The Devil and Ms Devlin

By Hannah Howe

In her heyday, the critics regarded Dana Devlin as the most beautiful actress in movies. They also regarded her as shallow, lacking emotion. That was strange because Dana Devlin’s life had been a rollercoaster of emotions, with divorces and nervous breakdowns to the fore. And now she was making a comeback, in a gothic romance, Demon Seed.

Everyone’s a critic, it seems, because someone didn’t like the sound of Demon Seed, and they voiced their disapproval through a series of death threats. However, the death threats were covered in hearts, flowers and angels. What was going on?

Demetrios Angelopoulos, Dana’s lover, and the producer of Demon Seed, asked me to investigate the death threats. Meanwhile, I recruited Faye, Mac and Blake to ensure that Ms Devlin came to no harm.

As the cameras rolled, I opened a can of worms, which led to the spilling of secrets and murder. And Dana Devlin? She was about to play her greatest role, a role that would reshape her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Goylake Publishing
• Release date: Apr 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999370916

Hannah Howe

Hannah Howe is the bestselling author of the Sam Smith Mystery Series (Sam's Song, book one in the series, has reached number one on the amazon.com private detective chart on seven separate occasions and the number one position in Australia). Hannah lives in the picturesque county of Glamorgan with her partner and their two children. She has a university degree and a background in psychology, which she uses as a basis for her novels.Hannah began her writing career at school when her teacher asked her to write the school play. She has been writing ever since. When not writing or researching Hannah enjoys reading, genealogy, music, chess and classic black and white movies. She has a deep knowledge of nineteenth and twentieth century popular culture and is a keen student of the private detective novel and its history.Hannah's books are available in print, as audio books and eBooks from all major retailers: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, Kobo, iBooks, etc. For more details please visit https://hannah-howe.comThe Sam Smith Mystery Series in book order:Sam's SongLove and BulletsThe Big ChillRipperThe Hermit of HisaryaSecrets and LiesFamily HonourSins of the FatherSmoke and MirrorsStardustMind GamesDigging in the DirtA Parcel of RoguesBostonThe Devil and Ms DevlinSnow in AugustLooking for Rosanna MeeStormy WeatherDamagedEve’s War: Heroines of SOEOperation ZigzagOperation LocksmithOperation BroadswordOperation TreasureOperation SherlockOperation CameoOperation RoseOperation WatchmakerOperation OverlordOperation Jedburgh (to follow)Operation Butterfly (to follow)Operation Liberty (to follow)The Golden Age of HollywoodTula: A 1920s Novel (to follow)The Olive Tree: A Spanish Civil War SagaRootsBranchesLeavesFruitFlowersThe Ann's War Mystery Series in book order:BetrayalInvasionBlackmailEscapeVictoryStandalone NovelsSaving Grace: A Victorian MysteryColette: A Schoolteacher’s War (to follow)What readers have been saying about the Sam Smith Mystery Series and Hannah Howe..."Hannah Howe is a very talented writer.""A gem of a read.""Sam Smith is the most interesting female sleuth in detective fiction. She leaves all the others standing.""Hannah Howe's writing style reminds you of the Grandmasters of private detective fiction - Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler and Robert B. Parker.""Sam is an endearing character. Her assessments of some of the people she encounters will make you laugh at her wicked mind. At other times, you'll cry at the pain she's suffered.""Sam is the kind of non-assuming heroine that I couldn't help but love.""Sam's Song was a wonderful find and a thoroughly engaging read. The first book in the Sam Smith mystery series, this book starts off as a winner!""Sam is an interesting and very believable character.""Gripping and believable at the same time, very well written.""Sam is a great heroine who challenges stereotypes.""Hannah Howe is a fabulous writer.""I can't wait to read the next in the series!""The Big Chill is light reading, but packs powerful messages.""This series just gets better and better.""What makes this book stand well above the rest of detective thrillers is the attention to the little details that makes everything so real.""Sam is a rounded and very real character.""Howe is an author to watch, able to change the tone from light hearted to more thoughtful, making this an easy and yet very rewarding read. Cracking!""Fabulous book by a fabulous author-I highly recommended this series!""Howe writes her characters with depth and makes them very engaging.""I loved the easy conversational style the author used throughout. Some of the colourful ways that the main character expressed herself actually made me laugh!""I loved Hannah Howe's writing style -- poignant one moment, terrifying the next, funny the next moment. I would be on the edge of my seat praying Sam wouldn't get hurt, and then she'd say a one-liner or think something funny, and I'd chuckle and catch my breath. Love it!""Sam's Song is no lightweight suspense book. Howe deals with drugs, spousal abuse, child abuse, and more. While the topics she writes about are heavy, Howe does a fantastic job of giving the reader the brutal truth while showing us there is still good in life and hope for better days to come."

Book preview

Chapter One

April showers. As the rain pitter-pattered on the roof of our office houseboat, Faye and I sat huddled beside my desk, heads bent over sheets of paper, eyes scanning rows of numerals and hieroglyphics. We were engaged in our annual round of ‘creative accountancy’, trying to balance the books, although ‘cook’ them was more appropriate.

