'Death of a Copycat'

Chapter 1.

Trudi couldn’t believe it!  She’s done it again! she thought as she listened to Marcia reading the opening of her new book.  Looking at the rest of the group as they sat around the table she wondered if anyone else recognized the story.  It seemed not, for when Marcia finished, carefully avoiding looking at Trudi, the other members of the writing circle proceeded to make their comments.  Some praised, some suggested.  And all agreed that it was a great idea for a book.

Yes, fumed Trudi, my idea, which I read out to you last month.

While everyone else around the table had their attention fixed on Marcia, Trudi slipped her file from under the legal pad and put it on her lap.  She then ‘vented’ on the pad in her own form of shorthand.

“You’re very quiet, Trudi,” Brenda, their middle-aged leader who had begun the circle a couple of years earlier, commented.  “Any comments?  I saw you making some notes.”

Nothing you’d like to hear, “Same as everyone else.  Good idea.”  And she caught sight of Marcia’s sly grin as the woman bent down to pick up her document case and slip the pages inside.

Outside in the car park and under the hot sun Trudi really got up a head of steam as she and her close friend, Lucia, headed for their cars.  “She really has a nerve!  That’s the second time she’s done it to me!”

Lucia looked puzzled.  “What?  Who?”

“Marcia.  Didn’t you recognize that opening chapter?”

“Well, yes, but she gave us the outline last month.”

“Do what?”  Trudi stopped in her tracks.

Lucia stopped and turned to look back at her English friend.  Light dawned.  “No she didn’t.  You did.”

“Exactly.”

“But how could she have gotten the idea?  She wasn’t here last month.  She was on a  cruise.  Or something,” Lucia recalled.

“Katherine?” Trudi queried, thinking of the mouse of the group who thought Marcia was the bee’s knees.

“Probably.  Did you say that’s the second time she’s pinched your idea?”

“Yup.  I wonder how many other people she’s stolen from?”

“No one has ever said anything.  At least, not to me they haven’t.”

“Lucia, I am so damned mad that if I hadn’t had such a job finding a good writer’s circle when I first came here, I would leave.”

“But, of course, you won’t,” Lucia grinned.  She knew all of the stories about her friend’s abortive attempts.  “Listen, hon, I’ve got to go and pick up the kids.  I’ll call you later.”

“Sure.  I’ll be home.  Either plotting a new book or how to get even with Marcia.”  So saying, Trudi moved across the aisle to her car and opened the door to let out the oven-baked July heat.  Thank goodness for efficient air conditioning she grimaced as she got in and switched on the engine before closing the door.

Driving towards her home in the west of the town, she was thinking about Marcia.  Something she hadn’t yet told Lucia was a conclusion she had reached the previous weekend.  Marcia had not only stolen two of her book ideas, but she had also been getting free information from Trudi and using it.

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