Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) (13 page)

Slices of roast beef on two pieces of white bread smothered with brown gravy. Mashed potatoes, also swimming in gravy, were on one side, and green beans on the other. They were the nod toward healthy eating. I picked up my knife and fork and tucked in.

“Even with your history there is no way the police can make you into anything other than a witness and a victim.”

I nodded because my mouth was full. I swallowed, took a sip of Coke, and gathered the strands of thoughts that had been niggling at me and had finally begun to crystallize.

“David, I think something is going on.” At his expression I hastened to add, “Beyond the obvious.”

“I’m listening.” The response was shorthand for “I’m really dubious, but I’ll humor you.”

I set aside my utensils and held up my index finger. “First, this high-profile lawsuit gets filed—human actors versus Álfar actors. It gets moved out of the courts, but it’s still a hot news item because it involves our version of royalty. Everybody reads
People
and
Us.
And think about all the entertainment news shows that are on television—
Entertainment Tonight
,
Extra
,
Access Hollywood
. Everybody wants to know about the lives of the beautiful, glamorous, rich and famous people—”

“Okay, okay, I get all that. What’s your point?”

“Everybody’s watching this arbitration. Millions of ordinary Americans. Three weeks ago a heartthrob Álfar actor allegedly hacks his beautiful human actress wife to pieces with a kitchen knife. Then today an Álfar actress, who has starred in numerous blockbuster movies and who’s been on the cover of
People
about a zillion times, goes nuts on the set. She kills a world-famous human director whose name is known to all those ordinary Americans, and she nearly kills a popular human actor who has millions of fans on Facebook and Twitter and an international fan club. You starting to see a pattern here?”

David had been leaning farther and farther forward as I talked. Now he leaned back in the booth, stretched out his arms and studied me. A frown furrowed his brow. “So, you’re suggesting one of the human actors may be putting a thumb on the scale … but how would they do that? How would they make someone murderous?”

“I’m not suggesting anything, and I don’t know the answer to your question. I don’t even know if this is real or just too much adrenalin in my veins, but it sure looks like someone is trying to make the Álfar look bad, and they’re succeeding. I can just picture the headlines in tomorrow’s…” I glanced at my watch. “Er, make that today’s papers. I think this arbitration is the tip of an iceberg. This isn’t about who gets a part. There’s something much darker at work here.”

“Let’s assume you’re right. What do we do? We’re the arbitrators.”

“You’re senior, and the person everyone is looking to. Why don’t you let me make some inquiries?”

“Like what?”

“Talk to Kerrinan for starters. And probably to Jondin too.”

“That’s never going to happen. You’re a witness. You’ll probably be called to testify. If I were her defense attorney I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her, and I’d get a judge to back me up.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I drew channels in the mashed potatoes and let the gravy flow through them like superfund rivers of sludge. “But Kerrinan’s a different matter. Do we know who’s representing him?”

David shook his head. “For all I know, it’s us. If I were a Power being accused of murdering a human, I’d want a Power defending me.”

“Bad choice. I’d pick a human and a woman.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Which is why I don’t do much litigation unless it involves contracts. Do you have any interest in the courtroom, Linnet? I think you might be good at it.”

A faint glow of pleasure ran through me. “Thank you, that’s a really nice thing to say.”

He reverted back to being a vampire. “It wasn’t meant as a compliment. It’s purely calculation. What you can do for the firm.”

The waitress returned with a fresh glass of Coke. I took a sip, feeling the carbonation fizz against the roof of my mouth. For an instant I wished the bubbles were champagne. John had said we would pop a cork once we got back to New York with the will. That hadn’t happened, and maybe never would now.

It began a new avenue of thought. “I wish John were here. To talk to us about the Álfar.”

“Not sure how helpful he would be since he never lived among them until, uh—” He broke off abruptly realizing this was maybe just a tad painful. “Well, until recently,” he concluded quietly.

I blinked hard, and resolved to prove how tough and focused I was. “Well, there’s Qwendar,” I said, and was pleased to hear that my voice sounded normal. No huskiness at all.