I sighed, straightened then asked, Well?

I’m still calculating, Faye said. As though to underline the point her well-manicured fingernails danced over a calculator.

Since Christmas, and a holiday spent in the Alps with her boyfriend, Blake, Faye had put on weight, not enough to frighten the horses, but enough to fill her cheeks and mould her clothes to her hourglass figure. With her golden ringlets, blue-green eyes and high cheekbones, Faye looked gorgeous. Indeed, she looked ravishing even in the midst of a hurricane. However, her penchant for sweet foods had caught up with her and now her curves strained against her cream blouse and tan waistcoat while her thighs filled her blue jeans in sensuous fashion. Faye looked too glamorous to be involved in the murky world of private detectives, yet she’d adapted to the business and was highly proficient in her tasks.

Why is it taking you so long? I asked. Last year we didn’t have that many clients.

That’s the problem, Faye said, a lack of clients calls for greater creativity, more fiscal imagination.

Hmm, I said, my gaze wandering to the window and the rivulets of spring rain.

Three minutes later, I insisted that Faye should reveal the truth. Well? I asked. What’s the damage?

We’ll need to run these figures past our accountant, she said cautiously.

Which means...?

Unless we hike our fees, considerably, we’re stuck on this houseboat.

Hmm, I said again.

Look on the bright side, Faye smiled.

There’s a bright side? I frowned.

Our office houseboat survived the winter. At least it didn’t sink.

With that, our houseboat lurched towards the embankment. We were tethered to the embankment, but ropes and cables snap, don’t they? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a pessimist by nature. Equally, I wasn’t born for a life upon the ocean wave.

The combination of a sudden gust and a potential client had disturbed the equilibrium of our houseboat. However, soon all was shipshape and Bristol fashion. Indeed, I even managed to paint a smile on my face to greet our new guest.

May I climb aboard? the man asked. In his early fifties, he possessed a smooth, bald head, a slim frame and a sharp, angular face with prominent bone ridges. Mirror-lensed sunglasses hid his eyes. He wore a sharp blue business suit, a crisp white shirt, white ankle socks and highly polished shoes. His powder blue tie contained an emblem, of a ship, possibly the insignia of a sailing club. Gold flashed from a medallion, his left wrist, cufflinks and a tiepin.

Please, I said, enter our office.

As our guest moved forward, Faye stood, vacating our client’s chair. In graceful fashion, she glided over to the window. While Faye walked, our guest eased his sunglasses down his slender nose, dipped his head and peered over the rims.

This is Sam’s Enquiry Agency? he asked.

Indeed, it is, I said. I’m Sam. This is Faye, my assistant.

Our guest eased himself on to our client’s chair. He sat with his legs wide apart, as though to display his masculine accoutrements. I risked a quick glance then smiled quietly to myself; as my late mother used to say, the sights you see when you haven’t got a gun.

You’re not a man, our guest said.

Delighted you noticed, I said.

In fact, he leered, you’re a very attractive woman. He turned to stare at Faye. The two of you are very attractive women.

I’m married, I said, and Faye’s spoken for. My husband’s a psychologist while Faye’s beloved is a bodyguard with muscles in his spit and shoulders as wide as a barn door.

Ah, our potential client said. He removed his sunglasses to reveal handsome blue eyes. Strange that, initially, he’d hidden his eyes behind the sunglasses because they were his best feature. After a deep frown and a period of reflection, he said, I’m Demetrios Angelopoulos.

I nodded, as though I were already aware of that statement. In truth, I didn’t know the man, although I had detected a slight accent, a combination of European and British well educated.

You’re Greek, I said.

And you’re a very astute detective, Demetrios smiled.

We received five stars from the Association of British Investigators, I said.

Really? Demetrios continued to smile, although now he lowered his gaze to his well-manicured fingernails.

Not really, I confessed. However, we are fully paid up members of the Association.

The five stars, he said, his expression still playful, you’re toying with me.

It’s the spring air, I said, it always makes me feel frisky.

And you’re a romantic, he said. I can sense it from the gleam in your eyes.

I always send my husband a card on Valentine’s Day, and I always receive one.

Quite. Demetrios’ smile disappeared. He was a chancer, a predator. He’d turned on the charm and felt annoyed at the mention of Alan, my husband. So be it. We offered a service, but not of that kind.

Lovely boat, Demetrios said, glancing around, eyeing the nautical interior. We’d added a few homely touches – curtains, a new carpet, soft furnishings, but you couldn’t escape the fact that we were moored on the River Taff, floating on the water.

Would you like to buy our boat? Faye asked.

I’m tempted, Demetrios said, his expression serious. My family made their fortune in shipping and I have a passion for boats. However, he continued, his features now grim, first, we should discuss other business.

You’d like to hire us? I asked.

You come highly recommended, Demetrios said. He examined his sunglasses then placed them on his forehead. The sunglasses remained there, supported by his prominent eyebrow ridges.

Highly recommended, Faye said, by whom?

Vincent Vanzetti, Demetrios said.

Vincent Vanzetti’s a crook, I said. You know Vanzetti?

Demetrios pulled a face. He shrugged a casual shoulder. Through a friend of a friend.

