Eleanor dried her hair with the towel the best she could. She brushed her hair and walked into the bedroom to get dressed. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She pulled on a thick pair of socks and stepped out in the hallway. Eleanor deliberately tried to slow her pacing to make it seem like she wasn’t incredibly eager to see who was in the living room.
Eleanor could hear voices in the living room. One voice she could easily pick out as Jackson’s. The other was a mystery. It was a soft, woman’s voice.
Eleanor stepped into the living room. Jackson was sitting in his usual chair with a mug of coffee balanced in his good hand. There was a strange woman sitting on the sofa. She had a soft-covered leather bag at her side.
When the strange woman saw Eleanor, she stood politely and extended her hand. “Hello,” She said. Her voice was soft, with a faint hint of a British Accent. “My name is-”
“Let me guess. L.M. Quinn?” Eleanor asked.
The woman smiled. “Oh, no. I’m not, actually.”
The woman was thin, and medium height. Her hair was blond like straw and tied back in a bun at the base of her neck. She was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and thin black pants. She was wearing a black shawl wrapped around herself. On her feet were a pair of black ballet flats. Her skin was pale and flawless.
“Uh… okay. So… who are you, then?” Eleanor asked, trying not to seem rude.
The strange woman looked briefly at Jackson.
“Ah, well. I come on behalf of Miss Quinn. I am currently in her employ, and have been for years. I would describe my position as… personal assistant, perhaps?” The woman paused. “My name is Corrine. Miss Quinn received your email late last night, and as she is unable to travel and meet you here herself… she requested that I come and speak with you. I am here to assure you that the letter which you received was not a joke.”
Eleanor shook her head, frowning in confusion. “Wait, I sent that email last night at two in the morning, you must have… I mean, if you came all the way from Oregon, you must have-”
“We received your email at two-seventeen to be exact. I was on the very first flight out that I could get.” Corrine nodded. “Miss Quinn asked that I be here straight away.”
Eleanor pursed her lips.
“Please, won’t you sit down?” Corrine asked.
“Uh…” Eleanor was still in shock. She must have been more tired than usual as it was taking her brain longer to process the information. And in all honesty, she feared that she might even be dreaming still.
“I’ll get you a coffee, Ellie.” Jackson jumped up and sauntered into the kitchen.
Not wanting to share the sofa with the stranger in her living room, Eleanor plopped down on the chair that Jackson had just vacated.
“Mrs. Walsh,” Corrine continued gently, sitting down on the sofa like a bird on a thin branch. “I understand that this is quite an unusual request, but I can assure you that it is a genuine offer. Miss Quinn highly regards your work and has specifically requested that you interview her. I understand your hesitation, but I have come with all of the proof that you should require.”
Jackson returned from the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee in his good hand. He placed it on the round coffee table and sat on the arm of Eleanor’s chair.
“How exactly are you going to prove that you work for a person who may or may not exist?” Jackson asked. “No one has ever seen this person, no one has ever talked to her. She doesn’t give interviews and is a borderline recluse. How can you prove that she is in fact a real person? Maybe she is many people all writing under one name?”
Eleanor was quite proud of her husband for asking the question that she had been trying to work up the courage to ask.
Corrine smiled warmly, not showing any outward emotion. There was no change in her facial expression, almost as if she were asked this question on a regular basis. “Well, I can assure you that Miss Quinn is a real person. And she is the only person who writes her books, and the only person who writes under such a prolific name.” She hesitated. “But I am sure my word is probably not sufficient enough for you to be willing to risk a trip across the country…”
She mused.
Corrine bent gently at the waist and reached into her bag. She produced a thick manuscript that was bound on one edge. “This is the first draft of ‘Killer Instincts’. This was the very first novel that Miss Quinn had published. As you can see…” She placed the manuscript on the coffee table and lifted the pages, letting them flutter through her fingers. “All the pages are hand written by the author, with her signature on the first and last page.”
