“I remember this one. I read it when it first came out. In fact, I used it in one of my couples’ counseling groups. This is the first book you wrote with Sanjay, isn’t it?”
“You’ve done your homework.” She looked pleased, and then her face clouded, her dark eyes turning stony. “But as you can see, they’ve repackaged it. It’s the same book, but they gave it a completely different cover and a new design.”
“Ah,” I said, wondering where she was going with this. “Still the same title . . .”
“Yes, but look at our names!” she prodded. “It’s simply outrageous.” She arched an eyebrow and her lips thinned, giving her a strangely predatory look. “It certainly shows who’s the top dog, doesn’t it?” She leaned toward me, her voice sliced with bitterness, and I found myself drawing back in my seat.
I glanced at the book. Sanjay’s name was plastered across the cover in giant letters, taking up the top half of the book. The title was in the middle. And Lenore’s name was tucked way down low at the bottom, in tiny letters. It was as though she was an afterthought, like a ghostwriter. It must have been irksome for her, to say the least. “They seem to have put your name in the smallest font possible,” I said sympathetically.
“That’s an understatement,” she snapped. “If my name were any smaller, it would be on the inside of the book!” She turned the book facedown on the table as if she couldn’t bear the sight of it.
“And your agent can’t do anything about it, I suppose?” I was eager to keep her talking, hoping her anger at Sanjay might cause her to slip up and reveal something I could use.
“Nothing. The man is useless. Sanjay kept my original agent when we parted company.” She snorted. “Along with a big chunk of my corporation. He might as well have rolled a Brink’s truck right up to my bank account and emptied it. He took two of the houses and three of the cars.” Her right eye twitched, a nervous tic, I decided. “And a large portion of my career and following. I’ve never regained the momentum I had in the old days.”
I raised my eyebrows. Now that Sanjay was gone, I wondered what would happen to the royalties on those earlier books. Would they revert to Lenore, or would they become part of the Sanjay Gingii estate? I couldn’t think of any diplomatic way to ask her, so instead I said, “Is Lakeville the first stop on the Florida section of your book tour?”
“Oh, heavens no,” she said carelessly. “I was in a department store in Boca earlier in the week and a big chain bookstore in Palm Beach yesterday. Of course, none of it really mattered, because I didn’t get any good crowds. I didn’t sell a single book in Boca. An old lady came up to me at the book signing and asked me where the ladies’ room was.” She snorted derisively. “I suppose the publisher won’t make the mistake of sending me on a book tour again.”
So Lenore was in the area the night Sanjay was killed. Could she have slipped up the stairs at the Seabreeze to confront him, and had the meeting turned deadly? It was certainly a possibility. I wondered whether Sanjay’s death would breathe new life into her stalled career. Maybe she could even write a tell-all book about life with the guru. Who knew?
We chatted about books and the self-help movement for another twenty minutes, and I told Lenore I would include her in a self-help weekend we were planning at the station. She seemed to accept my cover story and thanked me warmly for driving over to see her.
I was saying my good-byes when her cell phone rang. She turned away from me to grab it, and I immediately sensed that the call was important.
“Sorry, I have to take this; it’s my agent,” she said, excitedly hitting a button.
“I’ll be in touch.” I started to gather up my things but took my time, hoping I could hear a little of the conversation.
“Oh, really?” she said into the cell, her voice vibrating
“You’ve done your homework.” She looked pleased, and then her face clouded, her dark eyes turning stony. “But as you can see, they’ve repackaged it. It’s the same book, but they gave it a completely different cover and a new design.”
“Ah,” I said, wondering where she was going with this. “Still the same title . . .”
“Yes, but look at our names!” she prodded. “It’s simply outrageous.” She arched an eyebrow and her lips thinned, giving her a strangely predatory look. “It certainly shows who’s the top dog, doesn’t it?” She leaned toward me, her voice sliced with bitterness, and I found myself drawing back in my seat.
I glanced at the book. Sanjay’s name was plastered across the cover in giant letters, taking up the top half of the book. The title was in the middle. And Lenore’s name was tucked way down low at the bottom, in tiny letters. It was as though she was an afterthought, like a ghostwriter. It must have been irksome for her, to say the least. “They seem to have put your name in the smallest font possible,” I said sympathetically.
“That’s an understatement,” she snapped. “If my name were any smaller, it would be on the inside of the book!” She turned the book facedown on the table as if she couldn’t bear the sight of it.
“And your agent can’t do anything about it, I suppose?” I was eager to keep her talking, hoping her anger at Sanjay might cause her to slip up and reveal something I could use.
“Nothing. The man is useless. Sanjay kept my original agent when we parted company.” She snorted. “Along with a big chunk of my corporation. He might as well have rolled a Brink’s truck right up to my bank account and emptied it. He took two of the houses and three of the cars.” Her right eye twitched, a nervous tic, I decided. “And a large portion of my career and following. I’ve never regained the momentum I had in the old days.”
I raised my eyebrows. Now that Sanjay was gone, I wondered what would happen to the royalties on those earlier books. Would they revert to Lenore, or would they become part of the Sanjay Gingii estate? I couldn’t think of any diplomatic way to ask her, so instead I said, “Is Lakeville the first stop on the Florida section of your book tour?”
“Oh, heavens no,” she said carelessly. “I was in a department store in Boca earlier in the week and a big chain bookstore in Palm Beach yesterday. Of course, none of it really mattered, because I didn’t get any good crowds. I didn’t sell a single book in Boca. An old lady came up to me at the book signing and asked me where the ladies’ room was.” She snorted derisively. “I suppose the publisher won’t make the mistake of sending me on a book tour again.”
So Lenore was in the area the night Sanjay was killed. Could she have slipped up the stairs at the Seabreeze to confront him, and had the meeting turned deadly? It was certainly a possibility. I wondered whether Sanjay’s death would breathe new life into her stalled career. Maybe she could even write a tell-all book about life with the guru. Who knew?
We chatted about books and the self-help movement for another twenty minutes, and I told Lenore I would include her in a self-help weekend we were planning at the station. She seemed to accept my cover story and thanked me warmly for driving over to see her.
I was saying my good-byes when her cell phone rang. She turned away from me to grab it, and I immediately sensed that the call was important.
“Sorry, I have to take this; it’s my agent,” she said, excitedly hitting a button.
“I’ll be in touch.” I started to gather up my things but took my time, hoping I could hear a little of the conversation.
“Oh, really?” she said into the cell, her voice vibrating
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