by Lotta Smith
“So, you used to be Carina’s editor. Were you in charge of her since the very beginning of her career?”
Following Rick’s straightforward question, Dylan shifted in his chair. “Yes.”
“Can you walk me through the process of your becoming her editor? Was she just assigned to you?”
“No. The editors in the mystery section at the publishing house took a large part in selecting the winners of the contest Carina had entered. Each editor got to cast a vote on their most favorite candidate, and once the candidate won something, the editor who voted for him or her could keep on working with the author. The policy was based on the principle that an editor has to love something about a certain author’s work to create the best possible work with the author.”
“I see. So when the author hits the bestsellers lists, the credit directly goes to the editor, doesn’t it?”
“Um… right.” Dylan nodded at Rick’s comment with a slight hesitation.
“Given the process of co-creating Carina Christien’s bestselling books, what moved you out of the mystery section?”
“That’s because…,” Dylan started, but he stopped short, and after a moment of silence, he sighed. “I mean, you know Violet Huss, and your father is Daniel Rowling, so it does no good making a cover story, right?”
“I’m listening,” Rick said, without answering the editor’s question.
“All right. So basically, Carina wasn’t happy about my recent marriage,” Dylan said through gritted teeth. “She got hysterical, to the point of making it an issue involving management and HR. The company came to the conclusion that we were irreconcilable.”
“So, Carina set her heart on you, but….”
“Right. At least that’s what I heard. Though I thought Harry Geiser, the assistant photographer, was her love interest.” Dylan shook his head. “I still remember when Harry started dating Catherine. At that time, Carina had a meltdown, shrieking that she couldn’t write a word anymore. If she were one of those struggling authors, I could have just said whatever and walked away, but I was dealing with Carina Christien, whose books are constantly on multiple bestsellers lists. I worked my ass off consoling her.”
“I get the picture.” Rick nodded. “In the beginning, Carina had a crush on Harry, but her one-way love failed as he started seeing Catherine. She was heartbroken and desperate, but you stuck with her, comforting her, encouraging her, reminding her that she’s wonderful. She recovered enough to keep writing her bestselling books, and her heart moved on to you.” Rick looked straight into Dylan’s eyes. Dylan shrugged helplessly. “And you were fully aware of that, weren’t you?”
“I had a hunch, but I pretended not to notice her… feelings.”
“Smart move.” A corner of Rick’s lips quirked up. “If I were you, I’d have taken the same measure.”
“Thanks,” Dylan mumbled.
“So, after you broke up with Carina, you’re now in charge of Violet Huss.”
“Except I’m only partially in charge of Violet,” Dylan corrected. “I’m just a sub-editor with Violet’s work. Before she had her work published, I’d made some suggestions to her about her manuscript, and she still appreciates them. That’s why I still have my job at the publishing house. Considering the grim environment of publishing, quitting my job and starting over was out of the question, especially being newly married and with a baby. So, I sucked it up and accepted my transfer to the erotica section. Violet’s main editor is the chief editor of that section, and I’m more like an assistant. In exchange, her former sub-editor got my position at the mystery section.” He smiled weakly, but anyone could tell he wasn’t in the mood for smiling.
“What a shame. You could have been the next chief editor at the mystery section,” Rick said sympathetically, prompting Dylan to almost nod.
“Well… I mean, my screwy relationship doesn’t make me a killer. Besides, I was in the office at the time of the incident. Even if my marriage had mentally pushed her off the balcony, that doesn’t make me a killer, does it?” he said hurriedly.
“Of course not. Still, dealing with your star author’s meltdown must have been upsetting, right?”
“Right. Except, in my opinion, an apocalypse sounds like a more appropriate term than a meltdown to describe those hijinks. That got me panicked, really.” Dylan took a deep breath.
“So, you sought help from her friends, Catherine and Natalia, didn’t you?” Rick said nonchalantly, but Dylan’s eyes widened.
“How did you know that?”
