Brought to Book (26 page)

‘It would be better if you sent it yourself.'

There was a long silence. Then he said, ‘Are you going to put in the biography about Greg writing those books?'

‘I'll have to. It'll shake the literary world to its foundations.'

‘And – my part in it?'

‘I don't know yet. I'll have to take advice on that.'

‘Will you report me to the cops?'

‘About the burglary?' She shook her head. ‘That's not up to me.'

‘But you reckon I should turn myself in?'

‘In the long run, it would be the best thing.'

‘Who for?' he asked bitterly.

She didn't answer, busy with her own thoughts, surprised to realize that the revelation hadn't come as a total shock. Perhaps she'd already been working towards it, unable as she was to account for the complete change in style, content and vocabulary in those books from what had gone before.

‘It explains why he typed them himself,' she said aloud. ‘Obviously the originals weren't in his handwriting, and he could hardly submit Greg's manuscripts.'

Gary was silent, staring down at the table.

‘Had he been drinking?'

Gary shrugged. ‘He gave no sign of it, and he hadn't been to the pub.'

‘Yet he was supposed either to be so drunk that he fell into the stream, or so desperate that he threw himself in.'

‘Personally, I wouldn't buy either alternative.'

‘What
would
you buy?'

‘Perhaps he'd pinched something else from someone who resented it even more than I did.'

Or pinched some
one
? The woman at the cottage? ‘He told you he'd had a tragedy in his life; did he elaborate?'

‘No, and to be honest I wasn't taking much notice. I thought it was just an excuse.'

‘But his block was real enough, and no one knew what caused it.'

Gary shrugged again, losing interest, and looked at his watch. ‘I must be getting back to work.'

‘You found a job, then.'

‘Yep, another bank, as it happens. Not wildly exciting, but it keeps the wolf from the door.' He paused. ‘I never told the old folks the books were Greg's; they think the police only interviewed me because I'd met Harvey a couple of times. God knows what this'll do to them.'

She could offer no help on that one. ‘Thanks for being so frank with me,' she said. ‘I'm sorry it brought back painful memories.'

He made no protest when she went to the counter and paid the bill. Perhaps he considered he'd sung for his lunch. At any rate, she didn't grudge him it. On the pavement outside, she said awkwardly, ‘My book won't be out for a couple of years.'

‘Meaning there's no panic about going to the police?'

‘There's time to think of the best way to break it to your parents.'

He nodded. ‘Forgive me if I don't say it was nice meeting you.' A rueful smile softened the words, and she smiled back.

‘Goodbye, Gary. Good luck.'

He didn't look back as he walked away. Her mind spinning with the implications of all she'd learned, Rona made her way back to the car.

B
efore setting off to drive home, Rona rang Justin's consulting rooms. She was in luck; he was just back from lunch and had not yet started on his afternoon appointments.

‘Rona, my dear! Good to hear from you!'

‘Justin, that woman you told me about; the one Theo mentioned when he was drunk . . .'

His voice changed, became regretful. ‘A closed subject, I fear.'

‘Might she have visited him in Spindlebury?'

She could imagine his frown. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘You know I told you Max and I were going to the cottage? Well, someone up there saw her with him – or
a
woman, at any rate, and it wasn't Meriel.'

There was a silence.

‘Could it have been her?' Rona persisted.

‘Quite easily, I imagine; it would have been a convenient place to meet.'

‘It wasn't long before his block.'

‘Ah!'

Rona lost her patience. ‘Justin, for pity's sake! I
need
to know who she is.'

‘Then look in the diaries, my dear. Now, you'll have to excuse me; the light's come on to indicate my first patient has arrived. Goodbye – and good luck.'

Rona swore, switched off her phone, and started up the car. With a last look at the unsuspecting home of the Myers family, she drove out of Shelley Road and turned in the direction of home.

She arrived there just before three, and the first thing she did was go up to her study and phone her agent.

‘Eddie, it's Rona.'

‘Dear girl!'

‘You're never going to believe this.'

‘Try me.'

