“Sure. Melissa and I always tucked Silas into bed and then we’d go back to the kitchen and have a glass of wine and talk.” His fingers trembled and he laced them tightly together. “It was my favorite time of the day.”
It might seem callous, but I ignored his anguish and continued. “There was a woman at the book festival, an author, who was seen arguing with Melissa. She may have even threatened your wife. This woman had green eyes and was heavily freckled and rather busty. She was very angry and it seemed as though she and your wife knew each other.”
“What a piece of work,” Logan said with disapproval. “Her name’s Coralee Silver and she’s one of Melissa’s paranormal authors. Melissa’s focus has always been on books about family. Whether the family was insanely dysfunctional, living on a remote island, comprised of same-sex parents, or made up of vampires, it didn’t matter to my wife. She was always on the lookout for a well-written story about what makes a family and what holds one together through life’s peaks and valleys.”
“And Coralee wrote such a tale?”
He nodded. “Yes. The manuscript Melissa purchased was about two Wiccans raising an abandoned werewolf cub. I know that sounds crazy, but it was a cool story. Melissa used to read me chapters from some of her authors’ books while we drank wine after dinner.” A shadow crossed his face, but he mustered up the courage to continue. “During the last round of revisions, Coralee added a bunch of really violent scenes to the novel. They were way too graphic for the target audience and Melissa insisted she remove them. Coralee wouldn’t budge. She claimed that the blood and gore was an important part of the Wiccan/werewolf family bonding process and that Melissa was trying to stifle her creativity.”
“That’s it?” I was shocked. “Melissa merely asked Coralee to remove a few scenes to ensure the book was saleable and Coralee wouldn’t do it? Wow. I guess the situation had escalated by the time the two met here at the festival.”
“I imagine so, because Melissa repeatedly warned Coralee that she was in breach of contract. The deadline had come and gone and Coralee refused to alter the manuscript, so right before Melissa left New York for here, she told Coralee the deal was off. The contract was canceled and my wife put the project out of her mind.”
I thought of the thousands of authors who would kill to have been in Coralee’s shoes. She had a contract, an advance, a great editor, and a reputable publishing house, and she threw it all away because she insisted on keeping scenes that hadn’t been in the original manuscript. “What an idiot,” I murmured.
Logan’s expression had changed again. His eyes were brimming over with anger and he’d crushed the empty water bottle between his hands. “Do you think she had something to do with my wife’s death?”
“If she did, you’ll know soon enough. The police had no idea who Coralee was, but they will in a few seconds. Now they can track her down and question her, thanks to you.” Rummaging in my purse, I located my cell phone and quickly called Sean.
“The mystery woman with the green eyes and freckles?” I didn’t even bother with a hello. I knew Sean would understand as soon as he heard that I was with Melissa’s husband. “Her name is Coralee Silver.” As succinctly as possible, I explained the connection between the irate author and the murdered editor.
“Please assure Mr. Delaney that we’ll act on this information immediately,” Sean stated, the excitement over a fresh lead evident in his voice. “And, Lila?”
Fearing that I was about to receive a harsh reprimand for interfering in a police investigation, I winced a bit and said, “Yes?”
“You’re amazing. I don’t know if you’ve been told that enough. If I’ve told you that enough. If you were here, I would show you just how grateful I am.”
I could sense Sean’s desire coming right through my phone speaker. It was like a burst of hot air. I would have loved to return the sentiment, to tell him how much I wanted to see him, to touch him, and to feel his lips brush against mine, but Logan’s tortured face stopped the words in my throat. “I’ll tell Mr. Delaney that you’ll be in touch,” I replied as casually as I could. “As for the rest of your statement, I’d be glad to discuss that with you in person. Soon.”
BACK AT NOVEL Idea, I addressed the onslaught of queries sitting in my email’s inbox. I was surprised to see the number of subject lines reading “requested material,” and wondered if word had spread among the writers present at the book festival that one could bypass Gatekeeper Vicky and reach any agent in our office simply by typing that magical phrase in the subject line.