He laughed at her over the rim of his mug. “It’s likely why you’re a cop and not a writer. I expect the complaints, as well as the kudos, are just part of it all. It does indicate an interest and attachment to the work, which would relate to how said writer earns a living.”
“I’d rather be a cop. The mother, Audrey DeLano, is really efficient. She’s attached the response to each communication to said communication. She’s also really patient and diplomatic, as she’s the one responding to the bulk, which bumps her up on the potential target list.”
“Because she’s the one who says no, however diplomatically.”
“Yeah. She’s the daughter’s voice when she responds with the Gee, thanks for your interest and whatever, but. A lot of people send in ideas, suggestions, and straight demands. This is what needs to happen. Some even wheel out elaborate story lines, to which Audrey has a kind of standard response that’s basically the Thanks, but. Most accept this, but some get puffed up or insistent, so let’s highlight that sort.”
“All right then.”
“One more thing. We’re looking for a planner, detail-oriented. It’s probable that she used different names, at least once she started thinking about that lethal plagiarizing. Once I finish my section, I’m going to run a comparison on language, syntax.”
“Writing style,” Roarke commented.
“Yeah. But that’s the next step, and means running the whole batch.”
“Then we’d best get to it.”
Less than fifteen minutes later, Roarke interrupted.
“I think you’ll want to take note of this one. Letters, all by post, from an A. E. Strongbow, the first dated March of ’58. This first is quite polite and complimentary, detailed as well on what Strongbow finds appealing in the books—and particularly the Dark series. Strongbow considers DeLano brilliant and admirable, like the character of Deann Dark, and feels DeLano has put much of herself into the character, as the best writers do.”
“Doesn’t sound too wacky.”
“Not yet. Strongbow—and there’s no indication of male or female here—states he or she is also a writer, though as yet unpublished. Much humility, and hopes to one day be as good a writer as DeLano. Requests advice on how to hone the craft toward publication.”
“I’ve got a number of that sort in my share, too. And Audrey’s general advice.”
“There’s a second letter, posted in May of ’58, thanking DeLano for the response, continuing with specifics on the latest entry in the series, again very complimentary. Near to gushing thanks for the advice and encouragement. ‘Your support has changed my life,’ it reads. ‘You’ve given me the courage to move forward, to stop making excuses, and dedicate myself to my craft, my art. You are my inspiration, my muse, my mentor. One day I hope to meet you in person, writer to writer, and thank you for all you’ve given me.’ ”
“A little over-the-top, but—”
“Not done. Strongbow asks, humbly again, if it’s possible to take DeLano to lunch, to discuss writing and perhaps to brainstorm over the manuscript Strongbow is working on.”
Yeah, Eve thought, she’d definitely rather be a cop.
“How’d Strongbow take the no? DeLano gets invites from professional organizations to speak, attend events, give workshops—and plenty from readers to weddings, bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, and memorials. The answer is invariably a polite, gracious no.”
“In the letter responding to that polite, gracious no, dated June of ’58, Strongbow expressed understanding, hoped DeLano would consider it an open invitation, anytime, anyplace. More gratitude, more admiration. Then nothing until the next spring—May of the following year. I’m sending this to your comp so you can read it yourself.”
“Okay.”
Eve shuffled her share aside, waited for the transfer.
She poured more coffee, read.
Dear Blaine,
I hope you and your family are well. It’s a credit to your incomparable skill and your ceaseless dedication that you can raise two daughters as a single mother and create such memorable characters, such intricate and entertaining stories, and with such consistency!
I enjoyed your latest Hightower book, With Prejudice, tremendously, and have already read it a second time, doing so with a writer’s eye. You have such talent, like a magician, you bring your characters to full, fascinating life. Even though I knew Hightower and justice would prevail, my heart beat faster through the last climatic chapter.
Of course, as Deann is a particular favorite of mine, I was very happy to see her make appearances in this installment. I’m already eagerly anticipating the release of Sudden Dark this fall.
Meanwhile, I’m thrilled to send you my completed manuscript of Hot Blood, Cold Mind, which your invaluable support helped bring to life. Knowing I can, at last, repay that support in a tangible way brings me great, personal pleasure. I can only hope you’ll enjoy my work as I do yours.
Please! Settle down in your favorite chair with the beverage of your choice. You’re in for a long, entertaining night of reading!
Of course, I welcome your thoughts, your suggestions, and any recommendations you may have on how I might improve the work.
