The Scarlett Deception

By Olivia Van Allan

Scarlett La Croix is an elusive, anonymous, national-bestselling author. No one has yet discovered her true identity. Emily Lewis is an up and coming investigative reporter, just handed the story of her life: Find out who Scarlett La Croix really is! While she's been given enough leeway to investigate the available clues, Emily is in the midst of a rehab on her house. The delays and behavior of the construction company and the annoying foreman, Tanner West, prove too much of a distraction, so she fires him, only to discover she had seriously misjudged Tanner West, hired a con-artist to replace him, and to make matters worse the one person that could provide the most valuable clue to the identity of Scarlett La Croix is the very man she just fired.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivia Van Allan
• Release date: Sep 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005768607

Olivia Van Allan

Olivia Van Allan has been writing for over 15 years. She has a background in journalism, television, radio, computers and music. She is now focusing on romance novels and has just finished her first novel in that genre, The Scarlett Deception, (and is looking for a literary agent). She lives just outside Tulsa, Oklahoma in an aged Victorian house (which is NOT haunted) that she is remodeling.

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Copyright © 2021 Olivia Van Allan

This novel is a work of fiction. While some public figures and businesses are named, extreme effort was made to portray them as accurately (and complimentary) as possible. Otherwise, names, characters, businesses and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-0057686-0-7

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Life, like a man, is like an onion. To discover its true flavor means carefully peeling back the layers, but doing so will inevitably bring tears. But, if done right, those can be tears of joy.

—Olivia Van Allan, April, 2021

Looking at the clock Rebecca Carlisle could see that it was almost nine pm. How had the time slipped away from her? She had promised herself that she wouldn’t work this late again. It was too much of a strain on her family, not being home in the evenings.

Most of the morning had been occupied with negotiating the translation of a client’s book. The translator wanted more money and the excerpts she’d received of his work showed that he took liberties with the text. But, he had such a beautiful voice. She finally reached an agreement for a slightly higher fee and he agreed to contractual limitations of altering the text beyond the needs of the translation.

Then she spent her lunch time reading requests from potential clients who wanted their first book published. Sometimes it was tedious, when people overestimated their writing talent, but there was always that hope of finding that nugget of gold, the undiscovered future best-seller. Most of these requests she let her assistants handle, but she always liked looking through a few, just in case.

The last nugget she had discovered had been a giant, gleaming rock of gold that had made all the effort worth it. The author’s name was catchy, Scarlett La Croix, the title, The Portrait, interesting, although somewhat derivative, but once she read through the manuscript she knew she’d found the nugget. It was compelling, intriguing, made her feel like she was part of the story and held her interest throughout. It was a bit rough, being the author’s first novel, but the publisher she found for it had an excellent editor that worked well with the author allowing the original voice and style to remain, but more polished and professional.

But there was the one catch. The author was using a pseudonym and wanted to remain anonymous. It took some extra work to maintain the author’s wishes, but in the end the publisher agreed and they discovered that the anonymity of the author added an intrigue to the books that fascinated future fans.

And there were a lot of future fans. Rebecca handled mostly romance novels, but this author, because of the anonymity had attracted mystery fans, many whom became romance fans after reading the novels. Both she and the publisher feared that a lack of photo and personal details might turn typical romance novel fans away, but the quality of the story pulled them in, and the mystery made their fascination even stronger.

So far no one had discovered who Scarlett La Croix actually was. Rebecca worked hard to maintain the mystery. Not even her staff knew the real identity of the mysterious Scarlet La Croix. Even the publishing house, with the exception of one contact there, had no idea who the real author was.

The financial part was a headache. Fortunately a large portion of Scarlett La Croix’s royalties went directly to several charities and the remainder came to Rebecca to redirect to the author. Her attorney, her accountant and Rebecca had a very interesting meeting when they first designed the financial arraignment, so they could make sure Scarlett La Croix got the royalties that were due and also remained anonymous and also that the IRS was satisfied no one was hiding income.

But Rebecca had spent the past two weeks eagerly waiting for the news of the fifth Scarlett La Croix novel. This morning she got a quick email letting her know the rough draft was ready. So far all her contact had been through emails, with the exception of one trip to Tulsa to meet the author personally. Now she had news that would require another in-person meeting, so her assistant spent the day rearranging appointments to clear time for a quick trip from New York City to Tulsa.

