Whole Lotta Trouble

by Stephanie Bond

Jané withdrew the manuscript and flipped through a few pages. “Here’s the first murder scene.”

  Felicia skimmed the scene, her stomach sinking lower and lower as she recognized passages—different wording, but the same basic idea and execution. Suze Dannon could land herself and Omega in dire straits if she had submitted plagiarized material. And how could she have gotten it unless Jerry had given it to her? Felicia looked at Jané. “Did Jerry turn down this manuscript?”

  Jané angled her head. “You mean the Simon Cowell of publishing? He wrote one of the most degrading rejection letters I’ve ever read. It was exactly two words: ‘Torch it.’ ”

  Felicia winced.

  “Is the material the same?” Jané asked, pointing to the manuscript.

  “It’s similar,” Felicia admitted.

  “This author of yours—I guess they just happen to be represented by Jerry?”

  Felicia hesitated, then nodded.

  Jané’s eyes blazed. “That bastard stole my story and gave it to someone else?”

  Felicia put out her hand to calm Jané. “I’ll talk to my author first thing in the morning, and I’ll make certain that any similarities to your story are taken out.”

  “How can I be sure?” Jané asked, lifting her hands.

  “Because I’m giving you my word,” Felicia said evenly. “You know I don’t want something like this to happen. The ethics aside, my author’s reputation would be ruined, and Omega would suffer as well.”

  “Jané, you can trust Felicia,” Tallie added. “At least this was caught before the book went to press.”

  Jané’s mouth tightened. “Plagiarism is against the law, you know.”

  Felicia nodded solemnly and touched her temple. “I know. But this is completely out of character for my author—I’d venture that Jerry had something to do with it.”

  “Can’t we report him to someone?” Tallie asked. “Isn’t there an organization that oversees literary agencies?”

  “Yes,” Felicia said dryly. “And he’s president. Besides, claims of plagiarism rarely result in charges. In the absence of exact duplication, it’s too hard to prove.”

  Jané’s face turned a mottled red. “So…what are we going to do?”

  Felicia took a quick drink from her glass to try to calm her own elevated vital signs. “I told you, I’ll speak to my author.”

  “I mean what are we going to do about Jerry?” Jané leaned in. “Look, Felicia, you know better than anyone that the man is a megalomaniac and a total ass. He can’t get away with this!”

  Tallie moved forward. “It would be nice to teach him a lesson.”

  Jané looked at Tallie. “You have a beef with him, too?”

  Tallie nodded, and Felicia detected the same vengeful gleam in both women’s eyes. Her heart started thumping faster when she realized that they were serious about getting even.

  “Felicia, you know him better than we do,” Jané said. “What can we do to put him in his place?”

  Felicia shook her head slowly, loath to drag the girls into the big, fat mess of the photograph and Jerry’s affair with Suze. “I don’t think—”

  “Hi, ladies.” Bert Nichols, a chubby up-and-coming editor at Bloodworth, stopped next to the table. “Wow, you three look intense.”

  Felicia shifted guiltily and smiled a greeting.

  Jané knew Bert from when she had worked at Bloodworth. She introduced the man to Tallie. “And I think you know Felicia.”

  “Sure,” he said with a grin. “In fact, Felicia, I came by to say thank you.”

  She gave a little laugh. “For what?”

  “You managed to outbid me on the last two books I wanted, and I was prepared to lose the Anne Merriwether book to you, too. So, I wanted to thank you for pulling out of the auction.”

  Acid bathed her stomach, but she managed to maintain her composure. “No problem, Bert. Um, when did the auction wrap up?”

  “This afternoon.”

  The acid bubbled. “Oh. Well, congratulations. Don’t think I didn’t bid because I wasn’t interested—it’s a special book.”

  “Yeah, I think so, too,” he said. “And hopefully will pave the way to work with more of Jerry Key’s clients.”

