“AH, HA!” I SAID AS I dragged Lucas outside into the muggy air.
“What ‘ah ha’?” He asked in genuine confusion. I got it. He’d been too busy flirting with Greta to notice what I had noticed.
“Did you hear what Greta just said? How different that last book is? That if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Natasha didn’t write it?”
“But Greta claims Natasha did write it. That she saw her working on it.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, “there is that. But she had a funny look on her face when she said it. What if Natasha was faking? It would be easy enough to copy and paste a block of text, then add a few words when the assistant walks in, so it looks like you’re writing.”
“But from where would she have got the manuscript?” he asked.
I frowned, nibbling on my thumbnail. “That’s where I’m stumped.”
“Anyway, I think you can strike Greta off the short list. She seemed surprisingly happy working for Natasha despite everything.”
He was right. Greta had clearly been so grateful for the work, she hadn’t minded Natasha’s abuse. In fact, she’d gushed over the woman. Unless she was the world’s greatest actress, she was telling the truth. After all, she’d been honest about Natasha’s work. But what if she’d found out the truth about the new manuscript? Whatever truth that was.
Still, I couldn’t imagine Greta plunging a dagger into Natasha’s back. Kitchen knife. Whatever. Point was, I wasn’t sure she was strong enough. Plus she was a lot shorter than Natasha. Not that I’m an expert or anything, but the angle of the knife suggested someone closer to Natasha’s height.
“Okay, so Greta is off the list, but I still want to know who wrote that book. If it’s as meaningful as Greta says, there is no way Natasha wrote it. She had to have stolen it from someone, and I’m pretty sure Greta knows it.”
“Couldn’t Natasha have had hidden depths you just don’t know about? A secret yearning to write something deep.”
I snorted with laughter. “Natasha? I take it you never met the woman.”
“Only at the party.”
“Well, let me assure you, I’ve known Natasha a long time. The woman was about as shallow as they come.”
“Are you certain? After all, most people are multi-faceted. There could be more to her than you know.”
I glared at him. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
He smiled. “The side of truth.”
I sighed. He had to go and be all noble. “All right. I get it. I’m being judgy. But seriously, Natasha once told me something that has always stuck.”
“What’s that?”
“That she would do anything, even sell her own mother, to stay on top.”
He gave me a look. “Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”
“I wish. You see, I made the mistake of asking her how she did it. Wrote so many books that readers love. You know what she said? She said that readers were intrinsically dumb and that if you just spoon-feed them what they want over and over, they’ll eat it up. That she basically didn’t give a fig for the craft or even about telling a good story, but rather cranking out more of the same. She said if she did that, she’d always be on top.”
“I take it you don’t feel the same,” he said.
“Good grief, no. I can’t speak for anyone else, but my readers are smart, savvy people. They’re intelligent and educated. If I’m not keeping it fresh, they let me know. If I screw up the historical facts, they let me know. And I appreciate that. Keeps me honest and on my toes.”
He nodded. “I get it. I have many readers like that. I once used the wrong caliber weapon, and believe me, I got lots of nasty emails educating me on my mistake.” He laughed, clearly unoffended by any rudeness. “I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “You and I care about our readers. We care about our work, but Natasha cared only about winning. She wasn’t the sort of person who would take a risk and write something so different from her usual trope.”
“How are we sure it’s that different?”
“Trust me, if it made someone cry, it’s different,” I said dryly.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Maybe if I could get my hands on a copy, I could figure out who actually wrote it,” I mused. “Then maybe we’ll have a new suspect.”
The devilish grin flashed across his darkly handsome face. “Leave it to me.”
“What? You got some special super powers I don’t know about?”
Laughter was his only answer.
Chapter 17
Ghosts of the Past
“VIOLA ROBERTS!” A STRIDENT voice boomed across the lobby. Startled, I glanced up from my tete-a-tete with Lucas to find Maggie and Lu striding toward us.
“Ladies,” Lucas said with his usual suavity.
“Good. Caught you,” boomed Maggie, ignoring Lucas completely.
“How can I help you ladies?” I asked.
Lu beamed at me, but said nothing. Maggie continued at the top of her voice. “Party. Tonight. All the best people. Be there.” She shoved a handwritten note in my hand. There was an address and time. Nothing more. “Bring that skinny friend of yours.”
I frowned. “Cheryl?”
“Yep. Funny girl, that. Like her immensely.”
“Sounds fun,” I agreed. “We’ll be there.”
“And bring that one.” She stabbed a finger in Lucas’s direction.
“Ah, sure,” I agreed.
The two older women started to turn away when Lu suddenly turned back. “I think you might find this of interest,” she said in a soft Southern drawl. I stared at her in surprise. I was pretty sure this was the first time I’d heard her speak.
“Um, what?” I asked.
“I just overheard two of the maids talking about the dead girl.”
“Natasha?”
“No.” Lu shook her head. “The other one.”
“Andrea? The girl from
