“Why did she stop working for you?”
“She finally returned from L.A., but she was never the same. She acted strangely, almost haunted. She knew about my undercover work, and her erratic behavior worried me, so I told her that her services were no longer required. She handed in her Austen badge and I never saw her again. Well, not until her face was plastered all over the news. What a shock that was. My business is secrecy, yet I managed to find the one intern in all of Manhattan who would become an international outlaw. You could not make this up.”
“When did the police come to you?” I wanted to see the timeline in my head.
“They showed up after her roommate tipped them off. I confirmed that Leeta had been my intern, that she no longer worked for me and I had no information about her activities. I never mentioned Luz. I did not want to become further entangled in this mess.”
“You lied to the police.”
“Yes, so? They figured it out on their own. I knew Leeta hadn’t done anything wrong. That roommate of hers is probably a liar.”
“Then why would Leeta run away? That’s what doesn’t make sense.”
“Who knows?” Julia uncrossed her legs and reclined on the bed, resting her head on my pillow. “I’m tired,” she said. She rubbed her gnarled toes back and forth on my bedspread. “I swear, I should get disability for having to wear those horrible shoes to work.”
I finally had her in front of me, but she was trying to wriggle from my grasp. “Julia.”
“Hmmm?” Her eyes were closed.
My inbox pinged again, announcing four new messages. She asked what I was working on and I explained about my new project. If this was a day for answers, or at least partial ones, it was a good moment to ask her why she had wanted the spreadsheet months ago.
“I wanted to test you. I needed dirt on Kitty for my book and thought you might be a useful source, but I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
“So you’re not going to do anything with the email addresses?” I was on the verge of relief.
“I didn’t say that. My sisters and I collect all sorts of information. We have no plans to use the email addresses now, but we can never know what might be useful in the future.” She yawned, arching her back and sucking in air dramatically. When she deflated onto the bed, she said, sleepily, “Leeta took a copy of that spreadsheet,” as if it were an afterthought.
I placed my hand on my chest. “What?”
“Don’t worry,” she said, glaring at me through one eye. “No one will trace it back to you. If anyone finds out, I’ll say I gave it to her.”
“What’s she going to do with the addresses?” I was protective of Kitty’s girls. My girls.
“Maybe Jennifer’s army is looking for new recruits.”
“You said you didn’t think Leeta was involved.”
“What I think is that you should stop obsessing about Leeta. I know she mesmerized you—she was like that, she had a certain magnetism—but she’s gone now, who knows where.”
“Forget her?” I could never forget the girl who woke me from my sleep. Even if I’d wanted to, her face was everywhere. “Did you know she’s on a T-shirt?”
“Some of the editors at Austen have the book bag,” Julia said. “Now listen: I need to ask you for a favor.” She sat up and began searching through her bag again, which contained even more items. She pulled out a silver hard drive, which fit into the palm of her hand.
“What I’m about to say to you—actually, everything I’ve said to you today—is top secret. Do not breathe a word to anyone, okay?”
I nodded in agreement, but I was still stuck on the fact that Leeta had a copy of the spreadsheet. I had her red notebook and she had something of mine.
“You know about my exposé, so that saves me the trouble. This hard drive contains what I’ve been working on for years. At this point it’s mostly detailed notes and sketches. There are also audio files, scans of secret documents, surveillance photos, contact information for my sources, everything. Plum, are you listening? This is important.”
I looked up from the floorboards. “I’m listening.”
“I want you to write the book.”
“Me?”
“It is entirely possible that something might happen to me,” she said, pausing for a moment. “I’ve thought about it and talked it over with my sisters and we think it’s best if you write my exposé of Austen. You worked at Austen. You know what it’s like there. I think you’re the right person for the job. Besides, I hate writing.” She held out the silver hard drive, but I didn’t take it. “The book will have both of our names on it,” she said. “I already have an interested publisher.”