‘I've just learned Theo Harvey didn't write either
Dark Moon Rising
or
The Raptor
.'

There was a brief silence, then a low whistle came down the line. ‘Tell!' he instructed, and she explained how she'd tracked down Gary, and the story he had told her over lunch.

‘Have you any proof he was telling the truth?'

‘None, except that Theo apparently offered to pay up.'

‘Is there proof of
that
? I read at the time that the police checked his bank statements.'

‘It was taken from an account under a pseudonym.'

‘Proof?'

‘Of the pseudonym, yes, of the account, no, though no doubt it could be obtained. But when Max and I were up at the cottage, everyone told us about Gary and the unnerving effect he had on Theo. I'm pretty convinced this is
bona fide
.'

‘Does this Gary have the manuscripts to back his claim?'

‘No, I told you; they were sent to Theo.'

‘The author didn't keep a copy?' Eddie's voice rose incredulously. ‘Aye, aye!'

‘He was only submitting them for appraisal, Eddie, like he did his course work. It wouldn't have occurred to him to make copies.'

‘Who else knows about this?'

‘No one, as far as I know. To begin with, Theo was paying Gary to keep quiet, and after he died, announcing it would have brought him to police attention.'

‘Have you told anyone yourself?'

‘No, I only found out at lunchtime. Eddie, just
think
of the rumpus this will cause!'

‘I'm thinking, I'm thinking; but I must warn you, Rona, that without proof we'd be walking a legal minefield. Harvey's estate could sue us for libel – you, me, Jennings. Have you thought about that?'

‘I've not had time to think of
anything.
God, Eddie, what should I do?'

‘Get on to Prue and see what she says. No doubt she'll contact their legal department, but I think we'll have to look seriously at the possibility of their cancelling.'

‘Oh, my God,' she whispered. ‘After all this?'

‘It's the lack of proof, love. If you can get your hands on that, we have a major scoop on our hands and we're talking megabucks – serial rights in the Sundays, you name it. Is there any way at all you could confirm it?'

Rona clapped a hand to her head. ‘God, I'm going mad! Of course there is! It'll be in his diaries!'

‘Ahhh!' Eddie Gold let out his breath in a long sigh. ‘You're sure of that?'

‘Ninety-nine percent. He recorded everything.'

‘If his widow knows what's brewing, she mightn't hand them over.'

‘I already have them!' Rona told him in triumph. ‘God, you had me worried, Eddie.'

‘I had myself worried. Well, that's great; if you've got it in black and white, and in his own writing at that, we're in business. But go easy in the meantime. Have a word with Prue and don't go shouting it abroad.'

‘I'll have to tell Meriel. I owe her that.'

‘Check with the diaries first,' he repeated as he rang off.

Prue Granger, Rona's commissioning editor, was as cautious as Eddie had predicted, and suggested Rona check the relevant diary passages before going any further. ‘But my God, Rona, if you're right and can prove it, the sky's the limit! Keep me posted, won't you?'

Rona promised, and, her hands shaking, put down the phone. Almost immediately, it shrilled again and she lifted it to find Meriel herself on the line.

Rona's mouth went dry as she searched for something innocuous to say, but Meriel gave her no chance.

‘I believe you said you'd like a day in Theo's study?' she began without preamble. ‘Well, I'm phoning to let you know I'm moving out of the house for a while. I'm a bag of nerves – I'm still convinced I'm being followed, by the way – and Justin says I must go to them till this blows over.' A pause. ‘I presume you
are
still determined to carry on with it?'

‘As I explained, Meriel, I have no option.'

‘So you say. Well, I'm out all day tomorrow, but would Wednesday be convenient?'

‘Sorry, no; I'm flying up to Scotland.'

‘Scotland? Whatever for?'

‘To meet Scott Mackintosh. I'm having dinner with him, staying overnight in a hotel, and flying back on Thursday.'

Meriel made a sound of annoyance. ‘So that effectively rules out two days. I'm sleeping at Justin and Vivian's already, which means trailing back and forth. I'd hoped not to have to do that after tomorrow.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Well, I suppose it will have to be Friday.' A pause, then: ‘I hope you appreciate what this is doing to me.'

