11. Heathcliff

Quoth went quickly upstairs to make sure that Mina was safely tucked up in bed. He returned in human form, wearing black from head to toe, his waterfall of dark hair tied back off his neck and a grave expression on his face.

He did not ask us to be non-violent.

Good. Because I was in the mood to cause a little carnage.

People in this town had detested me ever since I arrived here, and I could deal with that because I had my books and my whisky and my foul, dark thoughts. I've read my own book – I knew the monster that I'd become. If I hid myself away from people and refused to let anyone in, I couldn't do the kind of damage that had destroyed Wuthering Heights after my heartbreak.

But then Mina came along, and suddenly, I didn't want to be a monster anymore, unless I was her monster. She made me want to be better, to believe that I could actually have a home here with her and Morrie and Quoth, a home that I wouldn't tear apart with my own cruelty.

She made me laugh, a feat long believed impossible. She made me feel like I had sunshine in my veins.

That was why I wanted to give her this big, perfect wedding. Mina deserved the whole world. The thought of someone like Dorothy or Wayne trying to dull Mina's light after everything that Mina had gone through to get to this point made me see red.

I saw red now – big splotches in my vision that coalesced into a film of blood. My hands balled into fists. The whole world narrowed to a bloody, stabby point where I took the saboteur's neck in my fingers and squeezed and squeezed…

Morrie grabbed me by the shoulders. "You've never looked more attractive to me than with that murderous gleam in your eyes, but we need to think about this intellectually, the way Mina would. Our saboteur would have only just left the scene of the crime. They couldn't have gone down Butcher Street or we would have seen them when we stepped outside, so they must have headed up towards the green. The pub is full of people. Let's go and see if anyone saw anything."

It took a few moments for Morrie's words to sink through the red haze of my rage. I nodded and allowed him to drag me up towards the pub.

Immediately, we saw a useful source of information. Mrs. Ellis and her friends from the Spirit Seekers Society sat at a table near the entrance. They'd have eyes on anyone walking across the village green. Morrie dragged us around a couple of loud birds splashing in the fountain and straight to their table.

"Good evening, ladies," Morrie leaned in close, working his charm. "We're looking for the perpetrator of a terrible crime in Oliver's bakery. The fiend would have come this way. Did you see anything?"

"We saw that Hughes boy peeing on the gate of the graveyard," Sylvia Blume chortled.

"And Wanda Lannahan having a huge barney with her husband beside the fountain," Gloria added with a grin.

Mrs. Ellis ignored Morrie and pulled me down so I was practically sitting on her lap. "I didn't see where he came from, but Wayne Bryant headed across the green in the direction of the church. And he was being all furtive, leaping between the shrubberies, trying not to be seen."

"Was he just?"

"What about Dorothy Ingram?" Morrie's icicle eyes glinted with malice. "Has she been out tonight?"

"Oh yes, old busybody herself was here earlier. She scolded me for drinking on the eve of the Sabbath." Mrs. Ellis raised her wine glass happily. "I told her if it was good enough for the Son of God, it was good enough for me. She slunk away after that, probably headed to her sister's. She's been looking after her poorly sister in Grimdale, and seems to be there every spare moment these days. Just as well, so the rest of us can get on with our sinning in peace."

We left the ladies and hightailed it across the green to the churchyard. When we stepped through the lychgate, all was in darkness. I tried the doors to the church and the bell tower, but they were locked up tight. Morrie clicked on the flashlight on his phone, and we wandered between the graves, searching for Wayne.

Morrie shone the light into the windows of the groundskeeper's shed, then pulled back, shaking his head.

"I think Old Mac must be sneaking in here for an afternoon snooze instead of tending the graves," Morrie said. "There's an entire pile of blankets in the corner. And look at this."

He swept the flashlight over the ground near where a dripping hose had been coiled up. Perfectly preserved in the dirt was the impression of a shoe.

"This is interesting." Morrie rubbed his chin. "See those herringbone stripes? This bootprint is the same as the one we found in Maisie's back garden, at the sight of the infamous duck-napping."

"I'm not thinking about a missing duck right now," I growled.

"Fine, fine. I don't think Wayne is still hiding here. We'll catch up with him later. I don't know where he lives. Let's try Dorothy first. She's down past the town hall."

As we hurried across the street in the direction of Dorothy Ingram's house, Morrie pointed out the row of townhouses behind the church, where the duck had gone missing. We doubled back around the edge of the village to get to Dorothy's house. She wasn't there, either, her windows dark. But her car was in the driveway.

"Maybe she really did go to her sister's house…" Morrie murmured. "But why didn't she take her car?"

"Let's find out," I growled. "Call an Uber. Find an address."

Morrie tapped away on his phone. A few minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up and we climbed in. The town of Grimdale was a fifteen-minute drive, which gave me plenty of time to imagine all the ways I might convince this woman to leave Mina and our wedding alone.

When we pulled up at the cottage of Dorothy's sister, a sliver of doubt crept in. Quoth's worried voice echoed in my head.

Mina would not like knowing that we murdered someone before our wedding, even if that someone was trying to ruin it.

I loved our woman, but she was in possession of a set of pesky morals.

The bird was right. If Mina found out we'd hurt an old lady – even that vengeful witch, Dorothy Ingram – she'd be upset. She'd always believed that I was better than the man in my books turned out to be.

As tempting as it was to go full Heathcliff, I had to be better for her.

I grabbed Morrie's hand as he swung out of the car. "We're doing this non-violently," I hissed.

He made a face. "You're no fun."

We strode up the path and rang the bell. An elderly woman with rosy cheeks and a frilly pink nightcap answered the door. "Hello? Are you lovely young gentlemen from the council? I've been calling and calling about the water meter?—"

Morrie shrugged. "Sure. We're from the council. Megan Ingram? We need to speak to Dorothy."

The woman's face instantly transformed into a frown. "I'm afraid she's not here."

"She's not with you?" Morrie raised one of his perfect eyebrows. "We were led to believe that she's been helping you after you had a fall."

"I think you've been led up the garden path." The woman tapped her legs. "As you can see, I'm fine and dandy. And Dorothy wouldn't help me out of a hole in the ground. We don't exactly get along. If you're looking for my do-gooder sister, she's probably at that church of hers, praying for the salvation of my heathen soul. Pot brownie?"

She held out a tray filled with delicious-smelling chocolate brownies. I declined, but Morrie took one and bit down happily. "These are delicious. Thank you. We shall leave you to your evening."

"Wait, didn't you want to check the water meter?"

Fifteen minutes later,after Morrie had three more brownies and poked and prodded the water meter and pronounced everything ‘tickety-boo,' Megan Ingram waved us goodbye from her porch.

Morrie licked his fingers clean as we descended the path. "So Dorothy Ingram wasn't at her sister's when our chair covers were ruined, and she wasn't there tonight. She's been lying. Naughty girl."

"That means she could be our saboteur," I growled. "And she's not finished yet. So much for you solving the problem."

Morrie placed a hand on my shoulder. His touch was firm, strong, determined. His eyes were that icy steel that I'd come to know as a man who fought to control his most chaotic urges. "Then let us solve her together."