David shook his head. “Let’s hold off on that. He’s at least peripherally involved in the arbitration and I don’t want to do anything to get us in trouble.”

“We’ve got a dodge,” I argued. “He said he might help me regarding John. I can talk to him, and truthfully say that’s what we were discussing.”

“A sin of omission then?” David said dryly.

“Yeah. I think he’s worried about how volatile the situation has become. He did mention a group he wanted me to check out. I can do that once I’m at my computer.”

David nodded. “Okay, call him and set up a meeting. Just keep it well away from the office, and keep it on the QT, okay?” He glanced down at my messy plate. “Done? Or do you want a piece of Dupar’s fine pie? Maybe a little à la mode?”

“And put a little ice cream on that?” I added.

David gave a short laugh. “I had an acquaintance who used to say that. We’d go out to eat, and he would always order apple pie à la mode, and then add,
and put a little ice cream on that …
I wanted to kill him.”

I wondered when that had been, and who that had been, but knew not to ask. I wouldn’t get an answer. Instead I said, “No, thanks. I’ve done enough damage to my arteries already.”

He paid for my dinner. I tried to remonstrate and got a curt, “Don’t be silly, Linnet.”

The press was still huddled at the main gate of the Oakwood, so David dropped me off on Forest Lawn Drive. A footpath wound up the hill to a keyed gate. The famous cemetery that gave the road its name was just around the curve from the apartment complex. As I trudged up the hill I considered how close I’d come to being a resident. It wasn’t pleasant to contemplate.

*   *   *

Xenophobia has been part of American culture almost since the founding of the country, beginning with the Order of the Star Spangled Banner, founded way back in 1849 to resist waves of Irish and German immigrants, to the late nineteenth and early twentieth century that brought us the Immigration Resistance League, formed by a bunch of Harvard graduates, and the Tea Party movement, with their resentment of Latinos. And now the Human First movement was another entry in that sorry history, reacting to a new kind of Outsider and Other.

The Firsters were pushing a ballot initiative in California that would ban marriage between an Álfar and a human. Would criminalize sexual contact between an Álfar and a human. John and I would have been in the slammer. Would bar adoption of human children by any Álfar. Since the Álfar had a history of stealing human children and leaving one of their own in its place (evidence John and his brother) this seemed sort of pointless, but throwing in the kitchen sink seemed to be par for the course with these groups. The Firsters had been founded by a minister in some small, fundamentalist Christian sect. Interviews with Reverend Bob Trager produced such lovely comments as: “We have no idea what god or gods they worship, or if they have any god at all. One thing’s for certain, they don’t worship the one true God, and they are damned to Hell.” Another charmer read, “They’re not human. You let this stand, and you could have a man marrying his dog.”

Which raised an interesting question. Were the Álfar a strain of humans that had branched off way back in the evolutionary tree, or were we a less magical strain of Álfar? Or, final choice, were they a different species altogether? The Firsters movement was now led by a savvy lobbyist by the name of Belinda Cartwright, and Reverend Trager had been pushed to the background, which was probably why the initiative was starting to gain traction. I found a few man on the street interviews that had been uploaded onto YouTube. A few people defended the Álfar, but most talked about mesmerizing powers that drew in unsuspecting girls. I found the whole thing incredibly depressing.

I dug a bit deeper into Ms. Cartwright and found she and her advocacy group, Liberty Front, had been behind several anti-immigrant statutes passed in various states and now making their way up to the Supreme Court. They also made commercials that were in favor of carbon dioxide and said the melting of the permafrost was a
good
thing. If you warm up Siberia it could be a new breadbasket.

“Which we’re going to fucking need, since Iowa, Kansas, and Nebraska are going to be deserts!” I muttered aloud.

Grit seemed to have invaded my eyes. I rubbed them, and realized that it was not just my eyes, but the tops of my thighs were burning from the heat of the laptop. I sat it on the couch next to me and went into the kitchen area for a glass of water. It was three thirty a.m., and I had been at this for hours. I should have gone to bed, especially since I had to talk to the police in the morning—
this
morning—but I was damn sure I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, and not sure what I’d dream about if I did manage to.

