01 - Playing with Poison (13 page)

“Because that’s what I told her!” Louise screamed. “Isn’t it just fantastical?”

I listened as my deranged agent took a gulp of champagne. Drinking did seem like a good idea. I paced over to the fridge and found a half-finished bottle of Korbel in the door.

“You see, Jessica,” Louise was saying. “After we spoke yesterday, I got hold of some footage from that Timmy Beaky guy you told me about. The man is brilliant! I mean, beyond brilliant!”

I interrupted to inform her that his name is Jimmy Beak. “And he most certainly is not brilliant.”

“And while I was watching Timmy Beaky’s report on you and Adelé, it dawned on me. ‘Louise!,’ I said to myself, ‘if only we could pull off getting this reported nationally. Just think of Jessica’s sales figures then!’”

Another champagne cork popped in the background.

“So, how exactly did you pull it off?” I heard myself asking. “The national news? Adelé Nightingale is not that well known.”

“Yet!” Louise screamed.

I closed my eyes and imagined my manic agent doing a manic dance to the commission gods in the middle of her office.

“Oops.” Louise laughed. “I almost fell off my desk!”

Okay, make that the middle of her desk.

“We are so lucky, Jessica—I mean, sooooo lucky—that it was a slow news day. I only had to make twenty or thirty phone calls to get this thing rolling. Dee Dee was, like, sooooo interested! She asked if there were any latest developments that she could add. You know, to spice it up a bit? So this afternoon I called Timmy Beaky back!”

I gave up on my glass and drank directly from the Korbel bottle.

Louise continued, “Timmy told me you were the dead guy’s prime investor! He said he had just learned about it today! From a confidential source, he said! So then I told Timmy the good news about Dee Dee Larkin, and he asked if I could finagle a job interview for him, and I told him I’d work on it, and then I called Dee Dee right back. And then I gave her all the details, and she said you would be the second to top story, right after that scandal in Congress about—”

“Stop!” I shouted and poor Snowflake jumped. I lowered my voice. “Please, Louise.” I put down the bottle and rubbed my forehead. “Just, stop.”

Geez Louise, of course, did not stop. “Can you imagine the sales figures from this, Jessica! This is going to catapult Adelé Nightingale into blockbuster status! Blockbuster, Babe!” Louise actually hesitated. “Oh, God,” she said. “I think I need to sit down.”

I listened while someone in the background helped her off her desk and into a chair.

“Borderline pornography,” I reminded her while she hyperventilated into the receiver. “Dee Dee Larkin just told the world that I’m a pornographer with faulty finances.”

“And?” Louise asked as I heard another champagne cork pop. “What’s your point, Jessica?”

I thought about the faulty finances thing and decided to concentrate on the pornography angle instead. “I am not a pornographer,” I said firmly. “I write historical romances, remember?”

Louise laughed. “Well, Jessica, you know that, and I know that, but trust me—the thousands, and thousands, and thousands of people who are right this very minute in the process of buying
Windswept Whispers
and your entire back list do not know that!”

“So my integrity as an artist means nothing to you?” I actually said this with a straight face.

“Mark my words, Jessica. This will put Adelé Nightingale on
The Times
bestseller list by Sunday. Blockbuster, Babe. Think blockbuster!”

“And just imagine how my sales would skyrocket if I actually got convicted of murder.”

Louise didn’t catch the sarcasm, since she was too busy planning the sale of the movie rights to
Windswept Whispers
. “I wonder if we could get Penelope Cruz to play Ava La Tellier,” she mused. “Penelope would be a fantastical Ava—don’t you think? All dark and sultry?”

Okay, so I could picture Penelope in that role. But I was not about to agree with my agent about anything right then.

“And your picture, Jessica! Did you notice?”

Indeed I had. Geez Louise had given Dee Dee Larkin the photograph of Adelé Nightingale scheduled for release with
Temptation at Twilight
.

“I suppose I should thank you for letting the entire world know exactly what I currently look like?” I asked.

“Oh, but, Jessica! You look so much better than you used to. With that little blond hairdo? You’re looking downright perky these days!”

“Perky!?” I interrupted. “You know damn well I have never been perky a day in my life.”

