Bell, Book, and Scandal

Another crew of wait staff was taking away the food that was left on the serving tables, and leaving only the drinks.

At the head table, which had been empty during the meal, half a dozen people started assembling. The room became quiet and a short woman took the podium and fiddled with the microphone, finally forcing it down far enough to be heard.

'I hope all of you have enjoyed this conference as much as we have.' She went on to call on all

the committee heads to stand up and be introduced and applauded. Then she introduced herself and the rest of the people at the head table.

'These are our judges in the various categories of costumes. Now line up in like groups, you clever impostors,' she instructed cheerfully.

While those who were in costumes straggled into line on the right side of the head table, the speaker went on, 'We have no real rules, understand. It's all personal opinion. In each group of the same characters, whoever we vote the best representation will win a twenty-dollar gift certificate to next year's conference. Those who are in a category by themselves will receive a five-dollar gift certificate to be redeemed by one of the wonderful bookstore owners who served us all so well over the last few days.'

The parade began with the butlers walking one at a time before the judges. Some bowed. Some said, in fake British accents, 'Would master like a glass of port?' They were all hams.

Next were the maids, then the Poirots, the Miss Marples, the three Conan Doyles, the Sherlocks, the whole group of Baker Street Irregulars, and the assorted miscellaneous imitations who explained whom they represented. Corwin wasn't anywhere in the lineup, Jane noticed. She glanced around and saw him at the drinks table pouring a soft drink, then winding his way to the table where Sophie sat in solitary splendor. She looked unusually grumpy.

Twenty-nine

'Let's just sit here for a bit and finish our coffee,' Jane said. 'The elevators will be mobbed.'

She turned slightly to make sure Sophie was doing the same thing. Corwin had tossed his Frankenstein face in the trash and discarded the oversized paper coat he'd worn. He was changing his shoes when Sophie spoke to him harshly. Jane couldn't hear the words. Sophie's expression told her.

As Corwin rose, Jane said, 'I've changed my mind. This coffee is cold and icky. Let's go.'

Shelley raised an eyebrow and asked, 'Why are you so fidgety?'

'I've had another Frederic Remington moment. The little bell that kept dinging in the back of my head finally spit it out. Come on. We want to be on the right elevator.'

Shelley sighed and took a last sip of her coffee and followed Jane. As they crossed the lobby briskly, Shelley said, 'Tell me what this is about.'

'No time. And I don't want to rehearse it.'

They forced themselves into a crowded elevator and stepped out on their floor. Jane dawdled, pretending to be searching her purse for the room key. Then she suddenly said, 'I found it,' holding up the key. Shelley showed her that she'd had her own key in her hand the entire time.

Corwin had stepped into Sophie's suite and propped the door open to carry out his and Sophie's luggage. Jane stopped just before they reached the door and peeked in the room. There was no sign of Corwin. He was probably in the bathroom washing off the smell of the rubber mask. She stepped inside, all but dragging Shelley behind her. Removing the doorstop and quietly closing the door, she gestured at the sofa and whispered, 'Let's sit down.'

'I don't think this is a good idea,' Shelley said in a slightly shaky voice.

'We're in no danger. I have the upper hand,' Jane replied.

Corwin returned with his suitcase and was stunned to see them. 'What are you two doing here? Get out!'

'You have a choice to make. Let me have my say or I'll follow you down and ask you a few questions in Sophie Smith's presence,' Jane said. 'Which will it be?'

Corwin slammed down the suitcase on a chair and said, 'Then proceed with it. Sophie's waiting for me.'

Jane asked in a bland voice, 'When we were allin this room, and Sophie told you to call the Strausmanns and tell them to come up here, you asked them on the phone if they remembered the room number.'

'Did I? So what?'

'Had they been here before?'

'Only briefly. The morning Ms. Smith came back from the hospital,' he said.

'Shelley, would you go downstairs and ask Ms. Smith if that's true, if you wouldn't mind?'

'No!' Corwin said, turning pale. 'Sophie had invited them to come up for a drink after the dessert party, and, of course, Sophie was in the hospital by that time. They caught up with me at the party and begged to come up for a drink anyway. I didn't see any harm in it.'

'I understand,' Jane said, still in a calm but firm voice. 'It was a good way to confront them with the fact that they'd stolen Sophie's copy of Zac's book, right?'

'It never crossed my mind to say that. I have no idea where the book went. Ms. Smith probably just threw it away.'

'Shelley, I think that's another thing you might want to ask Ms. Smith.'

'No!' Corwin said in an angrier voice than last time. 'Get out of here, you nosy bitches.' He picked his suitcase back up and headed for Sophie's room to fetch her luggage.

Jane didn't move. She said, barely loud enough for him to hear from the next room, 'I'll tell you

what really happened. Or I'll follow you down and tell you in front of Sophie Smith if that's what you prefer.'

Corwin strolled back into the room, having regained his wits. 'What happens next if I agree to listen?'

'Absolutely nothing,' Jane said with what she hoped was a cheerful smile. 'You'll leave this room with the luggage and cope with what you've done all by yourself. And my guess is that you didn't invite them up after the dessert party. You invited them while Ms. Smith was out shopping that first morning to set up both the poisoned chocolates and the theft of Zac's book.'

He thought a moment, then slumped into the sofa opposite them, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up, he said, 'I despise Sophie. She treats me like a dog on a leash and won't let go of me.'

'We know that,' Shelley put in, since it finally seemed to be going well for Jane.

'I received Vernetta's manuscript and it was so awful I couldn't believe it found its way past the first reader,' Corwin said. 'But something about the early part caught my attention. Way back when I was a lowly copy editor, I'd been forced to edit Zac's book, and a couple of especially bad phrases seemed familiar.'

'That's how I found it, too, sort of,' Shelley said.

Jane nudged her slightly so as to give her the hint to not interrupt Corwin's train of thought now that he'd decided to confess.

He went on, 'I thought it was a way to escape from Sophie without her being able to convince anyone else in the business that I was a horrible employee. That's what she'd have done to me for certain if I'd quit.'

Both Jane and Shelley nodded agreement.

'The stroke of luck was that Sophie didn't read it. She said it was too long and she was too busy,' Corwin went on. 'She glanced through it for about two minutes and suggested I ask the guy who owns the publishing company how he felt about it. She thought he'd be flattered that the great Sophie Smith asked his opinion. And he was flattered. Of course, he'd probably never read anything except corporate reports, so