Voices in the Wardrobe (32 page)

Authors: Marlys Millhiser

BOOK: Voices in the Wardrobe

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“It will be interesting to see how it all washes out in the press after Kenneth's exposÃ©,” Edwina said. “But the spin will continueâthe whole truth may have to wait for the history books. Or it may just die away as things do in the news.”

“I hope not, but you're right.” Jacob stood to study the cat on top of the refrigerator. “What's the matter, fella? It's like he knows, huh?”

Tuxedo just stared wide-eyed at Charlie.

Forty-Three

Charlie sat in her office in Beverly Hills watching the sparrows build nests in the palms growing out of the sidewalk five stories below on Wilshire. They did this every spring, but this year there were a couple of mourning doves too, rubbing their necks together, picking at each other's feathers. Is that where the old-fashioned term “necking” came from?

Charlie took a deep breath and grabbed the desk top, a startling sense of loss seemed to suck out her soul, create an enormous vacuum in her chest, leave her dizzy and gasping.

“You gonna make it, Charlie?” Larry Mann, her gorgeous assistant, said softly from the doorway of his cubicle that protected her office from the hallway.

“Yeah, I just suddenly felt so empty and alone and worthless. God, I hope menopause isn't coming on this early.”

“Well, no one's surprised at that but you. Look at it this way. You're going to have time to get some work done. Which by the way is stacking up around here. Lester P. wants to see some more of Brodie Caulfield's work. Uranus has rejected
Rites of Winter.
”

“That was fast.”

“Our new star client is going to need a manager pretty soon if this keeps up. But right now, you're itâyou're needed. Cooper said something about a massage? Don't worry, I'm not going there. A massage before he goes into hiding to research the
Invasion at Home
book. Pitman's wants all subsidiary rights to the nursing home book. Corporate policy, they can't help it. Same ol', same ol'â¦”

“Screw that. I can sell it elsewhere.” Charlie was on her feet looking for her shoes under her desk. “They know I never sign over all the goodies to the publisher. What's the word from Onyx on film rights?” Charlie was so incensed it took her a second to realize Larry had grabbed one shoe from her and was kneeling on the floor, slipping it onto her foot.

“Welcome back, Cinderella.” He looked up with that sardonic smile that could melt a solar ice cap.

Charlie dragged a weary bod into the empty house, empty except for Tuxedo. Libby hadn't moved out yet but she would leave in a few days. There were signs of packing everywhere.

“You knew, didn't you, Tux?” She guessed she couldn't call him “that damn cat” now. “Everybody knew but me, huh?”

The damn cat watched her with eyes that were all iris while she slipped out of her shoes and opened a can of gross-smelling cat food, spooned a third of it into a clean bowl, and set it down beside the refrigerator. He just sat looking at it.

Libby and Edwina Greene had announced that Libby would move to Boulder and live with her grandmother for awhile, sort out what she wanted to do, get a little perspective on life.

“It will save you both some money and be a safe haven for her while she works things out.”

“Safe haven? Boulder? That's not the Boulder I remember.”

“And, Charlie, it will take one of the responsibilities off your back for a time. I'm afraid Maggie and Betty will be a continuing responsibility here. And your work has always been hectic.”

“Edwina? You have a clue what you're taking on? You're not getting any younger.”

“Raised you, didn't I? And you aren't either. Charlie, let me help out. You've got so much on your plate. And I see two, no three gray hairs, my dear.” Charlie's mother brushed at the hair above Charlie's forehead and sighed. “No surprise with the life you lead.”

A tickle of hope at the back of her throat, Charlie considered no lying awake for the kid to come home, worrying about a car breakdown or worse. Coming home to a little peace after an exhausting day and a killer commute instead of arguments and more tension. And Libby wouldn't be alone and vulnerable in some apartment somewhere. Not just yet.

The house seemed so quiet already. A box of CDs sat on the kitchen table, another of toiletries on the counter by the sink. Then a memory sound of her daughter's hooting laughter, very faint. Kind of sad and creepy, like voices behind the door of a wardrobe. Tuxedo moved his gaze to the air beside her, one ear swiveling as if to pin down a sound. As if he'd heard the memory too.

Charlie sat on the floor next to the cat food. “I never dreamed it would come to this, did you? Maybe it will work out for all of us for awhile? I mean, that's all we've got is awhile, any of us, right?”

He didn't answer. He didn't blink.

“Oh come on, I'm a grown woman, dammit. A kick-ass Hollywood agent.” But Charlie rolled over a sore body onto hands and knees, lowered her head, and butted foreheads with the creature. He blinked, put his cold nose on hers, and bent over his dish.

Charlie didn't understand what all that meant but paused, on her way to find tweezers and mirror in case any more gray hairs had appeared today, to say something she wouldn't have dreamed possible yesterday. “We'll both miss her. But at least we've got each other, huh?”

About the Author

Marlys Millhiser is an American author of fifteen mysteries and horror novels. Born in Charles City, Iowa, Millhiser originally worked as a high school teacher. She has served as a regional vice president of the Mystery Writers of America and is best known for her novel
The Mirror
and for the Charlie Greene Mysteries. Millhiser currently lives in Boulder, Colorado.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Elizabeth Connor

ISBN: 978-1-5040-1027-6

This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com