“She was a pretty girl—the way I remember…” Clara Mae appeared deep in thought. “You know there was something… Harriet had a birthmark on her left arm. It looked like a X or something.” She pointed to a photo in an open magazine on her table. “Like this…”
Bailey stared down at the bottle of poison with a red X on the label. She glanced down at her notes, then asked, “Randy died from his heart condition. So, there was never any suspicion of foul play?”
Clara Mae looked shocked. “Who’d want to kill Randy? He was a sweet kid and a gifted young man. He knew how to tell a story. Naw… poor thing… his heart just gave out. Why all this interest in Randy?” she asked. “You writing a book on his life?”
“I’d like to,” Bailey responded. “He was a brilliant writer who died much too soon. Oh, I went by the cemetery, but there’s no record of Randy being buried there.”
“I heard a while back that Harriet had his body moved,” Clara Mae said. “She was afraid fans would desecrate his grave, so no one knows where he’s buried. I suspect she just wanted to keep him close by.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to see the family home?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t see why not. It’s for sale. There gonna be people going in and out of that house all the time until someone buys it.” Clara Mae lowered her voice. “I don’t know who is gonna want to buy it in the condition it’s in. I don’t know why Harriet don’t want to fix it up.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have the money,” Bailey suggested. “That might be why she’s selling it now after all these years.”
“You know… I didn’t think of that,” Clara Mae said. “But then again, she got enough to pay some lawyer to take care of the sale.”
“Where is the law office located?” Bailey asked. It was possible Clara Mae wouldn’t know the answer, but her daughter would.
“It’s some big firm in New York.”
Bailey smiled. “So, it’s possible that Harriet lives there.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Clara Mae said. “Figures she’d go back up north. She was like her mama in that way—wanting to live all fancy. Harriet never liked living down here ‘cause it was too country. Used to always say that she was going back to the big city when she grew up.” Picking up her phone, she said, “I’ll call Sharon to get that code for you.”
“Thank you for all your help.”
Bailey thought about her conversation with Kaile concerning Harini. I still can’t connect the two of them together. Maybe Trace is right about this—I’m just pulling at straws.
She decided to follow through on seeing the house since Clara Mae went to the trouble of getting the code for her. Bailey decided she would spend the night and head back home in the morning. She was disappointed over having wasted time and money traveling back and forth to Georgia.
Bailey parked in front of what was once the Spook family home.
There was a mediocre attempt at landscaping: fresh mulch, parched fall mums, and a worn welcome mat. Okay, not every house sparkled with curb appeal, Bailey decided. And Clara Mae did mention that the home was in a poor condition.
She punched in the code she’d been given into the lockbox.
The key popped out and she inserted it, forcing a sticky deadbolt open.
Inside the tiny foyer, the rancid stale aroma of a house which had been empty for years assailed her. Bailey inhaled deeply, quickly ruling out the smell of rotting wood.
She hoped to get a real feel for Randy Spook and his life here in this house. The soft muted yellow hues in the wallpaper was not too feminine. The wrought iron lighting fixtures were nice and most likely considered elegant and upscale years ago.
She chose to venture up the short flight of stairs first, then work her way back down.
Alternating between her camera and typing notes on her iPad, Bailey took photographs and jotted down the obvious in the closet size bedroom designated as the master: a queen-sized bed with a wooden headboard, hardwood floors, windows draped with dark burgundy curtains. No blinds.
She walked into the bedroom across the hall. In contrast, it was decorated in a soft lavender and sage theme. This was probably Harriet’s room, Bailey decided. The third bedroom was decorated in a blue and white theme. The wallpaper was dotted with footballs. Randy’s room she surmised. The three bedrooms shared a cornflower blue-tiled hall bath.
Downstairs, she navigated to the kitchen. It was a nice size, but smaller than Bailey had imagined. The pale-yellow walls were complemented by white appliances and cabinets.
“Ridiculously dated but clean if you clear all the years of dust,” she murmured as she took pictures.
The living room showed off dusty drapes, heavy and mauve. “This was once a very nice home,” Bailey murmured. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house covered with sheets.
She walked through the living room, checking out the furniture. Mrs. Spook had been a fan of Queen Anne styled furnishings.
Unless a realtor convinced a potential buyer there was buried treasure, they’d never sell this house as far as she was concerned.
Clara Mae had mentioned before Bailey left that she’d heard Dr. Spook intended on renovating the house but never got around to going through with it. She said she’d overheard the doctor and his wife arguing from time to time about starting the renovations.
Initially, Bailey had no desire to explore the basement area, but her gut refused to let her leave without doing so.
There was a decent size laundry room, which connected to an empty one-car garage. Her eyes traveled over to a door near the stairs.
Curious, Bailey decided to investigate.
She opened the door and stale air rushed past her as if on a mad dash for the exit.
Her curiosity paid off.
Inside was a couple of boxes covered with a thick coating of dust and cobwebs. Bailey debated whether or not to take them with her. It was pretty clear by the thick layer of dust that no one knew they were in the closet and had been for years.