She reached into her bag again and produced a single sheet of paper. “This is a certificate of authenticity, stamped and approved my Miss Quinn’s trusted financial adviser as well as her long-term lawyer. Both have signed affidavits stating that this work does belong to Miss Quinn, that the work is solely hers and they witnessed that the writing is in her hand.”
Jackson took the certificate of authenticity and examined it. Eleanor picked up the manuscript and leafed through it almost like she was touching a rare and ancient tome. The handwriting that filled the pages was neat and pristine.
For a brief moment Eleanor wondered if she recognized the handwriting from somewhere before Corrine spoke again.
Eleanor examined the handwriting carefully, then flipped to the front page. She studied the author’s signature; a clear and neat etching of the name L.M. Quinn. There was no mistaking that was the name written on the front page.
“The problem I have with this,” Jackson said, unknowingly taking the words right out of Eleanor’s mouth. “Is that as far as we know, and I googled this myself… is that no one has ever seen the author. No one has been able to definitively say that they saw her write her name on a piece of paper that anyone can actively compare and say that she definitely signed something, and that this is definitely her handwriting.”
Eleanor nodded. “As far as I know, this could be anyone’s signature.”
Corrine nodded, again her facial expression never changing. “Yes. That does make matters difficult. You see Miss Quinn is a very quiet person. She is very solitary. She surrounds herself with people she knows and trusts. She sees author signings and book launches as ostentatious.”
Corrine paused briefly before reaching into her bag again. This time she produced a legal sized envelope. “Perhaps this might convince you. These are two plane tickets, one for you Eleanor and one for Jackson. As you can see, they were booked on your behalf by Miss Quinn. Her name is on the receipt as credit card holder.”
Jackson took the envelope and opened it. He pulled out two plane tickets, flipping through them both quickly. He found the receipt and studied it carefully for a moment before he handed everything to Eleanor, pointing out the card holder’s name as L. Quinn. Eleanor studied the receipt for a moment, unable to take her eyes off the total cost of the ticket. The price for two airline tickets from Arkansas to Oregon cost more than what she paid for her car.
Eleanor looked at the plane tickets. They contained all of the right information. There were barcodes and flight numbers, departures and arrival times and airline information. Everything looked legitimate. They were real tickets.
“The date and time for the flights can be changed as per your convenience.” Corrine said softly, raising her mug to her lips and taking a silent sip of tea. She lowered the mug and placed it back on the coffee table without making a sound.
“Once you arrive at the airport in Portland, there will be a car waiting for you. The car and driver will take you both to Miss Quinn’s residence.” Corrine explained.
Eleanor shook her head. “You have to see that this is completely insane, right? I mean, if you look at it from our perspective it all seems crazy. Jackson is off work with his injury-“
Upon mention of this, Jackson scratched absently at the elbow in the sling.
“We’re short on money right now, barely making ends meet, and this amazing author who everyone in the world has heard of suddenly decides that she wants me to interview her?” Eleanor said in disbelief. “And she has given me carte blanche to shop the article to any magazine or newspaper in the world at the highest bidder. I mean, this is like winning the lottery. And the odds of something like this happening are probably about the same as winning the lottery.”
The corner of Corrine’s mouth twitched into the briefest and faintest of smiles. It was so quick that it was almost a twitch. “Yes, I imagine it does seem that way…”
“So why me? Why has she chosen me specifically? She could have chosen any other freelance writer in the world, and she picked me. Why?” Eleanor demanded.
Corrine folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Miss Quinn admires your work.”
“You said that before, and I’m still not buying it.” Eleanor countered.
“I think… I think that Miss Quinn sees great potential in you. She sees a bit of herself in your writing. She is a very humble woman, and when her first novels were published and her career began to really take off, she felt the same way that you do now. It was a one in a million chance for her to become a best-selling author and the odds were astronomically stacked against her. I’ve heard her tell me countless times that she was a nobody, and then suddenly she was a somebody in the writing community. And I think that is part of why she chose you for this task. She sees you as someone with potential who needs a boost to get their career to take off. She believes this article could be that boost for you.”
