Bell, Book, and Scandal

didn’t care. When a man answered, she asked if he was Zac Zebra.
    “Yes. Who is this?“ He sounded surly. No wonder. He probably still had a headache.
    Jane used her nicest voice. “I’m Jane Jeffry I’m attending this conference and a friend of mine was the first police officer on the scene of your accident.“
    “Yeah? I’m supposed to thank him?“
    “No.“ Stay sweet, she reminded herself. “He told me that you had a page of a book in your hand. I’m concerned that you and Ms. Sophie Smith might still be in danger. Would you have a moment to speak to me privately and see if you can tell me who wrote the page you were holding?“
    “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.“
    “I think you might when you see it. It might be important to you.“
    “I don’t recognize your name. You aren’t a mystery writer, are you? I don’t remember reviewing books by a Jane Jeffry.“
    “I hope you will, when and if I become published,“ she said to placate him. He could vent his spleen on her much later perhaps. “Please just give me five minutes of your valuable time. I know you probably don’t feel well. Could we meet by the elevator lobby on your floor?“ Jane felt strongly that she didn’t want to go into this man’s room on her own. Neither did she wish to drag him clear down to the ground floor.
    “Oh, okay, okay,“ he groaned. “It’s the top floor.“
    “I’ll be up in a moment.“
    Zac wasn’t himself. He looked more like she imagined Harold Spotswood would. He wasn’t in one of his black-and-white outfits. He wore faded, baggy jeans and an old faded yellow sweatshirt, and was leaning against the far wall, with his hand over his eyes. When he glanced up, his face was so pale she was afraid he was about to faint.
    “Please sit down before you fall down,“ she said, taking his arm to help lower him onto a little bench.
    “No. There’s a bar at the far end of this hall,“ he said. “Help me down there. I’m badly in need of a drink.“
    Jane didn’t think this was a good idea, but who was she to argue with her quarry? Oddly enough, it was the same floor she and Shelley were on, and she hadn’t known what was at the other end of the floor. She gingerly put one arm around his waist to hold him up. He leaned heavily against her as she led him carefully toward the bar.
    The bar was private to the suites. They had to show their room keys. There were only two other customers and they were together at the bar. She hoisted Zac into a very comfortable chair near a good light and said, “Just relax. What do you want to drink?“
    “Scotch on the rocks.“ —
    She bought his drink, tipped the bartender well, grabbed a bowl of pretzels, then set the drink and pretzels down in front of Zac. She waited patiently until he’d knocked back the first few gulps, then she pulled a copy of the two pages out of her purse.
    “Do you recognize these pages?“
    “I can hardly see them,“ he said. “What’s this all about, lady?“
    Jane stood up and tilted the light to better illuminate the pages. He leaned over and read for a minute or two. “I wrote this. Where the hell did you find it?“
    “You had it in your hand when a passerby found you in the parking lot.“
    He suddenly looked more alert.
    “How did you come by it?“
    “I’ll tell you all about it when you’re feeling better. Eat some of these pretzels with your drink.“
    He slowly read through the pages, then passed the pages back and did as she said. Again, he put his hand over his eyes. But not from pain, she thought. He was remembering something. At least she hoped he was.
    “It’s coming back,“ he said. Then he didn’t speak for another few minutes. “I gave a copy to Sophie, and Corwin told me she lost it.“ Hepaused to munch a couple of pretzels, then said, “It was a book I wrote long ago and I was bringing her another. It was the last one I’d kept. What became of the rest of the book? Do you have any idea what it means to a writer to not have a single copy of the book he worked so hard on? To have it simply not exist anymore?“
    “I understand it a little. I once completely lost chapter three of the book I’m working on. I hadn’t printed it out and somehow I erased it. I spent a whole day trying to find it. They say nothing is ever completely gone from a computer, but I never found it.“
    “What did you do?“
    “I rewrote it. And it was much better than before. As for your book, it’s