She decided to take them with her. Bailey vowed that she would give them to Harriet once she found her.
Back at the hotel, she settled down and opened the first box, which was filled with family photos and mementos.
Bailey found copies of the birth certificates. There were several photographs of the family; although most of them during their childhood. She saw an envelope and picked it up. Bailey was surprised to see it contained original manuscripts of his published work. There were also a couple of what appeared to be completed drafts.
Her fingertips flew over the words as if it were braille. Pressing the pages hard between her hand and lap, Bailey stopped reading and stared at the manuscript, her emotions equally mixed. There was a part of her that wished she hadn’t read it, but more so, she was wildly tempted to reveal what she’d discovered.
She spent the next hour on her laptop, going through image after image of Harini; hoping to catch a glimpse of a bare left arm. Bailey needed to see if there was a birthmark.
Finally, she found a photograph of Harini in a strapless dress.
The birthmark was just as Clara Mae described.
Bailey placed a hand to her mouth. Could it be?
Could she really be Harriet Spook? If so, Harini Samuels was a complete fraud.
Bailey broke into a grin. “I’ve got you now.” She knew there was more to Harini’s relationship with Randy because of how hard she’d worked to cover up her identity. “That’s why you hired the lawyer. You don’t want people to know the truth about you. You stole your brother’s work and published it as your own.”
Another thought entered her mind. How did Pip fit into this puzzle?
Bailey walked into the house. “Trace, where are you?”
“In the office,” he responded.
“Hey honey.”
“I didn’t expect you home until Sunday.” He got up and walked around the desk. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”
Baile
y kissed him. “I’ve got good news. I found the connection between Harini and Randy. I found copies of his manuscripts—she published them as her own.”
“So, what do you plan to do with the information?” Trace asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Bailey took a seat. “Honey, I watched a documentary last night on narcissistic personality disorder. It caught my attention because when they were talking about the symptoms—I thought of Harini. According to the documentary, people with this mental condition have an inflated sense of their own importance, a desperate need for excessive attention and admiration, and they lack empathy for others. Harini definitely loves attention, and she has an exaggerated sense of her own importance. According to her—she’s the greatest at everything. She once told me that she was the best writer she knew…” Bailey chuckled. “I couldn’t believe she really said that.”
“Honey, the cornerstone of narcissism is lack of empathy. People with this disorder do not see or realize the impact their behavior has on others. They don’t step into someone else's shoes. They see only their needs. Their sense of entitlement is paramount. Beneath is low self-esteem. They have trouble keeping friends, are basically unhappy when they don’t receive the admiration they believe they deserve.”
“I know for a fact that she’s exaggerated some of her accomplishments. Anybody with the Internet can verify things like awards, sales, bestseller lists…” Bailey paused a moment then said, “But now I get why she only associates with certain authors—it’s because she thinks she’s superior and she considers them her equal. Everyone else is inferior.”
Trace nodded in agreement. “Could be.”
“So, taking advantage of others to get what she wants, being arrogant and pretentious… all of this is because of her disorder?”
“Yes.”
“So, she’s not being malicious then,” Bailey said. “Harini simply can’t help herself. In her mind, she believes that everyone is envious of her, when in truth—Harini’s the one who’s envious.”
“You maybe right about this.”
“I feel bad for her, but I still need to confront her,” Bailey said. “She needs someone to call her out on her mess. What’s she’s done has hurt other authors—some who aren’t going to write anymore. If it hadn’t been for you, Trace… I don’t know if I’d even be published right now.” She paused a moment, then said, “I need to go to Philadelphia. This is not about revenge anymore. I can’t let her do this to one more person. I have to try and stop her.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Bailey shook her head no. “I need to do this alone. I’m flying out on Sunday evening.”
Chapter 26
The organist had begun the prelude by the time Harini walked into the sanctuary. Her nose was assaulted by the startling clash of women’s perfume and men's cologne which almost overpowered the musty odor of hymnals.
A smiling usher in a dark suit led her down the center aisle to the fourth row. Her face impassive, Harini groaned inwardly. She preferred to sit toward the rear, where she could blend into anonymity.
She sat in a pew, captivated by the words of a hymn she could not identify. Eyes closed, Harini felt the firmness of the pew beneath her bottom.
Coming here made Harini feel at peace. The church, she believed, was a place where forgiveness could be granted by showing up. She opened her eyes for a moment, her gaze traveled the room. People in the congregation were deep in prayer—something she’d given up on years ago.
Prayers were meant to be answered. So far, Harini’s had not been. She was alone—no husband or even a suitable prospect. She couldn’t carry a baby to term.
Her eyes remained shut as her mind absorbed the fading tendrils of solitude. Harini heard the heavy creak of the vestibule doors and felt sunlight spread across her back. It penetrated, refreshing her.
