Poison Pen

by Jacquelin Thomas

  “I’ll be fine. Harini isn’t going to want the truth to come out. It will ruin her.”

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “Cass, I thought about calling her, but then I decided it was best to just show up. I don’t want to give her any kind of heads up. I’m going to blindside Harini the same way she did me.”

  “Sounds like you’re still wanting some payback, Bailey.”

  “I don’t deny that, Maurie. I’m looking forward to getting even with Harini once and for all. Trace thinks that she has a narcissistic personality disorder and he could be right, but I don’t care. She still needs to be confronted with the truth, then maybe she’ll go sit down somewhere.” Bailey stared out the window. “I can’t wait to get a cheesesteak and a tuna hoagie. I’ve missed them so much.” She was done with having to provide reasons for wanting to confront Harini—the woman didn’t deserve any sympathy from Bailey. And she would get none.

  The next morning, Bailey picked up her rental, then headed out to the Washington Square West area.

  Just as she opened the vehicle door, Bailey glimpsed Harini’s shiny black Mercedes exiting the parking garage. She slammed her door and started the car.

  She caught up with Harini at the stop light a block away. Bailey didn’t care where she was going—she was determined to have her say.

  “I told you one day I would make you pay. That day has come, Harini Samuels.”

  Bailey meant it when she said she had forgiven Harini, but it didn’t mean she would just stand by and let the woman continue hurting other authors.

  “What in the world…” she whispered.

  Bailey pulled the car into the parking lot across the street from the Grant Memorial Garden Cemetery.

  This setting was not what Bailey had in mind, but she was determined to follow through with her plan. She eased out of the vehicle slowly.

  Maybe she’s visiting Randy’s grave, Bailey considered. She decided to give Harini some time alone.

  Her cell phone rang.

  It was Cassidy.

  She let the call go to voicemail.

  Bailey stepped out of the rental, locking the doors behind her.

  It was time to have that face to face with Harini.

  Her eyes traveled her surroundings, searching for one person in particular. Bailey walked up a grassy knoll, staying close to the path. She spied a gathering of people a few yards away. She knew they were laying a loved one to rest.

  She walked faster.

  Bailey heard Harini’s voice before she spotted her beneath a huge tree.

  “You can be so insensitive at times,” she heard Harini say. “Why can’t you have my back on this?”

  Bailey watched in disbelief a moment before asking, “Who are you talking to?”

  Harini turned around, a look of complete shock on her face. “What are you doing here? A cemetery is supposed to be a place where people find comfort among their friends, family and ancestors. How dare you interrupt a private moment.”

  “Who were you talking to?” Bailey asked a second time as her eyes traveled their surroundings. “‘Cause there’s nobody here but you and me.”

  Harini looked confused for a moment before responding, “People talk to their loved ones all the time—those who have gone too soon.”

  Bailey glanced down at the name on the tombstone.

  Randall James Spook

  (Pip)

  Beloved brother

  1980 to 2004

  “Why are you here?” Harini demanded.

  “I came to talk to you. You were leaving when I got to your place, so I followed you here.”

  “We have nothing to discuss.”

  “Oh, we have a lot to talk about, Harini,” Bailey said. She glanced back down at the tombstone. “A lot. I saw Colton a few months back when I was in Texas. We had a very interesting conversation about you.” She met Harini’s hard gaze. “He mentioned meeting Pip.”

  “And?”

  “Well, that’s not possible,” Bailey responded as she pointed to the tombstone. “What did you do? Hire someone to play your brother so he wouldn’t find out the truth.”

  Harini did not respond.

  “You know you’re really something else. You’ve spent your whole career doing every underhanded thing possible to be number one in this industry. You’ve blackmailed, manipulated, straight lied on and stolen ideas from the very people who looked up to you.” Bailey paused a moment before continuing. “Including your own brother.”

  Harini paled. “Excuse me? I was very close to my brother. I gave him that nickname. Our parents hated it. When nobody was around, I called him Pip.” She broke into a rare tender smile. “Sis was his term of endearment for me.”

  “This is all very sweet, but the fact is that you stole your brother’s manuscript and published it as your own. Did Pip find out before he died? Did he confront you about it?”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think I do,” Bailey countered. “You went behind Pip’s back and submitted his manuscript. I read your first two books, so you can imagine my surprise when I found the original manuscripts with your brother’s name on them.”

  “Girl, you talking crazy.”

  “I’m not the one who’s crazy,” Bailey countered. “You’re the one who’s been living with your dead brother all these years. I can only assume it’s because you feel guilty over what you did to him. That’s why you can’t let him go—why you moved his grave to Philadelphia. You left your parents buried in Georgia.”

  “See,” Pip said, “I told you that she was the wrong one to mess with, but you wouldn’t listen. I told you someone would one day discover the truth of what happened.”

  “Shut up,” Harini uttered. She turned to face her brother. “Pip, this witch can’t prove nothing, so keep your mouth shut.”

  Bailey eyed the woman deeply involved in a conversation with a ghost. Her anger and thirst for vengeance melted into pity for a woman so haunted by the sins of her past.

