A Lie for a Lie (13 page)

“Yes . . .” I hissed. “You drew attention to her failure at the Idyll, Ed. She was just getting over it.”

“I used it as an example of courage, Aggie.”

And indeed he had. Ed had talked about people who struggle against all odds. Famous people who suffer from attention deficit disorder or learning disabilities and go on to extraordinary careers. Cesar Chavez, who began life as the child of immigrant laborers, then founded the United Farm Workers. Christy Brown, the poet and novelist, who suffered from such severe cerebral palsy that no one except his mother believed him capable of learning. There had been others in this litany of failures and triumphs. Unfortunately Deena and her friends had been the comic relief.

“The sermon was about the indomitable human spirit,” he said. “Every parent here could identify.”

I poked a finger against his chest. “I’m not covering for you, buddy. You’re on your own on this one.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion. She’ll be glad I said good things about her.”

I left him to go back to the pulpit for his sermon and reading glasses. I didn’t really want to be in his vicinity when Deena caught up with him.

Since the church is visible from our backyard, the girls usually find their own way home. I debated spending the next week camping in the woods outside of town, since it would solve the dual problems of dealing with Deena and Grady. In the end I went to social hour in the parish hall to delay the inevitable confrontation. I knew there would be a confrontation, and I wondered how my insightful, compassionate husband could be so clueless about teenage girls.

Another mother of that species found me after I had gracefully extricated myself from a conversation about painting the sanctuary lemon yellow. I make a habit of not giving opinions on matters like that one. There’s always the possibility Ed might get a raise someday, and the head of the committee, maybe a royal blue man, would hold this against us. Call me calculating, but in the not-so-distant future we’ll need to think about college tuition.

“Aggie . . .”

I beckoned Tammy Sargent to my side, afraid if I met her halfway, the lemon yellow brigade would tackle me again, this time with color chips.

“How’s Madison holding up?” I asked. “I wasn’t able to talk to her the last few nights. She was always busy.” I regretted this since my radar was still quivering. I knew I was probing where I didn’t belong, but I had to add the next sentence. “She did say Grady might be coaching her a little.”

“She’s doing so great!” Tammy looked radiant, as if she was absorbing even more of her daughter’s enthusiasm and youth. “Grady has been working with her, and the difference is incredible. Her voice, her presentation. I’m sure something wonderful is going to come out of this.”

One of the newly announced prizes for the ESI winner was an audition with Fourteen Carat Records, a small but prestigious label with an eclectic list of artists. This alone would have eliminated the baton twirlers, of course, and the four-legged acts. I’m not sure how Veronica secured the new addition, but it upped the ante and sold that many more tickets for our final week.

“I’m sure all the contestants appreciate this extra effort of his,” I said, hoping for more information.

She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure he’s working with
everybody
. He concentrates where he thinks it will be most effective.”

Now my instincts were vibrating hard enough to launch me into the stratosphere. I had to try harder to keep an eye on those tryouts.

Tammy went on. “Anyway, Madison feels badly that so many kids from the high school tried out and didn’t make it as far as she did. So we’re throwing a party on Wednesday night for everybody who made the effort. She wants Deena and her friends to come, too. We’ll throw some burgers and steaks on the grill, put
Wayfarers of the Ark
on television, have music. You know, maybe something a little classier than the usual, because Grady might drop by. But Madison wants to make sure nobody holds success against her.”

There was something sweet about this. Madison in her moment of triumph was worried about her friends and their feelings. Okay, so she was also worried about what this would do to her social life. But that was beside the point. The gesture was thoughtful. And asking Deena and the other Price Girls to come, despite their ages, was kind.

It was also, most likely, unacceptable.

“This is such a nice idea, but I’ll have to talk to Ed,” I told her. “They’re so much younger than the others.”

“Deena’s just three years younger than Madison.”

“At that age three years is everything.”

“Madison’s always been so mature, I guess I didn’t worry very much.”