She would again get to meet with the elusive and mysterious Scarlet La Croix in person.

Colleen could see two rooms with lights still on—an office and the conference room. Voices—barely decipherable—came wafting from the conference room. She chose the office furthest from the one with the lights on for a reason. Colleen Harper had been cleaning the office at Her Tulsa magazine for eight years now. She had only read the magazine itself a few times and found it filled with mostly nonsense and fluff. Sure, it appealed to a lot of women, women with money, position, a place in society where people treated them like they mattered, but not to working women like Colleen Harper, who spent her evenings cleaning the offices of the kinds of women who had time to read glossy articles about mostly nonsense and fluff.

The glass door to the next office opened with a push from Collen’s shoulder. She propped it open so she could hear the voices in the conference room. She didn’t read the magazine but liked hearing the people talk about it. It made her feel a little bit like she was a part of it all.

A quick circuit of the room assured her that there was no trash on the floor.

The writers were generally pretty good about that. Not the art people. They always left random things lying on the floor, half of it Colleen had no idea what it was. She had finally decided to leave what looked important on the filing cabinet after a fuss was made about some of the art tools they used vanishing when they left it on the floor.

The office reserved for the man who maintained the website was also usually clean. He made an appearance once or twice a week. His name was Danny something. She would sometimes find his stuff, too, but he was typically a bit neater. When he did come in he stayed later, so Colleen had been able to meet him. He usually worked from home and when he came in he wore a t-shirt and jeans, or sweats and sometimes looked like he hadn’t even combed his hair. He definitely didn’t fit the atmosphere of a glossy women’s magazine, which would explain why they were glad to let him work from home. Colleen, however, liked him. He always said hi to her, and remembered her name. Sometimes he’d wear a t-shirt with a Bible verse on it, so she knew he was a Christian. Sometimes they chatted and discussed their respective churches, his in mid-town and hers on the north side.

She pulled the vacuum through the door, let the door close and began on the floor. With the door closed and the vacuum running she couldn’t hear the people in the conference room, but that couldn’t be helped. She chuckled to herself remembering the silly blonde writer who’d asked her if the vacuum had a mute button. It didn’t surprise her that the woman had never used a vacuum before. She was also one of those that would dump cups of liquid in the trash rather than in a sink. She had no idea how hard it was to empty trash cans filled with old coffee mixed with paper and scraps of food. Her name was equally silly, Cyndee. She couldn’t even spell her own name right.

Finished with the vacuum, Colleen emptied the trash into the larger can she’d left in the hallway, replaced the liner and moved to the next office. She could hear Margaret Blunt, the magazine’s editor-in-chief, raising her voice to try to talk over Robert Goins, the managing editor, as they bickered and argued about something Colleen couldn’t decipher. She heard the words circulation, demographics and sexy but couldn’t put them in context.

Colleen pushed into the next office as Margaret’s voice started taking on a shrill quality. This time the vacuum would be a blessing.

Margaret Blunt, in Colleen’s experience was stuck-up and snooty. She was the type of woman who felt it an unbearable inconvenience to be forced to acknowledge the existence of people below her, especially the cleaning lady. Stephanie Owens, the entertainment editor was also snooty, but not as bad as Margaret. Stephanie would sometimes acknowledge Colleen’s existence, but more as walking, talking piece of furniture at which to toss orders.

As she exited the second office Colleen could hear Bob Goins again raising his voice. She knew he was holding back since he was the only man in the room. She knew how loud and forceful men could get, and Bob Goins had worked at Her Tulsa long enough to have learned that he had to use a gentler confidence and forcefulness in his voice and body language to get across his ideas. He was also much less snooty, even going so far as apologizing that his office was so messy the few times he stayed late and Colleen had to clean around him. Most of the management had messy offices, but he was the only one who had apologized for it.

The lifestyle editor, Chrystal Peters, was the most annoying. She’d actually ordered Colleen to get her coffee the first night she worked late and Colleen had to clean her office.

I’ve been handling everyone’s trash for the last hour and a half, Colleen said, holding her hands up, If you’re okay with that, I can fetch you some coffee.

