Jeff Abbott - Do Unto Others

“So answer me, Junebug,” Eula Mae’s voice rose. “I don’t know anything about Beta getting killed or this Shannon girl getting shot. Why are you here to see me?” Junebug set his mouth in a thin line. “We found a letter there, Eula Mae. A letter apparently from your sister to a literary agent, asking about representing a book she’d written called The Rose of San Jacinto. ” Eula Mae did not withstand adversity as well as her heroines. Her face blanched, the lines in it seeming to darken as she frowned. One hand flew up to her forehead, like a startled bird returning to roost. “I-I-,” she stuttered. I saw Billy Ray starting to uncoil like a striking rattler. “Perhaps, Junebug,” I suggested, “Eula Mae should have some legal representation present if you’re going to accuse her or-” “No!” Eula Mae thundered, and I fell silent. “No lawyers,” she whispered, and her eyes flicked across each of our faces. “No one else. Who else knows about this, Junebug?” “Just the three of us,” he answered softly. “I-I want your help. Each of you, please,” she whispered. This woman seemed crushed; not like the Eula Mae who always tried to run the library board meetings, who played her local fans like a string quartet, who had beaten the odds to make a living as a writer. Even her curly, uncontrollable hair was listless. Her eyes, usually sparkling with gossip and merriment, stared at the floor. “What kind of help?” I asked. “I want you to help my sister,” she said, which left us all silent. Eula Mae waved a tired hand and began an explanation. “A few weeks back the Baptist church committee came by looking for items for their rummage sale. I gave them a box of old books that had been my sister Patty’s. I didn’t think to look through them-they were just old books of hers, writers she’d admired as a teacher. Welty, Balzac, Thoreau, Turgenev, Robert Penn Warren. I gave them those books and never gave it a second thought.” “Till Beta paid you a visit,” I said, finishing her sentence for her. Eula Mae stared at me and through me. It didn’t matter what I’d said. “She’d gone through the box I donated, and found a letter Patty wrote to an agent-about her book.” Eula Mae’s tongue flickered across her lips. “I never knew Patty even wrote a draft of such a letter. She never sent one. She was a wonderful writer, but she was just too afraid of rejection. I kept urging her to send it, but she didn’t want to hear anyone say no to it. Then she thought people around here would tease her for writing a romance novel. I suggested she publish it under a pseudonym, but she just laughed. She said if she ever did, it’d be under a joke name like Jocelyn Lushe. She just made up that name out of the blue.” Tears formed in Eula Mae’s eyes.

Junebug offered her a handkerchief and she took it, wiping her eyes.

“After Patty died, I just hated the thought of that manuscript sitting there. I started submitting it, but I was afraid no one would touch it if they knew a dead woman had written it. Those romance houses, they want to know they can buy a book and expect others to follow from the same author, build a series and an audience. So I said the book was mine, and I used the Jocelyn Lushe name. It didn’t seem like I was taking credit for her, or stealing from her, because it wasn’t my name. It was her pseudonym. I didn’t plan on continuing it-I just wanted to get Patty’s book published. So I did. And it did really well; it made a lot of money. The publisher started asking me for my next manuscript.” She paused and wiped her eyes again. “I didn’t want to stop. Writing those books was like having Patty back around. She’d had gobs of notes for ideas, so I went through those and wrote another book. Then I got a three-book contract, and I just had to keep writing them.” “Stealing from a dead woman-your own sister-to make yourself famous,” Billy Ray snorted, shaking his head at Eula Mae with contempt. He got as good as he gave. “Think what you want, Billy Ray,” she snapped. “There have been eleven Jocelyn Lushe books. I wrote ten of them, and they’ve done damned well. I didn’t steal from Patty; I kept her dream alive. I did all the hard work.” “But Beta found out,”

Junebug prompted. She nodded, miserably. “Beta found out. She came to me with the letter. I’d never known Patty had written it; it would have been just like her to write it, then not mail it. Just slipped into that book to mail when she got her courage up. I guess her cancer took all her courage.” She dabbed at her eyes, and when she looked up again they blazed, free of tears. “Beta told me, as payback for helping to remove her from the library board, that she’d expose the first book as being Patty’s, not mine. She’d call my publisher, the Romance Writers of America, the news stations in Austin. It could have been very… professionally devastating.” “So why didn’t she just do that?” Billy Ray demanded. “She wanted money. Money for her silence,”

Eula Mae replied. “So you gave her $35,000,” I finished, eager to hear and have my theory entirely justified. Eula Mae blinked at me. “No. I gave her $10,000.” “So who gave her the other-” I started, but Junebug shushed me. “When’d you give her this money, Eula Mae?” Junebug asked.

She sniffed, wiping her nose with the handkerchief. “The week before she died. I met her at her house. She’d been babysitting little Josh Schneider. The Schneiders dropped her off at her place and I gave her cash. She wanted more, but I said no. I decided I wasn’t going to keep paying blackmail to that horrible woman, and-” “And so you killed her,” Billy Ray interrupted. “I’m gonna guess you didn’t tell her no more payments; you agreed to make one final payment. At the library, two nights ago. You killed her to shut her up and stop the extortion.

But you still needed to find that letter. So you broke into Beta’s house, tore up her den looking for it, and when Shannon Harcher walked in on you, you shot her in cold blood.” The assistant district attorney leaned as far forward as he could, spewing his accusation like he usually spewed bad breath. Eula Mae trembled. “That, sir, is what’s known as a damnable lie,” she retorted, and one of her characters couldn’t have said it better. I leaned over and took Eula Mae’s hand. “I don’t know who killed Beta,” Eula Mae said, “but it wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with that.” “Had you told her you weren’t going to pay her any more money?” Junebug asked quietly. She shook her head. “She told me she’d want more later, but not when. I decided the day after I’d paid I wasn’t going to give in to that holier-than-thou witch.” “You didn’t need too, Miz Quiff,” Billy Ray asserted. “You’d already decided to take action, and you did. Well, this little scandal should help your book sales.” Her eyes blazed, like an irate devil’s. “You little shyster,” she barked. “I might’ve expected that from you. I told you this ’cause I said I wanted you to help my sister. Help me keep her dream alive. Don’t tell anyone what Beta knew. Do what you like to Eula Mae Quiff, but don’t ruin Jocelyn Lushe.” Billy Ray shook his head. “No way, Miz Quiff. There’s no way to keep that quiet when your trial starts.” “Miz Quiff,” Junebug said, not using her Christian names. I didn’t take that as a good sign.

“Where were you between two and three this afternoon?” Her hand trembled in mine. “Here. Editing a manuscript.” She paused. “Alone.”

“Did you see or talk to anyone?” he pressed. She shook her head. “No, I did not.” Billy Ray stood. “I think we’ve heard enough, Chief.”

Junebug looked up at him, not wanting to get up from the wicker sofa.

The air in the room had taken on a dense, thick quality. I felt choked. Junebug finally rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, Miz Quiff. I’m going to have to take you down to the station for further questioning-” “Junebug, please!” she gasped. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Beta, I didn’t shoot that girl. You know me, you know I couldn’t.” He stared into her face. His mouth worked for a moment, then he found his words. “You’re under arrest for the shooting of Shannon Harcher. You have the right to remain silent. Do you understand?” Eula Mae sagged against me and I held her up. She only needed a moment. She found the strength in herself and stood straight.