“You told me they’ve been occasional heroes for you when you introduced them to me,” Rick pointed out. “Not to mention, editors don’t talk to their authors’ friends that often.”
“Oh… my blabbermouth. Can’t hide anything from you.” Dylan chuckled drily. “I met them at Carina’s office and we exchanged our cards. I thought a little help from them would smoothen up things, but it didn’t work.”
“Now I’ve got the picture. So, can you call Larry Burton up?”
When Rick said that, Jackie popped up in front of my face. “Mayday, mayday! We have a major emergency! That dude who looks a little cute in a bad guy biker way, he just stormed out of the cottage!”
“Seriously?” I gasped.
“What’s the matter?” Rick, who couldn’t hear Jackie’s voice, frowned as he took in my alarm.
“It’s about Larry Burton. He’s—” As I spoke, we heard someone rushing up the stairs.
Catherine burst into the café and pointed at the window. “Hey, that guy, Larry Burton? He’s leaving, saying this is ridiculous.”
When I glanced at the window, I saw the P.I. powerwalking out of the cottage. “He’s really leaving—Rick?” Rick was already running down the stairs. Gosh, he was fast.
I was going to run after him, but I was wearing a pair of midheel pumps. I proceeded carefully so as not to fall down the stairs.
When I finally caught up with Rick, Larry Burton was already on a motorcycle with its engine revving, except the P.I. had one of his wrists captured in Rick’s death grip.
“Get off me! Do you wanna get hurt?” Burton threatened, trying to shake Rick off.
“I said all you need to do is answer one question,” Rick said calmly.
“And I said I can’t disclose info regarding my gig with Carina Christien!” Burton shot back.
“You don’t need to disclose anything. Hey, look at me.” Rick stared at Burton in the eyes.
“Ha!” The P.I. snorted and glared back at his captor.
“Carina hired you for two background check cases, targeting someone attending this event, right?”
I saw Burton’s shoulders slightly twitching.
“The total number of targets was three. Two for the first gig, and one for the second gig,” Rick went on, and Burton gasped.
“Wh-what are you, a psychic?” he stuttered, and then he shook his arm with all his might and left. The sound of the blasting engine lingered even after the motorcycle went out of sight.
“Ohmygawd! He’s gone!” Jackie exclaimed.
Kimmie, who ran out of the cottage, gasped. “Oh, did he slip out?”
I clutched Rick’s jacket sleeve. “Should we go after him?”
“No need for that. At least I’ve covered the bases.” He shrugged and turned to face the rest of the members coming out to witness the altercation. “All right, that’s about it for the interviews. Now I’ll tell you what happened on the night of Carina’s fall. Everyone, please gather upstairs.”
CHAPTER 7
Following Rick’s order, we moved to the café in the upstairs of the cottage. That time, no one dared to escape.
While waiting for everyone to settle, Rick stood by the window overlooking the winter garden illuminated by mellow lighting. Leaning nonchalantly on the window frame, he was silent, looking like a model on a photo shoot for GQ magazine. In front of him, the people related to Carina Christien shifted and fretted uncomfortably.
It was onl
y a short while, but the stillness seemed to last forever.
When the strain in the room reached its maximum level, Tyson opened his mouth to break the silence.
“So, let me tell you my opinion,” he said before Tyson had a chance to utter a word. Everyone gulped in anticipation topped with fear.
“Have you found out the truth?” Kimmie asked breathlessly. Her voice was shaky, her anxiety palpable.
“Well, it’s not that dramatic as finding the truth. I’ll just be telling you my deduction based on what everyone here has told me. Unfortunately, it’s just a hypothesis, and even if it turns out to be true, I don’t have supporting evidence. I believe things will be different when it gets upgraded into an open investigation of a homicide, with the police, CSI, and everything.”
“A theory is good enough. Will you, please?” Kimmie stared at Rick with intense eyes.
“Fine. Kimmie, I have one thing to clarify with you. What was written in your sister’s alleged suicide note?” Rick stared back at Kimmie, prompting her to quiver.
