Stranger Than Fiction Read online

  Stranger Than Fiction

  By Emelle Gamble

  Dedicated to Philip Nuccio, with all my love

  “I’m going back to New York.”

  Claire’s declaration was met by an equally defiant response. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, Tony. I need to find out for myself what’s going on at Cauldron.”

  He pulled Claire toward him, despite her resistance. Folding his arms around her slim shoulders, he backed her up against the deck railing. “Claire, you’re as much a victim as Patricia was. Don’t push me away because you are hurting. I want to help. I need to help you. I care about you.”

  “I care about you, too. But this is a bigger issue than a passing attraction between two people.”

  His fingers tightened on her arms. “For God’s sake, stop that analytical distancing. I don’t feel just a passing attraction for you. Let your guard down, woman. Believe in what you feel. Believe in me.”

  Publishing History

  Stranger Than Fiction by M.L. Gamble, Print edition, published by Harlequin Intrigue, copyright 1989 by Marsha L. Nuccio

  Stranger Than Fiction by Emelle Gamble, Digital Edition, published at Smashwords 2015, copyright 2015 by Marsha Nuccio,

  Cover design by Tammy Seidick Design

  Digital formatting by A Thirsty Mind Book Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic and print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Table of Contents

  A Note from the Author...

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Books by Emelle Gamble

  A Note from the Author...

  Dear Readers:

  Thank you for your interest in this book. It was originally published in the 1990’s by Harlequin Intrigue, where I wrote as M. L. Gamble. After a wonderful decade of writing for Harlequin, I spent a few years away from fiction writing, but returned five years ago as Emelle Gamble.

  I have received my full publishing rights from Harlequin so that I could republish these titles in electronic form and bring these romantic suspense thrillers to a completely new audience. These books are firmly set in America of the 1990s... the times in which they were written... with no cellphones or internet or pesky twitter and other electronic gadgets to get in the way of falling in love, or finding a murderer!

  I hope you enjoy this book.

  Come visit me on the web at www.EmelleGamble.com or at Facebook at Author Emelle Gamble. I have settled into writing bigger novels now, stories about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances, which span the genres from women’s fiction to romance, and all these newer books have a twist of something unexpected.

  You can find my other reissued classic tales of romantic suspense, as well as my later work, at the online retailer of your choice.

  Happy Reading!

  XXX Emelle

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Claire Kennedy — She edited mystery fiction for years, but could she solve the real life one haunting her?

  Tony Nichols — He wasn’t bent on revenge, but helping Patricia Snow might ease a past injustice.

  Patricia Snow — Brilliant new author—or plagiarist?

  Vincent Harrison — Cauldron’s owner only wanted to know the truth and to publish Sarah Winesong’s new book.

  Damien Laurent — This book critic kept his eyes open ... and saw plenty.

  Tillie Milliard — She came up with a lot of information, but was it all true?

  Billings Newcastle — He’d stop at nothing to build his publishing empire.

  Roz Abramowitz — How far would she go to outshine Claire?

  Pearl Loney — Benton Convent’s justice of the peace had all the answers.

  Sarah Winesong — Would she steal to get back on top?

  Chapter One

  Tony Nichols used both hands to push through the revolving door into the Waldorf Astoria. A second later he stood inside the hotel, his dark eyes methodically searching the throng of well-dressed guests.

  The woman he sought was nowhere in sight.

  Keeping his head down and his shoulders square, Tony walked through the richly paneled lobby. His demeanor was defensive, as if he expected to be asked to leave.

  The people around him flashed discreet smiles, and their intimate conversations annoyed him.

  Once he’d have felt right at home threading through this throng of professionals, greeting and being greeted affectionately. But today only disinterested glances were cast his way, the sour tang of insults too long held back burned in his mouth.

  The person at the front desk directed him up to the third floor, where the socializing was now in full swing. Usually courteous, Tony snapped a curt no when a tray of canapés was offered to him by a gaping waitress. With a deep breath he reminded himself to stay calm until he had completed his task.

  Everything was at stake.

  Lengthening his stride, Tony reached the doorway of the main banquet room. A skinny redhead in a black sequined gown standing in the shadows took him by surprise.

  “Why don’t I fill out a name tag for you? We really aren’t all that mysterious here.”

  Turning to her, the lean muscles working slowly in his jaw, Tony measured out his words. “Why don’t you. The name’s Poe. E. A. Poe.”

  The redhead smiled. “Poe. How appropriate. Any relation to the Poe?” Her black felt marker squeaked against the paper.

  “Just in spirit.” Slapping the white adhesive tag against his shirt, Tony walked over to the table bearing a Register Here sign. The chairs behind it were empty, but a banner tacked on to the wall behind it heralded the 45th Annual Mystery Writers Convention. He was in the right place.

  So where the hell is she?

