The tea was the perfect temperature thanks to the ice cube Wes had dropped in, and she sipped it as she stroked Erma’s soft fur. In the sun, the black cat showed lighter, reddish stripes that Nadine hadn’t noticed before, and her big eyes were fixed on the wall where Dot’s books sat in tidy rows. They were in chronological order, withThirty Pieces of Silverin the third spot, right through toNexus Point. Wait. The last book wasIt Is Hellish Gain. That wasn’t part of Dot’s standard bibliography, and she’d never heard of it.
Erma rose and curved her back into an arch like a classic Halloweencat as Nadine pulled out the book. The cover was simple, the title in a flowing font and surrounded by flags.
Little golden flags, in the process of unfurling.
There was a clipping tucked in the first page, and she put the book aside to read it. It was a death notice, of a man named Hiro Yamato. He’d been born in the aftermath of the atom bomb that had destroyed his home of Hiroshima, killing most of his family. He’d eventually come to Canada, where he’d suffered the death of a beloved daughter, chronic illness, and the loss of his business. A line from his grandson said, “He was the most resilient person I knew. It’s not that he didn’t feel the hurt. It’s that he knew life was made of pain and happiness, disappointment and hope.”
The final line, underlined by Dot, read, “Hiro would say, ‘I’m alive, and if I am alive, I have faith.’”
Nadine must have made a noise, because Wes came back in, then dashed over with an exclamation of concern.
“Are you okay?”
In reply, she handed him the book. “The shelves are chronological, and this was last. NotNexus Point.”
She saw from his expression that he understood immediately. He opened it. “‘October 1977,’” he read. “‘Maude Crew knew her love was tainted but insisted on drinking deep from the well. Water from the earth is richer and more satisfying, and to Maude, the slight sulfuric accent made it addictive.’”
“Maude Crew.” Nadine blinked. “Milly Cross. Oh my God, is this an unpublished Dot Voline manuscript?”
“It looks like it is.” Wes’s voice was reverent as he flipped to the last page. “She typed it out, but I don’t think it’s done.”
“I want to read it. This very minute.” She made grabby gimme hands.
“Me too, but, Nadine.” Wes looked torn. “I can’t deal with waiting until you’re done. What if we read it aloud to each other?”
“Deal, deal, deal.” Nadine was up from the chair and almost hoppingwith anticipation. “Now, now, now.” All the depression of the previous hour had evaporated.
He laughed and started reading.
***
Wes left a message for Brent, who called back to tell them not only had he not known about the unfinished book, but neither had Dot’s agent, and she was desperate to get her hands on it. “I told her after you were done though,” he added.
“It’s all ours,” said Nadine when the call finished, her voice greedy.
Wes kept reading, occasionally struggling with run-on sentences and misplaced words. They read about Maude through lunch, as flashbacks told of a poor girl whose parents died and of her job in a politician’s office.
“It’s nice to see even a Nobel Prize winner has shitty first drafts,” Nadine said. He had to agree. However, despite the slow start and meandering story, the book was a testament to the power of Dot’s writing. He kept reading, then paused.
“Nice,” said Wes. “He starts off seducing her with gifts and helps her move to a better part of town.” He appreciated how Dot had captured the breathless exultation of a lonely girl in love who had been overwhelmed to be chosen and how she explained away her doubts.
By midafternoon, Maude was getting uncomfortable with the favors Jean-Pierre Walker, her boss and lover, was asking. “The initialsJWagain,” Wes said, putting the manuscript down to get some water for his parched throat. “Our old senatorial friend John Wilson.”
“This is sad,” Nadine said. “It started off with keeping some money safe, and now he’s talking her into insider trading.”
She took over reading, and Wes listened with his eyes shut, in part to absorb the story, in part to enjoy Nadine’s voice. She got to the part where, feeling used and scared, Maude finally refused and was shocked by Walker’s threats. The next part of the book was moreexciting, when Maude did some digging and found out the money was from a shady group bankrolling the Jean-Pierre Walker character’s political goals in return for preferential treatment when awarding projects and advance notice of policy changes. “A reference to Matt White,” said Nadine.
Wes listened closely as the drama sped up. Maude threatened to go public although she’d also go down thanks to what she’d already done for Walker and was told the group he was working with wouldn’t hesitate to keep her quiet.
“No specific mention of organized crime, but we can make an educated guess, especially if we take that to be White,” said Wes.
The last chapters were about Maude running away in fear and changing her name to escape Walker. She kept an eye on Walker as he grew in power and saw he’d followed through on a threat against another woman, Anne Spitz.
“AS. Dot likes using initials as clues,” said Nadine. “I wonder if this is someone as well.”
Wes recalled it immediately. “Abigail Spencer.”
“Spencer,” she repeated. “I know that name.”
