by Winnie Reed
“It was nothing.” Before he could hurry away, I asked one last question. “Did he have anything against Deidre that you’re aware of?”
He went stock still. “Deidre? Why in the world would he have a problem with her?”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine where he got the idea Georgia was plagiarizing, much less anything else. But he was staring at her like she did something awful to him. Like he wanted to kill her.”
Brian touched a finger to his lips, his eyes wide. “Don’t say things like that. The walls might have ears. I wouldn’t want anyone to think the deceased held anything against Deidre. Or Georgia, for that matter. It’s my duty to protect my clients.”
“I understand.” Granted, he hadn’t done much good so far. He let Georgia get harassed up and down, and the guy who did it might’ve attacked Deidre if given the chance.
I had to wonder if there were any other authors at the conference who’d been harassed by him before he took his final plunge.
I clearly had more research to do.
But where to start? What was I supposed to do, ask everybody I came across whether a tall, lanky guy with bad breath had harassed them on Thursday evening? It would take weeks.
No wonder Joe was so overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine how a person even began work like that. Much less how they could ever come to a conclusion. The thought of calling my father crossed my mind, but I’d only have to rehash the entire story and listen to him warning me to be careful.
Like I hadn’t heard that a hundred times already. At least, it felt that way.
Instead, I texted Joe for advice. He’d be in his office by now, at least I guessed he would. With the mood he was in, he wouldn’t want to waste time anywhere else.
And he would see it as a waste. I knew he would. It was a miracle he took the time to have breakfast with me that morning.
I learned a few things. Get back to me when you have a chance. Maybe this would make his life easier. I hoped so, anyway.
A pair of pink pigtails caught my eye when I wandered out of the ballroom. If anybody would know whether something was up, she would. She’d hopped all around the room during breakfast, and I’d noticed her a few times since then. Always, she was with different group of people.
A social butterfly with a penchant for gossip was exactly what I needed.
A quick look at her name badge told me her name was Nika, and she was a fiction writer. So many people had badges just like hers. Was she thinking about writing something inspired by this, the way Gwen and so many others were?
I caught up to her while she pulled a bottle of water from a table set up in the hall. “Nika, right? We met yesterday while we were in line at breakfast.”
She looked confused, which didn’t come as a big surprise. She’d met just as many people as I had, if not more. “Oh, sure,” she smiled. “How’s it going?”
“Pretty well. Um, I was wondering.” I trotted alongside her, trying to keep up. She had a quick stride and was probably in a hurry to get to the next session. “Did you hear about any other people being harassed while they were here? Any creeps or stalkers roaming around?”
That slowed her down. “Hmm. Just the one author. That was it, I think. People wanna talk about seeing the guy, noticing him around, all that. But you gotta be careful. You can’t believe everybody.”
“Yes, that’s true. Some people like to make everything about themselves, even if they don’t mean to.”
“Right. What I did hear from everybody who said they saw him was that he seemed… off. Strange. Not the guy they wanted to spend time with. More like the guy they wanted to avoid.”
“Yeah. I can imagine that.” We came to a pause in front of a conference room, and Nika glanced inside. “I guess this is your stop.”
“Are you in this session?” she asked. “We can sit together.”
Right. I was supposed to be at this conference to learn things. “No, I scheduled a little time for myself today. Enjoy. And thanks for chatting with me.” She bounced away, and I couldn’t help but be just a little envious.
Imagine having nothing more pressing to consider than the next session. It was almost enough to make me wish I hadn’t been in line with Georgia, that I hadn’t gone down to the pool when I did. I might be able to enjoy myself now.
Was that selfish? I couldn’t decide.
What I could decide on was going back to my room to look further into the mystery of Lawrence Miller. There had to be answers somewhere.
As I wandered back to the bank of elevators, which always seemed to have a group of people waiting in front of them—no need to hurry, since I wouldn’t be getting on a car anytime soon—I worried about the conference being a waste of time. Would Marsha be angry when she found out I hadn’t learned anything or met that many people?
Maybe in all my research, I could research the recorded presentations to at least have learned something.
Maybe ordering an array of desserts to the room before noon wouldn’t be out of the question. When all else failed, dessert was generally my pick-me-up.
Once I made the ponderous trip up to my floor—seriously, the hotel was nice but it wasn’t built for so many people to be in transit all at once—I sighed in relief at the sight of a long, cool, empty hall. How was it possible to be so bone-tired, so early in the day? My feet were lead as I dragged myself to my room. The sight of my door was a welcome one, a haven in the middle of so much madness.
Only when I’d already stepped foot over the threshold did I notice the slip of paper somebody had slid underneath.
I could just imagine what it would say once I unfolded it. Emma, your mother called and wants to be sure you put on clean underwear this morning. The thought of how absurd that would be had me chuckling as I opened the message.
STAY OUT OF THIS
Good thing there was a bed nearby, since my legs went out on me. I plopped down on it, eyes glue to those block letters written on hotel stationery.
Somebody knew I was digging.
Somebody didn’t like it.
