Stabbing Stephanie by Evan Marshall Read Free Book Online

Jane went back out to her car.
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    Now Ivor was sitting on the ground against the thick trunk of the one of oaks on the green—one of the pin oaks, Jane realized. He was eating something. Jane squinted. Was it a slice of pizza? It could be—Giorgio’s, the village’s only Italian restaurant, was nearby on Center Street.
    Why was she so interested in him? Was it the intelligent humanity she’d seen in those whiskey-brown eyes? Whiskey-brown . . . An unfortunate way to describe those eyes.
    Turning from the window to sit before a pile of manuscripts she’d placed on her desk, Jane smiled at what Florence had said about Ivor, that he was rumored to be a once-wealthy man fallen on hard times. Whoever or whatever Ivor was, Jane decided, was Ivor’s business. As far as Jane was concerned, as long as Ivor was doing no one any harm, he had a right to be wherever he wanted—regardless of what Puffy thought.
    Jane took the first manuscript from the pile. These were manuscripts she had asked to see in response to writers’ query letters. Most of such manuscripts turned out to be rejects; many writers, she’d learned over the years, had a gift for writing provocative query letters about less-than-provocative books. But once in a while Jane found a gem that made the search worthwhile, so she continued to selectively ask to see manuscripts. Reading them was a job on which she consistently fell behind.
    The first manuscript was entitled The Blue Palindrome. Its author was a man named Nathaniel Barre. Nice name. Interesting title, too. Palindrome . . . Jane knew what that was: something that read the same way forward or backward. Able was I ere I saw Elba . Madam, I’m Adam . What was that awful joke Jane had once heard about the dyslexic woman whose husband’s name was Otto?
    She looked down at the manuscript, ready to read, then felt restless, anxious somehow, and let her gaze wander. She’d call Stanley, she decided. As she lifted the receiver, her intercom buzzed.
    â€œBarbara Kaplan from Up, Up and Away on line one,” came Daniel’s voice.
    â€œYou’re in luck,” Barbara said triumphantly. “We had a client reserved for Neptune’s Palace who had to cancel. She was going for Thanksgiving, same days you wanted, and she was staying in the Trident Tower—remember I told you that’s the newer one, the nicer one. It’s a miracle. Just give me the go-ahead and I’ll grab it for you, work it out with the hotel.”
    â€œThat is a miracle,” Jane said. “Why did she cancel?”
    Barbara made a cluck of impatience. “What difference does it make?” she cried shrilly. “A death in the family—who cares! The point is, this is a real reservation—one we made for her almost a year ago, I might add—and I’m offering it to you. Now you can do this right.”
    In the background, Jane heard Erik chime in, “And not have to stay in the boiler room!”
    â€œYeah, that’s right!” Barbara said. “So what do you say? Do you want it? Tell me now or I’ll have to give it to someone else.”
    Jane hesitated, not so much because she was unsure how to proceed but because she was, she realized, afraid of Barbara. “I’ll . . . have to let it go.”
    â€œYou’ll WHAT!”
    â€œBarbara, I’m just not ready to make a decision. I’ve just learned I have company coming tomorrow.”
    â€œSo? What does that have to do with it?”
    â€œThings will be hectic. I’ll just have to let Neptune’s Palace go.”
    â€œYou’re not going on vacation,” Barbara said flatly. “I just know you’re not. You’re wasting your time and mine.”
    Not this conversation again. “I appreciate your thinking of me, Barbara. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made up my mind.”
    â€œMade up your mind! How do you know that