To Write a Wrong

by Jen Turano

  Daphne abandoned the typewriter and reached for her notepad. Flipping through the pages, she found the one reserved for Dr. Gibbons and jotted down his insistence on the use of smelling salts.

  “You think there’s something odd about Dr. Gibbons?” Ann asked.

  “I think it’s odd he’d insist Mildred make use of smelling salts she obviously didn’t believe she needed.”

  “Perhaps he was merely being cautious. He has been attending Mildred for years and must know what’s needed in regard to her nerves.”

  “Or he’s been coddling her throughout the years, which has resulted in her taking to her bed perhaps more than necessary.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “No idea, but I’m going to have to make a point to speak with Dr. Gibbons to see if I can discover why he indulges Mildred and her nerves.” She flipped to the back of the notepad where she’d written suggestions Madame Sophia Calve had so graciously given her. “I believe I’ll use what Madame Calve called her flattery technique on Dr. Gibbons. Apparently, flattery is the best way to get a gentleman to answer questions he might otherwise be reluctant to answer.”

  “That sounds more like flirting than flattery.”

  Daphne gave a bit of a shudder. “Flirting makes me nervous. Flattery I can manage.”

  “From what I’ve observed, flirting with the guests seems to be second nature for you.”

  “If that’s true, it’s only because it’s not really me flirting. It’s the persona I’ve adopted. But speaking of that persona, perhaps it’s time for me to give one of those languid waves Madame Calve suggested I do every so often.”

  Glancing around, Daphne noticed Finetta Shoenburger and Martha Mulvey watching her, their heads bent closely together. She’d asked Herman to set her table away from where his guests were enjoying an early afternoon respite, hoping the distance would discourage any of them from interrupting her work, while also allowing those guests to see that she could, indeed, type, something she’d overheard Mildred questioning.

  Sending Finetta and Martha a languid wave of her hand, she smiled when Finetta returned the wave, her smile dimming when Martha stuck her nose in the air and turned her head, a clear dismissal if there ever was one.

  “Why do I get the distinct impression Martha is no longer keen to cozy up to me?”

  “I’m surprised you’re only now picking up on what I’ve noticed is an intentional coolness toward you on Martha’s part,” Ann said. “Did you not see her get up from where she was sitting next to Irwin Rosenward when you joined their table at breakfast this morning to go sit next to Charles Bonner?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t because I was barely awake,” Daphne said before she frowned. “She must be exceptionally put out with me, though, if she removed herself from Irwin to join Charles. He is one of the most disagreeable men I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. Irwin, on the other hand, seems to be a pleasant sort, and he went out of his way to inquire about my poetry this morning.”

  “I’m surprised Irwin didn’t take leave of your presence, as well, if you actually recited some of your poetry to him.”

  Daphne smiled. “It was much too early for me to compose a single horrendous verse, so Irwin was spared a reason to make a speedy departure.”

  Ann returned the smile. “He has no idea how fortunate it is that you take forever to wake up in the morning. But, returning to Martha being put out with you, I believe it has something to do with how Herman raced to your rescue last night. Not only did he take special care getting you down from the buffet table, and then making certain you’d not been cut by broken china, he also rushed to defend you when Mildred accused you of being up to no good. I was watching Martha throughout Herman’s earnest explanation, and the longer Herman spoke, the more unpleasant her facial expressions turned.”

  Ann tapped a finger against her chin. “At first, I thought she might have been so annoyed because she’s sweet on Herman and didn’t like the attention he was settling on you. But then she hurried off to join Sheldon. And when she began whispering furiously in his ear, I knew I was wrong to think she was sweet on Herman.”

  When Ann stopped talking and sent Daphne an expectant look, Daphne wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea where you’re going with any of that.”

  “Honestly, Daphne, have you still not woken up yet? You need to keep up with me. You see, when Herman told everyone he asked you to explore the passageways because he wanted you to see if his inclusion of such passageways could be beneficial to his latest draft, Martha clearly took that as a sign Herman was considering replacing Sheldon with you because normally Sheldon does that type of research for him.”

