Page 29 of Crime and Publishing

He held up an object. It glinted in the firelight.

“Why Hugh, I believe that’s your pen.” Vivianne smiled smugly. “Isn’t that exactly where you left it earlier? Perhaps you’re going senile in your old age.”

“I’m not senile. This pen wasnothere earlier. Nor was it under the chairs or stashed behind the fire poker. I checked the roomthoroughly. Someone swiped it and then put it back as some kind of childish prank. I tell you that this won’t do.” Hugh turned to Donna, who’d just returned and was locking the door again behind her. “If this sort of nonsense continues, I will move the retreat to another location next year.”

“Please don’t do that, Hugh,” Donna’s voice rose an octave. “This place wouldn’t be the same without your legacy.”

“If you want to continue to make money off my legacy, then you need to treat me with respect and punish whoever it was who stole my pen. I hope you all have brought pages for us to edit,” Hugh said. “Otherwise, I will be happy to return to the bar.”

Judging by the slight slur in his voice, he’d spent too much time in the bar already.

“I’ll go first.” Vivianne swooped to her feet. She was wearing another flowing gown, and she moved around Hugh as if she was going to stand in front of the fire. But at the last moment, she flopped down into his lap.

“Get off me, woman!” Hugh tried to shove her off, but Vivianne held firm.

“Now, now, Hughey baby, you used to love it when I did this.” She held up her pages. “Shall I delight them all with a tale of true love…and revenge?”

Vivianne began to read. She spun a tale about a wife of a philandering husband with a misshapen testicle. The wife was plotting revenge. It was strange because the story was a completely different style from the ho-hum female detective story she submitted. It was brilliant, in fact.

As she read, Hugh Briston squirmed in his seat. Even I could see he was uncomfortable and disturbed by what Vivianne was reading.

“Don’t you like it, dear?” Vivianne cleared her throat pointedly. “This is the first chapter of my brand new novel. It’s a real page-turner. Shall I keep reading?”

“You can’t…”

“Yes please,” I couldn’t help but pipe up.

Vivianne kept reading as she detailed a revenge plot that involved murdering each of her husband’s mistresses. The story was told in alternating timelines – one as the wife was plotting, and the other as the police were putting clues together to send the husband away for the crimes.

I had the distinct feeling that it was at least partly autobiographical.

This must be part of her revenge? And Hugh certainly didn’t seem to appreciate it.

After Vivianne stopped reading, Charlie and Christina offered a few critiques. Hugh remained surprisingly mute.

“I’ll go next.” Christina moved to stand in front of the fireplace beside Hugh. She glanced over at him and then, in a clear, musical voice, she started to read her piece.

It was stunning. It truly was. In a few words, Christina managed to weave a haunted atmosphere of a crumbling manor house and a mother and her young child struggling to find their place in the world as a sinister shadow lurked just out of reach. It might have been the impact of the storm raging outside and the roaring fire, but I felt transported into her story.

When she finished, I clapped.

“That was beautiful,” I said. “You do a lot with so few words. It’s a real gift. I think you could probably expand on the boy’s point of view, and maybe find a way to make his voice sound younger. After all, he doesn’t have the history with the manor that his mother does. To him it might be exciting to have all that space…all the games he can create…”

“I suppose it wasfine,” Charlie grumbled. I remembered that he was listening to the work of the woman who would be rewriting his police procedural for the market. That had to sting.

“It’s better than fine.” Vivianne sensed a weakness and swooped in for the kill. “That’s award-winning writing right there. Too bad she’s going to be wasted at Hughey Boy’s publishing house, where he’ll have her ghostwriting books for useless male writers like you and sucking his cock under his desk. Isn’t that right, Hugh?”

“Vivianne, shut your face,” Hugh snapped, but his words didn’t have the usual venom behind them. Whatever secret message Vivianne had delivered in her work, it had got to him.

“That’s not true at all.” Christina glanced around the room. “You might as well tell them, Hugh. There’s no sense keeping it until the end.”

“Tell us what?” Donna asked.

“Hugh’s promised me the contract with his publishing house,” Christina beamed. “He told me this morning that he’s going to publish my book. Didn’t you, Hugh?”

“He did?” Killian glanced at Christina in surprise. “Why wasn’t I there? I’m supposed to be present for contract negotiations.”

“It’s not true,” Charlie said, his words barely audible over the wind howling outside. “He’s giving the contract tome. You might be helping with a little spelling and grammar, but my name will be on the front cover.”

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