Dirty Tricks: A Kate Lawrence Mystery Read Free Page A

still reading after eleven titles, you must be doing something
right. Is it hard to think up new story lines?”
    “Oh, goodness
no. There’s always something new to say about human relationships, which
is a good thing, because when you’re a midlist author with a successful series,
you need to produce a new book every so often. I’d hate to disappoint my readers. Ariadne is almost a real person to them and to me
now. I love her to death, but to tell you the truth, she does get on my nerves
sometimes.” Here May lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Fortunately, I have
an alter ego, so I can take a break. She’s quite a bit younger than I am, and
her interests are, shall we say, accordingly age appropriate.”
    I wasn’t following. “An alter ego? You mean like that little boy’s mom in the
comic strip, Rose something, the cheerful suburban
wife and mother who occasionally morphs into a biker babe?”
    Again the
tinkling laugh. “You’ve got it, but in my case, I turn into M.M.
Farnsworth, the publisher of a whole different kind of books.”
    I tried to fathom what the
antithesis would be of cozy mysteries set in a retirement home. “What makes
them so different? Are they how-to manuals? Cookbooks? Sado -masochistic
pornography?” I joked.
    “Goodness, no,” May protested. “I
could never advocate violence of any kind in my writin ’
or my publishing. I feel very strongly about that.” A sly grin crept over her
face. “But you’re getting warmer.”
    I blinked at her suspiciously. “What
kind of books do you publish exactly, May?”
    She looked right and left,
assuring herself that we were alone in the office before gazing at me
appraisingly. “I’ll tell you, because you’re Margo’s best friend and business
partner, but you must never breathe a word outside this room. Fans of my
mystery series would be appalled, not to mention my new Yankee neighbors. Pinky swear ?”
    I nodded mutely, hoping I wasn’t
about to have my suspicions confirmed.
    May twinkled at me gently.   “Romance novels, dear, the most delicious, sexy stuff you can imagine. I publish an
entire line of traditional and erotic romances under the imprint of Romantic
Nights Press,” she giggled. “People just love ‘ em . I
swear it’s like printing money in my basement.”

 
 
    “You’ve been holding out on me.” I
glared at Margo over the rim of my wineglass, and she had the grace to look
abashed. She and Strutter were already seated in our
regular booth when I arrived at Village Pizza, our have-dinner-and-catch-up
place on occasional weeknights when the demands of our various husbands and, in Strutter’s case, kids permitted.
    “I had it on the agenda for
tonight’s get-together to let you know May might drop by lookin ’
for me, but I had no idea it would be today, and I didn’t know until about ten
minutes ago she planned to ask you about sharin ’ the
Law Barn.” Margo pouted her perfect lips into a sorry face and tucked a strand
of blonde hair back into her chignon.
    “Your aunt wants office space at
the Law Barn?” Strutter asked, puzzled. “I thought
she wrote her mystery books on a home computer.” Her aquamarine eyes lifted
briefly from the menu she was studying, as if we all didn’t know it by heart,
and I enjoyed the impact of the Jamaican beauty’s milk chocolate skin framed by
soft curls falling to her shoulders, as everyone who looked at her did.
    “Yes, yes, but never mind
that.   She’s welcome to the desk in that
old office next to the coffee room if she wants it for a while, but you’re not
going to believe what she plans to do there.”
    “Oh, dear,” Margo murmured and
took a swig of her own wine.   “Did Auntie
May say a little more than she should have about her work this mornin ’?”
    “Uh huh,” I said drily, “you could
say that. I almost fell on the floor, and I was sitting down at the time.”
    Strutter frowned, erasing her dazzling dimples. “Damn, I guess that