  Daphne blinked. “Ah, I see where you’re going with this now. Martha is clearly put out with me because she and Sheldon evidently believe Sheldon’s position is in jeopardy, hence Martha’s outrage on his behalf.”

  “Exactly, although before you decide to add that to Sheldon’s page for why he’s a prime suspect, I have to admit I’m not certain he’s our man. There are so many better potential suspects in attendance—Andrew Ware now being at the top of my list.”

  “Andrew’s at the top of your list?”

  “He is, especially since I’ve come to the conclusion that he and Finetta, after watching them throughout the dinner last night, appear to be smitten with each other.”

  Daphne reached for her notepad and flipped to Andrew’s page. “Jealousy would be great motivation for attempted murder, although Herman’s convinced Andrew’s not a viable suspect.”

  “That’s because Andrew is Herman’s friend, and Herman doesn’t seem to be the type who’d expect betrayal from a friend. With that said, Andrew’s not the only man I believe deserves further investigation. All the other authors here seem to watch one another in a most suspicious manner. I caught Jay Storrow with clear temper in his eyes when someone mentioned that Herman’s latest novel is currently on its fifth printing.”

  “Herman’s book has gone into a fifth printing?”

  “I think you’re allowing yourself to become distracted with unimportant details while missing the general point. Jealousy seems to be rampant with many of the people who are currently surrounding Herman.” Ann rubbed her temple. “I don’t know about you, but there are so many possible suspects that I keep getting everyone confused.”

  “It’s the same for me as well,” Daphne admitted. “Keeping Andrew and Sheldon straight at first was difficult, until I began associating Sheldon with the bump on his nose and Andrew with that unruly curl he has right above his left ear.”

  “I haven’t noticed that curl.”

  “You will now. As for all the other authors, it’s difficult to keep them straight because besides Jay Storrow and Charles Bonner, they tend to keep to themselves and don’t speak much.” She flipped through her notepad. “How about we try to make this easier on ourselves? I’ll concentrate on the authors and you concentrate on the young ladies in attendance, especially Finetta. We’ll need to put some effort into discovering whether you’re right about a budding romance between her and Andrew.”

  “I’ll make sure to sit next to Finetta at afternoon tea today.”

  “And since Mildred told Herman I’m not welcome to join her and the ladies at that tea, perhaps I’ll join the gentlemen doing a bit of target practice and see if I can draw out any of the authors who’ve yet to say much.” Daphne glanced back at Herman’s manuscript and frowned. “Does this look like palpable to you, or is it panicky?”

  Ann got to her feet and peered at the word Daphne was pointing out. “Hard to say.”

  “Would you care for my opinion?”

  Looking up, Daphne found Sheldon standing a foot away from her, a frown on his face. She summoned up a smile. “I would. I’m sure you’re used to deciphering Herman’s handwriting.”

  Sheldon stepped closer and glanced at the page. “It’s palpable, which you might have been able to figure out if you’d read the sentence more thoroughly. Or perhaps you
did read the sentence but didn’t comprehend it because you were more concerned with chatting it up with Miss Evans instead of concentrating on Herman’s manuscript.”

  Even though Daphne understood why Sheldon was put out with her, his suggestion rankled. “Or perhaps I’m merely unaccustomed to Herman’s handwriting.”

  “A reasonable explanation—something you seem to have at your disposal often.” Sheldon glanced at the piece of paper rolled into the typewriter. “And while most of the guests are enthralled with how rapidly you’re able to type, I’m curious as to whether you’ve actually typed anything of worth or if your fingers are merely flying across the keys for show.”

  Annoyance was swift. “If you’ll allow me a moment to finish this page, I’ll show you exactly how worthy my typing is.”

  Bending over, she began typing away, thankful that Herman hadn’t listened to her when she’d suggested he give her something besides his manuscript to type. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to help him out by typing his latest chapters, but because she and Herman were in direct competition with each other, she felt it unfair to see his latest work in progress when he wasn’t being offered the same courtesy with her latest draft.