She opened her mouth, but she stopped short of starting a sentence.
Rick spoke for her. “Carina didn’t want to make that suicide note public, and that’s why she avoided having her fall investigated as a murder—no, an attempted murder back then—right?”
Kimmie looked past him for a moment, and then she gave him a resigned smile.
“The suicide note was a confession, wasn’t it? And that made you believe your sister attempted to kill herself.”
I wasn’t quite following what Rick was saying, but Kimmie nodded and let out a small sigh. “Yes, it was. Gosh, I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
“Can you recite the sentences written in your sister’s note?” Rick pressed on.
“It started by saying, ‘I, Carina Christien, am confessing to deceiving my readers,’ and the note went so far as to state that she didn’t write any of her bestselling books by herself,” Kimmie said through gritted teeth.
“What do you think about the contents of this note, Kimmie?”
“I felt that was a downright lie. I’ve seen my sister working hard on her stories every day for years! How can I believe such nonsense?”
“Hmm… in that case, what made your sister so reluctant to report an attempted murder to the police?” Rick went on. “Because there was a sliver of truth contained in the alleged suicide note.”
“No,” Kimmie muttered, but she couldn’t go on. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Anyway, I’m sure that not everything written was the truth. Perhaps a half-truth covered with lies to be presentable, or rather two-thirds of the truth covered with another third of lies.”
“Two-thirds of the truth? What do you mean?” I muttered without thinking, totally clueless.
Rick flashed his perfect set of pearly whites. “I’m talking about the pen name, Carina Christien. It was originally created by Catherine Davenport, Rita Balman, and Natalia Rain—three girls who loved Agatha Christie mysteries—wasn’t it?” he declared without the slightest hint of hesitation, and my eyes widened. “Though Carina Christien’s writing style has its own distinctness, I noticed her fondness and homage toward Agatha Christie, the queen of British crime novels, when I read her books. I had a hunch that the surname Christien evolved from Christie. The information about Carina’s real name being Rita Balman and the names of her friends being Catherine Davenport and Natalia Rain was the dead giveaway. All of them have an N in their surname, and that’s why it had to be Christien instead of Christie. Also, Carina is the combination of the first syllable of each girl’s first name. It could have been Narica, Canari, Ricana, or Rinaca, except Carina sounds more natural than the other names.”
“Wow, Carina Christien used to be a writing group rather than a person,” I muttered.
“At least that’s what I presume.” Rick glanced at Catherine and Natalia, who were silent, blanched, and frozen, as if someone turned them into stone.
Their reaction seemed to be the telltale sign that he was correct.
“Now let me tell you my opinion based on this presumption about the origin of the pen name Carina Christien,” he said breezily. “Three girls from the same high school were volunteering at a local library. One day, it was discovered that Rita was writing a novel, so Catherine and Natalia took on writing as well. Still, everyone was lacking something from their work. Rita could write, but her story didn’t have the climax or catharsis. Catherine’s characters were passable, but her writing itself was disastrous. And Natalia could plot, but she loathed writing. The lightbulb moment was when they recognized each other’s strengths and weaknesses. At that moment, no one could write solo, but what if they wrote as a trio?”
Rick eyed Catherine and Natalia, as if to check out his theory, but they were silent and averted their gazes.
“Considering that Rita was the one who could write, she served as the main author while Catherine and Natalia made suggestions for character development and plotting. Perhaps their joint work turned out to be brilliant. Maybe they kept on writing and coauthored multiple stories. However, their happy writing days had to end as they graduated from high school and went separate ways. Catherine and Natalia, who weren’t much into writing in the first place, moved on with their lives unrelated to writing, but Rita kept on.
