The Other Woman by Diana Diamond

Author:Diana Diamond
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312352172
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Twenty-four

Carl Weiss Books was a second-floor office in an ancient, five-story office building on Upper Broadway. The directory listed three lawyers, a doctor, two chiropractors, and an answering service along with the publisher. The entrance was a double wooden door with the name affixed in raised brass letters. Small though the company was, Carl Weiss gave a touch of class to an otherwise uninteresting building.

Pam met Peter and noticed immediately that he had tidied himself up. His beard was neatly trimmed, his cheeks shaven, and his hair combed. He wore the same khaki slacks, but he had changed to a fresh, pressed sports shirt. Most impressive was the corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Today he looked more like a professor and less like a student.

They stepped into a reception area that had a large desk and padded benches for visitors. The walls were decorated with dozens of dust jackets from books she didn’t recognize. There was a bell on the desk with a hand-printed note advising that they ring for service.

The woman who responded was pleasant faced, probably in her early twenties, wearing jeans and a colorfully patterned blouse. Her eyes sparkled behind wire-rim glasses that, along with her nearly shaved head, gave her an iconoclastic appearance. It seemed quite possible she had read many of the complicated titles that adorned the walls.

Peter introduced himself, saying that he had called.

“Oh, sure! I’m Ronda. You wanted to discuss a nonacademic book.”

“That’s right,” he answered. “It’s a book that has been under contract to Thomas Howell. They’ve decided not to publish it, so it’s free to all takers.”

Ronda laughed. “We don’t get much fallout from Thomas Howell.” She beckoned them to follow her. “My dad’s been expecting you.”

They walked past four empty cubicles that presumably had been occupied in better times. Carl Weiss’s office was at the end of the hall. He was a small, dark man with bulging eyes behind thick glasses and wore a yarmulke on a nearly bald head. He shook hands with each of them, wrapping the hands they offered in both of his, as if they were being welcomed into a secret society. “You have a book that needs a home,” he said to Pam. She smiled, liking him immediately.

Pam described the project in a nutshell. Then she went into all the problems—the burglary of her apartment, the attempt to steal her computer, the break-in at the editor’s summer home, and finally the fire at Thomas Howell’s offices. “Apparently, there are people in government, or at least in Washington, who don’t want this book published,” she concluded.

Weiss listened to the whole account, shaking his head in sympathy. Pam half-expected him to wrap his arms around her and bring her home to dinner. “You poor child,” he commented more than once. But when she ended her story, he was ready with answers.

“First, no one could find your book in my office. My manuscripts are typeset in China. It’s cheaper there! My printing is done in England, and a Mennonite house in Pennsylvania handles the binding.

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