Box Office Poison (Linnet Ellery) (31 page)

“No!” A single word and quite explosive. “No matter how improbable, it’s clear what happened, and I’m confident that Charles will be found to have a rap sheet as long as my leg.”

“What about Qwendar?” I asked as we stepped outside. It was a relief to escape the odor of stale coffee, microwave burritos, and the inchoate smell of sweat and desperation. In the east a pale line of gray and pink road appeared, outriders for the coming sun.

“You know the answer to that,” David said.

“They can’t touch him,” I said leadenly. “But he can still reach out and touch me.”

“I don’t think he’ll dare. If something untoward happened to you now, people would remember your accusations. And he would have me to contend with.” I looked up. There was something grim in his brown eyes, and his jaw was set in a tight line. “Let’s get in the car before the sun comes up. I forgot my umbrella,” he snapped.

I scrambled into the car. It was a short drive to the Oakwood. As we headed down Riverside David suddenly said, “Are you hungry? You always seem to get hungry after one of these episodes.”

“I could eat, but I don’t want to sit in a restaurant. I can’t face noise or people right now. There’s a donut shop on Pass Avenue,” I offered.

David turned left at Pass and pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall that contained a bank, a grocery store, a tiny Japanese restaurant, a French bakery, and the donut shop. He parked in front of the donut shop, which was doing a rousing business. He nosed the Sebring in between a pickup truck festooned with a ladder and paint cans and a truck sporting lawn mowers, rakes, and leaf blowers.

“What do you want?”

“Why don’t you let me go in? The sun’s almost up.”

“If you hurry and tell me I can make it.”

“Glazed raised, chocolate raised.”

“Ah, comfort food,” he said, and throwing open the door he sprinted into the shop.

He came back out a few minutes later clutching a paper sack that was already starting to show grease stains from the decadent, sinful goodness inside. By the time we reached the Oakwood the sun was up.

“Wait here. I have an umbrella in the apartment,” I ordered.

I took the donuts with me and trudged up the stairs and through the door into the hall, then unlocked the door of my apartment. I then headed back down with the large umbrella. Climbing hurt my ribs, and I noticed that my legs felt rubbery by the time I reached the parking lot. I opened the umbrella and held it for David as he got out of the car. It seemed that California was, at last, going to live up to its reputation as sunny.

We got inside and I set the coffee maker to work. David pulled the blinds across the windows and sat on the sofa. As the coffee brewed he gave a deep, lung-filling sniff. “It’s the one thing I really miss. I loved coffee, and the smell is so powerful and unforgettable that I can almost remember how it tasted.”

I arranged my donuts on a plate. The coffee machine finished its job with a hiss, a sigh, and a gurgle. I poured out a cup and settled in the armchair. The taste and texture of donut was pure bliss. And then I started shaking so hard I shook coffee over my hand. I quickly set down the cup and the plate and clasped my hands tightly in my lap. David stared at me with concern.

“I just realized how close I came to dying last night. So everything seems extra special, from this donut to the coffee to sitting in a chair.” I sat silent for a moment. “I know it’s happened to me before, but those other times I was in the middle of a situation, I could run, I could try to do something. This one was worse because I was utterly helpless.” I gave myself a shake and picked up my breakfast, then set it down again. “And it goes deeper than that. I’m scared, David. I’m not even twenty-eight. If things like this keep happening, will I live to see thirty? What is going on?”

He crossed to me, knelt at the side of my chair, and laid a cold hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know, Linnet, but if I can help, you know I will.”

I shook off the doubt, pushed back the fear, and stiffened my spine. “Well, that’s good, because I’m going to hold you to that. I think there is a way for us to prove what’s been happening and expose Qwendar for the murderer he is.”

He pulled back a bit and gave me a wary look. “And just how are we going to do that?”

So I told him. When I’d finished he just stared at me. If he hadn’t been an elegant vampire his mouth probably would have been hanging open.

“Do you see any other option?” I pushed.

“No,” he admitted.

“And even if we go to the authorities no one will believe us.”

“You’re sure of the venue?” David asked, and he sounded desperate for me to say no.