Chapter Eighteen
You’re a talentless hack who doesn’t deserve to call herself a writer.
“Ouch,” I muttered, wincing.
Nowadays, anybody with a laptop and access to a graphics program can write a piece of slop, slap a cover on it and call it a book.
Jeez.
Agents are all man haters. If you’re not a woman, writing the sort of junk women want to read, they don’t bother giving you the time of day. Those of us who they consider unfortunate enough to be born with a—
I couldn’t keep reading.
That was just one of BookLover69’s many diatribes against the publishing industry, agents, writers. If Lawrence Miller were still alive, I’d have to ask why he’d bothered trying to become a published author when he hated the industry so much.
It was sour grapes, was all. He hated an industry that had no place for him. At least, he hadn’t found his place. Whatever that place happened to be. I still hadn’t found any evidence of his actual writing aside from the nasty bits he’d posted over and over again.
What would it be like, always having an axe to grind? Always angry, thinking the world was him? He wasn’t the only person who ever felt that way, of course. But he was the only one whose dead body I’d come across.
The only one who I still wasn’t completely convinced Georgia hadn’t accidentally killed.
I had to talk to somebody. It was around five in Rome. Maybe Raina would be able to chat. It was worth a shot, anyway.
“Who died this time?” She was grinning from ear to ear when she answered my face chat.
“Hilarious.” I smiled. It was good to see her. She knew me. I didn’t have to be anybody else, there was no awkward social stuff to get out of the way. I relaxed for the first time all day.
No. Not the first time. I was relaxed with Joe, too.
“So? What’s going on?” My best friend stretched languidly. She was on a lounge ch
air by a pool, the lucky duck, and her perfectly golden skin was evidence of many such days spent in the Italian sunshine. “Everything going okay?”
“Not really,” I confessed. “The case is going nowhere. Joe’s at the point where he wants to give up, call it an unsolved homicide and move on to a case that doesn’t involve hundreds of potential suspects and a victim with no family or social connections he’s aware of.”
“Wow. That does sound frustrating.”
“I just want to help him, you know? He’s so stressed.”
“You can’t help everybody. First, you wanted to help Georgia. Now, it’s Joe. Who’s next?”
“I don’t know.”
“The answer should be you. You should be next.”
“You’re awfully full of yourself today. Something good happen?” I needed to change the subject for a second. Her mood had to be the result of good things.
She tried not to smile, but her smile insisted on making itself known. “Hmm, maybe.”
“Maybe? Did Paolo have anything to do with it?”
“Nah. Forget him. I did get a call from Nate, though.”
I sat up straighter. “Nate Patterson?”
“Who else?” She giggled, which went a long way toward lightening my heart. “He said he’s had time to think things over, and maybe he spoke too soon when he said he didn’t have time for a relationship right now. We have dinner plans later this week, after I get home.”
I flat-out squealed. “That’s awesome! I knew he’d come around. There was no other way, with the chemistry between you two.”
“He asked about you, too,” she added, very generous. “I told him you were managing to keep yourself out of trouble, but just barely. He was glad to know you have Joe there with you, if you need help.”
“Joe’s the one who needs help,” I reminded her, my heart sinking again. “Meanwhile, Trixie and Nell are determined to spread rumors about us having something going on. No big surprise there.”
“Knowing the two of them? Nope. No big surprise.” Her grin widened, and I very much got the impression she was glad not to be in my shoes. “You know, it could be worse.”
“How?”
“Come on, Em. He’s hot. He’s a good guy. You could have your name tied to worse people.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right. But it still makes me uncomfortable. I’ve spent my whole life trying to avoid Mom’s gossip—spread by those two,” I added.
Raina sat up in her chair, and she wasn’t grinning anymore. “You’re in a bad mood. You’re cranky and tired and overwhelmed. You don’t usually sound so negative. I mean, yeah, they’re enough to drive a person nuts, but there’s a lot of love there. Their hearts are in the right place.”
I looked to my laptop, still open. The screen had gone dark. “I’ve spent a lot of time reading some pretty dark stuff. It has me in a bad frame of mind.”
“Dark stuff? New books?”
“No. I wish it was that easy.” I filled her in on what I’d been exploring. “It’s nasty and vile. I guess there’s only so much of that sort of thing a person can read before it starts affecting them.”
“Stop reading it, then. Do yourself a favor.”
“I wanted to get an idea of how many other people this guy might’ve been harassing. It seems like nobody was off limits. But Georgia was somebody he had a particular problem with. He called her a plagiarizer, though I still haven’t found any posts where he did so. That might’ve been a private thing. Something he only accused her of when he left voicemails or private messages.”
“Could be. I wonder who he thought she was plagiarizing.”
“I’d like to know that, too. Nell’s a big reader, goodness knows. I might ask her to read Georgia’s book and see if it’s similar to anybody else.”
“That’s a great idea! If anybody would know, I’d pick either her or Darcy.”
“It’s a shame Darce isn’t carrying Georgia’s book. At least, not that I’m aware of. I wouldn’t have noticed it before.”