  Jerry Key…Jerry Key…Jerry Key. His name revolved in her head until she thought her brain would explode. He was seemingly everywhere, taunting her, betraying her friends, and now sabotaging her career. Would she never be rid of him? After Bert waved and moved toward the entrance, she gulped down the rest of her drink and coughed lightly against the sting of vodka as it slid down her throat. Suddenly, getting loaded sounded like a very good idea. She signaled the waiter for another round, then ground her teeth. “Jerry deliberately excluded me from that auction.”

  Jané arched a dark eyebrow. “As I was saying, Felicia, you know Jerry better than we do. How can we get the bastard?”

  “Some way to turn the tables, humiliate him?” Tallie asked, her gaze pointed.

  Affection surged in Felicia’s chest. Tallie was probably more motivated by what Jerry had done to her best friend than by the fact that he had ripped a high-profile assignment out from under her. And she didn’t even know the entire story.

  Felicia looked back and forth at the women, all of them wronged by a man who thought he could plow through people’s lives with no consequences to his charmed career.

  “Yes,” Felicia murmured, buoyed by the thought of getting sweet revenge. “Humiliate him…on a large scale.” A wicked thought popped into her head. “If there was some way we could lure him to a hotel room…get him in a compromising position…take a picture.”

  “Oh, that’s good!” Jané said gleefully.

  “We wouldn’t have to lure him to a hotel room,” Tallie offered, looking sheepish. “Jerry is, um, staying at the Hills Hotel while his condo is being painted.”

  Felicia observed Tallie’s lowered lashes and wondered how that bit of information had been revealed.

  Jané squealed with delight. “This is perfect! Do either of you have a digital camera?”

  “Jerry has one on his cell phone,” Felicia said. “He always has the latest gadgets.”

  Jané grinned. “Then we’ll use his phone camera, download the picture, and send it to his entire e-mail list!”

  Felicia burst out laughing at the mental image. “That would definitely bring him down a notch.” Then she shook her head. “I swear, I’d be tempted if we could figure out how to pull it off without him knowing it was us.”

  The waiter brought the new round of drinks, and after he left, Jané lifted her glass. “Girls, we’re fiction editors—we know how to plot, and we know how to cover our tracks. We can teach Jerry Key a lesson he’ll never forget. And the best thing is that since he won’t know who did it, he’ll be on his best behavior around everyone!” She laughed. “The entire publishing industry would be in our debt.”

  A delicious feeling worked its way through Felicia. An eye for an eye…or in this case, a picture for a picture. And while Jerry might suspect that she was behind the stunt, if they were careful, he wouldn’t know for certain. And how excellent it would be to have Jerry walking on eggshells around her for a change.

  She lifted her glass and clinked it against Jané’s, then Tallie’s. “To revenge.”

  “To revenge,” Tallie and Jané chorused, and each drank deeply from her glass. Felicia decided they should plan their strategy before they got too drunk to see it through. Why delay? They knew where he would be…and she knew his weaknesses. She set down her drink, pulled a pen from her bag, and seized a cocktail napkin on which she wrote:

  Step 1: Lay the trap.

  Chapter 15

  Tallie walked out of the door of the Hills Hotel as casually as her thumping heart would allow. Her shoulders were tensed, waiting for the beefy hand of a security guard to clamp down and drag her back inside, but she moved down the stairs unimpeded. A uniformed valet stood at the bottom of the steps and turned to smile in her direction. She flashed
a quick smile in return, hoping the low lighting obscured her face…or at least the man’s memory. Then she veered away, striding down the sidewalk and around the block to the prescribed meeting place.

  They all had taken separate exits as a precaution, and it looked as if she was the first to arrive. Feeling conspicuous for no good reason, she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets and tried to lose herself in the milling crowd. A couple of minutes later, she was starting to get panicky, when Felicia rounded the corner, looking flushed. Tallie waved to get her attention, and Felicia hurried in her direction, a gleeful smile on her mouth.

  “We did it!”

  Tallie nodded, laughing. “We sure did.”

  “Where’s Jané?”

  “I haven’t seen her.”

  Felicia’s eyebrows pinched together. “I was held up behind a wedding party—I thought I’d be the last one here.”

  “Do you think she ran into trouble? Maybe we should go back.”