In her mind, Harini could see her mother dressed in a green robe seated in the choir. Her mother loved to sing. She loved the attention.
Pip shared their mother’s gift while Harini couldn’t carry a tune if she tried. She was forced to sit back and watch as others adored her mother and brother’s talent. She often fantasized of being on stage with millions of fans in the audience. Her mind drifted to when she was seven years old and she wanted to be Snow White in the school play. She wanted it so badly that she’d harassed little Stephanie Myers into quitting. She’d practiced every single day and knew the part, but when the curtains opened—she stood there frozen. Her parents were furious.
In high school, she ruined her competition’s reputation by telling everyone that the girl was nothing more than a slut. Harini had even started a rumor that the girl was pregnant. It didn’t matter because she was the better choice for the cheerleading captain. Under her leadership the squad won numerous awards. However, it was not enough to please her mother and father. Cheerleading was not a prestigious sport. Not like football and Pip’s role as quarterback. Even when he stopped playing the sport—they did not see it as failure on his part.
Harini never finished college, although she’d listed both an undergrad and graduate degree in her author biography. It was a harmless lie, she told herself. Millions of people have lied about their educational achievements. It didn’t mean they didn’t possess the knowledge.
I’m very intelligent—have always been smart. Even my mother used to tell me all the time that I was much too smart for my own good.
Harini wrapped her arms tight around herself, crossing the sleeves of her bright teal shirt. Her right hand rose up her arm and she felt the birthmark. It was a symbol of self-preservation and instinct.
“How was church?” Pip inquired when she arrived home an hour and a half later.
“You could’ve come with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
Harini rolled her eyes at her brother. “You can be so spiteful at times.”
“I have reason to be.”
“All I want is to have a nice peaceful afternoon. Can I have that please? I need to get some writing done.”
“Write away.”
“Pip…”
Harini released a long sigh. She hated when her brother got into one of his moods. She wanted to toss some ideas around with him, but when Pip was like this—it was fruitless. She wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Trace asked when they pulled in front of RDU Airport. “A woman like this could be dangerous.”
Bailey nodded. “I have to do it. It’s time Harini and I had it out. I’m not afraid of her, honey. She isn’t going to attack me, especially not face to face. She’d be more worried that someone will capture it on video.”
“I don’t know about this. Maybe I should go with you.”
“Honey, you don’t have to come,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I have my taser right here.” Bailey patted her purse. “I keep it with me.”
Trace didn’t look convinced.
“All I want to do is talk to Harini. I can’t allow her to continue to hurt other people. She’s gotten away with this for too long. I just want to make her understand that this has to end.”
“And if she doesn’t agree? What then? Are you prepared to take this to the finish line?”
“Yes,” Bailey responded. “I will make sure the entire world knows what she did.”
“What I can’t figure out is how Pip fits into all this?” Trace said. “You said that you saw the birth certificates.”
“I’m confused as well,” she said. “Maybe her father had an outside child. Miss Clara Mae did hint that he was a bit of a womanizer. Then again, maybe Harini just calls him her brother. I feel like Maurie and Cassidy are more like my sisters than my own are.”
Concern colored his expression. “I want you to be careful, Bailey.”
“Trace, I’m going to be fine,” she assured him.
“Call me before and after you meet with that woman.”
“I will.”
�
��I mean it, Bailey. I want to know that you’re okay,” Trace said. “If I don’t hear from you—I’m coming up there.”
Bailey flew to Philadelphia.
Maurie and Cassidy picked her up from the airport when the plane landed.
“My girls…”
“It’s so good to see you,” Maurie said after giving Bailey a hug.
She embraced Cassidy next. “I’m so happy to see y’all.”
Bailey placed her overnight tote in the back of Maurie’s SUV, then opened the rear passenger door and climbed inside.
“I can’t believe you are here to confront Harini,” Cassidy said. “Is it really worth it?”
“I think so,” Bailey responded. “I’m doing this because she’s hurting other authors, Cass. This can’t continue.”
“What exactly do you have on this woman?”
“Randy Spook is her brother,” Bailey announced. “I have proof that she took his work and published it as her own.”
Maurie gasped. “Are you serious? I’ve read his books and I never would’ve put the two of them together. Are you sure about this?”
“I have two of his manuscripts complete with his notes on the projects. They are the first two books Harini released. Everything including the changes he made are in her books.”
“I’m not surprised,” Cassidy said. “I told you she was fake.”
“It’s terrible that Harini could do something like that to her own brother,” Maurie interjected.
“Exactly,” Bailey responded. “So, you know she doesn’t care about anybody else. I’m picking up a rental in the morning and I’m going to see her tomorrow.”
“What do you expect to accomplish?” Cassidy asked.
“I’m going to make it clear to Harini that her reign of terror is going to end, or I will put her on blast. I’ll expose the one secret she thought was dead and buried to the world.”
Cassidy turned in her seat to face Bailey. “Be careful. That woman is a sociopath as far as I’m concerned.”
Poison Pen Page 19