Madison
was
mature. Unfortunately more so than her mom sometimes. I knew Tammy didn’t always think about possibilities and consequences, and it was a good thing Madison was innately sensible.

“I’ll make sure Deena lets you know,” I said, “but including her is very thoughtful, even if she doesn’t go.”

I dodged the sanctuary painters, the Women’s Society committee determined to sign me up for the bake sale, Teddy’s Sunday School teacher, who routinely wants to know if Teddy
always
asks so many questions. This left me no alternative except a scorching trip through the parking lot to the parsonage.

I was the first one there, which meant I might have a few moments to prepare for Deena’s arrival. Unfortunately that was not to be. The telephone was ringing when I walked inside. The manager of the Emerald Springs Hotel—who had become curiously unavailable to me as the days of Grady’s residence dragged on—was on the other end. Ed, it turned out, really would have to deal with Deena by himself. I was off and running. At least the hotel was air-conditioned.

 

 

The Emerald Springs Hotel and Spa is the finest establishment in three counties. Although it was built just after the Victorian era, the hotel manager has the face of a Dickens’ undertaker, long and narrow, unsurpassingly dour. The black suit doesn’t help, either, but I wasn’t there to critique his wardrobe.

He greeted me in the lobby, as if he had been waiting to pounce. “They’d been shouting at each other for fifteen minutes before I called you, and nobody will answer the door. Our security guard’s on a lunch break.”

We headed immediately for Grady’s suite, through green halls that always smell faintly of age, even in better weather than this. Now there was nothing nostalgic about the scent, and the citrus air freshener wafting through the cooling vents only made it worse.

“And you didn’t use your key?” I asked.

“Would you?” he said tersely. “If we’d heard screams, it might have been different. As it is, I called you before I called the police. We’ve done you a favor.”

If so, why didn’t I feel overjoyed? Here’s the truth. The manager didn’t want to call the police because Grady Barber was the most important celebrity to stay here in years. The manager didn’t want the publicity, and who could blame him? Grady being led away in handcuffs with the hotel in the background? Uh uh.

“I’ll knock. Heck, I’ll bang with both fists. But if somebody doesn’t open the door, you have to go in. Better than the cops, right?”

He winced, a movement so at home on his gloomy face that it was hardly perceptible.

I could hear the shouting as we approached, although maybe it had begun to taper off, because it wasn’t as loud as I’d expected.

“Calming down a little,” he acknowledged.

We reached the door, which was at the end of the hallway, and I knocked. “Fred, Grady, it’s Aggie. We need to speak to you.”

The voices were still raised, but since they were shouting at the same time, I could hear only the occasional word. This was not a bad thing since what I did hear wasn’t fit for anybody’s ears.

I banged on the door with both fists. “Okay, you two. Cut it out and open up or the manager will have to use his key! Fred! Grady!”

There was a dip in the sound waves. I was pretty sure they’d heard me. I banged again. “Open up right now. You don’t want the authorities called, do you?”

Silence reigned for seconds. Then, blessedly, the door opened a smidgen and two eyes peered out at me. It closed again; I heard the chain being lifted, and this time the door opened all the way.

I heard a door slam on the other side of the suite. Fred stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled, what looked like a bruise on one cheek.

“They could hear you in Timbuktu,” I told him. “Are you hurt?”

He put his hand to his cheek, fingertips smack-dab on the bruise, but he shook his head. “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No!” He swallowed, but his eyes still sparkled with rage. “Absolutely not. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m out of here for good.”

“Is Grady in his bedroom?”

He nodded. “Don’t bother him. You don’t know what that man is capable of. I’m just going to get my stuff and check out.” He glanced at the manager. “There won’t be any more disturbances. I’m sorry.”

The manager
humph
ed, then he turned and strode down the hall the way we had come, leaving me to finish dealing with the mess.

“What happened?” I demanded. “If he hadn’t gotten me on the phone, he would have called the police.”