Louise giggled. “Well, Jessica, you know that, and I know that, but—”

I hung up before I fired her again.

Chapter 13

“Borderline pornography!” Ian screamed into the phone, and I wondered if I had been too hasty hanging up on Louise. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I informed my ex-husband I was listening to him have a hissy fit and poured myself more champagne.

“Not funny, Jessie. I am really, really, not in the mood.”

I understood why when I heard Amanda shrieking “Borderline pornography” over and over again in the background.

“Amanda’s very upset.”

“So I gathered.”

“You’re way too old to be pulling these stunts.” Ian increased the volume. “Amanda and I have our reputations to consider, even if you don’t. I’m ashamed to be associated with you.”

I reminded my ex that he no longer was associated with me, but he continued ranting anyway. Indeed, it was rather impressive, the way he could keep his train of thought, what with Amanda standing nearby, screeching something about my “stunts.”

“First you go and get yourself arrested for freaking murder,” Ian shouted. “Then you play it up for publicity. What the hell were you doing at Stan’s funeral, anyway? And don’t think I didn’t notice you flirting with that cop all afternoon. The guy’s got to be a good ten years younger than you, Jessie. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I’m making a fool of myself? In case you haven’t noticed, Ian, your new wife is at least twenty years younger than you. And in case you’re too stupid to realize it, her stellar reputation is a figment of your imagination.”

“Amanda’s reputation is none of your business.”

“Excuse me? Didn’t you just tell me—”

I stopped myself before I popped an artery. I even considered hanging up. But I am not that highly evolved.

I took a long, deep, breath and continued in an exceedingly calm voice. “My love life is none of your business,” I said. “I will flirt with anyone I choose, anywhere I choose, anytime I choose. And I have not been arrested for murder, as you well know. Captain Rye—you remember Wilson Rye, Ian? The hunk you say is far too young for me? He thinks I’m innocent now.”

“Jessica Hewitt has never been innocent.” Ian may have snorted, but his voice was calmer, too. And I noticed the background cacophony had ceased altogether. Perhaps Amanda had tired herself out and left the room to go sulk in her coven.

“Getting this whole ridiculous saga on national TV was Louise’s idea,” I told my ex. “And you are right about one thing—she was after the publicity. The poor woman thinks of sales figures and loses all perspective.”

“Geez Louise Urko.” Ian groaned at the memory. “You should fire her, Jessie.”

“Yeah, right.”

We were actually sharing a slight chuckle when Amanda returned to the fray. This time she was shrieking something about the ‘trash’ I write.

“You might remind your new wife this trash she’s so concerned with paid for that lovely house she’s redecorating.”

“How the hell do you know we’re redecorating?”

“I’m a writer,” I said. “I know these things.”

“I’m warning you, Jessie. Get all this garbage straightened out, or else.”

“Or else what? You’ll cheat on me with that flagrant fool and then try to screw me in the divorce settlement?”

I waited while Ian huffed and puffed and found a way to change the subject.

“How’s Snowflake doing?” he asked eventually.

I told him Snowflake was managing quite well and hung up in search of more champagne.

Lord knows I needed it, since Jimmy Beak had returned. He was banging on my door and shouting something about Stanley, Boykin and Dent Investment Services, and my bank account.

Presumably, he was speaking to the camera as he elaborated, “Jessica Hewitt now admits she invested her entire life’s savings with Stanley Sweetzer. Every last penny! My confidential sources have verified it!

“Dee Dee Larkin, the nationally acclaimed investigative reporter, and I are collaborating,” Jimmy proclaimed triumphantly. “Together, we plan to unveil the exact amount Jessica Hewitt entrusted to Mr. Sweetzer before his untimely demise right behind this very door!”

Banging on the very door.

“Dee Dee Larkin and I are working around the clock to prove Jessica Hewitt’s guilt. Mark my words, Stanley Sweetzer’s disgruntled client and elderly lover will not get away with murder! The public has a right to know. No!” he shouted. “The
nation
has a right to know!”

Elderly?

Snowflake and I stared at each other in dismay. “It’s time for a sex scene,” I told her.

“Sex scene!” That was Jimmy. “Who do you have in there now, lady!?”