  Felicia chewed on her lower lip. “Wait here.” She had taken two steps when Jané appeared, her color high, her eyes bright.

  “What took you so long?” Felicia asked.

  “The exit was blocked by a pallet of linens—I had to find another way out.” Jané grinned. “Well…was that a kick or what?”

  Felicia laughed and Tallie joined in, feeling eerily bonded. “Do you think he knew it was us?”

  “No,” Felicia said. “Thanks to Jané’s performance on the phone.”

  Jané looked pleased. “He wouldn’t have dared to defy Madame Penelope’s order to blindfold and restrain himself before she arrived.” She took a little bow. “And now, ladies, I hate to cut this little party short, but I have to be somewhere.”

  “I thought you said you had no plans,” Felicia said, and Tallie detected a hint of suspicion in her tone.

  Jané hesitated, and something akin to irritation flashed over her face. “I forgot…I have a group meeting with other people who are looking for their birth parents.” She looked Felicia up and down as if to say that she wasn’t lucky enough to have been born on the Upper East Side, then she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Besides…we probably shouldn’t hang around. The maid could have found him by now.”

  Felicia straightened and nodded. “Right. And I was thinking…it might be a good idea if we weren’t seen together for a while—you know, just in case this thing snowballs.”

  A strange look had come over Jané’s face. Disappointment? “Sure.” She looked from Felicia to Tallie, who squirmed and averted her gaze. “See you later,” Jané said, her voice indicating that she wouldn’t.

  Tallie was suddenly assailed with the feeling that Jané would betray them, which was ridiculous since she couldn’t finger them for the stunt without implicating herself. Tallie shook off the sensation, attributing it to nerves. They were all feeling a little high-strung.

  “Come on,” Felicia said, staring after Jané. “Let’s go to the next block and get a cab.”

  Tallie fell into step with Felicia, whose mood seemed to have turned inward. Tallie wet her lips. “You don’t think Jerry will lose his job when the picture gets out, do you?”

  Felicia emitted a bitter little laugh. “Don’t worry about Jerry. He’ll probably find a way to put a spin on it that will only elevate his celebrity.” She signaled an oncoming cab, which slowed. “Want this one?”

  “No, you take it,” Tallie said. “There’s one behind it.”

  Felicia shrugged out of her coat. “Let’s trade so I can see about that stain.”

  “Oh, right,” Tallie said, unbuttoning her coat. She felt bad about exchanging her frumpy coat for Felicia’s sleek one. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Felicia said, taking the coat with a little smile. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure,” Tallie said. While the cab took off and another slowed to pick her up, Tallie nervously glanced in the direction of the hotel, expecting to see Jerry Key tearing down the street, screaming obscenities. She scrambled into the taxi, gave the cabbie her address, then remembered she had to drop by Kara’s first and corrected the street name.

  Tallie smoothed her fingers over the fine mohair of Felicia’s tan coat, thinking that she really should invest in a quality overcoat of her own at the end-of-winter sales. She noted with a start that her hand was still shaking slightly.

  The plan had gone off without a hitch, better even than they had hoped. In hindsight, the three of them had worked together frighteningly well…Jerry Key hadn’t stood a chance in the face of their collective wrath. At the memory of him trussed like a pig, she laughed aloud, covering her mouth when the cabbie gave her a strange look in the rearview mirror. She hoped her e-mail address was in Jerry’s laptop address book so she could see the result of their efforts. If Jané was the technical whiz that she was purported to be, about three hundred of Jerry’s closest associates would receive an e-mail message with the photo attached.

  Tomorrow Jerry Key would be the laughingstock of the New York publishing world.

  “Here you go, ma’am.”

  Tallie looked out the window to verify that she was, indeed, in front of Kara’s building. She reached into her purse, then handed a ten-dollar bill over the seat. “Keep the change,” she said magnanimously.

  “Want me to wait?”

