"I'm surprised that they didn't stay to the bitter end," Shelley said. "They must have at least one unused costume to wear to the closing ceremonies and lots of nasty things to say to practically everyone."
"Especially us," Jane replied. "I'm glad they're leaving now. I didn't want to run into them again. I doubt they remembered our names, but they'd have recognized us."
"Oh dear, I hadn't even considered that. We have been saved. Let's go upstairs right now so they don't spot us. I think I need a good hot soaky bath to relax."
When they returned once again to the suite, Jane took off her nice clothes and put on her sweats and sat down in the most comfortable chair to read the book she'd started before the Miss Mystery interrogation started. It was a good book, but she kept tending to nod off from shear weariness. This conference had gone on too long, had too many emotional ups and downs, and all she wanted was to go home.
She was unashamedly napping when Shelley yelped her name a few minutes later. Jane leaped up and ran into Shelley's bedroom. Her friend was sitting at the desk and frowning at the screen of her laptop computer.
"What's wrong? You haven't even changed your clothes. I thought you were taking a bath," Jane said.
"Look at this," Shelley said.
Jane couldn't read the computer screen over Shelley's shoulder. "Print it out so I can see it."
It was from Miss Mystery's web site and said:
BULLETIN: PLAGIARISM DISCOVERED
Dear Readers and Writers, remember when we were all talking about the "E-Pubbed Wonder" who received a huge advance from legendary editor Sophie Smith? Mrs. Vernetta Strausmann, the author of the book, has been revealed as a plagiarist at a mystery convention in Chicago.
The clever sleuths who figured this out are a pair of middle-aged women, Enid Potts and Olga Strange. They claim to be cousins, living in a remote cabin together in Alaska. We all know what this means about them, don't we? Ha ha!
Part of the book was copyright infringed (another phrase for plagiarism) from a book that Zac Zebra, the well-known reviewer, wrote years and years ago.
More on this upheaval when I learn the details. Cousins. Right. Ha ha.
Your reporter, Miss Mystery, giving you all the inside dirt the moment it's dug up.
Jane sat down on Shelley's bed. "This is awful." "Middle-aged women," Shelley quoted angrily. "Did you understand it? We're not only
middle-aged, we're lesbians," Jane said.
"Is that what she meant? I let myself be caught up in the middle-aged part. Okay, that's it. The woman has to pay for this.""How are you going to do that?"
"I'll show you," Shelley said, rummaging in her suitcase and coming up with a tiny silver digital camera. "I've been waiting to use this. I've read all the instructions. Miss Mystery hides hex identity. She won't be able to do it ever again. I'm going take pictures of her and spread them as fax and wide as I can."
Shelley threw the camera into her purse and walked out of the suite.
Jane wished her well. But didn't want to follow her and draw attention to the two of them together.
Shelley was back in an hour. She took a little gadget out of the camera and plugged it into a slot in her computer, hit a couple of keys, and a picture of the woman calling herself Lucille Weirather popped up on the screen. It wasn't an especially good photo. It was dark and murky.
"I didn't want to use the flash and alert her," Shelley said. "I took a lot of shots but this one isn't useful. She's in profile and other people are standing behind her. I don't want that."
One by one, she displayed the rest of the photos on the screen. Of the eight pictures Shelley had taken, only two were acceptable. And one of those had another person in the frame.
"I could fix that by cropping the other woman out, if I had to, but I think I'll just go with the other one. Would you call and ask that copy center if they can use disks to print pictures?"
Jane did what she was told. "They can. They're only open for another hour though. We need to hurry."
Shelley asked the copy shop to print up fifty 4-by-6-inch shots. And she purchased several sheets of sticky labels.
On the way back to the hotel, Jane asked, "Are you really sure you want to do this?"
"It's a public service, Jane. She's a slimy eavesdropper and a vicious gossip. Somebody has to blow her cover and it might as well be us. Or rather Enid and Olga. Now let me print up these labels to put at the bottom of each picture."
The labels said, "This is Miss Mystery. Authors, be careful of what you say in her presence."
"Aren't you skirting close to libel or slander, whichever it is?" Jane asked.
"No. I didn't say anything specific enough. I didn't claim she eavesdrops or says nasty things she overheard."
Shelley gave one sheet of labels to Jane, and they sat sticking the labels to the bottom of each picture. "Give Felicity a call, if you would. I'm sure she'd like a few copies for her writing pals."
"May we drop in on you for a moment?" Jane asked Felicity. "Have you seen Miss Mystery's post about Vernetta and us on her web site?"
"No, but someone mentioned it in the elevator. I meant to look it up but have been too busy trying to pack all these things I've accumulated. Come on down." She gave her room number.
Jane and Shelley took along a printout of the web page and all the pictures.
"Wow, that's unusually nasty of her," Felicity said when she'd read the printout. "I don't remember her ever going after anyone except authors and the jerks who post their loony notes on her bulletin board section. She had no right to cite you two. Even though Enid and Olga don't exist."
Then she took a look at the pile of pictures. "How did you make her stand still to be photographed?"
Shelley said, "I trailed her for an hour, lurking where she couldn't see me and my tiny camera. I didn't dare use the flash and most of them were murky or had other people in the picture. This was the only good one."
"So what are you doing with so many of these?" Felicity asked.
"I want to put one on the conference bulletin board. It will probably disappear when the people staffing it come back in the morning. The rest… well, I thought you might want to share them with your writer friends so everyone will know what she looks like."
"That's a brilliant idea. I'll become a heroine. Let me put my shoes on and we'll go downstairs."
Twenty-six
In the rush to have the pictures done of Miss Mystery, Jane and Shelley didn't fail to enjoy their late-night dessert. They both ordered hot fudge sundaes and regretted this choice all night long. They each got up twice during the night to take antacids.
"The real cure for this is bland food," Shelley said. "We're supposed to meet Felicity for breakfast. We can enjoy watching what she eats while we stick with very slightly buttered toast."
When they reached the lobby shortly after eight in the morning, the whole place was awash in black-and-white copies of Miss Mystery's picture. The woman claiming to be Lucille Weirather was frantically rushing around the lobby and meeting rooms, trying to find and destroy them. But new ones kept reappearing as if by magic.
Felicity had asked them to meet her at the door of the restaurant and they joined her, laughing like loons.
"How did you do that?" Jane asked.
"I gave out the color copies to several writing friends who had access to copiers. They distributed them everywhere at about six this morning. The one we put on the registration bulletin board has disappeared, as we expected. We've done the entire world of mystery writers an enormous favor. She won't ever again get away with this eavesdropping at conferences. Her cover's been blown."