***

It had grown dark while I was dealing with Jimmy, and my mood wasn’t all that bright, either. But writing a sex scene always cheers me up. I switched from champagne to tea and sat down at my desk to write the climactic, and I do mean climactic, love scene between Rolfe and Alexis.

I can’t say what so inspired me to new creative heights, and the lovers to new creative positions. But if the whole, wide, reading world was expecting borderline pornography from Adelé Nightingale, she was not about to disappoint them. I was thinking of another word for nibbling when someone else knocked.

“Grand Central Station,” I mumbled and called toward the door, “Is that you, Sweetie?”

“It’s Karen, Jess. I brought M & M’s.”

I scurried to let her in, and bless her heart, she had the cellophane package opened by the time she sat down at the counter.

“Sorry it took me so long to get these up here.” She held out the package and poured a few Peanut M & M’s into my outstretched palm. “Jimmy scared me away, and then I got busy with my electric sander.”

I found a bowl for the candy and started the tea kettle while we discussed Jimmy Beak’s latest foray into our building.

“I can’t believe he came back so soon,” she said. “Considering what’s going on with the school board? The guy must work twenty-four—seven.”

I poured some milk into Karen’s teacup while she updated me on the elementary school desk debacle. It seems Superintendent Yates had been released from the hospital that morning and had decided to press charges against the people who had injured her.

“Jimmy barely even mentioned you tonight,” Karen said. “He was too busy interviewing the entire school board, claiming the public has the right to know what every eyewitness saw. All the school principals weighed in on the issue, too. It started off as a panel discussion, but then the fists started flying.” Karen shook her head. “It was mayhem, even before Jimmy started bopping everyone with his microphone.”

“That explains his absence at the funeral,” I said. “But clearly the Dee Dee Larkin thing got him all riled up again. I’d bet money he’s hoping for a job with her. National TV and all that.”

Karen studied me while I poured our tea and found the seat next to her.

“What?” I asked.

“Dee Dee said you invested with Stanley. I thought you said you didn’t do that, Jess?”

“I didn’t. But I have a hunch his job had something to do with the murder, so I’ve been lying to all and sundry about my supposed investments. You know, to get people talking?”

She raised an eyebrow, and I admitted to the sheer stupidity of my plan.

“What was I thinking?” I groaned. “Anyone who was at The Stone Fountain last night must have heard me spouting off. Which means anyone could have forwarded my lies to Jimmy. And then Jimmy told Dee Dee.”

“And Dee Dee told the world.”

I thanked Karen for reminding me and ate a yellow M & M.

“Oh well,” I said with a shrug. “At least Captain Rye understands the truth.”

Karen raised her other eyebrow, and I decided to move on. I described my harrowing day, starting with the funeral service and ending with a minor tirade against my ex.

“I still can’t believe he and Amanda were at the service,” I said.

“Who’s Amanda?”

“Ian’s new wife—the wannabe socialite.”

“In Clarence, North Carolina?” Karen was incredulous.

“Insane, but that’s Amanda for you.” I imitated her society voice. “Seems she and Stanley’s mother are simply the best of friends, don’t you know. Why, Ian even plays cards with Stanley’s father nowadays. Can you imagine such a thing?”

I sat up straight and hissed a four-letter word.

“What’s up, Jess?”

Ian played cards with Roger Sweetzer. And according to Candy, Stanley played poker with his father every Thursday night. Which meant that Ian had played cards with Stanley? Which meant that—oh, my Lord—it meant all kinds of things. Not the least of which, I now knew how Stanley had learned the details of my net worth.

“Jess?” Karen asked. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“Do you need an Advil? I can go get the bottle?”

Dear Karen. I told her I must be tired. She took the hint and left soon afterwards.

I began some vigorous pacing, found the phone, and started dialing Ian. But then I changed my mind. Why subject myself to the Crawchecks three times in one day? And besides, Ian deserved nothing less than a face to face confrontation over this one. I would watch him try to squirm his way out of it, and then I would—I stopped short and looked down at Snowflake.

“What will I do to Ian?” I asked her.

She didn’t offer any suggestions, but she did follow me as I paced over to the window. And that’s when I noticed Captain Rye emerging from The Stone Fountain.

I stopped short again and turned off the desk lamp to get rid of the glare.