Jill Churchill: Bell, Book, and Scandal

They had to stop so Shelley could explain to Felicity what this strange remark meant. Jane paid no attention. She was racking her brains for what had fleetingly passed through her mind and instantly disappeared.

Twenty-five

Jane was determined to put the insight aside. What did it matter? If Zac and Sophie didn't care what had happened to them, why was it really any of her business to convince them otherwise? She'd heard of both of them in the brochure and the advance bulletins. But that was all. They weren't friends. They weren't even enemies.

She supposed she considered Vernetta an enemy. That woman was not a moral person. Then why should she have any interest in what Vernetta may or may not have done? Except that Jane felt strongly that plagiarism was a bad thing, if not actually sinful and criminal. She and Shelley had done what they could — which was significant — to prove Vernetta was guilty of it. Now it was time to let it go.

She had no reason to even think about it anymore. Whatever happened to any of them was no longer relevant to her. Her only concern was that she and Shelley not be publicly named as the women who

had figured it out, and Felicity had taken care of that. At least as far as Miss Mystery knew.

She drove Shelley and Felicity back to the hotel after dinner. The lobby was sparsely populated. According to the conference booklet, there was only one activity going on — a roundtable discussion of everybody's favorite mysteries. Felicity wanted to attend just in case someone mentioned her. Jane and Shelley tagged along on the understanding that they'd only stay a little while. When two people had cited Felicity as their favorite mystery writer, they felt they'd done their duty, and headed back to the lobby intending to go back to the suite and maybe order up a dessert from room service later.

They were stopped in their tracks by a scene at the front desk. The Strausmanns were checking out. They had an enormous amount of luggage, even a small trunk that presumably held their costumes. A bellhop was loading everything up to take outside. Vernetta was speaking to a tall, dark, cadaverous older man. Was he her lawyer who'd come to Chicago to escort them home to Kentucky? Or maybe their fundamentalist preacher, saving them from the big-city sinners?

"I'm surprised that they didn't stay to the bitter end," Shelley said. "They must have at least one unused costume to wear to the closing ceremonies and lots of nasty things to say to practically everyone."

"Especially us," Jane replied. "I'm glad they're leaving now. I didn't want to run into them again. I doubt they remembered our names, but they'd have recognized us."

"Oh dear, I hadn't even considered that. We have been saved. Let's go upstairs right now so they don't spot us. I think I need a good hot soaky bath to relax."

When they returned once again to the suite, Jane took off her nice clothes and put on her sweats and sat down in the most comfortable chair to read the book she'd started before the Miss Mystery interrogation started. It was a good book, but she kept tending to nod off from shear weariness. This conference had gone on too long, had too many emotional ups and downs, and all she wanted was to go home.

She was unashamedly napping when Shelley yelped her name a few minutes later. Jane leaped up and ran into Shelley's bedroom. Her friend was sitting at the desk and frowning at the screen of her laptop computer.

"What's wrong? You haven't even changed your clothes. I thought you were taking a bath," Jane said.

"Look at this," Shelley said.

Jane couldn't read the computer screen over Shelley's shoulder. "Print it out so I can see it."

It was from Miss Mystery's web site and said:

BULLETIN: PLAGIARISM DISCOVERED

Dear Readers and Writers, remember when we were all talking about the "E-Pubbed Wonder" who received a huge advance from legendary editor Sophie Smith? Mrs. Vernetta Strausmann, the author of the book, has been revealed as a plagiarist at a mystery convention in Chicago.

The clever sleuths who figured this out are a pair of middle-aged women, Enid Potts and Olga Strange. They claim to be cousins, living in a remote cabin together in Alaska. We all know what this means about them, don't we? Ha ha!

Part of the book was copyright infringed (another phrase for plagiarism) from a book that Zac Zebra, the well-known reviewer, wrote years and years ago.

More on this upheaval when I learn the details. Cousins. Right. Ha ha.

Your reporter, Miss Mystery, giving you all the inside dirt the moment it's dug up.

Jane sat down on Shelley's bed. "This is awful." "Middle-aged women," Shelley quoted angrily. "Did you understand it? We're not only

middle-aged, we're lesbians," Jane said.

"Is that what she meant? I let myself be caught up in the middle-aged part. Okay, that's it. The woman has to pay for this.""How are you going to do that?"

"I'll show you," Shelley said, rummaging in her suitcase and coming up with a tiny silver digital camera. "I've been waiting to use this. I've read all the instructions. Miss Mystery hides hex identity. She won't be able to do it ever again. I'm going take pictures of her and spread them as fax and wide as I can."

Shelley threw the camera into her purse and walked out of the suite.

Jane wished her well. But didn't want to follow her and draw attention to the two of them together.

Shelley was back in an hour. She took a little gadget out of the camera and plugged it into a slot in her computer, hit a couple of keys, and a picture of the woman calling herself Lucille Weirather popped up on the screen. It wasn't an especially good photo. It was dark and murky.

"I didn't want to use the flash and alert her," Shelley said. "I took a lot of shots but this one isn't useful. She's in profile and other people are standing behind her. I don't want that."

One by one, she displayed the rest of the photos on the screen. Of the eight pictures Shelley had taken, only two were acceptable. And one of those had another person in the frame.

"I could fix that by cropping the other woman out, if I had to, but I think I'll just go with the other one. Would you call and ask that copy center if they can use disks to print pictures?"

Jane did what she was told. "They can. They're only open for another hour though. We need to hurry."

Shelley asked the copy shop to print up fifty 4-by-6-inch shots. And she purchased several sheets of sticky labels.

On the way back to the hotel, Jane asked, "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

"It's a public service, Jane. She's a slimy eavesdropper and a vicious gossip. Somebody has to blow her cover and it might as well be us. Or rather Enid and Olga. Now let me print up these labels to put at the bottom of each picture."

The labels said, "This is Miss Mystery. Authors, be careful of what you say in her presence."

"Aren't you skirting close to libel or slander, whichever it is?" Jane asked.

"No. I didn't say anything specific enough. I didn't claim she eavesdrops or says nasty things she overheard."

Shelley gave one sheet of labels to Jane, and they sat sticking the labels to the bottom of each picture. "Give Felicity a call, if you would. I'm sure she'd like a few copies for her writing pals."

"May we drop in on you for a moment?" Jane asked Felicity. "Have you seen Miss Mystery's post about Vernetta and us on her web site?"

"No, but someone mentioned it in the elevator. I meant to look it up but have been too busy trying to pack all these things I've accumulated. Come on down." She gave her room number.

Jane and Shelley took along a printout of the web page and all the pictures.