“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything in my life. Think about it. It’s not the Super Bowl or World Cup Soccer, and anyway, there aren’t a lot of Álfar playing either of those sports, but it’s televised worldwide, and gets close to fifty million viewers.”

“We’d be taking an awful risk,” David said.

“I know. Which is why we need help.”

22

The next morning I found both Merlin and Maslin in the office sucking down coffee and sharing a box of donuts. I quickly outlined everything that happened, which left Merlin goggling at me and opening and closing his mouth like a guppy in pursuit of fish food.

“You nearly got killed.” He gulped hard. “Again.”

“Amazingly enough, I had noticed,” I said, the words freighted with enough irony to penetrate.

It didn’t penetrate. “I mean, first Jondin and now this. How do you find the guts to step out of the house? I’d be hiding under the bed.”

“Yep, you would,” said Maslin.

He glared at his twin. “Not everybody’s like you. Trouble follows you. Hell, sometimes I think you go out and look for it.” Maslin just shrugged.

“Well, I don’t go looking for it,” I said. “It finds me.” I dug a donut out of the box.

“Maybe you should find a new line of work? Or hire bodyguards? Or change your identity? Or enter a convent?”

“Or punch you in the nose so you’ll stop babbling and snap out of it,” Maslin retorted.
That
penetrated. Merlin closed his mouth with an audible snap.

“This is serious and I don’t have a ton of time,” I said. “I need evidence, so maybe you could help me prove that Qwendar is one of the major backers of Human First.”

“Already done,” Maslin said. “I tried to call you with the info, but you never answered.

“Yeah, I was busy nearly getting killed.” I bit viciously into the donut, and jelly squirted across my tongue.

“You told me to keep digging while you were gone so I sicced Merl on them.”

“You’ve got a degree in accounting too?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s probably why I never get a date. I’m staid and boring.” He looked up at his brother. “Not exotic and exciting.”

“I still don’t totally get why Qwendar was secretly backing Human First,” Maslin said. “If he’s all about how Álfar are superior, why let them get demonized by a bunch of house monkeys?”

“Qwendar’s goal is a total retreat by the Álfar back into their own reality,” I said. “He was hoping Human First would help light the fuse. I want to make sure he can’t, so I want you to expose it in the most public way possible.” Exhaustion had the room spinning briefly. I shook my head, fighting off the fog that seemed to be closing in on the edges of my mind. “These kind of people hate to find out they’ve been duped and made to look foolish. Actually, everyone hates to look foolish, but people who are fueled by righteous indignation
really
hate to look like pawns,” I concluded.

Maslin tugged at his lower lip. “Forgive me, Linnet, but I don’t think that’s the best idea, and here’s why. Humiliation will work on somebody like Cartwright; she’s reasonably rational, but a lot of the members are none too tightly wrapped. They find out the Álfar have been pulling their strings, even just one rogue Álfar, and some whack job might go bug-fuck and decide to take care of some Álfar himself as payback. We wouldn’t be removing a fuse, we’d be lighting it.”

I sat with that for a few minutes. Remembered the faces of angry people from the news reels during integration. I found I had lost my appetite and set aside the half-eaten donut. “I see your point. So, what can we do?”

“I’ll write my article and then we go to Cartwright. Use it to get her to back off and tone down the rhetoric.”

I gave a quick, humorless laugh. “I might even be able to keep her from joining in this arbitration as an interested party. This thing is confusing enough and hard enough without a lot of grandstanding from Human First.”

We sat silent for a few minutes, then Merlin said, “So Qwendar wants a total separation from humans. I can’t say I’m all broken up about that. I worry about the Álfar deciding to go into politics.”

“So do I, but that isn’t exactly what he wants. He wants interactions between humans and Álfar to be the old-fashioned kind.”

“Meaning what?” Merlin asked.

“The Álfar take us as slaves and playthings.”

Maslin, the veteran and chronicler of countless bush wars, caught on immediately. “Ah, and for that to happen Qwendar’s got to have peasants with pitchforks going after the Álfar.”

“Making their only choice to retreat or die,” I finished.

“That’s why he needs another bloodbath—Álfar killing humans,” Maslin mused. He set aside his donut. He also seemed to have lost his appetite. “Do you have any idea what he’s got planned?”