  “Harini, you need help.”

  “I don’t need anything,” she snapped in response. A cold look came into Harini’s eyes, making them almost black. “You’re nothing, Bailey Hargrove. Nothing. You can go around trying to spread your lies about me but nobody’s gonna believe you.”

  “They’re not lies, Harini,” Bailey stated. “I have proof. I know who and what you really are, Harriet Spook. You and I both know the truth. She pointed to Harini’s arm. “That birthmark on your arm is very fitting because you’re toxic… just pure poison.”

  “You don’t know anything,” Harini hissed. “My brother had everything. I deserved something good to come my way. I wanted to be a writer. Pip didn’t even like to read… but he writes two books and the world considers them masterpieces. The manuscript I submitted kept getting rejected… Pip was in the hospital. Father kept saying that he wasn’t gonna make it… He was dying.”

  “He was your brother.”

  “He was gonna die. They would’ve just sat there gathering dust.” Her arms folded across her chest, Harini asked, “So, what happens now?”

  “I haven’t quite decided,” Bailey confessed. “Seeing you like this… talking to a ghost… I’m beginning to think that’s punishment enough.”

  “I haven’t committed any crime,” Harini said. “I don’t understand why you wanna be authors don’t get that there are only a few plots in this world. We can both have the same idea but come up with different stories.”

  “It is astounding that you actually believe this is okay,” Bailey said. “It’s one thing to come up with a similar concept but you steal from other writers. Then you threaten to expose their secrets to keep them from putting you on blast. You want them to believe that you have power—that you can ruin careers, but in reality, you’re powerless. You are nothing more than an insecure woman who is slowly losing her mind.”

  Harini glanced over at Pip. “You’re not gonna say anything? You’re just
going to let her talk to me like this?”

  He gave a slight shrug. “It’s time you heard the truth, sis.”

  “I feel sorry for you.” Bailey switched her purse from one side to the other. “I pray one day you’ll get the help you so desperately need.” She paused a moment before continuing. “I could go public with what I know and ruin your life, but then I’d be no better than you. I don’t want to leave behind a legacy of poison—there are already too many poison pens in this world. It’s a shame that people like you aren’t smart enough to recognize that there is room for all of us in this industry. It’s sad that you don’t have enough faith in your own writing.”

  An evil grin spread across Harini’s face. “I want you to take me to court. Just do it. I’ll be here long after everyone forgets about you,” she responded. “You’re gifted, but you’re weak—that’s why you won’t last in this business. I will always be better than you.”

  Bailey laughed. “I’ll believe that when you come up with an actual story idea on your own—not something you’ve stolen from someone else. Be original for once… be organic…”

  “Where are my brother’s manuscripts? That stuff belongs to me. I can have you charged with theft.”

  “Don’t tell her,” Pip said.

  “Stay out of this,” Harini warned her brother.

  “They’re in a safe place,” Bailey responded as if she’d heard him. “From this point forward, you should either retire or find a way to come up with your own storylines. Make an announcement that you are no longer mentoring other writers—you can say that you need to focus on your own work.”

  “Bravo…,” Pip said. “If I were you, I’d do what she suggests, sis.”

  Harini glared at her brother, before turning to face Bailey. “When I get through with you, nobody will ever—”

  She interrupted Harini by saying, “If I hear of you hurting another author, I promise I’ll make sure the world knows that your first two books were written by Randy. This ends now. One more thing, Harini,” Bailey said. “I forgive you for everything you’ve done to me. Hopefully one day you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

  “Humph… I sleep every night,” she retorted.

  “But you live with a ghost every day. I’ve said everything I needed to say. And I mean every word of it. Do as I asked or face the consequences.”

  Bailey glanced down at the grave and whispered, “Rest in Heaven, Randy. From everything I’ve read and heard about you—you were too good for this world.”

  She turned to leave.

  Without looking back, Bailey said, “Goodbye Harini.”

  Chapter 27

  “That spiteful little witch think she’s gotten the best of me,” Harini huffed. She bent down to pick up a nearby rock lying in front of a crumbling headstone. “I’m going to beat her brains out.”

  “Don’t do it, sis,” Pip warned.

  “I want those manuscripts. I’m not gonna let Bailey hold anything over my head. If I have to involve the police to get them—I will.”

  Harini was practically running now along the cracked cement pathway, trying to catch up with Bailey. “No one is gonna blackmail me.”

  Not paying attention to where she was walking, Harini tripped over a large discolored stone and was unable to break her fall.

  On the way down, she struck her head on a tombstone. A piece of broken glass cutting a deep gash, severing the Jugular vein.

  Blackness surrounded her.

  When she opened her eyes, Harini found Pip beside her, her hand in his. “I can feel your touch,” she murmured as she sat up.

  Harini touched her forehead. “I fell.”

  Pip nodded. “You did. You were going after Bailey.”

  She rose to her feet. “I’ve got to stop her.”

  “Sis, it’s too late.”

  “No, I need to get those manuscripts from her. Pip, you know they belong to me.”