Eleanor gaped at her, though she tried not to.
“There’s a catch. I feel like there is a catch. “ Jackson said, his voice cutting into the silence.
“You will be asked to both sign a confidentiality agreement.” Corrine said gently.
Eleanor frowned. “That makes no sense. She invites me to do an interview, then makes me sign a gag order?”
“No, it is not quite like that.” Corrine explained evenly. “The confidentiality agreement does not pertain to the article. You are still given free reign and free creative control. The agreement pertains to where Miss Quinn lives; you won’t be able to publish her address, her location, anything that could put her in danger. It’s more for security purposes, really. Miss Quinn likes her quiet life.”
Eleanor breathed slow and evenly. She was running out of arguments. She looked up at Jackson, searching for his guidance and for the quick wit that made him such a good, smart police officer. He could see through anything.
Jackson shrugged. “We have two plane tickets in our hands, in our names. We haven’t given her any money. We haven’t invested any money in this, we don’t have anything to lose, really.” He shrugged.
“But what if we fly out there and it’s a trap. What if this L.M. Quinn person isn’t a writer at all? Just a serial killer or something? What if we pull in the driveway and Hannibal Lector is waiting there for us?”
Corrine’s eyes were wide, shock and surprise registering on her face. For the first time, there was an expression clearly evident on her face. “Mrs. Walsh, I can assure you that is not the case!”
Jackson smirked, and I knew by the expression in his eyes that I was about to get a smart-ass comment. “Ellie, if someone were luring us halfway across the country just to murder, dismember and possibly eat our skin, they probably wouldn’t be paying that much money to fly us out first.” He pointed to the airline receipt in her hand. “Besides, now there’s a paper trail, there are receipts, credit card information, phone numbers… if we are killed and eaten at least local police should be able to find the killer quickly.”
Corrine looked mortified.
Eleanor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, this is just a lot of information to take in all at once… and you have to know that this is a completely ridiculous situation to be put in. It’s so completely far-fetched, like something out of a movie.”
Corrine nodded. “Yes. I am aware at how strange this all sounds… Is there anything I can do to convince you?”
“You could give us ten thousand dollars,” Eleanor scoffed, her voice thick with sarcasm.
Corrine removed something else from her bag. It was a long and narrow book.She flipped open the top cover. She wrote neatly on the first pae and tore it away from the rest. She held it out to Jackson and Eleanor, who both stared at it in complete disbelief. Neither made a move to take the check.
Finally Jackson took the check. “Seriously?” He asked, his voice an octave higher than normal.
Corrine nodded. “I was given a book of blank checks, and instructed by Miss Quinn to give you whatever you asked.”
Eleanor gaped at her with her mouth open.
Corrine lifted her mug to her lips and took a silent sip of her tea. “Is there anything else I can do to persuade you?”
Eleanor blinked at her, unable to form words or coherent thoughts.
Jackson broke the silence. “Can we have a couple of days to think about it?”
Corrine nodded. She reached again into the bag at her feet. This time she produced a business card, which she surrendered to Jackson. “This is my direct number. You can reach me here twenty-four hours a day. Call whenever you need to; if you have a question… anything.”
Eleanor forced her head to bob up and down in a clumsy nod.
Corrine stood and pulled her bag up and over his shoulder. She extended her hand to both of them, shaking their hands. Jackson walked her out to the elevator politely. Eleanor sat numbly in the chair, frozen.
Jackson closed the door behind himself when he returned, leaning against the door. “Some hoax, huh?”
Eleanor pushed herself up from the chair. “Let’s go.” She said quickly.
“What?” Jackson asked. “Where are we going?”
“To the bank.” Eleanor said. She reached for her shoes and began pulling them on. She reached for her purse.
“You’re still skeptical?” Jackson asked.
“I won’t be after this check clears. Come on.”