Dylan nodded.“There’s no judgment here.It’s supposed to be a fun class that can help you explore your creativity.I’d love to have you or your friend sign up.”
“I like the idea of a no-judgment zone.It sounds very supportive.”
Dylan said in a bitter voice, “Yeah, that’s what we’re aiming for.There are places that don’t have that.It can make it really tough on your confidence, especially when you’re just starting out.I hate to say it, but book club just wasn’t that way.”
“It seemed like Margaret had a lot of strong opinions.”
“Yes.On everything,” said Dylan.“But things should be better now.Aside from her, it was a very supportive environment.And you need that kind of support and encouragement, whether you’re exploring books or your own writing.”
Sam said carefully, “I understood Margaret was writing too, so you’d think she’d understand.A memoir, wasn’t it?”
Dylan frowned.“How did you find out about that?What did you hear?”
“Not much.Charlotte found some memoir pages in some of Margaret’s things that she’d accidentally left at the shop.They’re with the police now.”At least, Sam hoped they were.Especially considering the kind of reaction the mention of them provoked in Dylan.
Dylan went pale.“With the police?What did the pages say?Did Charlotte tell you?Did they mention me?”
“I don’t think the pages were very specific.What’s wrong, Dylan?”Sam edged closer to the classroom door in case she needed to make a quick exit.
He noticed Sam moving her hand to her pocket to pull out her phone.He raised his hands, trying to look nonthreatening.“I’m sorry.Sorry, Sam.” He plopped down into a chair and buried his face in his hands.“What a mess,” he muttered.
Sam kept holding her phone but sat nearby in a chair.“What’s going on?Is there something Margaret knew about you?Something she was planning on exposing?If there is,” she added gently, “it’s probably a good idea to let the police know.They’re sure to find out, anyway.That way you can get ahead of it.”
Dylan nodded, his head still in his hands.“Right.I know.”He took a deep breath.“I don’t have the MFA I said I had.”
“I see.”If he didn’t have the master’s degree, he lost a lot of credibility, especially considering he was teaching courses at the community center.
Dylan said, “I’ll lose my job here.That’s how I got the workshop gigs.I told them I had a graduate degree.I can’t believe this is happening.”
“And Margaret found out?How?”
Dylan’s laugh was bitter again.“How did she findanythingout?She stuck her nose into everything.I guess she must have taken it upon herself to do some poking around and see if I had the degree.She threatened to expose me.”
“How?Was she going to put it in her memoir?”
Dylan said, “Who knows?She decided to just torture me by telling me she was going to tell people and then didn’t do it.I didn’t know if she was going to call up the community center or tell people by word of mouth.Or maybe write about it in her memoir.I had no idea.I’ve been terrified for weeks.”
They were quiet for a few moments as Sam tried to absorb the new information and Dylan tried to get control of his emotions.He finally said, “You realize how guilty this is going to make me look to the cops.They’re going to think that I killed Margaret because she was going to expose me as a fraud.Because that’s what I am, a fraud.But I’m not a killer.I was relieved when she died, of course.That makes me feel awful.But I didn’t murder her.”
“And Gerald?”
Dylan said, “OfcourseI didn’t murder Gerald.I can’t believe he’s dead.It’s like I’m stuck in this nightmare that won’t end.”He paused.“You’re the one who found Gerald, aren’t you?”
“No.But I’d spoken to him right before he died.”
Dylan shook his head.“I’m guessing that makes you a suspect, too.”
“The police aren’t really happy about my proximity to both victims.I found Margaret, of course.And then I’d had that contact with Gerald shortly before his murder.”
Dylan said, “I can’t believe anyone would kill Gerald.He was such a great guy.He was super-creative, too.I thought he’d make a great author.”
Sam wouldn’t spread Gerald’s secret further.Claire knew, but that was different; she’d been his friend.
Dylan was quiet for a few moments.“There was someone else who wasn’t happy about Margaret’s memoir.Pamela.”
“She wasn’t?”
Dylan nodded.“She kept asking Margaret what she’d written.Margaret just smiled and said, ‘The truth.’Pamela looked kind of sick when she said that.”
