§ § § -- April 29, 1984
Janine appeared at the main house at exactly one o'clock, by which time Leslie had finished her lunch and Mariki had removed the tray. Leslie still held the book and manuscript, and when Janine saw she had them, she gave Leslie a look filled with questions. Leslie just smiled and winked, and Janine smiled back; her desperately hopeful expression seemed to encompass her entire body, not just her face.
Roarke gestured for Janine to take a seat, and she did so slowly while Roarke sat in his own chair and pulled open a drawer, from which he removed a folder that clearly contained several papers. No one spoke while all this was going on; it was as if they were saving all speech for the arrival of Henry Charles March and Grady Harding.
They showed up ten minutes late; Harding looked annoyed, and March sported a black eye and a large blue bruise on his cheek, which Janine remembered his having acquired on his way out after leveling his accusation at her. Roarke eyed them disapprovingly but said nothing except, "Good afternoon, gentlemen."
"Sorry we're late, Mr. Roarke," Harding said, clearing his throat. "My client thought he had time to see a doctor." He shot March a quick glare.
March ignored him. "Well, Roarke, so what's the story here? What're we doing here?" At that point he recognized Janine in her chair and squalled indignantly, "Hey, wait a minute, are you her lawyer or something, Roarke?"
"Or something, yes," Roarke said dryly. "Kindly sit down, Mr. March. Mr. Harding, perhaps you would like to make use of my desk to present your evidence against Miss Andrulaitis?"
Harding nodded curtly, came to the desk and thumped his briefcase atop it loudly enough to make everyone wince. The clicks as he unlocked and opened it echoed across the room like so many gunshots. All eyes were on the briefcase as Harding lifted out what appeared to be a manuscript that was held together by a jumbo binder clip and nothing more. "This," he said, handing it to Roarke, "is a copy of the manuscript for my client's unpublished book Sissy in Springtime." Roarke and Leslie looked at each other; Janine made a face, and Leslie barely avoided following suit. "If you would like to scan it, Mr. Roarke, please feel free."
"Try checking the last three chapters," Leslie suggested. To Janine, the lawyer and March, this appeared to be a non sequitur; but Roarke understood her meaning and quirked her a fleeting half-smile before thumbing through March's manuscript, pausing to read a few lines here and there. Then he turned to his daughter and offered her the pages.
"Perhaps you will find something therein," he said.
"I object!" March immediately shouted. Roarke directed a quelling glance at him, and Harding succinctly told him to shut up. Janine, trying to see from her chair, had all but started to rise out of it and was leaning perceptibly forward, her eyes huge with curiosity, her mouth open a little and a palm planted on each chair arm as if bracing herself to get up.
"What is there to object to, Mr. March?" Roarke inquired.
"That's just a kid," March sneered. "I don't even know what she's doing in here to begin with."
"First of all," Roarke said frostily, "that 'kid', as you put it, is my daughter. And secondly, she has read both the published and unpublished forms of Miss Andrulaitis' book in full, and thus is qualified to sit in on this case. Go ahead, Leslie, and tell us what you find."
Leslie put down Janine's book and manuscript and accepted March's, starting from the end and thumbing through exactly three chapters before stopping. She began to read rapidly, and after only a page looked up at Roarke. "Mr. Roarke, look at the published book, starting at Chapter 24." Roarke picked up the book and did as requested. "If you take a look, you'll see that the last three chapters of the book are an exact match for the last three chapters of Mr. March's manuscript."
With several swift glances, Roarke compared a few paragraphs and nodded. "It does indeed appear to do so," he said. Janine sank into her chair, her face filled with what looked like betrayal; March looked smug and annoyed all at once.
"This is a waste of time," he said. "That just goes to prove that this woman plagiarized my book."
"Dammit, Henry, I'm warning you for the last time," Harding growled at him. "Close your trap before you ruin your own case." March, looking suddenly alarmed, subsided, to everyone else's relief. "Come on, Mr. Roarke, what're you getting at?"
Roarke simply glanced at Leslie, who handed him March's open manuscript and picked up Janine's, again turning pages from the back. "Now," Leslie said, "here are the final three chapters of Miss Andrulaitis' original manuscript." She displayed them at Roarke, who again compared it against March's manuscript and nodded at what he saw.
"Mr. Harding," Roarke said, "we have discovered that Miss Andrulaitis' original manuscript had a completely different ending from that which appeared in the published book."