Chrystal just rolled her eyes, let out a sigh and then left to get her own coffee. Colleen made a mental note to make sure to clean the bathrooms before she did Chrystal’s office in the future, in case she ever changed her mind.

Then there was Emily Lewis. Colleen liked her.

Emily was a nice Christian girl, not that she made a point of mentioning it, but she had some knickknacks with Bible verses on her desk. Emily also remembered Colleen’s name and talked to her like she was a human being, not a piece of furniture. When Emily was working late Colleen would start with the offices furthest away from Emily’s office to make sure the vacuum didn’t bother her. She didn’t do that for anyone else. Emily also never left trash on her floor. On some occasions when there was no one else there, Emily would actually help Colleen with the cleaning, against Colleen’s strenuous objections. Emily said it helped her think and if it meant Colleen could spend more time with her family, then it was worth it. Since the first time Emily did that, Colleen started leaving encouraging notes on Emily’s desk, and Emily would leave equally encouraging notes for Colleen to find.

Yes, Colleen thought, Emily is good people.

People just aren’t reading magazines as much anymore, Margaret Blunt said as she tossed her hands in the air in frustration, "especially print magazines."

I disagree, Robert Goins replied, The statistics are showing that people are still reading print magazines, but they’re being pickier about which magazines they read.

How is the website doing? Chrystal Peters asked.

Tracy? Margaret turned to her assistant, Did you bring those stats?

Yes, ma’am, Tracy Lee replied, Danny gave us a run-down of the traffic and other data for the web site. She slid a sheet over to Margaret who glanced at it just quick enough to look as if she cared. The traffic there has been slowly deteriorating as well, Tracy concluded.

They could hear the vacuum in the distance as the cleaning lady did her work. Margaret sometimes regretted agreeing to let the cleaning lady begin at 6pm, instead of midnight, like every other place she worked, but she had been talked into it. It was a gesture of accommodation for working class women, and it would look bad for the magazine to not take women’s needs into account when running their daily operations. She preferred to not have menials like that around when they were conducting business.

Again, Stephanie Owens, the entertainment editor interjected, We need something that will draw more readers.

There’s that new boutique that’s opening in a few months, downtown, Chrystal Peters offered, "It’s a national chain, and it’ll be very exciting when it gets here."

Bob Goins frowned.

We need something that has a broad appeal, Stephanie replied.

No pun intended? Bob asked.

What? Stephanie asked, confused.

Never mind, Bob replied. Apparently he was the only one not allowed to accidentally make that pun.

"We need something—soon or we may not have a magazine anymore," Margaret said ominously.

This may be a long shot, Stephanie began, "but there’s been a lot of buzz lately about Scarlett La Croix."

Who, Margaret asked, is she local?

She’s a romance novelist, Stephanie said, "and a very popular one at that. The thing is all of her novels, so far, take place in and around Tulsa."

Oooh, Chrystal purred, That’s interesting.

Yes, Stephanie continued, "No one knows who she actually is. There are no photos of her in her books, and the description of her is vague and generic. She doesn’t do interviews or book signings but her novels are wildly popular."

Maybe she’s a big, fat guy named Eugene, Chrystal offered with a giggle.

Anyway, Stephanie said, intentionally ignoring Chrystal, if she’s local, and we could actually discover her identity that would be a major story and put the magazine in the national eye.

Won’t that tick her off? Bob Goins asked.

Most likely, Stephanie replied, but as long as we get the exposure, I think there’s not much backlash we would get that would undermine the advantages.

If she’s popular, local and is angry with us, Bob replied, that sounds like a serious PR problem.

Wait, Margaret said, if we did discover her identity, it would be leverage to get her to do an interview, anonymously, which means we wouldn’t make her angry, we’d thrill her fans and boost circulation.

That would work, Stephanie agreed.

Exactly how popular is she? Margaret asked.

Her second novel made the national bestseller list, and a few weeks later, because of the exposure, her first novel spiked in sales and it made the bestseller list, too, Stephanie said, "and the two novels she wrote after that went immediately to the top of the list as soon as they were published."

That sounds popular to me, Chrystal offered.

It’s a nice idea, Bob said, but how are we supposed to find a secret that no one else has been able to?

You know Emily Lewis, right? Stephanie asked.

Yes, Margaret said, She wrote that piece on new movies being shot around the Tulsa area.