A boating friend? I asked.

Yes, Demetrios said, as a matter of fact he was a boating friend. Furthermore, I would like to hire you.

To protect your boat?

To protect the woman of my dreams, Demetrios said.

He dipped his right hand into an inside jacket pocket and removed a picture. It was a glamorous, glossy picture, a publicity photograph, which depicted a star of the stage and silver screen.

Dana Devlin, I said.

You’ve heard of her.

I nodded. At one stage, the critics regarded her as the most beautiful woman in the movies.

Her star burned very bright, Demetrios said.

Then it faded.

Emotional problems, he shrugged, the vagaries of the movie business. It is difficult to stay at the top, all of the time.

I’m sure, I said.

Dana is making a comeback, Demetrios said. "I’m producing her new movie, Demon Seed. We’re filming at Portmeirion."

A beautiful location, I said.

I chose it personally, Demetrios smiled. He placed his hands together and steepled his fingers, as though in prayer. With his thin frame, and sunglasses perched on his forehead, he looked like an insect, a well-dressed insect, a lord of the flies.

What’s the film about? Faye asked.

It’s about a demon, Demetrios said. He takes control of a beautiful woman, played by Dana. He seduces her through her mind.

It’s a gothic movie? Faye frowned.

We’ll market the movie as a gothic romance, Demetrios said.

I’m into gothic, Faye said.

Really? Demetrios canted his head to the right and smiled. He stood, lowered his sunglasses and walked over to Faye. Then, through the mirrored-lenses, he appraised her shapely form. Have you ever appeared in movies? he asked. You have the looks.

The way Demetrios was hovering around Faye, I sensed that he wanted to reach out and touch her. These days, Faye valued her personal space. She was also an expert in the martial arts. If Demetrios made a move, he’d end up with a broken arm.

I’ve only appeared in homemade family movies, Faye said, when I was little.

You should screen test for me, Demetrios said. I’m sure I could find you a part.

Although I admired the Greeks, especially their ancient history, I didn’t like Demetrios Angelopoulos. He was too much of a chancer for my taste. Equally, I didn’t want to lose Faye to the glamour of Tinseltown, or a potential client, for that matter. I didn’t like Demetrios, but given our perilous financial position, we needed his patronage. Furthermore, the idea of meeting Dana Devlin appealed to me.

Does the demon succeed in his seduction? I asked.

He does, Demetrios said. He turned to face me his fingers, automatically, adjusting his shirt cuffs, pulling his diamond-encrusted cufflinks into view. He seduces Dana’s character and she falls in love with him.

And they live happily ever after, I said.

It’s a marriage of the mind, Demetrios said, the angel within us and the demon. We’re all the same, aren’t we, a combination of good and evil?

Some people are more demonic than others, I said.

But in the movies, Demetrios smiled, the angel must always win out, isn’t that so? In our movie, the angel reins in the devil’s excesses. In that regard, Dana’s character sacrifices herself for the good of us all.

Very deep, I said.

Demetrios nodded, taking my comment at face value. I would like to think that our movie works on a number of levels.

And how can we help? I asked.

Demetrios returned to my desk. For now, the playboy retreated while the businessman reasserted himself. Dana received this, he said, removing a second object from his jacket pocket, a postcard on this occasion. It arrived, yesterday.

Demetrios offered me the postcard and I turned it around in my hands. It was a curious item, a mixture of angels, hearts and flowers, and the words, ‘Beware of Satan. He will corrupt you. He will bring death, destruction and ruin. Abandon your film now!’ Curiously, the writer had placed a heart at the foot of the exclamation mark.

I sniffed the postcard – it contained the faint scent of sweet herbs – then I handed it to Faye.

The postcard looks homemade, I said.

Indeed, Demetrios agreed.

Faye stared at the postcard. She frowned, Who sends death threats on cards covered with angels, hearts and flowers?

That’s what I want you to find out, Demetrios said.

He removed his sunglasses and studied the lenses, to ensure they were clean. Satisfied, he eased his sunglasses on to the bridge of his nose. His movements were precise, assured. He exuded confidence in an ostentatious way. To certain women, such men were powerful, sexy. To me, someone who had studied life in the gutter, I recognised that his display was little more than a charade – money might buy you status, but we are all vulnerable, under the skin.

Dana’s been through many emotional crises in her life, Demetrios said. She’s making a comeback. She’s feeling vulnerable. These threats might emanate from a crank, but they have the potential to disturb her mind.

And ruin the movie, I said.

Exactly, Demetrios said. He canted his head to the right and offered me a painful smile. Movies are expensive to make. We cannot afford a failure. He nodded towards the postcard. I would like you to look into these threats, and offer Dana protection, until this matter is resolved.

The tone of this postcard suggests a crank, I said.

My feelings exactly, Demetrios said. However, Dana can’t work with this worry on her mind. Will you accept the assignment?

You’re looking at around the clock protection?

He nodded. Every minute of the day, and night.

That, I said, plus an investigation will cost you a pretty penny.

I’m from a family of shipping billionaires, Demetrios grinned. Name your price.

His grin