“
Grady
happened, that’s what. I should have quit a week ago when I wanted to.”

“Hey, don’t blame that on me. You’re paid to deal with him.”

“Not anymore. I’m out of here.”

This time I knew better than to protest. As angry as Fred was, he really shouldn’t stay. I wondered if Grady was sporting bruises, too.

As if to prove the magnitude of his feelings, Fred slammed his palm against the doorframe. “He’s made a lot of enemies along the way, and part of my job was running interference. Do you know what that’s like? Trying to deal with his bad will, his ill temper, his lack of morals?”

“I have some idea. I’ve been doing it, remember?”

“Grady goes around the country judging events like this one, and everywhere he goes he treats contestants badly, raising their hopes, then smashing them, just for kicks and laughs. He’s made enemies all over the country.”

“Nobody told us any of this.” Or if they had, I hadn’t been privy to the information. Maybe Veronica had kept this a secret.

“Well, I know for a fact he’s been involved with a couple of contestants who were too young to know better. Don’t even get me started about the way Grady uses women to advance his career.”

“Lawsuits?”

“If so, he’s settled out of court. I haven’t seen any paperwork.”

I wondered if Fred was making this up or exaggerating because he was so furious. Unfortunately it had the ring of truth.

“I’m just sick of it all,” he said. “Between the enemies, the ex-wives, and worst of all
him
, the stress is just too much. Maybe he will blackball me with potential employers. But you know, enough people have seen him in action, they might write letters of recommendation explaining the problem. Besides, he’s not nearly as important as he makes out.”

That surprised me. “He looks that way to us.”

“Between those two big hit songs of his? His career mostly consisted of B movies and quiz shows, and look what he’s doing now, judging talent shows! If he doesn’t manage another hit right away, he’s going to be opening second-rate acts in third-rate hotels in Vegas.”

I liked the sound of that. I have no desire to go to Vegas.

That positive thought was followed by the most negative one of a bad day. “Can he finish up here without you? Can he get along without an assistant?”

“Maybe it’ll be good for him. Maybe then he’ll appreciate what the next assistant does and leave him alone.”

I had a feeling that this lesson in deportment and humility might come at a high price to the Emerald Springs Idyll. Grady had been unpleasant enough with Fred running interference. What would he be like in his final days with us?

“Do you have stuff that you need to take with you?” I asked. “I’ll wait and make sure you get out alive.”

Fred left and returned in less than a minute. I thought he already looked better, as if now that the decision had been made, even though he was still angry, a burden had been lifted.

He closed the door behind him, and we walked down the hallway together. We parted in front of his room. I wished him luck and he wished me the same. Of the two of us, I might need it the most. My next stop had to be Veronica’s house, and I was not going to enjoy breaking this news to her.

Although the drive was short, getting in my minivan, which had been parked in the sunshine, was agonizing, and the air-conditioner did little to cool it. By the time I arrived, I had wilted into a pathetic pool of humanity. And by the time Veronica answered her own door, I was barely conscious.

“Aggie?” She looked surprised. “Did I know you were coming?”

“No, and neither did I. But we have a problem.”

“Farley and I were just sitting down to lunch.”

Was it still lunchtime? I could hardly remember. “I’m sorry. I hope this won’t take long.”

“I’ll tell him to go ahead and eat. He has a two o’clock tee time. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room.” She gestured me into a small room off the foyer decorated with fabrics from Provence and photos of sunflowers and fields of lavender. Sitting there was cool and calming, which was a good thing since I heard the phone ring, and it took Veronica a long time to come back. By the time she did, I felt almost alive again.

Without introduction I launched into the story. “Fred’s just quit his job after a huge fight. Luckily I was home to get the call or management would have called the police. Fred’s gathering his things and heading out of town. There’s no way he’ll stay and that’s probably wise. We don’t want a murder.”

Veronica lowered herself to the sofa beside me. “I know. That was Grady on the phone. You’re sure Fred won’t stay? We can’t bribe him?”