Magicide (18 page)

CHAPTER 46             

Friday, August 12, 10:20 a.m.

Regine watched the Broken Wand Ceremony and listened with disgust to the wonderful things everybody said about Maxwell. Profusions of praise. So much abundant tribute. Was the entire world one big farce? she wondered. Nothing was what it appeared to be—nothing was real. Except her broken arm and the problem she would have if she didn’t find that DVD for Guido. This was real.

When she’d introduced Maxwell to Guido, she’d had no idea how far things would go. She couldn’t figure out why Maxwell had had to borrow money to produce the show in the first place—he made millions every year. What did he do with it? What happened to it all?

Now she was in the middle of something that could end her career, her world, her life. Guido had been a friend for years, but he was no one to fool around with. She had no illusions about his ability to separate business from friendship.

Height gave her the advantage of being able to scan the funeral crowd from above the heads of almost everyone else. She spotted the two detectives who had come to see her.

“What are they doing here?” she muttered. “Can’t they let people mourn in peace?” That was wishful thinking, just like wishing the DVD Guido wanted would fall into her hands.

The hymns led by the trio of singers and the politician provided a fitting background to her dark mood. If Robert Digbee or Edmund Meiner didn’t have the DVD, who did? It had to be someone close to Maxwell. That ruled out his son, Peter, and probably the ex-wife, as well. There were no other girl friends that she knew of. Who would be close enough to Maxwell to be able to video a private magic ritual, with or without his permission?

All of a sudden it came to her—his protégé, Dayan Franklyn. The man with the golden mouth. With keen eyes she swept the crowd again but didn’t see him. One would expect him to be weeping and wailing at the foot of the casket, bemoaning the loss of his mentor and financial sponsor, or weeping and wailing in front of a television camera.

So, where was the ungrateful SOB?

Well, there were ways to find him. She would hire a PI. Anything to get that DVD.

A cold shudder passed between her shoulder blades and she cradled her broken arm more tightly; she could almost feel Guido’s breath on the back of her neck, whispering words she never wanted to hear.

CHAPTER 47

Friday, August 12, 10:40 a.m.

“Whoa,” said Pizzarelli. “Look at this.”

He directed Cheri’s attention to Peter Jones, who had just come out of the building and appeared to be having words with Carter Cunningham. The girl friend, Andrea Villari, clutched Carter’s arm. Peter’s body shielded his mother. A tangible cloud of tension engulfed them, so palpable she almost thought she saw heat coming from it.

Cheri didn’t know if she moved toward the altercation in her capacity as a police official, or because some magnetic force compelled her to its destructive center. Pizzarelli followed. Silently she gave thanks that enough of a crowd remained to cloak their movements. They could observe and see how the confrontation played out.

“It’s too late to be polite!” Peter’s voice rose. “I know you have it and I want it back.”

Carter glanced around, clearly wishing to avoid a scene. “We can discuss this later,” he murmured.

Several people near them had stopped and shamelessly watched to see what would happen next. The TV cameras hadn’t yet discovered the row.

“No! You’ll give it back to me. I’m coming to your apartment to get it.”

Larissa’s black veils shook, and Cheri couldn’t hear if she said anything.

“Dammit, Peter. Stop this. Something’s happened. I don’t have it.”

Peter’s face twisted in contempt. “I don’t believe you. You planned to blackmail my father. Now you want to blackmail Dayan.”

“Come to the apartment. We can talk it over there.”

It was as if Peter hadn’t heard him. “It’s
mine
. You have no right to keep it!”

“I told you. I don’t have it,” Carter said, his voice tight. “And we need to talk about it, somewhere
else
.” Shielding Andrea from Peter’s wrath, he turned away.

Hard veins spidered Peter’s neck. He grabbed Carter’s shoulder, throwing him off balance. “We
are
talking about it!” he shouted.

Close now, Cheri and Pizzarelli heard every word. To her left, a man Cheri recognized advanced, a reporter who had noticed the action. He waved over a channel 8 news camera. Uh oh. Film at eleven.

