Jonathon’s gaze. “I’m getting too long in the tooth to care about offending people,” he said quietly. “I love you, and I don’t care who knows it.”
Jonathon’s eyes glistened. “Love you too. Now go see Graham, while I see to topping up our caffeine levels.”
Mike laughed. “Yeah, we can’t neglect them.” He nodded to Fiona, then got up and walked out of the ballroom, heading for the study. What he couldn’t shake was the look in Phil’s eyes.
That man was scared of me. Then it struck him that if Phil had had something to do with Teresa’s death, no doubt having an ex-detective around would make him extremely nervous. He made a mental note to investigate Fiona’s statements. Is the possibility of being made bankrupt enough of a motive for murder? Then he reasoned that if Teresa had been right, Phil would have been ruined. No one liked a plagiarist.
Graham was alone in the study, making notes. He glanced up as Mike entered. “What is it with this place?”
“What’s up?” Mike closed the door behind him.
“That! That is what’s up.” Graham pointed to the wall behind Mike. “Do you know how long it took me to find the bloody door?”
Mike chuckled. “Hey, don’t knock it. That was how we rumbled a murderer, remember?” The door with its linen fold panels had been made to blend into the wall, and there was a knack to knowing how to open it.
“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that.” Graham leaned back in his chair. “Well, this has been an interesting morning.”
“Have you had many people coming forward?”
“Not many, but what they lacked in number, they made up for in quality.” Graham gave a low whistle. “She wasn’t a nice lady, was she?”