  Harini suddenly felt strange… like she was a bit disoriented. It was then she noticed the woman lying on the ground, blood seeping from the ugly gash on her forehead. “That’s me,” she murmured.

  “It was a bad fall.”

  “I’m…” Stunned, Harini shook her head in denial. “Nooo…”

  “Sis, you’re dead. Like me.”

  “But, I don’t want to be—there was still so much I wanted to do with my life.” Harini glanced around. “That’s why I could feel your touch.”

  She looked at him. “You didn’t leave me…”

  Harini thought back to the day her brother died. He’d only been home from the hospital a few hours. She wanted to try and make him understand why she’d submitted his work as her own—how badly she needed to be published—it had been her dream. He wanted nothing to do with her. Pip refused to talk to her.

  “You’re thinking about that day.”

  “Pip, I just wanted to talk, but you were so mean to me. You said you were going to tell our parents what I’d done. I ran off when you collapsed. I wanted to save you, but I panicked.”

  “We see that day differently,” he responded. “What I remember is that you wanted to save yourself more. You just stood there and watched me die. You didn’t call out for the nurse… I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me dead.”

  “I just wanted to be number one, Pip.”

  The October weather was cool, and the wind was howling, the eerie sound bouncing off the tombstones, some centuries old, and others like the one nearby, erected a few days ago.

  All around, fearless magnolia trees stood sentry over the graves as the wind whistled through fresh cut grass.

  Across the grounds a stream of cars including a black hearse were parked at the curb, while black-clad mourners sat beneath a tent to say final goodbyes. Some of them could be heard crying while one after the other laid flowers atop the coffin.

  The headstone closest to them felt cold to the touch.

  Harini felt a whoosh of air penetrate her body. “I never thought we would end up here in such a cold, dark place.”

  This would now become her eternal home.

  “How could you let this happen?” she asked Pip.

  “This is all your fault. You just had to seek revenge. Why couldn’t you just do the right thing for once?”

  Harini responded, “I couldn’t let her win.”

  “Look around you. We’re in a cemetery. You call this winning?”

  “What did you expect me to do?”

  “To become a better person. After everything that’s happened, you haven’t learned anything. Now it’s too late.”

  “What do you mean that it’s too late?”

  Silence.

  “Tell me,” Harini insisted.

  “You’re dead, sis. There are no do overs. No more chances to do right by people. My life ended, but I was determined to make sure my death, though tragic, had a greater purpose. To get you to make better choices in your life.”

  “So, what happens next?” Harini asked.

  “Judgement Day,” Pip answered before fading from view.

  “Wow, I can’t believe it,” Bailey murmured as they walked out of the church. “Harini Samuels is dead.”

  “C’mon, you can tell me,” Kaile said in a low whisper. “Did you kill her? They found her in the cemetery. That’s where you confronted her, right?”

  “I never touched her,” Bailey responded with a chuckle. “I promise. I have no idea what happened after I left. Who knows? Maybe Pip did it.”

  They laughed.

  “The flowers Lanelle sent were beautiful,” Kaile said. “I can understand why she didn’t want to come to the funeral. She has no love for Harini.”

  “I don’t either,” Bailey confessed. “But I felt I needed to come pay my respects.”

  “Well, I hate that she died. As far as I’m concerned, she got off way too easy.” Kaile glanced over at the black hearse that would transport Harini’s coffin to the cemetery.

  “You really think so?” Bailey asked. “Her life
has ended. Harini lived for the very attention that her death is receiving. It would’ve made her day to hear the words of adoration from her fans across the country. Her book sales are probably going to jump—everything that she’s always wanted. But eventually, Harini’s books will disappear from the shelves and she will become a distant memory. To her, that would be a fate worse than death.”

  “You’re probably right,” Kaile agreed. “One thing for sure… she would’ve loved her funeral. Her agent certainly did right by her. I heard that Harini’s money will go to the American Heart Foundation in honor of her brother.”

  “That’s a very generous gesture. I’m sure Pip would be pleased.”

  “Despite everything that she did—I really hope she and Pip can now rest in peace,” Kaile said. “Before Harini showed me who she really was—I thought she was smart and so beautiful. I had no idea that she needed help mentally.”

  “There’s no way you really could’ve known,” Trace interjected. “People with narcissistic personality disorder don’t cogitate that anything is wrong with them, so they’re generally not going to seek treatment.”

  A fierce wind came through, chilling the air and whipping around them.

  Kaile stopped in her tracks. “I’m not one for believing in ghosts, but do you think… ‘cause I can’t have this woman haunting me.”

  Bailey and Trace looked at one another, then burst into laughter.

  “It’s just windy out here,” she reassured Kaile. “Are you going to the cemetery?”

  “Yes. I want to make sure she’s buried. I want to watch them throw the dirt into that hole.”

  “Trace and I need to head to the airport. Our flight leaves in a couple of hours.” Bailey gave Kaile a hug. “It’s always good seeing you.”

  Later in the rental vehicle, Bailey asked, “Trace, do you believe that Harini could really see her brother—in the same way I’m looking right at you?”

  “I believe that a spirit’s connection with the living provides a certain solace—it can ease the pain of the loss for some people.”