That’s her, Stephanie said, "We managed to snatch her away from a television station in Arkansas where she was doing investigative pieces. She had exposed a massive political cover-up that landed several state legislators in prison, but also brought some political backslash on the station. She was on the brink of getting fired when we made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and now she works for us. If anyone could find Scarlett La Croix’s identity, it’s Emily."

This sounds good, Margaret said, finally smiling, get her on it right away.

I think she’s still here, I can talk to her tonight, Stephanie replied excitedly, "but I’m not sure how long it may take her. This could be something that would take months."

I think that would be okay, Bob said, There are several other things we can do in the short term to temporarily boost circulation.

Good, Margaret said, her voice signaling the meeting was winding down. You do that, Bob. Stephanie, you get Emily on the Scarlett Claw piece…

Scarlett La Croix, Stephanie corrected her, It’s French. It’s pronounced like claw, but with a ‘W’ instead of an ‘L’.

…anyway, Margaret continued, Tracy, you get with Danny and see if he has any ideas about boosting the web site traffic. Chrystal, get your team energized and focused on what the women in the city want to read. I think we’re done.

Period.

With that Emily finished the article. She sat back and allowed the satisfaction of accomplishment flow over her. She would still need to re-read it, and then send it to her editor, but the hard part was over.

She was scrolling back to the beginning of the article when her phone rang. Looking at her phone she could see it was her mother. Annoying, but she knew they hadn’t spoken in days, so she slid the green circle over, and then tapped the speaker icon to activate the speaker.

Hello, she said, resuming the scrolling to get to the beginning of the article.

Am I catching you at a bad time, the voice of her mother said from the phone.

No, mom, I just finished up and was getting ready to go home.

You’re still at work?!?

Yes, mom, I had an article to finish, and stayed late.

Can’t you do that from home?

Yes, but I was already here, so I stayed to finish up.

Okay, I just called to see how you were doing.

Emily had moved out on her own more than five years earlier, but it was still hard to get her parents, Jack and Deborah Lewis, from hovering. Her dad had worked as a political consultant for decades, and then semi-retired to write novels that reeked of political allegory. So far he only self-published them online, but had a sizable following for digital copies of his books. Growing up, since her dad traveled so much, but still made good money, her mother devoted herself to being a stay-at-home mom and took care of Emily and her three brothers. Her oldest brother became a lawyer and moved out of state. She saw him, his wife and kids on holidays and the occasional video chat. Her second oldest brother was an accountant, and stayed in the area. His family she saw on a regular basis, and even occasionally babysat their kids. Her youngest brother was trying to start a restaurant with his new wife, and was working himself to death, but overjoyed and being able to strive for his dream.

How is your remodel going? Deborah Lewis asked.

Emily stopped scrolling and paused to control her anger. She’d saved up for years to afford a remodel of her kitchen and main bathroom in her house. She’d hired a construction firm that was new, but recommended by a friend. They were supposed to have started a week ago, but had to delay for some unknown reason. It was playing havoc with her schedule, not being able to depend on them starting on time.

It’s not going, Emily said in frustration, "They had to delay a week, so they, supposedly, will start tomorrow."

You don’t sound very enthused.

Let’s just say that it’s strike one, and when they hit three strikes they’re out.

Well, sweetheart, they may have a legitimate excuse for the delay.

Maybe. But I still think it’s unprofessional, and the guy I talked to about the arrangements, didn’t impress me a lot. He comes across as a slick salesman.

So are you going to be alright there while they work or do you need to come stay with us for a while?

I’ll be fine. I’ll be at work most of the time they’ll be working and they are supposed to stop by 5pm, so the only headache will be not having a kitchen for two weeks and having to use the guest bathroom.

Where did you find them?

Robyn recommended them. She knows the guy I talked to. It’s supposed to be run by someone with a lot of experience, but only now starting his own company, but he didn’t come across as the hands-on type to me.

Is it someone Robyn knows from her synagogue?

I don’t think so, but it could be.

Robyn Crowne was Emily’s best friend. She ran a local non-profit and she and Emily had known each other since junior high. Robyn would invite Emily to events at her synagogue and Emily would invite Robyn to events at her church. Usually there wasn’t any awkwardness about Robyn being Jewish and attending a church event or