This time Janine did come out of her chair as though sprung. "What!" she cried.
Leslie came around and showed her the last three chapters of the book. Janine flipped pages, reading sentences here and there, her face going red and her fury clearly mounting. After several moments she looked up and glared at Harding. "I never authorized this change in my book, Mr. Harding. This was done without my knowledge, and I'd swear to that in a judge's courtroom."
Harding scowled. "Can you prove it?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," said Roarke, picking up the folder he had earlier removed from his desk drawer. "This morning I paid a visit to our local publishing company and had a little meeting with the editor who worked on Miss Andrulaitis' manuscript." He paused long enough to open the folder. "I was able to obtain several documents from him, and I found one of them very enlightening indeed. Perhaps you'd like to examine it, Mr. Harding." Roarke withdrew a sheet from the folder and handed it to Harding. As the attorney read, his expression gradually shifted from annoyance and bewilderment to outrage and anger. When he finished reading, he glared disgustedly at March.
"You sniveling little swindler," he said, biting off each word. "You've been using me in an attempt to cheat an innocent person out of her rightfully earned money. If you really intend to go through with this little farce, March, then you'd better get yourself another attorney, because I categorically refuse to sink to representing the likes of you." He turned to Janine. "I sincerely apologize, Miss Andrulaitis. I suspect Mr. Roarke won't mind a bit if you take a look at this." He handed Janine the document he held and looked at Leslie. "Nice detective work, young lady. Mr. Roarke, that's one smart daughter you've got. Good day, all." He locked up his briefcase and started for the foyer.
"Where the hell are you going?" March howled indignantly.
"As far away from you as I can get," Harding retorted. "I have no doubt Mr. Roarke will be more than happy to fill you in." With that, he walked out the door.
Janine had been reading the document and now looked up at Roarke and Leslie, her face slack with disbelief. "This says that the editor of my manuscript was paid to change the ending!"
"Precisely," Roarke said, nodding. "As it happened, the editor who worked on your book was in cahoots with one Henry Charles March. They are half-brothers, in fact; and they have made a business out of replacing passages in published manuscripts with excerpts from Mr. March's own unpublished work. When the book in question is released to bookstores, Mr. March and his brother then bring about a lawsuit for plagiarism. This has happened several times before, but it's only now that we have finally caught the perpetrators. The document you hold is an apparent attempt by each half-brother to keep the other 'honest', as it were. You'll find both signatures on the bottom of the page. The document was meant to keep either man from cheating the other of his half of the resulting proceeds once the lawsuits were either won or settled out of court."
March had been edging towards the foyer all the while Roarke was speaking; now he broke into a run, but he didn't get far. Roarke narrowed his eyes at the knob on the door March was lunging for, and they all clearly heard a snick as the lock engaged. March grabbed the knob and twisted it frantically for a moment, long enough for Leslie to pick up the phone and make a quick call.
"I'm afraid that this particular chapter in your life won't have quite as happy an ending as you had anticipated, Mr. March," Roarke said with mock regret. "Perhaps you can consider what the next chapter will be like while you serve some time. You might even ask your brother for help, since he is already in custody."
March gave up on the locked door and sagged to the floor; Leslie hung up and turned to Roarke. "The police are on their way," she said.
Janine got slowly to her feet and stared at Leslie. "How old are you, anyway?"
"I'll be nineteen in another week," Leslie said.
Their guest shook her head. "Amazing," she said softly. "That was some really terrific work you did. I feel like I ought to reward you or something! And me...I was silly enough not to even read my own book. If I ever do get published for real someday, Mr. Roarke, you can be sure I won't make that mistake again."
Roarke chuckled. "I have no doubt of that, Miss Andrulaitis. As for a reward..."
"Just sign my copy when your first book does come out, that's all," Leslie said, bringing on a round of laughter just as the police arrived. The door now opened easily, battering March, who was still slumped on the floor. March grunted aloud and moaned, rolling aside, while two members of the island's police force wedged in through the narrow opening left by March's prostrate body, stepped over him, cuffed him and hauled him to his feet.
"My ribs," March whined plaintively. "I think the door hit me in the ribs."
"That's what you get for lying there like a rug," remarked one of the policemen, and he and his partner laughed uproariously at what they clearly considered a terrific joke before dragging March out with them. Roarke, Leslie and Janine winced all at once; then Janine let out an undignified snort of mirth, which set off Leslie as well. Very carefully, Roarke hid a reluctant smile of his own.