Page 81 of The Writer

[Morrow] I was at a bookstore appearance in Tribeca. He came in and handed me a bag. He told me he’d just killed my husband’s mistress. He told me he had an associate at my apartment and if I didn’t change into the clothing in that bag, his associate would kill David. He started to explain how he mixed up the evidence, how he could pin it all on me or make it all go away, how once he had this over my head, he knew he would be able to trust me… he started in on all that, but honestly, I barely heard him. My only thoughts were of saving my husband, so I did what he asked.

[Brown] He lied. We know that now. Your husband was already dead.

[Morrow] [Soft sob. A nod.] I found him when I got home. He’d been stabbed. I called 911, but he… he was already gone.

[Brown] You were in shock when the authorities arrived.

[Morrow] [Nods.] I still can’t believe David’s gone.

[Brown] [After a long silence.] We all know what happened next. You were arrested, but the charges were quickly dropped when it became clear you had nothing to do with either murder.

[Morrow] [Looks to the floor, then back at Daphne.] I don’t blame the police for initially thinking I did it. My attorney painted this picture for them; he put the guilt on me, then shifted it away, just as he’d said he would. It was his idea to file a suit against the city when their case came apart. I think he saw it as a way to profit from it all. I had to go along. He made that very clear.

[Brown] This man controlled you.

[Morrow] I’m not proud to say it, but yes, he had complete control over me. [She goes silent for a moment.] I woke once and found him standing over me, just watching me sleep. I don’t know how he got in—I imagine the same way he did when he killed David. He didn’t say anything. When he knew I’d seen him, he smiled and left. The implication was clear. He’d made his point. He could get tome at any time, and he would if I somehow crossed him. I can’t begin to explain how terrified I was.

[Brown] When he died, you must have been so relieved.

[Morrow] [A deep sigh followed by a soft smile.] You have no idea. I was finally able to tell the police everything. When they searched his home and office, they realized the true extent of his manipulation, and it was finally over. At least, I thought it was…

[Brown] [Long pause.] Ruben Lucero died in prison. Murdered in his cell. Do you think your attorney somehow orchestrated his death as a last-ditch effort to protect himself?

[Morrow] I really can’t speculate on that. I only hope Ruben Lucero has finally found peace.

[End of recording.]

/DB/GTS

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

DENISE MORROW’S AGENT, Kirby Neilson, raises her cosmo and beams. “To QuimbyCam!”

“To QuimbyCam!” the guests at the crowded table echo, then sip their cocktails. Gordon Brennon, Denise’s film-rights manager, lets out one of his infectious laughs, and it’s heard in all corners of the quaint Italian restaurant.

Denise’s editor, Jennifer Henke, is there too. She brought Jada Reed, Denise’s publicist, the latest in a long line of them. It’s the first time Denise has met her.

They seem to get younger with each book, Denise thinks when she sees her.This one barely looks old enough to drive, let alone drink.

Jennifer once told her that the publishers would pluck themright out of high school if they could. Who better to run a social media campaign than someone who regularly posts TikTok videos detailing every aspect of her existence? Most adults couldn’t name four social media platforms. It’s a young person’s world.

An overflowing box of Denise Morrow’s books pokes up from the only empty chair. Promotional copies she promised to sign for Kirby.

“Okay, so you gotta tell us,” Gordon says, then pauses to wipe some lint from his shirt. “You’re updating the new book with everything that’s happened, right?”

Denise tilts her head and starts to drop the bombshell she’s held back all night. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure I’ll release this book.”

The entire table goes quiet. She knows this isn’t what they expected. Tonight was meant to be a celebration. All of them—herself included—stand to make a lot of money if she publishes the Maggie Marshall book, particularly with everything that’s happened, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right call. If she releases the book, all this nonsense will be in the public eye for years. Gordon will surely sell the film rights, which means a movie or maybe a television show or a docuseries. There’s no telling what direction it will go. The only thing that’s certain is that it won’t go away, and Denise wants it to go away.

“That’s a joke, right?” Jennifer says, giving Kirby a harsh glance. “You said we had a deal. I went to bat with my boss for you. It’s the most lucrative offer I’ve ever put out there.”

Kirby sends Jennifer a comforting smile. “I’m sure Denise is kidding.” She looks back to Denise. “You are kidding, right?”

Denise Morrow studies the faces around the table. They’re all turned to her.

She wipes her finger through beads of condensation on a water glass. “I’m just a little overwhelmed right now. Before I came down here, I was getting ready in the bathroom, and I saw David’s toothbrush and razor over on his vanity. I… I haven’t moved any of his things. There’s a water glass on his nightstand. His laundry in the dryer. He loves… loved to eat pickles. There’s a big jar in the refrigerator. I hate pickles…”

“Geller Hoffman was a fucking animal,” Kirby says in a quiet, flat tone. “He had no right to take David from you.”

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