“I think so. And I’m going to need your help with that, too.” I paused and pinned them both with a look. “Do you guys own tuxedos?”

*   *   *

As I was hustling through the office heading for the doors, David caught me. “A moment, please.” I followed him into his office. “What do we do about the arbitration?” David asked, once he had shut the door. “Can you face Qwendar and pretend nothing happened?”

“Do you actually think he’d show back up?”

“Yes, I do. It’s how I would play it, and it’s the kind of arrogance one expects from his kind. Also, he knows he’s been cleared by his alibi. He runs no risk, and he might be able to rattle you.”

“He probably knew I was alive even before the police came calling. Whether he ever intended to take his goon into Fey or not, Qwendar would have had to return to the Equestrian Center to either kill Charles or take him away.”

David picked up a pen and flipped it between his fingers. “I should ask some of the uniforms and the crime scene people if they spotted him. Not proof of his involvement but certainly suggestive.”

“And still not enough to pull in the authorities, if that’s what you were thinking,” I said. “Look, since he knows I’m alive, then there’s no advantage to having us meet. And I’ve got a ton to do, so if I can miss the hearings that would probably be good.”

“Do you want him to worry over what you are up to or think you’re shattered by the experience and have run back to New York?”

“Much as I hate to play the victim, let’s go with shattered. He’s more likely to believe that anyway; he has a really low opinion of humans. Also, if he’s worried, he might change his plans, and we’re already working off a whole lot of assumptions about just what those plans might be.”

“Yes, and that’s what worries me,” David said sourly. “But we can’t risk spooking him, so I’ll put it about that you have returned to New York.”

“Qwendar knows where I live, and I think he’s had people watching me, so I better be seen going to the airport. I can then double back, rent a different car, and hopefully shake him.”

“Yes, that makes sense, though I am disturbed by how good you are at all this hole-and-corner behavior. Oh, I have enlisted Hank in this mad endeavor. He’s a vampire and of my line, and I figured we could use the extra help.” With that he waved me out of the office.

*   *   *

Jeff was at home. With my phone’s navigation app guiding me I headed off for Newport Beach. The actor’s house sat on a promontory and looked out over the Pacific. Today it was a deep azure with only small whitecaps. I drove up to the gate and put in the access code that Jeff had provided. The large gates swung open, and I drove up the curving cobblestone driveway to the house. It was an Italianate structure with the usual red tile roof, lots of balconies filled with pots of blooming geraniums. Bougainvillea tumbled over stone walls in a riot of red and pink and purple.

Once parked, I paused and listened to the deep-throated roar of the ocean breaking on the cliffs below the house. The air was moist on my skin and the smell of brine tickled my nostrils. Jeff opened the front door before I could ring the bell.

“How?” I pointed at my car, me, the door.

“Security cameras. I saw you driving in. Come in and meet Kate.”

The entryway was polished flagstone. A curving staircase terminated directly in front of the door. The rich mahogany glowed in the sunlight pouring in a round, faceted window halfway up the stairs. For an instant I imagined myself in a gorgeous gown descending those steps while John looked up admiringly. I pushed away the fantasy and followed Jeff down a hall, through a modern white and chrome kitchen large enough to hold a long benched table and into a room that looked like an enclosed deck. The room was a horseshoe-shaped curve lined with windows and finished in heavy teak. It made me think of Tahitian beach houses. The ocean flexed and rolled outside the windows.

Kate Billingham sat on a window seat, a book held loosely between her fingers. She was lovely in person, with long auburn hair brushing her shoulders, dark brows, and pansy brown eyes. Without lighting and professional makeup I could see tiny crow’s feet around her eyes and a few lines in her forehead. Clearly no Botox had been applied to that heart-shaped face.

She stood and extended her hand. “How do you do? I’ve heard so much about you from Jeff.”

“Uh-oh,” I said.

The hair swirled as she shook her head. “No, no. All good. About how brave you are, and I believe he called you ‘sharp as a tack,’ which in Midwesterner speak is very high praise indeed.”

I glanced over at the actor, who smiled and shrugged. “Thank you,” I said.