‘You're not the only one,' Rona retorted in a flash of anger. ‘It isn't easy for me, either. Someone has poisoned Gus.' She bit her lip. She'd not meant to say that. Meriel gasped.

‘No! Is he all right?'

‘He's “holding his own”, whatever that means.' Rona's voice rocked perilously, and Meriel's changed.

‘I'm so sorry, Rona; I'd no idea. How awful for you. If you'd rather leave it—'

‘No, I'll come on Friday,' Rona said quickly, closing her mind to what condition Gus might be in by then.

‘You think he was attacked because of the book?'

‘I don't know what to think.'

Meriel was silent for a minute, then she said, ‘In all honesty, if this is how we have to live, wouldn't we be better cutting our losses? Surely the game's not worth the candle?'

‘I'm on the roller coaster now,' Rona said tiredly, ‘and I can't get off. I'll see you on Friday, about ten.'

Briefly, she considered ringing Max. She badly needed to talk to him, but it was not something to discuss over the phone, and she'd be going to Farthings in an hour or two. She'd take the relevant diaries with her. Max had offered to look at them; now, it was imperative to do so at once.

She lifted the carton Meriel had given her on to the desk. The notebook for 1994, in which the code began and which they'd been looking at in Spindlebury, lay on top. But when would Theo have come across Greg's manuscripts? At a guess, just before he told Meriel he'd started writing again, in autumn '97. She picked out the relevant journal and laid it beside her lap-top, which she would also take with her. Any notes she could make as they went along would save time later.

There were still two hours to fill in before she could phone the vet, and though she had Gary's incredible story to record, her thoughts were too chaotic to settle down to it. More than anything, she longed for a brisk walk in the park, with the wind in her hair and muscles tugging at the backs of her knees, but the thought of going there without Gus was insupportable. Nonetheless, whatever her destination, she had to get out of the house. She caught up the coat she'd discarded before phoning Eddie, and ran downstairs.

It seemed odd not to have Gus at her side, not to have to keep tugging gently on his lead to urge him past lamp posts. Closing her mind to thoughts of him, she turned up Fullers Walk. The air was milder today, and the florist had large buckets of spring flowers outside the shop. She decided to treat herself to some on the way home, to cheer her up.

As she turned the corner into Guild Street, she glanced idly at the cars parked along the kerb, and felt a sudden tweak of recognition. The one nearest to her was a blue Honda, and behind its windscreen danced a small, black skull and crossbones. It was the car that had been behind her when she left Meriel's that day, had later reappeared after her exercise-stop with Gus, and followed her back to Marsborough.

Rona frowned. At the time, she had thought the car's reappearance merely coincidence; the driver must have stopped as she had, and happened to set off again at the same time. But that was before the threats, and doorbells ringing in the night. Was it significant that she'd been coming from Meriel's? Was there something sinister about this car?

She glanced at the meter beside it. Only ten minutes remained, and traffic wardens were notoriously diligent on Guild Street. On impulse, Rona went up the iron stairway to the Gallery Café and selected a window table from which to watch the car. It would be interesting to see who claimed it. She ordered tea and a doughnut and settled down to wait, her eyes on the crowds milling about on the pavements.

Then she saw them, Lindsey and Rob, walking arm in arm on the far side of the road. Linz must have been with a client, Rona thought, to be out of the office mid-afternoon. She watched as they stopped, waited for the traffic, then crossed the road towards her. On the pavement immediately below they paused for a moment and Rob bent to kiss Lindsey's cheek. Then, her briefcase under her arm, she walked quickly away in the direction of her office.

And Rob turned to the car with the skull and crossbones and climbed inside.

Feeling vaguely sick, Rona watched him as he manoeuvred his way out of the parking place and drove away. Her tea and doughnut arrived, but she continued to stare down through the black railings until a Mini, scarcely believing its luck, slid gratefully into the empty space.