Free Poison Pen by Tanya Landman

interview, when we’d all stood up to go, that I suddenly found the lost piece of jigsaw.
    A uniformed PC came into the room clutching Max’s manuscript in a see-through evidence bag. He slapped it down in front of Inspector Humphries. “You asked for this, sir?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “No wonder the man couldn’t find a publisher,” sniffed the PC. “I read a bit of it. I’m no expert, but I reckon it’s bloody awful.”
    My stomach lurched. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the bag on the table, which was crammed with fresh, bright white, neatly printed pages. I remembered the manuscript in Max’s carrier bag: typewritten, dirty, dog-eared and yellowed with age.
    I had no idea who’d written the manuscript that had been strewn over Esmerelda’s carpet, but I was absolutely convinced it wasn’t Max Spectre.

the pen is mightier
    I did tell Inspector Humphries about the manuscript, but he wasn’t exactly impressed. He made a brief note of it and then we were dismissed: free to go.
    Graham had to come home with us, and when we got back to the house Mum disappeared into the kitchen to start on supper. She was furious with both of us, which was hardly fair: it wasn’t us who’d gone and bashed Max over the head. But I couldn’t expend any energy worrying about Mum. Graham and I had to figure out what was going on.
    “Whoever killed Max must have stolen his manuscript,” I told Graham. “I’m positive that one wasn’t his. But he definitely had the real one in his bag when he talked to Esmerelda. I saw it.”
    “Theft…” mused Graham. “Robbery is number two on the Motives for Murder list. The intriguing aspect is that the manuscript was swapped. I wonder who would do that?”
    “I suppose any of the authors could have,” I said. “All apart from Esmerelda. We were with her the whole time, there’s no way she had anything to do with it. But there’s still something odd about her…”
    “The person who ‘discovers’ a body is very often the murderer,” Graham pointed out.
    “But she didn’t leave our sight the whole time. She’s the only one with a cast-iron alibi.” I sighed. “How about Charlie? He didn’t want Max spilling the beans, did he?” I remembered Graham’s words about celebrity autobiographies being written by ghost writers, and suddenly a thought struck me. “Suppose Max’s book was his own autobiography? It might have had all the details about him finishing the last Sam the Striker book. That would give Charlie a motive for nicking it, wouldn’t it?”
    “It would indeed. And Zenith might feel the same if we’re correct about him writing her book, too.”
    “But she’d gone home by then,” I objected. “Although she’s rich enough – I suppose she could have paid someone else to do it.”
    “I’m not sure that author assassination would be consistent with her religious principles.”
    “That’s true. And even if Zenith was responsible, we’ve still got the problem of how today’s events fit in with yesterday’s attacks.” I paused to draw breath and then said, “I think we might be looking at two separate plots, don’t you? With two separate culprits. Someone wanted to kill Max, and they set it up to look like Esmerelda was the target in order to confuse the police. Maybe someone completely different did all that stuff yesterday. And that would mean that Esmerelda’s the only one who’s got away without being attacked…”
    “…which brings us back to the idea that she might be the perpetrator,” said Graham, completing my sentence for me.
    I thumped the arm of the sofa in frustration. “But she can’t have done it, can she? The death threats, the football and all that – she wasn’t even here.”
    “As far as we know.”
    “As far as we know,” I echoed. I thought for a few moments and then said slowly, “Of course, she could have been here without anyone noticing… If she was dressed differently – without the make-up and the