“Give her a call. Having two people on the case is bound to be better than one.”
“Makes sense. Though I already have her watching Lola, and I wouldn’t want her considering charging for her services.”
She giggled. “Tell her you’ll pay in lemon bars.”
“Like she couldn’t go next door and swipe some from the kitchen. Gosh, I could use some of them now. With extra powdered sugar.” I could almost taste them if I closed my eyes and focused. Meditation had never held much appeal for me, but thinking about my favorite baked goods tended to center me.
“I ate gelato yesterday that would’ve made you weep. I almost did, honestly.”
I groaned. “Don’t make me jealous. Please.”
“Then you don’t wanna hear about the cacio e pepe I had for lunch. The clouds parted and angels sang.”
“Are you gonna be able to fly home in the same clothes you flew out in, eating that way?” I winked.
“Hilarious. We don’t all have your metabolism, but you don’t need to rub it in.”
“Some of us are in Paradise City while you’re literally in paradise, so who’s telling who about not rubbing things in?”
“Okay, that’s fair. But I’ll be back soon. And we’ll get together. I’m thinking you’re the one who needs the girl’s night now.”
“I think you’re right.” I then remembered why I’d called in the first place. “Let me ask you something. How bad would things have to get for you to kill somebody? Even accidentally.”
“That took a dark turn.”
“I mean it. What would you have to be pushed to?”
She blew out a long sigh through pursed lips and stared beyond the phone’s screen. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her glasses, but I knew she was giving real thought to the question. “Besides self-defense? I mean, that’s the first thing that goes through my head. I’d want to defend myself, clearly.”
“Sure. Okay. What about other circumstances? What would you have to be in danger of losing besides your life?”
She frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t imagine killing anybody for anything less than my life.”
“Yeah, but think about it this way: you’re not thinking about it; you’re reacting to what this person is doing or saying. Or threatening.”
“If I had a secret—a really serious, secret sort of secret—I might lash out. If I really wanted them to shut up forever. If they threatened something that meant a lot to me. My family. It would have to be really important, no matter what.”
“Right. Same here. Mom, Darcy. Dad. You.”
“Aww,” she whispered. “I’d kill for you, too.”
“So sweet. Oh, and Lola, too. For sure. Anybody who’d hurt or threaten a little dog isn’t worth the air they breathe.”
“Amen to that.”
“But otherwise?” I stretched out on the bed. “Yeah. It would have to be something that would ruin my life.”
“Like… being called a plagiarist?” she murmured with a wince.
“I still can’t believe that. That’s not murder worthy. If I shut this guy’s mouth forever, who’s to say three more people won’t pop up in his place? It would never end.”
“You wouldn’t be thinking clearly, remember. You’d be reacting. Only after you pushed him or whatever happens would you think oh, snap, I just killed a guy for no reason.”
“Right.” I covered my eyes with my hand. I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at me. Even with her sunglasses and thousands of miles between us, there was no avoiding her pointed stare.
“She could easily have done it. She probably regrets it like crazy now, anybody with a conscience would.”
“I know. I know. I wish I didn’t, but I do.” I lowered my hand. “There’s something else I haven’t told you about yet.”
“Oh, gosh. You’re worse than a soap opera with all these twists and turns. What is it?”
“I got a note.”
“I note?”
I nodded, eyes falling on the slip of paper which currently sat on my desk. “A note, slipped under my door. Telling me to stay out of this.”
“From who?”
“Gee, Raina, they didn’t sign it.”
“Of course, right, duh.” She huffed. “You need to listen. That was a warning. They won’t be so nice next time. They know which room you’re in, for Pete’s sake! Girl, if I were you, I’d go home.”
“I can’t go home. Not when Marsha paid for this. The conference isn’t over. Besides…”
“Besides,” she finished for me with a scowl. “You don’t want to go home until you know how this ends. Well, guess what? It could end with a very desperate person doing something awful to keep you quiet. Do you understand? This is your welfare we’re talking about. Not some mystery. Not the reputation of a girl you hardly know.”
I barely recognized the absolute anger in her voice. “You’ve never talked to me like that before,” I observed in a quiet voice that sounded awfully small.
“I guess because I’ve never been so worried. There’s no reason for you to be so wrapped up in this case. Let it go. Give the note to Joe and go home.”
“Joe hasn’t gotten back to me since I texted him.”
“Text him again. Tell him you have something for him. Go to the station before swinging home. Please, Em. Do this for me.” There was a quiver of emotion in her voice by the time she finished.
“I’m not in any danger.”
“So you think.”
“So I know,” I insisted. “I think we’re both taking this too seriously. I’ll watch my step. I’ll give Joe the note, for sure. But I’m here for work. I can’t just leave.”
“Stubborn,” Raina grumbled.
“I know.” I checked the time on the nightstand clock. “Speaking of work, I should get downstairs. There’s a session I wanted to get to. I have to catch up on this whole networking thing.”
“Okay,” she shrugged. “I know I can’t convince you to do the smart thing.”