Wild Fiction

‘Genevieve doesn’t know that I’m a fictional and she owes me one – I saved her life. I’m sure I could get her to finish the story.’
‘She’ll discover you’re fictional as soon as she reads the story.’
‘Oh yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘We need someone else. Someone, who knows the author’s style, knows his work and has an interest in seeing him published. One could almost say his literary agent.’
‘Yes,’ Rebecca said. ‘We could take it to his literary agent. If anybody can finish and publish it, he can.’
‘I don’t feel so bad hearing about the author’s death now,’ James said. He blushed red and looked away from the other two. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that.’
An awkward silence followed before Rebecca spoke. ‘We need to get the story off his computer. We’d better do it now while Genevieve’s still not fully compos mentis.’
Rebecca opened the front door of the cottage and the boys followed them out. A yellow VW Bug turned into the driveway and blocked their path.

Chapter 41

Not only was it a yellow VW Bug but it was Genevieve’s VW Bug, driven by the author. Rebecca swayed and clutched Conrad’s arm. ‘I’ve just seen him dead,’ she said. ‘Less than four hours ago he was dead in front of me.’
‘It obviously wasn’t him,’ Conrad said. ‘What you saw was part of a body. It could have been anybody.’
‘Do you mean any body or anybody?’
Conrad ignored her question.
The author hopped out of the car and smiled at them. His smile disappeared when he saw their worried faces.
‘We thought you were dead,’ Rebecca said. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘What do you mean you thought I was dead?’
Rebecca recounted what had happened.
‘Where’s Genevieve?’ the author asked.
‘Like I said, she’s asleep at your house,’ Rebecca replied.
‘God knows what she’ll do now that she thinks I’m dead,’ he said. ‘I need to see her right away.’