A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(91)

Sylvia seemed to wrestle with her own mind. What to tell? What not to tell? “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“All right, but are you grown up enough to keep secrets?”

“I believe I am.”

“You know how my novels are autobiographical?”

“Yes. It was embarrassing to read about myself, though. I wish you’d lied, or at least sugarcoated it.”

Sylvia kissed her daughter’s forehead. “After your dad died, I ran out of the bio, the life part. With him gone, I no longer had a reason to be social. I just wanted to stay home with my garden, play with those adorable Nesbitt boys, and write. But what did I write that would be interesting to a reader? Baking brownies with the neighbor’s children?”

“So what was your solution?”

“I got Janet to tell me about her life.”

“She doesn’t seem like someone who’s very interesting.”

“Oh, but she is. She is fascinating. She has the oddest philosophy of life. She believes that other people make her do bad things.”

“Lots of people believe that.”

“But not like she does. She has no internal scale.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you murder someone, your punishment is worse than if you are, say, rude to a person, right? But not to Janet. A big transgression against her carries the same weight as something minor.”

“Everyone is quirky.”

“How do I explain this? Say you’re in the grocery store and a woman hurries forward and gets in front of you. What do you do?”

“Give her a dirty look.”

“But you don’t slash her tires, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“What about finding out who the woman is, then leaving notes in her car that are supposedly from other women to her husband? Or posting nasty comments from the husband about his boss so the boss can see them?”

“That didn’t really happen, did it?”

“Yes. Janet did all those things to a woman who pushed in front of her at the grocery.”

“You can’t stay here with someone like that. You have to leave. Now.”

“Not yet. I’m finding out too much to quit. I just have to be careful of what I ask her and how I say it. Above all, I have to be on her side and give her lots and lots of sympathy.”

“Sympathy? For what?”

“Janet lives in a world where she sees others as being out to get her. They want to hurt her. They think about her all the time and plot to cause her downfall.”

“She certainly sees herself as important, doesn’t she?”

“You have no idea! Empress of the World. The Center of the Universe.”

“Mother! She is a horrible person.”

“She is, actually.”

“But you nearly live with her.”

“I consider it research. Like Nellie Bly.”

Lisa looked blank.

“She was a nineteenth century reporter who did things like commit herself to a mental institution so she could write an exposé. I want to write a true crime novel about how an ordinary person can be the epitome of evil.”

“Evil?”

“Her parents very conveniently died before they could cut her out of their will.”

Lisa looked at her mother. “You think Janet killed them?”

“I don’t want to believe that, but sometimes I think she is capable of it.”

“Mother! You have to get out of here. You can go back home with me. We can—”

“No,” Sylvia said softly. “I can’t leave now because, well... The secret part is that Janet has a hold over me.”

“You? You haven’t done a bad thing in your life. You—” Lisa paled. “But I have. I’ve done...” She didn’t want to say things out loud. Transporting drugs. Selling them. Back then, she did what she thought was necessary to pay for her habit. “Is Janet threatening you about me?”

Sylvia didn’t directly answer her daughter’s question. “Something I learned a long time ago is that things happen for a reason. I was very lonely after your father died. Then this woman showed up and introduced herself. She told me I was the author of her favorite books and she’d worked hard to find me. She seemed quite proud that she’d been able to sleuth me out. She went to a conference and asked—” Sylvia waved her hand. “How she found me doesn’t matter. Janet said she was moving to Lachlan and she and I were going to become best friends, that we were going to start doing everything together.”

Lisa gave a snort. “Didn’t her presumption put you off?”

“Oh yes. I was quite firm in telling her that I wasn’t interested. I needed a friend but she wasn’t exactly my type.”

“Understatement,” Lisa muttered. “Why didn’t she take the hint and leave you alone?”

“But darling, empresses think they’re honoring a person with their presence. Truth is that I wavered between being amused and horrified by her—but the horror won out. As kindly as I could manage, I told her no.”

“Then what?”

“Janet is brilliant at finding out things about people. Like how she got past the so-called secrecy of my pen name. I don’t know how, but she found me. Anyway, she went away for a month and when she returned, she had evidence about...about...”