In an attempt to shake him off, Carter elbowed Peter. Larissa gave a little cry and stepped backwards, bumping into two people who instinctively reached out to steady her.

Enraged, Peter pulled back his arm and swung at Carter. His closed fist caught the other man just below his jaw.

Andrea screamed and grabbed the arm of the cameraman. He scowled, his footage ruined by the jiggling camera.

Carter’s eyes flashed anger. He lunged and seized Peter around the chest. Simultaneously he twisted his body, positioned his right foot behind Peter’s left, and wrestled Peter to the ground.

When he straightened Peter sprang for his legs. Carter stumbled, and his body slammed into the cameraman.

The expletive that came out of the cameraman’s mouth was lost in the hysteria of surprised voices surrounding them.

Pizzarelli shouted, “Whoa! Enough already.”

He placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and dragged him upward by his burgundy silk shirt. As the fabric lifted away from his wrists, Cheri saw the kind of scars that told her Peter had a lot more serious problems than a misplaced DVD.

She stepped in front of the cameraman, in his face now, purposely blocking the lens.

Pizzarelli handcuffed Peter and they hustled him toward the Explorer. The exertion of the physical argument had drained the energy out of everything about Peter except his face. When another newsman appeared in front of him, he glared straight into the camera.

Carter followed. “Officers, I don’t want to press any charges.”

Cheri stared at him. “He attacked you.”

“It’s all a misunderstanding,” he said, smiling. One hand tugged at the hair atop his collar. “Peter and I are old friends. He’s under a lot of stress right now. I don’t blame him for what happened.”

“Peter gave you the DVD to keep Larissa from finding it,” Cheri said. “That’s what you were fighting about. I heard you tell Peter, something’s happened, you no longer have it. Would you care to tell me what happened to it?”

He rubbed his hand at the back of his shirt collar. “I-I don’t know. It was on my closet shelf. Now it’s…gone.”

“Gone
where
, d’ya think?” Pizzarelli asked.

Carter snarled, “I have no idea.”

CHAPTER 48

Friday, August 12, 11:50 a.m.

After the funeral Larissa begged Dawn to stay with her for the afternoon.

Peter, having been released by Pizzarelli when Carter refused to press charges, was sullen and silent, and after that embarrassingly public altercation with Carter, Dawn thought it was a good idea.

She followed the two of them to their Seven Hills house, where she pulled up next to Peter’s Lexus in the wide driveway.

Peter jumped out of the car, came around and opened the passenger door to help Larissa out.

For an instant Dawn thought he looked up to acknowledge her presence, but there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if he looked right through her to the house next door.

She slammed her car door and followed behind Larissa as Peter led his mother into the house. He guided her to a chair, where she collapsed, her black costume sharp against the creamy upholstery. Again he looked not at Dawn, but
through
her, and proceeded, without a word, to climb the stairs to the second floor.

After the accusations he’d made about Carter, Dawn had nothing to say to him that she could say in front of Larissa. Even small talk would have been arduous.

Ever since they’d worked together at the MGM, she’d felt protective of Larissa. As the two tallest showgirls, they’d been placed at opposite ends of the line. She remembered how guys liked to joke about “being sandwiched between the bookends.”

Larissa had her share of dates, but she’d never fallen in love until she began to be courted by Maxwell. What an impression he’d made.

She already had a glamorous career, but what a different world of show business he’d introduced her to. Party all night, sleep all day—that was Maxwell’s world. His reputation as a shameless womanizer had no effect on Larissa. She loved him so completely that his world became hers. If he loved other women, she loved them, too. And he never changed just because she gave birth to Peter.

Dawn didn’t want words with Peter that would hurt Larissa—Maxwell had hurt her enough.

Removing her black hat and veil, Larissa spoke. “I’m exhausted, luv. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Maxwell died. It’s an effort to make the show. I feel like a zombie going through the motions.”