“When Catherine and Natalia were in their sophomore year at college, Rita came back to their hometown for a reunion, and on that special occasion she brought up the topic of writing, which was her dream. Perhaps she asked for your permission to submit the revised version of the story which was originally done with you two. I believe Rita was serious about this submission, but you two gave her the greenlight breezily because one, neither of you was interested in writing anymore, and two, you didn’t expect that your friend would actually win the contest. Anyway, after obtaining the much-needed permission from you two, Rita submitted her story under her pen name Carina Christien in a way of acknowledging and thanking her friends’ contribution. Beating the odds, she won second place and a thousand bucks. She offered to treat you, but you two declined, saying, ‘Thanks but no thanks. Use the money for yourself.’ What a beautiful friendship! Except at that time, none of you were expecting your friend Rita Balman to become such a celebrated author.”
As Rick went on, I caught Natalia frowning and Catherine exhaling deeply.
“The friendship between the three women started to distort as Rita’s writing career as Carina Christien skyrocketed. Perhaps the beginning of Carina Christien was like a continued fun of their youth for Catherine and Natalia. They must have been happy to see the characters and story development they’d contributed to gain popularity. I also presume that Rita was simply grateful to her friends. Still, the sweet times didn’t last forever. They might have asked Rita things like, ‘Can you buy that for me?’ ‘I wish I could rent that pretty apartment in Chelsea,’ and ‘You’re picking up the dinner tab, aren’t you?’
“After college, Catherine got a job in New York and moved to the East Coast, followed by Natalia moving to the neighborhood. From the outside, it would have looked like a heartwarming episode, but it could be interpreted as emotional blackmailing from Rita’s perspective. Presumably, she endured endless demands wrapped in seemingly benevolent words from her so-called friends, fooling herself into thinking that it was better than a nasty court battle. Talk about beautiful friendships turning sour. Anyway, Rita went on being treated like a doormat without taking countermeasures such as lawyering up. Still, everyone has their limit, and in her case, the last straw was witnessing Harry, her secret romantic interest, hooking up with Catherine.”
Harry took a sharp intake of breath and glanced at Catherine, who bit her lower lip uncomfortably.
Rick gave a satisfied glance at the couple and went on. “Rita, totally fed up with being screwed anymore, decided to strike back. She hired Larry Burton, a P.I., to run background checks on her pals in hopes of getting even by digging up their dirty laundry.
I assume from the consequences that she got ahold of the dark side of their pasts. I have no idea what Catherine’s and Natalia’s secrets were. Maybe Catherine had done something stupid in her happy youth, and Natalia wanted to hide the reason why she quit her old job and ran away from her hometown.”
“That’s enough,” Natalia muttered through her gritted teeth. “Oh, yes. I was young and stupid. What’s wrong with that?” She glared at Rick, who responded with a shrug.
“Hey.” Catherine pulled her friend’s sleeve in alarm, but that didn’t stop Natalia.
Shaking off Catherine’s hand, she spat, “It’s no use giving my heart and soul to protect my past. You’ve already heard about it from that Burton guy, haven’t you? Okay, so I got fired from my previous job for borrowing my client’s money because my ex-boyfriend needed some cash desperately. And yeah, it turned out that I was conned in the first place. Luckily, my employer was generous enough to avoid pressing charges on me, but people talked, and I couldn’t stay where I was. I’m not proud of my past, and Rita found out about it, going on like, ‘Stop taking advantage of me. By the way, I’ve cancelled your apartment lease and you have two weeks to move out.’ I was shocked and annoyed. Was she so superior, owing her success to us? Besides, I never demanded anything from her. She voluntarily arranged Catherine’s and my apartments when we moved from the West Coast.”
“That’s so true!” Catherine chimed in. “Rita dug up silly stuff, like I used to have sugar daddies back in college, and I was sleeping with my boss who happened to have a wife at my former workplace. And she talked like we’d been sponging off her. We didn’t like her attitude, but we didn’t kill her!”
Seeing Catherine blurting out her not-so-nice past, I felt like she was using her desperation to avoid being named as the killer.
“I get your point, and I can imagine the frustration the two of you went through. After all, you appreciated Rita’s wealth, but you had no intention of blackmailing her,” Rick said. “Then again, Rita had been stressed out, and I can’t help noticing a deep emotional river between her and the two of you.”
