Holmes & Moriarty 02 - All She Wrote (MM) Read Online Free PDF Page B

played a role in my success. At least, I wanted—needed—to believe so.

    “How convenient. For the agents.” Poppy’s plate was now cleared of any prime rib. Had she already eaten it or had she cut it into such infinitesimal pieces it was no longer visible to the naked eye?

    “Well, yeah. Basically they hold the keys to the citadel. At least in those days. And these days too if you still want a contract with mainstream publishing.”

    “Mainstream publishing,” scoffed Arthur.

    “That’s where the money is.”

    “Money.”

    I gave that up for a lost cause. I happen to like money, so sue me—but not for all my money, please.

    “I’d like a mainstream contract,” Nella put in. I smiled benignly at her. I like common sense in a beginner.

    Arthur said, “Mainstream publishing is obsolete. There’s nothing mainstream publishing can do for you that you can’t do yourself.”

    Nella said, “There’s more prestige.”

    “Prestige.”

    I’d already noticed that Arthur and Nella seemed to disagree with each other every time the other opened his—or her—trap. They were both violently opinionated in the way only aspiring writers can be.

    “I read in Publisher’s Weekly —”

    “That’s not what I read in Writer’s Digest —”

    “Have you been with the same agent your whole career?” Rowland spoke loudly over their raised voices. He seemed preoccupied with my agented status, but that’s not unusual when you’re standing outside the hallowed gates of first-time publication.

    I nodded in answer. By then I’d have had to shout to be heard over Arthur and Nella.

    “Mainstream publishing is dead . Put a fork in it!”

    “Only egomaniacs would consider publishing their own work!”

    The others, including Sara and Rudolph, politely ignored the exchange.

    Ever the ambassador of goodwill, I said, “Were you all staying at the house when Anna had her accident?”

Chapter Four
    You’d have thought I stood up and sloshed a bucket of ice water over them. The silence that followed my words could only be described as ringing .

    I’d been looking at Rowland, and he was the first to break that pregnant pause.

    “No. I only arrived yesterday.”

    “I was here,” Nella said. “I spend the weekend lots of times.”

    The others all said they hadn’t been present at the time of Anna’s fall. They answered so conscientiously, one by one, so that I felt like I was channeling Professor Plum in the Dining Room with the Candlestick.

    “Why?” Sara asked in her cool way at last.

    “Merely making conversation,” I replied.

    There was another funny lull and then Victoria mentioned finishing Caleb Carr’s The Alienist and everything seemed to snap back to normal. A lively discussion began as to whether the book was a mystery, a historical, or—in Arthur’s view—a total rip-off.

    My attention wandered. Only Rudolph, Sara and Nella had been staying at the house when Anna took her tumble down the stairs, which surely limited the cast of suspects.

    No, it didn’t.

    Nothing said a member of the estate staff couldn’t hold some grudge against Anna. She could be pretty hard to please as I well recalled.

    Still, if Anna had any disgruntled employees, they could simply leave her service. It’s not like these days anyone was trapped in indentured servitude. Well, unless you believed everything you read in Mother Jones magazine.

    The idea of Rudolph, Sara or Nella wanting to injure Anna seemed pretty unlikely. Maybe Anna was stringing together a coincidental series of close calls and coming up with a murder plot where none existed.

    One thing I had noticed during the earlier introductions—though I didn’t see how it could be significant—was that every member of this year’s AC was local. The year I’d taken part, there had been writers from all over the country. There had even been a girl from Peru, an exchange student from one of Anna’s college classes. My understanding was Anna