more facts before taking that shot. That was where Martin Kapstan came in.
Just Books was hands-down the best bookstore in Coral Gables, and Martin made it that way. The store itself was beautiful, an old Mediterranean-style building, perfectly restored, and plenty of book-filled rooms for browsing. With signings and readings virtually every night of the week, it would be difficult to name a national best-selling author in the last twenty years who hadn’t made an appearance there. But it was Martin who set the store apart. He’d started out as a high school teacher, and he’d never really lost that guiding touch. Every aspiring author in south Florida sought his advice, and somehow he always found time to give it. Some of them found success. All of them found a little hope. Kelsey figured that if anyone knew anything about Deirdre’s unpublished script, Martin was the guy.
“Damn, we should have come last night,” said Kelsey. She was checking out the event calender posted by the door. They’d just missed Isabelle Allende.
Kelsey had worked a summer at Just Books before Nate was born, before law school, before interning for Jack, before her sphere of knowledge had begun to shrink to the point where she felt as though she knew absolutely nothing about anything except what she happened to be working on at the moment. She seemed a little embarrassed by how long it had been since her last visit, but Martin greeted her with his usual gentle smile and soft-spoken manner. She introduced Jack, and the three of them stepped outside for coffee in the central courtyard. Martin and Kelsey spent a few minutes catching up, then Martin asked, “How long you two been dating?”
They both let out a nervous chuckle. Kelsey said, “Oh, we’re not-”
“No we’re not…we’re friends,” said Jack. “And of course we work together.”
“Oh. I just assumed from the way Kelsey gushed on the phone about-” Martin stopped in mid-sentence, as if someone had just flattened his big toe.
“About how crazy Nate is about Jack,” said Kelsey, her smile strained.
From the look on Martin’s face, it seemed as though he had something else on the tip of his tongue. “Right. I understand you and Nate are great buddies.”
“I’m his Big Brother.”
“That’s terrific.”
“Yeah, it’s been great.”
All three tasted their coffee, as if thankful for the silence. Then Martin said, “So, how can I help you?”
Jack asked, “Have you been following the newspaper stories about a very wealthy woman named Sally Fenning? She was shot to death downtown about two weeks ago.”
“I did read about that.”
“Kelsey and I represent one of the heirs to her estate.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that in our phone conversation.”
“It turns out that one of the other heirs was writing a book about Sally. She’s a reporter for the Tribune. Her name is Deirdre Meadows.”
“I’ve met Deirdre,” said Martin.
“You don’t happen to know anything about the book she wrote, do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
Kelsey smiled proudly, looked at Jack, and said, “Told you.”
Jack said, “I don’t want to intrude on anything she might have told you in confidence, but can you tell me anything about it?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve never read it. I offered to read it, but Deirdre didn’t feel comfortable sharing it.”
“Why not?”
“The way she explained it, her lawyer told her not to let anyone read it, except for her literary agent and any publishers they sent it to.”
“What was the fear? Someone stealing her ideas?”
“I think her real concern was a libel suit.”
Jack did a double take. “From Sally?”
Martin nodded. “As I understand it, she started out writing the book with Sally Fenning’s cooperation. About six months into it, Sally decided she didn’t like the angle Deirdre was plying. Actually, to say she didn’t like it is an understatement. She threatened to sue Deirdre for libel.”
“So her lawyer told her not to let anyone read it?” asked Kelsey.
Jack gave the lawyer’s answer. “She was probably trying to keep her legal exposure to a minimum. Obviously, if the only people who read the allegedly libelous material are a handful of potential publishers, Sally’s damages would be negligible.”
“That was my take on it,” said Martin.
Jack asked, “Do you know what, exactly, Sally claimed was libelous?”
“I don’t. It was a strange conversation we had. Deirdre wanted my opinion on whether a libel suit would help or hurt her chances of getting published. She seemed to think it was a good thing, that publishers would like the added publicity.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said, sure, the publicity department might like it. Hell, I know some publicists who would have an author set her hair on fire and run naked around the bookstore if it would move a few extra books. But publishers also have legal departments, and the lawyers weren’t likely to be too keen about a libel suit.”
“You didn’t exactly tell her what she wanted to hear.”
“I don’t think it fazed her much. She said she could verify everything she wrote. Supposedly she had the full cooperation of the prosecutor on the case.”
“Mason Rudsky?”
“She didn’t mention his name,” said Martin.
“Had to be Mason. He was the prosecutor assigned to the case.”
Kelsey said, “He’s also a beneficiary under Sally’s will. Just like Deirdre.”
Martin shrugged, as if not sure what to make of Kelsey’s last remark. His pager chirped, and he checked it. “Would you two excuse me for one minute?”
“Sure,” said Jack.
Martin left his coffee on the table, as if to promise a prompt return. As soon as he was gone, Kelsey looked at Jack and said, “A libel suit. I guess that’s why Deirdre’s on Sally’s list. She was telling lies about her.”
“It would be nice to know what the lies were.”
“What’s your guess?” asked Kelsey.
“I don’t have a clue. But if Deirdre was spreading falsehoods about Sally and her daughter’s murder, it could explain why Sally hated her and put her in the same category as the other named beneficiaries who had made her life no longer worth living.”
“But we have to consider the other possibility,” said Kelsey.
“Right,” said Jack, picking up her thought. “What if the charges in Deirdre’s manuscript-whatever they might be-are true?”
“Maybe Sally was ticked off not because Deirdre was spreading lies, but because she uncovered some horrible truths that Sally would have rather kept secret.”
“Could be,” said Jack.
“Especially if she had Mason Rudsky’s full cooperation,” said Kelsey.
They locked eyes, both considering it. Then Jack said, “Whether it’s packed with lies or dirty little truths, one thing’s for sure.”
“What?”
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the store window and the wall of books inside. “I want to know what Deirdre Meadows wrote.”
“So do I.”
Then he looked at Kelsey and said, “Almost as badly as I want to know what you and Martin really talked about on the phone.”
“What?”
“Whatever you said that made him think we were dating.”
