Bell, Book, and Scandal

come with us. He said the medical people don't think Zac's in big trouble.'

'Let's book the reservation, if we can, and go back down to the lobby to see if anyone knows more about this. Better yet, we can ask the concierge to make the reservation for us. They always have more clout.'

Twelve

Mel was able to join them for dinner. 'Nice place,' he said when the waiter had shown him to their table.

'The last time I was here, I was lame, tired, and frustrated,' Jane said. 'The dinner really perked me up. What have you learned about Zac? And what is his real name?'

'Harold Spotswood. He was still unconscious last time I checked. But the doctors don't seem terribly alarmed. They've put him through all their machines. There's a hairline fracture, they said, but no pooling of blood or clotting in his brain. He appears to have just needed a good long nap, as I understand it.'

Shelley studied her menu, not liking this sort of talk when she was about to eat. 'Anything else you know about him?' she asked, hoping to escape from more medical talk.

'Just one weird thing. He was clutching a page from what appeared to be a very old paperback book,' Mel said. 'An old page with slightly yel-

low edges. What was his connection with this conference?'

'He's a book reviewer,' Jane said. 'Not at all a well-respected one. And a macho pig who only likes extremely hard-boiled books written by men.'

'If he sticks with that, who's to care?' Mel asked.

'It's just that he also claims to read dozens of books a day,' Jane said. 'Our friend Felicity was telling us about him. He obviously doesn't read past the first few pages and makes enormous mistakes. He also takes potshots at women mystery writers. Felicity said he calls any mystery written by a woman a 'powder puff' book.'

'I noticed when I went through the lobby that most of the people wearing those badges you had on were women,' Mel said. 'So why was he even invited to the conference?'

'Felicity says he goes to lots of mystery conferences blowing his own horn. It may be that some authors like him, even if he gets his facts wrong,' Shelley explained. 'After all, most people in the arts think any publicity is good publicity. Felicity also suggested that the planners thought a little conflict might be a good thing. I think I'll have the crab Louis salad.'

She looked up and said, 'Jane, you haven't even looked at your menu.'

'I was thinking about that page from a book. Was he found in his car, Mel?'

'It looked as if he'd parked his van, turned off the ignition, and released his seat belt, and someone jerked open the door, bopped him on the back of the head, and threw him to the ground. The driver's-side door was standing open. We might be wrong about this though. It's just an initial impression. Why do you ask?'

'So it's possible he was reading some page of the book before coming back into the hotel? He might have clutched the page and accidentally ripped it out, right?'

'Possibly. Why does this interest you?'

'Yesterday he slipped up next to this very important editor and gave her a paperback book and whispered something to her. The editor looked startled. But she just handed it off to her assistant and dismissed Zac with a curt nod.'

Shelley said, 'Jane, I think he was probably just trying to put one of his old books into her hands to see if she'd republish it. Felicity told us he used to be a novel writer,' she explained to Mel.

'What did he write?' Mel asked.

Both women shrugged. Jane said, 'We don't know. We don't even know what name he used or what kind of novels they were. Felicity might know.'

'Hmm,' Mel said. Putting down the menu, he added, 'I think I'll have the same thing Shelley's having. All I had at lunch was a greasy grilled cheese sandwich and a can of warm Dr Pepper. Crab Louis would erase the memory.'

'Don't you want to talk to Felicity about Zac?' Jane asked.

'I may. But it's not my case. Give me her name when we return to the hotel and I'll pass it along to the guy in charge of it.'

Shelley asked, 'Was Zac robbed?'

'Apparently not,' Mel said. 'That's how we knew his name. He still had his wallet with lots of cash in it. Nobody even snatched the gold chains off his neck.'

'Was the rest of the book in the van?' Jane said.

'I didn't look. Someone else might know.'

The waiter was hovering impatiently. Mel and Shelley ordered their salads and Jane ordered grilled red snapper. Over dinner Jane gave Mel a short overview of people she'd met, the interviews, and which classes were interesting.

'Tomorrow the direction shifts,' Shelley said. 'Today was all writers, editors, and agents giving opinions. Tomorrow it's special presentations. Some touchy-feely stuff about getting in touch with your muse,' she said with a disgusted shudder. 'Also something called 'The Scene of the Crime'—that's probably what you're taking over, right?'

'Yup. I'm doing that and then later the forensic talk,' Mel said. 'What else goes on tomorrow?'

'Some off-the-premises trips,' Jane said. 'Volunteers are taking some people to the Field Museum, of course. Others are taking attendees to a botanical garden that has an expert on poisonousplants. There's also a class somewhere else about guns. What kinds, how to shoot with them.'

Mel smiled at the image of all those women, most of them middle-aged, being carted off to learn how to kill people in their books.

'Why are you smirking?' Jane asked.

'No reason. I was just thinking of a joke someone made at the office this morning,' he lied. 'Not appropriate for delicate ears.'

When they returned to the hotel, Jane had a message from Melody Johnson, the editor who had been encouraging.

'I've looked over your sample chapters and outline and would like to meet with you tomorrow. How does nine-thirty in the morning sound? Give me a call at room 602 to confirm.'

Jane looked at her watch. It was nine thirty-seven. Probably that wasn't too late to call. Melody was presumably still out to dinner with her authors. Jane left a message confirming the time and asked where they should meet.

Mel had come up to see the suite and Shelley was showing him around while Jane was listening to and returning the phone message.

She found the two of them in Shelley's bathroom, Mel with his shoes off, testing the heated floor.

'Neat news,' Jane said. 'The editor wants to meet with me in the morning. I must make some notes about what I'd like to change about the plot

to make it more of a mystery and about how I'd like to tone down some of the description of the house. What time are you speaking, Mel?'

'One o'clock,' he said, putting his shoes back on.

'We'll be there to hear you,' Jane said.