  Turning back to search the now even more crowded room, his anxiety began to turn to anger. He fixed his stare on the groups of threes and fours moving into the room and studied each woman. Several, including a couple of blonds, returned his look.

  But he did nothing to encourage any of them to speak to him. Only one woman interested him today.

  Look for a tall blond woman about thirty with freckles. She is wearing a scarlet jacket and miniskirt. With a croc belt.

  Isn’t that what the receptionist at Cauldron Press had said? Damn, every other woman here had on that color, he thought.

  He discarded his original plan. He had planned to confront the editor in her office when Cauldron’s secretary told him the woman would not be back until Monday. But Tony now realized it might be impossible to find her in this crowd or, o
nce finding her, to get her alone. But he had to keep trying. His business could not wait five days.

  Tony was jostled out of his thoughts when a large group of Mystery Society members moved in his direction. Backtracking to the banquet room doorway, he noticed that the redhead was gone. Most of the people were sitting at the tables inside, as a battalion of waiters bustled around the room. He glanced at his watch.

  It had been twenty-four hours since the phone call that had confirmed his suspicions. Time was running out. He had to find Claire Kennedy now.

  Find her. And convince her she would be better off dead than publishing that book.

  * * *

  Across the room, Claire Kennedy held out a graceful hand and, with a smile, accepted the sparkling champagne from the waiter. Taking a swallow, she closed her eyes to savor the tartness of the wine.

  Five days off. And a surefire number one bestseller coming out meant she should celebrate. With that thought, a smile played across her face she sank into her chair and took a deep breath.

  “Waiting for a kiss from Prince Charming? Or just sleeping, Claire?”

  Claire’s smile disappeared as the abrasive voice of Roz Abramowitz reached her. Opening her eyes, she extended her hand, praying she would get all her fingers back. “Why hello, Roz. Nice to see you here today. How are things at the House of Usher?”

  Roz, a woman whose small stature, she was four-foot ten, did not make her any less formidable an adversary, returned a tepid shake. Her tone made it clear she did not like the pun on her company’s name, and with narrowed eyes, she studied the brown crocodile belt on Claire’s slim waist. “Things are very, very good at Usherwood Publications. As they always are.”

  “Glad to hear. We all benefit when sales are up in the industry.”

  “In a pig’s eye.”

  Claire lifted an eyebrow. She knew tempers were often short in the competitive field of mystery fiction publishing, but Roz’s was unusually so today. “What’s wrong? Having a bad time with one of your authors?”

  “No. All my authors are top notch and selling well. But I understand one of your people is big news today. Or is the rumor about Sarah Winesong’s coming out of retirement with a book just wishful gossip?”

  Bingo. That was what was ruffling her competitor’s feathers. “How’d you hear that? I only sent galley copies and releases to the press a couple of days ago,” Claire asked in amazement.

  “So you are pushing a new book from Winesong for September?”

  “You know we don’t push books at Cauldron Press,” Claire said, containing her temper. “We present them. We don’t rely on hype, only quality.”

  Roz laughed without a trace of mirth. “Quantity is what you need. Your audience hasn’t had a new book from Winesong for years.”

  “You’re right. It’s been five since we published the twentieth anniversary edition of her work, which is why we’re hopeful her fans will be very curious.”

  “You must be relieved.”

  “Relieved?”

  Roz sneered. “Of course relieved. After all, I hear you rejected her last manuscript as unpublishable. I hope you haven’t let some half-baked loyalty cloud your editorial judgment about Winesong’s latest effort.”

  Cringing inside, a blush colored Claire’s cheeks. It had been the last three manuscripts from Sarah Winesong that had been rejected. The owner of Cauldron Press had warned Claire that Winesong would probably change publishers each time Claire sent the books back for more work, but luckily, Claire’s gamble had paid off. Winesong had stayed with them, and this latest book promised to be her best to date.

  Despite the active grapevine in the publishing world, it rankled Claire that Roz had found out that any of Winesong’s work had been turned down. “I would have bought the The Poison Pen Pal if the author had been a librarian from Kansas City. It’s written in a classic style, with all the wit and spirit of a brand new author. It should outsell anything Winesong’s ever done.”

  “Well, I hope it does. Did your boss tell you he had breakfast with mine this morning?”

  At Claire’s blank look, Roz straightened up. “No? Well, let me be the first to tell you that we’re thinking of buying out Cauldron Press. If that happens, I’m in line to be in charge of acquisitions for all Usherwood Publications subsidiaries.”

  Claire choked back a gasp. Trading barbs with Roz had gotten to be an expected part of her job these past seven years. But the game Roz suggested now sent a shiver through her.

  “I can see you get my drift,” Roz added. “I’d be your new boss.”