  When she’d pointed out the pesky notion that she could very well get inspired by something she read in his manuscript and then use that in her poetry, he had waved that right aside and left her feeling all sorts of odd emotions.

  It was a quandary, the emotions Herman caused her to feel, especially when she was determined to prove her worth to the agency. She was relatively certain that feeling all warm and fuzzy about a client wasn’t what anyone would consider proper feelings for a true inquiry agent to have.

  Blinking herself out of her thoughts when she realized she’d reached the last line on the page, she ripped the paper from the cylinder, handing it to Sheldon.

  “And isn’t this an unexpected sight, seeing you and my cousin collaborating together. Dare I hope the two of you have set aside your differences and are intending to move forward in an amicable fashion?”

  Glancing around Sheldon, Daphne discovered Herman smiling back at her, clearly pleased at what he thought was an improved state between her and his cousin.

  Unfortunately, there was no way to allow him to continue thinking that, not since Sheldon was now scowling up a storm as he read the page she’d just typed.

  “Sheldon’s concerned my typing outside in view of your guests has simply been for show,” Daphne said.

  Herman’s smile dimmed as he looked to Sheldon, who wasn’t paying him any mind, then back to Daphne. “Given the pile of typed pages on your desk, I’m sure Sheldon’s soon to apologize for what was an uncalled-for accusation.”

  Sheldon handed the typed page to Herman. “I wouldn’t hold your breath for that apology, Herman. Take a look at this. I don’t remember you using the phrase rendered senseless before.”

  “Probably because it’s not a phrase I’ve ever used.”

  “How curious, then, that it’s typed on the page you’re holding.” Sheldon leaned forward and pointed to a line. “It’s right there, which indicates your new secretary is taking liberties with your story.”

  A bit of what seemed to be amusement flickered through Herman’s eyes as he settled his attention on Daphne. “Didn’t care for the way I constructed that sentence, did you?”

  “I thought rendered senseless would describe the result of the conflict better than incapacitated.”

  Herman tilted his head. “Hmm . . . you might be right about that.” He nodded. “We’ll keep rendered senseless, and I thank you for improving my sentence.”

  Sheldon settled a glare on Daphne for the briefest of moments before he threw up his hands, muttered something to the tune of “Unbelievable,” then stalked away without another word.

  “And here I just said I didn’t believe Sheldon could be a prime suspect,” Ann said as she watched Sheldon make a beeline for Martha Mulvey, the two of them bending their heads together a second later. “He might need to go back to the top of the list, but”—she craned her neck—“there’s Mildred. I told her I’d help get the guests organized for the next round of thrilling entertainment, which is a bout of archery. If you’ll excuse me?”

  As Ann strolled away, Daphne caught Herman’s eye. “I should beg your pardon for changing your work, Herman, or I at least should have asked you about it first.”

  He smiled. “I’m not overly concerned about that, Daphne. As I said, you improved the sentence, so it’s fine. Besides, if there’s something you change or have already changed that I don’t agree with, I’ll make corrections when I get to my final edit.”

  “Sheldon seemed put out that you didn’t take me to task for the change I made.”

  “That’s because Sheldon and I are constantly at odds over changes he believes I should make, but ones I don’t agree with. He’s still relatively new to the writing process and will try to insert words I’ve deliberately avoided because I’ve used them in earlier chapters. I know for a fact I’ve never used rendered senseless, so in this particular case, overuse is not an issue.”

  “I once overused the word snort.”

  His smile turned into a grin. “You wrote a poem that included snorting?”

  For the briefest of seconds, Daphne felt the strongest impulse to disclose what she really wrote to Herman.

  It was an impulse brought about by the sheer notion that, even though she’d clearly overstepped her role as his secretary, Herman hadn’t gotten angry with her, but had instead considered her suggestion and then decided to keep it.

  She had the sneaking suspicion he would be a writer she’d enjoy discussing matters of craft with or working together with to figure out how to fix a plot that wasn’t working, quite like her pirate plot at the moment.