Beyond the reddened eyes and swollen sinuses, Dawn still saw the sweet vulnerability part of Larissa’s ageless beauty. “The show must go on, baby.” The knowledge that her sympathy wasn’t enough to help Larissa filled her with pain. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Oh, doctors, what do they know?” Larissa waved her hand to Maria, who took the veiled hat. “Some tea?” Maria disappeared into the kitchen.

Dawn waited until the maid had left the room. Then she said, “You could get something to help you sleep.”

“I suppose. But it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Peter. He’s become so. . . so withdrawn. He won’t talk to me. This thing has hit him really hard. I haven’t seen him this depressed since he was fourteen.”

Dawn’s hand flinched in alarm. After Larissa’s stormy break-up with Maxwell, Peter had attempted suicide, a shock to everyone who knew him. It was with great effort that they’d rallied long enough to keep the story of Peter’s bloodied wrists out of the tabloids and away from celebrity television. Now he hid the welted scars beneath the ruffled cuffs of custom-made shirts.

Larissa rubbed her nose from the bridge up to a spot between her eyebrows. “Peter’s hiding a terrible secret, and I don’t know how to let him know I know what it is.”

Dawn drew in a quick breath. “The DVD—?”

“Maxwell and the Spring Solstice. He thinks I don’t know about it, but I do.” Larissa’s sagging face showed no surprise.

“You’ve seen it?”

“I watched it one day when he was out. I saw Maria coming out of his room with it in her hand. She’d found it while cleaning. Thought she was helping to organize by returning it to the entertainment cabinet in the living room. Thought it was some family home movie thing. It was unmarked, and I was curious. I didn’t remember seeing it before, so after she left I put it in the player. When I saw Maxwell’s face, I couldn’t imagine what Peter would be doing with a current video of Maxwell. Like I said, luv, I was curious. . .” Her last word caught in her throat, and she stopped.

“Oh, baby. Curiosity scared the cat?” As soon as she’d said it, Dawn realized her attempt at humor was poorly timed.

Larissa stood up and walked around the couch. When she stopped, she leaned against it as if to steady herself. She crossed her arms with her hands high, holding her shoulders, and her voice was a mere whisper. “You can’t imagine what was on that DVD. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but what I saw…
”

Dawn’s heart ached for her friend. “What did you do?”

“Returned it to the desk where Maria found it.” Larissa dropped her hands from her shoulders and looked around the room as if she didn’t know where to walk next. “But what did Carter say this morning? Why was he saying he didn’t have it? I don’t understand…”

Dawn couldn’t hold out information from Larissa. Not now. “Carter told us…Peter gave it to him for safekeeping because he didn’t want you to find it. We advised him to take it to the police. Except now it’s been stolen from Carter’s apartment.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Larissa. “The pres
s⎯
“

“I know, baby.” She reached out for Larissa’s hand in a vain attempt to reassure her. “So far I don’t think it’s fallen into their hands. It would be all over the news. More likely, someone’s holding it for blackmail.”

“Good God,” Larissa repeated. She stared at Dawn with a pleading look. “I lied to the police. I told them I didn’t know anything about the DVD. I told them I’d never even heard anything about it. I didn’t want Peter to know, but most of all I didn’t want the police to suspect Peter of killing Maxwell.” Her voice became a low moan. “They were asking so many questions about where he was just before the accident…and now Maxwell’s dead. How could anyone blackmail him now?”

“I understand.” Dawn raised her hand to touch Larissa’s forearm. “Baby, you’ve done nothing that any loving mother wouldn’t do to protect her son.”

Larissa breathed in deeply through delicate nostrils and let the air out slowly through slightly parted lips. A yoga breath, Dawn recognized, to steady her nerves.

“But Peter and Carter? It makes no sense. What’s that all about?”

“I have no idea. Carter won’t talk about it.” Dawn sat back on the chair. “None of it makes any sense. No sense at all.”