Swan Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

speak.”
    “Are these seats taken?” Two elderly ladies who could be sisters, with their cropped gray hair and Warby Parker specs, hesitated beside us.
    “Help yourselves,” May invited cheerfully since they clearly didn’t recognize her, a definite plus in luncheon table mates.
    “How did you and Lizabeth Mulgrew get to know each other anyway?” I asked as the remaining seats at our table quickly filled with chattering women.
    May smoothed her already perfect hair and wrinkled her forehead in an effort to remember. “It seems as if we’ve known each other forever, but that can’t be true. Let’s see. I wrote my first Ariadne Merriwether story nearly twenty years ago. Even back then, I knew the big publishers wouldn’t be interested in a little cozy by an unknown, so I just skipped the whole agent hassle and sent copies to every independent mystery publisher I could find in Jeff Herman’s Guide to Book Publishers, Editors and Literary Agents , which was the go-to reference for the industry,” she chuckled. “I didn’t know yet that simultaneous submissions were a big no-no. Lizabeth was just starting out and looking for new authors to sign. She liked what she read, and the rest is history.”
    “Good luck tonight, May,” called a woman a few seats down and across from us.
    “You, too,” May responded. She raised a hand in acknowledgment before ducking back behind her program. “Jessica Price, my heavy competition,” she whispered to me. A flutter of curiosity among our table mates followed this exchange, but it was mercifully deflected by the wait staff, who swooped in from the kitchen to begin distributing entrees.
    I shifted slightly to make room for a young man bearing our lunches, which he deposited before us with admirable speed and precision. I cringed as I remembered my high school job at a local luncheonette, where I routinely mixed up orders and dropped plates before getting fired.
    “Okay, but why are we here now? If you have to be at the awards dinner tomorrow, why put yourself through two of these things?”
    May lowered her voice discreetly. “I confess I’m curious to know what Lizzie is going to say in her keynote address. Frankly, she sounded a little out of control last night.” She looked around cautiously to be sure no one was paying attention to her, but those nearest to us were already tucking into their chicken Caesar salads. “You’ll have to take my word for it, since last night was the first time you met her, but Lizzie’s behavior really upset me. It’s one thing to get too far into the gin and tonic after a long day at the convention, but I never saw Lizzie actually reeling before. And the bitterness was totally unlike her. Like most of us in this crazy business, Lizzie struggled on a daily basis to meet payroll, deal with ever-changing technology and cutthroat competition, and manage the over-inflated egos of her authors, but she always kept her sense of humor. Last night it was as if she had nothing but contempt for all of us, and I didn’t get the impression it was just the gin talking. Something else is going on. She has me worried. Where is she anyway?”
    May craned her neck to scan the head table, but Lizabeth Mulgrew was not in evidence. May shrugged, and we picked up our forks as a distinguished looking blonde approached the microphone and introduced herself as the president of Mysteries USA. As she welcomed the attendees and their guests and read some of the program notices before her, she shuffled her notes nervously and kept looking over the frames of her reading glasses, obviously looking for someone. Another staff member approached and whispered to the president, who covered the microphone with her hand and fired disbelieving questions at her beleaguered colleague. She looked totally flabbergasted but recovered her composure quickly, at least outwardly.
    “I’m very sorry to tell you that I’ve just received word that Lizabeth Mulgrew, our keynote