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Camino Winds (Camino Island, #2) by John Grisham Read Online (FREE)


Bruce said, “I’m not sure I want Ingrid back on the island.”

“You can forget her. She’s gone.”

Polly said, “We discussed this, months ago. Remember, Bruce, I asked you to handle his literary affairs?”

“Yes, of course I remember. Do you remember why I said no?”

“No. Things were a blur back then.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Lindsey said. “You know the agents and publishers and you can get a good deal for the book. Plus, you’re more knowledgeable about the backlist and what to do with it.”

“The backlist?” Polly asked.

“His old titles, all in paperback,” Bruce replied.

“Will they still earn royalties?” Polly asked.

“Oh yes, especially with a new book out. The estate will earn royalties for a few more years, then they’ll trickle away, I guess.”

“What about film interest?” Lindsey asked.

“Nelson’s had that in the past, though nothing happened. Almost every bestseller gets its share of attention from film and television. But I’m not sure I want the attention from the bad guys. We’re laboring here under the assumption that Nelson was killed for a reason, right? If I’m the one pushing his books, you might find me with a gash or two in the skull.”

Lindsey waved him off. “They’re done and they’re not coming back. No way they’ll risk another job like this. It was a pretty stupid move in the first place. They wanted to stop Nelson from publishing the book, but they didn’t know that he had finished it. Now it will be published anyway.”

Polly said, “We’re assuming it’s good enough to publish, right?”


“Right,” Bruce replied.

“I’ve told you this, Bruce. I can’t read his stuff. I’ve tried many times and it just doesn’t appeal to me. I can’t imagine having to deal with his literary estate for years to come. I’m out of my league with the rest of his estate. I really want you to take the job.”

“Okay, that’s one reason,” Bruce said. “But the other reason is to attract this informant person who we think might actually exist but we’re not sure.”

“Correct,” said Lindsey. “We think it could be a crucial part of our plan.”

“And who’s ‘we’?”

“My people, Bruce. My team. This is what we do, what you’re paying for. We lay the traps, create the fiction, put the right people in place, and hope it all works. Just like three years ago. You said yourself our plan was brilliant.”

“It was, but it didn’t work.”

“What happened three years ago?” Polly asked.

Bruce smiled and said, “Let’s save it for dinner.”

A clerk walked in with three bulky manuscripts, all four inches thick. He dropped them on Bruce’s desk, handed him the thumb drive, and left the room.

Lindsey said, “Well, I guess we have our work in front of us.”

Polly said, “I really don’t want to read that. The summary was tedious enough.”

Bruce said, “I’m afraid you have no choice. You are both welcome to retire to my home and read on the porch, the veranda, in a hammock, or wherever. Noelle is there and she would enjoy having you around.”