Tomorrow, or rather later today, I would try to find out who was representing Kerrinan. I took my phone from my purse to charge it and realized I had turned it off when we went onto the movie set hours and another lifetime ago. I turned it on and found a number of messages that was depressingly reminiscent of when Chip had been killed and lots and lots of media outlets had called—
LA Times, Entertainment Weekly, Variety,
the
Hollywood Reporter
. Among them was a message from my father.

“I’m at the airport. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you, honey.”

I snuffled and wiped away a sudden surge of tears. Last time I had been in trouble he had been inexplicably absent. I knew it was crazy for him to fly across the country, but I was so glad he was.

The earliest message was from Joylon. It was the call I had missed when Debbie had told me to turn off my phone. The woman’s face swam into focus. I remembered her intensity and obvious love of her job. I sank down on the couch. As the police had hustled us away from the soundstage I had seen her body at the bottom of the stairs leading into Jondin’s Star Waggon. She had been the first victim of the actress’s murderous rage. I blinked back tears and keyed back the message. This one I would listen to; maybe it would make me feel better.

The rich baritone made even more velvety by a BBC British accent filled the room. “Hallo, Linnet, first, not to worry, Vento is fine. He misses you. Which got me to thinking; if you’re going to be stuck on the Left Coast for weeks and perhaps months it might make it more tolerable if you had your horse. So, Vento is on a van heading to the LA Equestrian Center. He should arrive day after tomorrow. Everything in terms of board has been arranged, and I have a dressage instructor friend who will keep an eye on him, and she can both coach you and ride Vento if you are just too busy. Cheers.”

I stared at the phone. It wasn’t all that uncommon in horse circles. Vans crisscrossed the country carrying race horses and top show horses from coast to coast each week, but I wasn’t a professional rider, and Vento wasn’t really my horse; he was Jolly’s. He was clearly a madman, but if the Englishman had been closer I would have kissed him. I was good about using the health club at the Oakwood, but the surroundings were so sterile. How much better to be outside with a horse.

I went to bed, feeling marginally better because I had good news and a plan of action. Something strange was happening, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it.

9

In addition to the pools, the heath club, and the clubhouse complete with Ping-Pong and pool tables, the Oakwood had a dry cleaner and a small grocery store on site. At six thirty, after three hours of sleep, I staggered into the kitchen. An examination of my fridge revealed a deficit of orange juice, so I decided to make use of the market. As I walked down paths and stairs to the little market to pick up a carton of orange juice and the
LA Times,
I wished David had called to tell me the time of my appointment at police headquarters. Stressing that it might be at eight a.m. was what had me get up at so damn early.

As if in answer to my thoughts my cell phone rang, but it wasn’t David, it was Caroline calling from New York. My first paranoid thought was for the cat.

“Oh, God, is Gadzooks okay?”

“He’s fine,” she said with that faint tone of impatience that she always had when she talked to me.

“Then why are you calling?” I asked.

“Don’t be dense! To check on
you
, of course.”

“Oh, no. How did you find out? Is it in the New York papers. Tell me it’s not in the New York papers.”

“The shooting is, but you’re not singled out. David called the senior partners, and the word got out.”

“Wow, the vamps must be slipping. They’re usually better about keeping things quiet. Wonder—”

“Would you stop nattering! Linnet, how are you? Are you okay? Did you get hurt? All we heard was that you were there, the partners did fine about keeping quiet about the stuff that really mattered. Like if you were okay. And why didn’t you call any of us?”

Even through the forced impatience I could hear the honest concern, and it warmed the cold place that I hadn’t realized had settled into my chest. I sat down on a convenient (if damp) bench and blinked away the sudden moisture that filled my eyes.

“I didn’t think about it. There’s something—” I broke off realizing how easy it was to hack cell phones. “I was checking out a few things, and then I tried to get a little sleep.”