  Her mind whirred. Cauldron Press was on the brink of turning its fortunes around by publishing Sarah Winesong’s new book. Her boss would never sell now. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen, Roz. I’m sure Cauldron will remain as independent as ever.” She stood, but before she could walk off, Roz grasped her sleeve.

  “Don’t let my boss’s reputation scare you. After all, I thought Claire Elizabeth Kennedy had ice water in her veins. Except maybe when she’s bidding against me for a book.”

  “That’s a strange conclusion for you to draw. Considering the fact that the last book you outbid me on sank without a trace.”

  “That’s a lie.” A few strands of hair popped out of Roz’s chignon.

  “Is it?”

  Roz chewed on her lip. “At least you’ve learned that there are no guarantees in this business, my dear Claire.”

  “That I have. Now, Roz, you must excuse me,” Claire said. “I have to give a speech welcoming the new president in five minutes. But when I get back to the office, I’ll be sure to pass along your best wishes.”

  “You do that.” With a gulp, Roz downed most of her champagne, and then tossed the remainder into a potted palm. “Oh, there’s the group I’m lunching with. Sorry I can’t ask you to join us, but we’re going to discuss a new unpublished writer I’m excited about. A college girl.”

  Before Claire could respond, Roz headed across the room toward a group by the door. Trying to calm her churning stomach, Claire crossed the banquet room toward the speaker’s table. As she sat down, she felt self-conscious, as if hostile eyes were on her. Glancing around, she met only the smiles and nods of friends and colleagues. However, as the lights dimmed and she heard herself being introduced, she could not shake the feeling that a problem awaited her. Just out of sight.

  It was probably just her particularly unpleasant confrontation with Roz Abramowitz, she told herself as she stood to give her speech. But looking out at the sea of faces, a shiver of intuition chilled her.

  Maybe today really was not a day to celebrate.

  * * *

  “Let me buy you a drink in the bar, Claire. It’s only two-thirty and I’m dying to hear all about The Poison Pen Pal. Did you ever actually meet the reclusive author face to face?”

  Claire patted Damien Laurent’s silk-suited arm as they walked out of the deserted banquet room toward the elevators. She and the book critic had been held up by well-wishers after their speeches, and were among the last to leave. “No. True to form, Sarah Winesong’s the same old hermit. I’ve never laid eyes on her.”

  “Aunt Tillie said she sounded well on the phone at Christmas.” Deftly he twirled his walking stick in front of him, a trademark habit.

  “Tillie thinks everyone sounds well at Christmas. It’s because she loves that time of year so much.” Claire grinned when she thought of her editorial assistant, Tillie Millard. She had been Sarah Winesong’s first contact at Cauldron Press twenty-five years ago, and was one of the few to have the reclusive woman’s confidence. Tillie took her job as chief messenger for the author very seriously.

  “Did you have to edit her new book much?” Damien asked. “I’d heard some rumors the old gal had lost her touch.”

  “No, I did very little. I sent her one chapter in the mail to restructure, and of course we used telepathy for some minor things.”

  “What?” Damien’s eyes were alert. He was always eager
to find a headline that would top his monthly column in Cloak and Daggers, the much read and respected industry magazine. In addition, even though Tillie was his aunt, he had never had any luck getting her to reveal Cauldron Press’s inside operations.

  “It was the wildest thing, Damien. Sometimes I’d be working on a certain scene or chapter, and then suddenly, in the next mail I’d receive the exact pages. Edited by Sarah Winesong exactly as if we’d worked on it together for hours.”

  “God, Claire, that’s a great angle for my review. Have you got any psychic vibrations about her next novel?”

  Claire shook her head, as they walked, delighted that the influential critic was interested. “No, after all these years between The Poison Pen Pal and her last book, we decided not to push her at all.”

  “Except for a sequel.”

  Claire squeezed Damien’s arm and smiled. “I’ve got to run to catch a plane now, but let’s schedule supper for early next week. I’m dying to hear what you think about the book.”

  “Fine. I’d love to have dinner. But don’t torture yourself over my opinion, even if it is incredibly important.” He laughed to lessen the effect of his words, but Claire suspected he meant what he said. “I’ll tell you this right now. Your book’s a smash, Claire, an absolute ten. It’s fresh, fun, yet vintage Winesong, all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed. A really good read. I’ll tell you more when you buy me dinner.”

  “Are you asking for a bribe?”

  Now they laughed together. While Damien did expect her to pay for an expensive Manhattan dinner, they both knew it would not buy his good opinion about the book.

  Damien pressed the elevator button. “No one is happier than I am that this book will put Cauldron Press back on top. I’ve been so worried about Vincent.” His expression softened as he mentioned Cauldron’s owner, Vincent Harrison. “But now that he has this book, I’m sure he’ll be back to his old self. By the way, what’s this I’ve heard about a buyout offer from Usherwood?”