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“Well… no news is good news, I suppose.”
When it comes to Delilah, he’s probably right. When it comes to Ella, nothing could be further from the truth.
Henry’s been gone for a few hours, and although it’s Sunday, I’m working on my book. I need to keep myself occupied, and figuring out how to kill off a back-stabbing leading lady in a way that my female doctor-cum-detective, and her admiring police inspector can solve within three hundred and fifty pages is giving me no end of headaches.
I gave up on the idea of her being hit over the head, or stabbed, and settled on poisoning as my chosen method of murder. It gives Evie more involvement in solving the crime. So, my problem now is not so much the ‘how’, as the ‘why’. The most obvious answer is an affair, but that feels hackneyed, so I’m wondering about making the victim a blackmailer, and giving my leading man and murderer a murky secret that Evie can discover while he’s flirting with her… much to the annoyance of the detective. This would, of course, make her even more invaluable to the plot, and help enhance the budding romance I’ve got going on in the background.
The problem is… what would the secret be?
I sit back, staring at the screen, wondering why I do this to myself, when my phone rings. It startles me because it hasn’t rung since I’ve been back in London, and for a moment or two, I allow myself to hope it might be Ella…
I suck in a breath, and pick it up, surprised when I see the name ‘Delilah’ on the screen. I’ve rarely known her to call at the weekend, and usually, she’d only do so if she had bad news, so with a shaking hand, I connect the call.
“Hi, Delilah.”
“Blake… how are you?”
“I’m fine.” I’m not, but she won’t care in reality, so there’s no point in explaining.
“Good. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I wanted to let you know, I’ve heard from that publisher I was telling you about.”
“What publisher?”
“The one I said I was going to send your book to.”
“I didn’t even realise you’d finished reading the manuscript yourself, let alone sent it off to someone else.”
“Oh… I finished it within a day. Once I’d started it, I couldn’t put it down.”
“Seriously?” I’m stunned.
“Yes. It’s magnificent, Blake.” I don’t know what to say, and I sit with my mouth open. “The publisher thought so, too. He read it himself, and passed it to one of the other commissioning editors in the company, who sat up for the last two nights reading it. She called my contact this morning, and they’ve decided they want to offer you a contract.”
“They did all this, even though it’s the weekend?”
“Yes. They’re that impressed with you.” I fall silent again, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “Are you still there, Blake?”
“Yes… yes. What do I have to do?”
“Nothing. They’re going to send through the contract in the morning, and I’ll look over it before I forward it to you.”
“Okay.”
“There’s just one thing…”
Oh… here it comes. The spanner in the works.
“What’s that?”
“I was right. They want more. I know you said you had some ideas for a second novel, but what about a whole series? That’s what they’re looking for.”
I nod my head, even though she can’t see me. “I’m right in the middle of planning out the second novel, and I’ve jotted down ideas for two more.”
“That’s great. I’ll let them know.”
I sense she’s about to hang up, but there’s something I need to ask. “Delilah?”
“Yes?”
