Jane Vows Vengeance

to end the tour here?”

“I know you have no problem going on,” Enid said. “And neither do I. What about the rest of you?”

“Let’s do a show of hands,” said Chumsley. “All for continuing the tour?”

Very slowly, hands went into the air. Jane looked around and saw that in addition to Chumsley and Enid, Brodie, Bergen, Sam, Genevieve, and Suzu had their hands raised. A moment later Walter added his agreement.

“Then it’s settled,” said Chumsley. “We continue on. Now, who’ll be joining me down the pub for a drink to the memory of Ryan McGuinness?”

Brodie, Sam, and Orsino got ready to leave with Chumsley, while Enid, Suzu, Bergen, and Genevieve retired to their rooms. Miriam announced that she was taking Lilith for a walk.

“What do you want to do?” Walter asked Jane.

“I’d like to go for a drink,” Jane said. “But I’m afraid Enid and her gang will accuse me of dancing on Ryan’s grave.”

“Don’t pay any attention to them,” said Walter. “They’re going to think what they want to. We know the truth.”

“That’s right,” Ben said. “And given that not one of them voted to end the tour, I think it’s safe to say they’re not all that choked up about his death.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Lucy. “So come on, let’s go drinking!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic,” Ben suggested, kissing her on the cheek.

“All right,” said Jane. “Let me just go upstairs and change my shoes.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lucy said.

“You don’t have—” Jane began, but Lucy took her by the arm and rushed her out of the room. “What’s the matter?” she asked when they were on the stairs.

“Something occurred to me,” said Lucy, dragging Jane into her room and shutting the door. “You know how we’ve been saying that you’re not strong enough to have picked Ryan up and thrown him over the wall? Well, you and I know that’s not true.”

“You think I did it!” Jane exclaimed.

“Keep it down,” said Lucy. “I do not think you did it. But it got me thinking—maybe another vampire did.”

Jane stopped and looked at her. “That would also explain why no one saw anyone else come out of the tower,” Jane said. “A vampire could make himself invisible.”

“Or herself,” said Lucy.

Jane gasped. “You don’t think it could be …” She stopped herself before speaking the name of her nemesis, an author whose fan base rivaled her own.

“Our Gloomy Friend,” said Lucy. “Or some other vampire. But who else do we know who might want to make you look like a murderer?”

“Well, there’s Joshua,” Jane suggested. “He might do it to drive Walter away. And of course there’s Miriam. She’s not a vampire, but I wouldn’t put it past her to get one to do it for her. Or it could be someone who knows I’ve been told about Crispin’s Needle and doesn’t want me to find it.” She sighed. “Really, it could be any number of people.”

“I hadn’t considered any of them,” said Lucy, sounding disappointed.

“Also, there’s something I haven’t told you,” Jane said.

She proceeded to tell Lucy about seeing Chumsley coming out of Ryan’s compartment. She also, reluctantly, told her about Suzu seeing her feeding on the young man.

“Esteban?” Lucy said. “And you call yourself a writer.”

“I was under pressure,” said Jane.

“Well, this adds another possible twist to the mystery then,” Lucy said. “And here I thought I had it all figured out.”

“Our Gloomy Friend is still a distinct possibility,” Jane said. “It’s exactly the kind of thing she would do.”

“If she is responsible, who knows what she’ll try next,” said Lucy. “She might start picking people off one by one, like in that Agatha Christie novel.”

“Ten Little Indians,” Jane said. “One of my favorites.”

“Oh, and there are ten of them,” said Lucy. “Not counting you, me, Ben, and Miriam, but we aren’t really part of the tour anyway.”

“And now there are nine,” Jane said.

The door opened and Walter stuck his head in. “Are you two coming?” he asked.

“Of course we are,” Jane said, taking up her coat. As she and Lucy left she leaned in and whispered, “Keep your eyes and ears open. I don’t want my little Indian to be next.”

Chapter 13

Friday: Ireland

Friday dawned wet and gray, words that could also be used to describe Jane’s mood. As she lay on her side in bed and looked at the rain spattering against the windows, she couldn’t help but wish that she were back home in Brakeston, a town she’d chosen because it reminded her of the peaceful life she’d enjoyed in Chawton. People there don’t go flying off towers for no reason, she thought darkly.

Lucy’s suggestion that perhaps Charlotte (she could think her name as long as she didn’t speak it) might be responsible for Ryan McGuinness’s death had unnerved her a bit. If true, it meant that Charlotte had more in mind than just simple revenge. Trying to kill me is one thing, Jane thought. Killing other people to make me look guilty is going too far, even for a Bronte.

Beside her Walter grunted softly, turned on his side, and put his arm around her. Holding her close, he kissed her neck gently and immediately started snoring. He always snored when he’d had too much to drink, and as they had lingered at the pub until well after two in morning, Jane didn’t expect him to be fully functioning until after lunch.

She would have been content to stay in bed all day and not have to face those she knew still suspected her of committing foul play, but they were due on the bus shortly after eight o’clock and it was already seven. Gently freeing herself from Walter’s arm, she slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower. She knew Walter would need all of fifteen minutes to get himself ready, so she let him remain asleep.

The hot water went out only five minutes into her shower, before Jane had even begun to rinse the shampoo from her hair. She damned the inn’s ancient plumbing, as well as everyone who had risen before her and therefore probably had much more pleasant bathing experiences. She finished under a cold trickle and got out feeling less awake and more peevish than she had before getting in. After towel-drying her hair, she went into the bedroom to wake Walter up and found him already dressed.

“Good morning,” he said brightly.

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who nearly drowned himself in whiskey last night,” she said as she got dressed.

“I’m operating under the principle that if I act happy, I’ll be happy. The truth is, my head feels as if an army of woodpeckers has taken up residence in it. What time are we leaving?”

Jane glanced at the clock. “Half an hour. Why don’t you go get some breakfast and I’ll pack up the bags?”

Walter groaned. “I don’t even want to think about food.”

“Have some porridge,” said Jane. “It will do your stomach good.”

Walter sighed. “All right,” he said. “But don’t you want anything?”