  “No, thanks,” she said, then slid out of the backseat and stepped up on the curb. She pushed the door closed, then hefted her purse to her shoulder and tilted her head back to take in Kara’s building. Nice, with pointy evergreen trees in gigantic pots on either side of the entrance wrapped with tiny white blinking lights. But she was in such a powerfully good mood that she didn’t begrudge Kara her nice building with the blinking trees. Now that she had exacted a measure of revenge against Jerry Key, she felt better about turning over the manuscript.

  Without the Cooper manuscript to read, she planned to watch Lifetime Television until the wee hours. Because she had to meet the cleaners in the morning, she could sleep in. Then she’d straighten up a bit, maybe do a load of laundry, and, after leaving the maid to work miracles, she would slide into work midmorning, where, upon arriving, she would act shocked when she heard the news that a hysterical photo of Jerry Key was making the rounds. And when she came home tomorrow evening, her apartment would be magnificently clean. All in all, it was shaping up to be a nice weekend.

  Tallie walked into the small, well-appointed lobby and approached the suited concierge who stood at attention. She smiled. “Hello, my name is Tallie Blankenship. I work with Kara Hatteras.”

  “She’s not here, ma’am. You just missed her by a few minutes.” He gave Tallie a rueful smile.

  “I just need to leave a package for her,” she said, reaching her right hand around her purse for the manuscript bag ever-present on her left shoulder.

  Except her hand met with empty air.

  She jerked her head down, and in the space of three stomach-dropping seconds, she realized that the bag was gone…and the manuscript therein. She gasped, then swung her head toward the door and tore outside, praying the cab was still there or within sight. It wasn’t. Tallie stood on the sidewalk staring down the street as pure, unadulterated panic seized her. The sole copy of Gaylord Cooper’s manuscript, for which the company had paid a 1.1-million-dollar advance, was in the back of one of tens of thousands of Yellow cabs in New York City. Her stomach revolted, sending an acidic wash of tequila to the back of her throat.

  “Ma’am?”

  She looked back to the entrance, where the concierge stood in the open door.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Her mind raced frantically—she certainly couldn’t leave word for Kara that she’d lost the package. She needed to buy some time until she could recover the manuscript. “Everything’s f-fine,” she stammered, then cleared her throat. “I think I’ll wait and give it to her in person tomorrow.”

  “Very well, ma’am. Have a good evening.”

  She stared at him while hyste
rical laughter bubbled in her chest. A good evening? She was in so much trouble that she didn’t know what to do first. The thought of telling Saundra Pellum that she’d misplaced the manuscript sent her running to one of the potted trees, where she threw up. Afterward, she sagged against a column and rinsed her mouth with water from a bottle in her purse. Fighting tears, she wiped her lips, then began walking the few blocks toward her building. Her legs moved automatically, her mind paralyzed with panic. By the time she reached her own block, her mind had recovered to the point that she had thought of calling the cab company to report the lost bag. Since it hadn’t contained any money or obvious valuables, chances were, it would be returned.

  She continued, slightly cheered, but her anxiety ratcheted higher as her building came into view, bathed in the blue lights of two police cruisers and an ambulance pulling away. She began to trot, wondering if Mr. Emory had finally keeled over with the heart attack that seemed inevitable. Inside she took the stairs, her heart beating faster when she saw the group of spectators on the third-floor landing.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, pushing through.

  A guy whose face she vaguely recognized pointed to the hall ceiling, where a large vent trap hung down. “They found a dead guy in the HV/AC shaft.”

  Tallie gasped, then stared at the vent. A ladder stood beneath the opening, and a police officer stood on a top step, his torso obscured. When he climbed down, Tallie’s eyes went wide. Keith Wages. He whipped off his dusty hat and banged it on his leg, then glanced toward the crowd and spotted her.

  She mouthed, “What’s going on?”

  He made his way past the Do Not Enter yellow police tape and pulled her to the side of the crowd. “Hey, there,” he said, then nodded toward the vent. “I had a hunch about the bad smell, so I came back to talk to the super this afternoon and asked him if I could look around.”

  “Someone said a guy had died up there?”

  He nodded. “We’re still investigating, but it looks like he was a burglar trying to gain access to apartments, and he either passed out from the heat, or simply got stuck.”