I understand now, with your help, that the art of writing, of birthing a story takes real sacrifice. I’ve made the sacrifice and, thanks to you, know who I am, and what I was meant to be.
As you’ll see, I’ve taken a risk, as art also requires risk, and made the killer the central character, the protagonist, telling the story through his eyes. It is his blood that is hot, his mind that is cold. And yet … Well, you’ll see!
You are the first to read this labor of love, of sweat and tears. I could not have written it without you, would never have found the courage inside me to make the sacrifices necessary to become what I’d only dreamed of becoming.
Believe me, I will take any and all of your constructive criticism to heart, and do my best to implement your suggestions before I submit Hot Blood, Cold Mind for publication.
I hope, when that time comes, you will take my trembling hand and be my stalwart guide through that exciting process. With gratitude, admiration, and joy,
A. E. Strongbow
Eve sat back with her coffee. “Okay, more than over-the-top. There’s obsession here, and the illusion of a relationship that doesn’t exist and expectations on a personal and professional level that weren’t in any way offered. Return address is a post office box in Brooklyn. We’ll check it out. Are there more?”
“There are, yes, but you should know the first letters were from a post office box in Delaware.”
“Indicating this Strongbow moved to Brooklyn—closer to DeLano. That’s edging over the scary fan line.”
“In the follow-ups, it goes to a giant leap over that line. You’ll see the response from DeLano’s mother there as well.”
“Yeah, I’m looking at it. Quick response this time, coming less than ten after Strongbow’s. Sending the manuscript back, unopened and unread, as DeLano has a firm policy, on advice of her agent and lawyers, not to read unpublished work. Lots of encouragement and congrats on completing the book, blah blah. Lots of good-luck wishes, but a little more careful, just a little distant. Audrey’s no idiot and obviously saw this had crossed that line. And Strongbow responded?”
“Crushed, disappointed. Understood the policy, but believed the connection to DeLano meant they trusted and valued each other as writers. It’s sad, actually, and you’ll read it for yourself, see how the edges start to fray. Audrey didn’t respond.”
“Smart. Cut the cord.”
“Strongbow wrote back at the end of September, shortly after the publication of Sudden Dark. And dark’s the tone.”
“You read it.”
As he did, Eve pushed up to pace.
“ ‘Blaine,’ ” Roarke read,
I opened Sudden Dark with a sense of anticipation. Imagine my shock, imagine the depth of my sense of betrayal as I read your twisted bastardization of my own work. Did you think I wouldn’t see? Did you think I wouldn’t know you’d torn the guts out of Hot Blood, Cold Mind and used its bloody flesh to cover your own inferior work?
How could you? How dare you?
Your thin and pathetically drawn character of Lucius Osgood is so obviously your feeble attempt to make my Evan Quint your own creation. You fool no one!
Do you think making Osgood a struggling artist rather than a successful businessman gives you cover? Do you think giving Osgood a beard disguises him?
I see him, Blaine, and I see you. I see you for what you are. A thief, a liar. How many other far superior writers have you betrayed in this way to build your fame, your fortune?
I trusted you. I believed in you. I sacrificed everything to emulate you.
In the end, you’re nothing. Your work is nothing.
Anyone can copy, Blaine, anyone can cheat. You stole my soul when you stole Hot Blood, Cold Mind. And you murdered it when you tore it to pieces and called it Sudden Dark.
Yes, anyone can copy, and you’ve proven I was right. Sometimes the villain wins.
It’s past time you, Hightower, and Dark learned that.
I will never forgive you,
A. E. Strongbow
“That book’s in the library, right? Sudden Dark?”
“Yes. I can get it for you.”
“Later.” Eve waved that off for now. “If Strongbow’s the killer, she doesn’t start with Sudden Dark, the book that snapped her. She goes back to the beginning. Because that’s orderly and organized. It’s linear.
“Are there any more communications from her?”
“There aren’t, no. At least not under this name. You could be right about her using other names. Don’t you think she’d need to keep the connection?”
“Yeah, I do. I haven’t hit on anybody sending a manuscript to DeLano in my batch, but there’s got to be a few here and there. The response had that sense of ready statement. Policy, agent, lawyers, blah blah. We’ll check out the post office boxes, see what we find. She’d have shut the one in Delaware down when she moved here, shut the Brooklyn one down, at least under the Strongbow name, when she turned on DeLano. But we may get data to follow.”