  She was a solitary writer by choice. However, at times she longed to share her love of the written word with someone who loved words as well, someone who wouldn’t mock her for choosing a profession that wasn’t considered acceptable for women and who would understand her need to write down the stories in her head and share them with the world.

  Someone exactly like Herman.

  Shoving aside the urge to disclose all when she finally remembered she was under contract to keep her identity a secret, Daphne forced a smile as she struggled to think of some credible response to make about snorting and poetry.

  Thankfully, she was spared a response when Mildred called out to Herman, gesturing to catch his attention. “We’re about to begin the archery, Herman. Do come join us.”

  Herman sent Mildred a nod before he held his hand out to Daphne. “Care to try your skill with a bow and arrow?”

  She glanced to where Herman’s staff had set up targets made out of hay bales and shuddered. “While I’m sure Cooper would love to see me doing some manner of physical exertion, I’ve never been very good with a bow and arrow. And after my croquet experience, I’m not willing to risk another debacle. I don’t think Mildred will allow me to stay if I unintentionally hit anything other than the target.”

  “I’m sure you’re not that horrible with a bow and arrow. You seem to know your way around a pistol.”

  “I’m only adequate with a pistol, and that’s because Cooper has all the inquiry agents practice daily—well, except for Eunice, of course. She doesn’t need any practice.”

  “Why not?”

  “She can hit a bull’s-eye from a distance most people can’t even imagine.”

  Herman’s notepad was out of his pocket in a blink of an eye. “Where’d she learn to shoot?”

  “No idea. Eunice isn’t exactly forthcoming with personal anecdotes.”

  “Herman,” Mildred called again, a distinct hint of impatience marking her tone.

  Herman tucked his notepad away. “Duty calls.”

  “So it does,” Daphne said, returning to her typing as Herman walked away to join his guests.

  She made a point to lift her head every other sentence to keep an
eye on the archery contest, even though Ann was doing the same, as was Cooper, who was brushing a horse beside the cliff that led down to the Hudson.

  Finishing the chapter ten minutes later, Daphne rose to her feet, taking a second to stretch muscles that had been still for too long. Her attention was suddenly captured by the sight of Andrew Ware standing beside Finetta Shoenburger, showing her the proper way to hold a bow.

  Andrew was standing a little too close to Finetta than was strictly proper, but Finetta didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Daphne saw her inch ever so closer to Andrew, her cheeks a delicate shade of pink as she smiled at him and fluttered her lashes.

  Wandering as nonchalantly as she could over to join the guests, Daphne kept an eye on Finetta and Andrew, wanting to get a better look at what was clearly a budding romance, and one that might be the reason behind the attempts on Herman’s life.

  Sending a smile to Jay Storrow, who was speaking with Mr. Martin Corrigan, an author who wrote incredibly detailed and complex murder mysteries, Daphne edged her way around the crowd, hoping no one noticed the blatant interest she was directing Andrew’s way.

  “On to something?”

  Daphne raised a hand to her throat when Herman materialized by her side. “Don’t do that. You scared me half to death. I’ll hardly be able to convince anyone I’m a sophisticated woman of the world if I suddenly faint dead away simply because you approached me.”

  He grinned, a sight that made her lose her train of thought for a second, until Mildred called out to Herman again, obviously not caring for the fact that her grandson was grinning at his secretary.

  “I think your grandmother’s annoyed with me again,” Daphne muttered.

  “Why would she be annoyed with you? You’ve been behaving yourself all afternoon.”

  “I just made you grin.”

  “Ah, well, now there’s a reason for annoyance. I’d better go speak with her before she gets herself riled up.”

  As Herman walked away, Daphne returned her attention to Finetta, who was now surrounded by numerous gentlemen, all of whom seemed to be giving her pointers about archery. Finetta sent Andrew what could only be described as a flirty smile before she drew back her arrow, turned toward the target, but then, for some inexplicable reason, turned again, no longer aiming for the target but toward Herman.