Murder on the Orient Espresso(77)

‘So you ghost-wrote the novel. That’s perfectly legitimate. And you did a good job. Rosemary must be very pleased.’

‘She is,’ Missy said. ‘Or at least she was, until Laurence wrote his review. I couldn’t understand why he would rip it apart like that.’

‘Did he know you wrote Breaking and Entering?’

Missy gnawed on her lower lip. ‘I think he guessed. There were scenes he,’ she flushed, ‘might have recognized.’

‘He was planning on writing a book of his own, using those kind of … “scenes.”’

Had I actually read the book instead of falling asleep for two hours, I might have known exactly what we were referring to. I believed, however, that Missy’s manner gave me the gist of it.

As my allusion to Potter’s projected novel seemed to sink in, Missy looked genuinely astonished. ‘But Laurence hated Breaking and Entering. He called it smut. And he honestly wasn’t very good at …’ she blushed again, ‘most of the scenes anyway. He didn’t even like going to Titanium.’

‘So, you went to Titanium?’

Missy must have heard the surprise in my voice. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ she said defensively. ‘It’s the perfect place to meet people.’

Yikes. ‘Is that where you and Potter met?’

‘Of course not.’ She seemed shocked at the very idea. ‘We met at Mystery 101. I knew it was … kismet. Laurence was so different than any man I’d met before.’

Might have something to do with ‘meeting’ them at a sex club.

‘He wasn’t a user, like the others,’ Missy continued. ‘I did everything they wanted and more and it still wasn’t good enough. Laurence thought I was special. He called me “Melissa,” and taught me things. I taught him other things in return.’

‘That was very … reciprocal of you,’ I said lamely.

Missy’s brow furrowed. ‘But like I said, Laurence just wasn’t very good at sex. Why would he want to write a book about it?’

‘To make money, I suppose. All I know is that it was supposed to be a he-said, she-said, authored by Audra and him.’

‘Audra? But he didn’t love her.’

‘That’s what they all—’ I stopped myself.

But not in time. Missy waggled the gun barrel toward me the way a kindergarten teacher might her index finger at a misbehaving child. ‘You were going to say, “That’s what they all say.” But Laurence wasn’t like that.’

This time I had the smarts not to even open my mouth.

‘He told me he loved me.’ Missy’s eyes welled up and overflowed. ‘And now he’s gone.’

She started to sob. I moved close enough that I could have put my arm around her. But first, I needed a little clarity. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Missy. But what did you mean before when you said that I – Maggy – “know”? Know what?’

Missy lifted her head. ‘About Laurence and me. I felt you look right into my soul when you said what happens in Fort Lauderdale, stays in Fort Lauderdale because that’s where we first met. In fact, it was at this very conference last year.’

Ohhh. ‘To be honest, I believe I was talking about Potter and Rosemary. I really wasn’t thinking about you.’

‘Oh, I’m glad.’ Missy shuddered, but now was nearly glowing again. ‘We worked very hard to be circumspect. Laurence would even be … well, nasty and condescending to me in public. We would laugh about it later.’

Ha-ha-ha. Me? I would have smacked him one. ‘Well, you two had me fooled. In fact, I was sure we’d find him with Rosemary when you and I first went back into the sleeping car.’

‘Laurence was incapable of doing something like that.’ The gun in one hand, Missy swiped across her eyes with the back of the other.

‘Of course he was,’ I said hastily. ‘At the time, though, I didn’t know about your relationship.’

‘Relationship?’ Missy scrunched up more than wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s not why it was impossible, Maggy.’

‘Then …?’

‘Why? Because Laurence wasn’t on the train anymore.’





THIRTY-THREE





Maybe Theodore B. Hertel, Jr was right. Maybe, in the end, everything is fiction.

Because this sure felt like make-believe.

The sun was shining brightly, the alligators and snakes off on frolicks of their own. I was wearing a flowered sundress and kitten-heel sandals, albeit a little worse for wear. Missy, the leading lady, was in a silver evening gown and spike heels. The revolver that completed her ensemble could have been a prop.