The Missing Chapter

Vinson exhaled. “Charles never took criticism particularly well, and Hobbs’s piece — it occupied all of page three in the Gazette’s Sunday book review section — really lit his wick. He fired off an article to the Manhattan Literary Times blasting Hobbs. I tried to talk him out of submitting the piece — there’s almost never anything to be gained by lashing back at a critic — but he was adamant. Are you familiar with the MLT?

Wolfe said no, and Vinson went on. “It’s a self-styled avant-garde weekly tabloid that thrives on controversy. Of course they printed Charles’s article, in which he attacked Hobbs as ‘a preening poseur, a peacock, a dandified and self-important satrap who is trying desperately, yea, pitifully, to become an arbiter of public taste, which is roughly equivalent to John Travolta trying to fit into Astaire’s white tie and tails.’ Quite a sentence, eh? But that wasn’t the worst of it. Charles all but accused Hobbs of being on the take, of accepting gifts — financial and otherwise — from authors and publishers whose works he praises in print.”

“Is there substance to that charge?”

Vinson set his jaw, then nodded reluctantly. “Possibly. It has been rumored in the publishing community for years, but nobody had ever come out and said anything publicly before. There’s no question about Hobbs having his favorites — both among writers and publishing houses. You can pretty well predict how he’s going to react to a book — with fawning praise or fiery vitriol — depending on who the writer and publisher are. Hobbs doesn’t like Monarch, never has, despite our having had two Pulitzer Prize winners and five National Book Awards in the last six years. Why doesn’t he like us?” Vinson asked, anticipating Wolfe’s question. “Because nobody in our house, from me on down to the lowest editorial assistant, will kowtow to the little viper. We’ve never made any secret of our feelings about the man, and I’ve even written to the publisher of the Gazette complaining about the obvious bias in Hobbs’s reviews. And he certainly didn’t like Charles Childress. After the MLT piece came out, almost a month ago, Hobbs phoned me in a fury. He made loud noises about a lawsuit, but that’s the last I heard about it.”

Wolfe leaned back and scowled. “Has Mr. Hobbs ever approached anyone at your company soliciting money or other favors?”

“A few years ago, two editors on our staff mentioned he tossed out some veiled hints to them that he was open to ‘offers,’ is how I think he termed it,” Vinson responded sourly. “Both editors assured me they pretended they didn’t understand what he was talking about. Apparently, Hobbs did not press the issue with either of them, but soon after those episodes, we started getting execrable reviews from him on virtually every one of our books.”

“Is it commonplace for book reviewers to accept cadeaux from publishers?”

“It is not. God knows I’ve been angry at reviewers through the years, but always because I disagreed with their literary opinions. Then Wilbur Hobbs came along. With him, I question the motives for those opinions.”

“And you suggest that Mr. Hobbs committed murder in retaliation for the scathing indictment Mr. Childress had penned about him?”

“I see that as a distinct possibility,” Vinson responded with a scowl of his own. “Although it is by no means the only possibility.”

“Indeed?” Wolfe raised his eyebrows.

Vinson nodded grimly. “I can think of two other people who might also take satisfaction in helping to end Charles Childress’s life.”

Wolfe’s eyebrows stayed up. “Sir, I confess amazement that book publishing holds such potential for violence.”

“I wish I could honestly tell you I was amazed myself,” Vinson replied earnestly. “But I’ve been in this business for forty years, and there’s damn little that can surprise me anymore.”

I could tell that Wolfe was still amazed, but he pulled himself together long enough to finish the beer in his glass.

Two

I refilled Vinson’s cup, and he took two sips before going on. “I thought about all of this for a long time before calling you,” he told Wolfe, rubbing a palm along his well-defined jaw. “As I said earlier, Charles Childress was contentious. And if anything, that’s an understatement. In the last few months, Charles had fought — quite publicly — with both his editor at Monarch and with his agent, Franklin Ott. Charles and the editor, Keith Billings, who oversaw our mystery line, didn’t get along from the start, and I’m sorry to say their relationship had deteriorated through Charles’s three Barnstable books. He felt Billings over-edited him and made capricious changes. Keith, for his part, claimed the books’ plots were both weak and slipshod and badly needed shoring up.”