Read Online Victoria Hamilton - Vintage Kitchen 04 - No Mallets Intended by Victoria Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Hamilton
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snapped.
“So… you must have an opinion. Who do you
think
attacked you?” he asked after a brief pause.
She wasn’t going to answer, but she needed to put his implications to rest. “It was just a tramp breaking into the house for somewhere warm to sleep. It used to be kind of a flophouse before it was sold to the society, you know, and some folks probably think it still is.”
He grinned, exposing those gleaming teeth again. “So you don’t think it was the ghost of Cranmer Dumpe?”
“No, nor the ghost of Jane Dumpe,” she retorted. “I’ve heard that the place is haunted, though. Do you think it is?” She was being facetious but to her surprise his expression sobered.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, his tone serious, looking from one side to the other at the gathered folks. “I would not come here alone, not for love or money.” His eyes widened, as he looked over her shoulder.
She glanced quickly behind her, but didn’t see anything, except some movement or expression that seemed off, though she wasn’t quite sure how. He was glaring in the direction of Prentiss Dumpe, who now had Haskell Lockland by the sleeve. Frowning, she looked back to Carson, examining his face. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think that because I was attacked, the house is not safe. Anyway, why wouldn’t you come here alone?”
“You wouldn’t understand. A man like me… I’ve made enemies.
Some
, my dear girl, do not respect the truth as much as you seem to.”
She didn’t miss his use of the word
seem
to qualify his statement.
Dick Schuster came up to them just then and glared at Carson. “You’re one to talk about the truth, Carson, when your truth is so self-serving!”
“You’re full of crap, Dick,” Carson said, his tone indulgent. “Just like your so-called writing career.”
Schuster sneered and growled, “Not my fault if some people
steal
my ideas and get rich off them.”
“Hah! You never had a good idea in your life that didn’t involve blackmail or extortion.” Carson whirled, stalking away to join his girlfriend and the members of the heritage committee. Schuster watched him go with a curiously blank expression.
“What did you mean by that? Are you saying he stole your work?” Jaymie asked.
“He knows what I mean; that’s all that matters,” the man said, and then he, too, walked away.
Jaymie spotted Cynthia standing alone, watching Carson and Isolde together, and crossed the room to her. “I’m so glad you came after all,” she said, approaching the other woman. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, just fine!” she said, her voice gritty with anger. “I must be some kind of schmuck,” she continued. “I can’t believe I lost sleep over that jerk! Do you know what he just said? As he passed by me, he said that it was nice to see that I was
finally
climbing out of my abyss of self-pity and joining the human race!”
Eyes wide, Jaymie looked toward Carson. “He said that? What a loser!” She put one hand on Cynthia’s arm and said, “That tells you what kind of a guy he really is. What do you think Isolde Rasmussen sees in him? She seems like such a nice girl.”
Cynthia snorted. “Nice like a barracuda. She’s angling to be cowriter on his next project, that Nazi thingie.” She rolled her eyes. “At least I don’t have to listen to him wax eloquent about his writing anymore. I’ve heard it’s going to make a Kitty Kelley biography look like a scholarly work. He’s planning to tear apart a few families with accusations of Nazi sympathizers and all the rest.”
Jaymie was silent; she supposed if his research was accurate, he had a right to uncover anything of the sort he liked, which was pretty much what she had said to him. However, if he was the kind of author to smear folks without adequate research… it was something the committee ought to be concerned about. Was he the right guy for their project after all?
Cynthia turned to look at Jaymie.
“So… you must have an opinion. Who do you
think
attacked you?” he asked after a brief pause.
She wasn’t going to answer, but she needed to put his implications to rest. “It was just a tramp breaking into the house for somewhere warm to sleep. It used to be kind of a flophouse before it was sold to the society, you know, and some folks probably think it still is.”
He grinned, exposing those gleaming teeth again. “So you don’t think it was the ghost of Cranmer Dumpe?”
“No, nor the ghost of Jane Dumpe,” she retorted. “I’ve heard that the place is haunted, though. Do you think it is?” She was being facetious but to her surprise his expression sobered.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, his tone serious, looking from one side to the other at the gathered folks. “I would not come here alone, not for love or money.” His eyes widened, as he looked over her shoulder.
She glanced quickly behind her, but didn’t see anything, except some movement or expression that seemed off, though she wasn’t quite sure how. He was glaring in the direction of Prentiss Dumpe, who now had Haskell Lockland by the sleeve. Frowning, she looked back to Carson, examining his face. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think that because I was attacked, the house is not safe. Anyway, why wouldn’t you come here alone?”
“You wouldn’t understand. A man like me… I’ve made enemies.
Some
, my dear girl, do not respect the truth as much as you seem to.”
She didn’t miss his use of the word
seem
to qualify his statement.
Dick Schuster came up to them just then and glared at Carson. “You’re one to talk about the truth, Carson, when your truth is so self-serving!”
“You’re full of crap, Dick,” Carson said, his tone indulgent. “Just like your so-called writing career.”
Schuster sneered and growled, “Not my fault if some people
steal
my ideas and get rich off them.”
“Hah! You never had a good idea in your life that didn’t involve blackmail or extortion.” Carson whirled, stalking away to join his girlfriend and the members of the heritage committee. Schuster watched him go with a curiously blank expression.
“What did you mean by that? Are you saying he stole your work?” Jaymie asked.
“He knows what I mean; that’s all that matters,” the man said, and then he, too, walked away.
Jaymie spotted Cynthia standing alone, watching Carson and Isolde together, and crossed the room to her. “I’m so glad you came after all,” she said, approaching the other woman. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, just fine!” she said, her voice gritty with anger. “I must be some kind of schmuck,” she continued. “I can’t believe I lost sleep over that jerk! Do you know what he just said? As he passed by me, he said that it was nice to see that I was
finally
climbing out of my abyss of self-pity and joining the human race!”
Eyes wide, Jaymie looked toward Carson. “He said that? What a loser!” She put one hand on Cynthia’s arm and said, “That tells you what kind of a guy he really is. What do you think Isolde Rasmussen sees in him? She seems like such a nice girl.”
Cynthia snorted. “Nice like a barracuda. She’s angling to be cowriter on his next project, that Nazi thingie.” She rolled her eyes. “At least I don’t have to listen to him wax eloquent about his writing anymore. I’ve heard it’s going to make a Kitty Kelley biography look like a scholarly work. He’s planning to tear apart a few families with accusations of Nazi sympathizers and all the rest.”
Jaymie was silent; she supposed if his research was accurate, he had a right to uncover anything of the sort he liked, which was pretty much what she had said to him. However, if he was the kind of author to smear folks without adequate research… it was something the committee ought to be concerned about. Was he the right guy for their project after all?
Cynthia turned to look at Jaymie.
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