The Chick and the Dead (20 page)

"You're too young to have ever known her," he said. "Maybe if you did, you'd realize that Miss Bowman was… how can I put this diplomatically? She was hard to forget."

"A hot little number, huh?"

He tugged at his suit coat and shook himself back to the present. "There were some who thought so."

"But not you."

Howell looked at me hard. "Maybe you missed the part about me saying my son was born that year. My daughter was three years old at the time. So you see, I was happily married." He glanced toward the photo on his desk of an elegant, silver-haired woman. "I still am."

"That's nice." I smiled. "And I'm not trying to contradict you or anything, I'm just trying to make sense of the situation. See, what I don't understand is, if all that is true, why Didi dedicated her book to you." There was a dimple in Howell's chin. He rubbed one finger over it. "Look, I don't know where you're getting your information, but—"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"And you think I can help you, how?"

"Because I think you know what I'm talking about. She dedicated
So Far the Dawn
to you, didn't she?

She showed you the first page of it and her writing was on it. It was long before Merilee published the book. And when she did, what did you think? Did you think that Didi had just stolen a page of Merilee's book and pretended to be the author just to impress you?"

Howell studied me with an intensity I imagined he'd used on more than one opposing attorney over the years. I shifted from foot to foot.

"What are you getting at here?" he asked.

It was time to lay my cards on the table. At least some of them. "I think Merilee didn't write that book," I told him. "I think Didi did, and I think you once saw the original copy of her manuscript. If you're willing to talk about the fact that you saw the manuscript and that Didi wrote it, we might be able to prove that she's really the author. See, if she is, then the wrong person has been getting rich on the royalties for a lot of years."

"You're talking about Didi's daughter. You think Judy should get the money." I shook my head. "Judy's dead. Has been for a few years. But Judy, she had a daughter. Maybe you didn't know that. Judy's daughter. Didi's granddaughter. If we can prove—"

"Hold on! Right there." Howell barked the command. "How old are you?" The question caught me off guard. "Twenty-five," I told him. "But I don't see how that—"

"Out!" His cheeks flushed with an ugly, dark color, his voice trembling with barely controlled emotion, Howell pointed toward the door. "Get the hell out of my office. Who do you think you're dealing with, little girl? You're crazy if you think you can pull some sort of shakedown scam on me. I know exactly what you're up to, and let me tell you this, you'll never prove a thing. You think you can grab a share of my money and my family's prestige, think again and remember this: If I ever see your face again, you're going to hear the words
restraining order
so fast, your head will spin."

"Excuse me?" Baffled by his sudden mood swing, I stared at him in wonder. "What are you talking about? I only want to know if Didi ever showed you the original manuscript. If she told you that the character of Palmer was based on you. I only wanted to know—"

I guess Howell didn't give a damn what I wanted to know.

Before I could say another word, he grabbed my arm, dragged me out into the hallway, and slammed his office door behind him. Even through the closed door, I heard his voice as he called security and told them there was an intruder outside his office.

Time to beat a hasty retreat.

I made it outside without incident, thank goodness, and while I hurried away from the courthouse as fast as I could, I wondered what the hell had happened up there.

What difference did it make to Howell how old I was?

And why did he think me being there had anything to do with what he called a shakedown and a chance to snaffle up his money?

Unless…

I had just started across a street against the light when the truth hit. I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the intersection, and when a couple of car horns blew and a driver leaned out of his window and asked me if I was some kind of crazy, drugged-out freak, I heard the sounds as if they came from a million miles away.

Of course! I should have figured it out the moment I realized that Howell and Didi were connected by more than just the path to the steno pool.

Howell didn't give a damn about
So Far the Dawn
or who wrote it. He was worried that I was trying to cash in on a family connection.

That's why he asked how old I was.

Howell thought I'd shown up out of nowhere to claim him as my long-lost grandfather. Because Judge Thomas Ross Howell was the father of Didi's baby.

And that meant…

Another blast of a car horn got me moving. I scurried over to the sidewalk and followed my train of thought to its logical conclusion.

It wasn't pretty.

Because I was convinced that Howell wasn't just Judy's father.

Thomas Ross Howell was the reason Didi jumped.

I was all set to run this new theory by Didi—and
dare her to prove me wrong—but it looked as if she'd learned a few handy-dandy ghostly tricks from the dearly departed don. As Gus had done so many times when I needed to talk to him most, Didi had vanished.

Pun intended.

I got back to the Bowman house and she was nowhere around.

The rest of the world, though, was.

I had to fight my way through the crowd in the entryway, and when I did, I saw what was happening. One group of workers was moving the last of the display cases into their permanent positions in what used to be the dining room. With a whole lot of pomp and ceremony, a second group was setting the first bits of memorabilia in place in the glass cases in the once-upon-a-time living room. Members of the press captured the moment for posterity, their cameras trained on the one and only Merilee, who, resplendent in peacock blue, stuck around long enough to primp and smile, then disappeared into her study with the promise (or was it a threat?) of the sequel that was awaiting her attention.

No big surprise that Ella was there to watch it all.

Unknown to anyone but little ol' Gifted me, so were Elizabeth and Kurt. I waved to the dynamic dueling duo, but we didn't have a chance to chat, and call me cynical, but I knew it was just as well. The two stars were standing near a poster that, according to the plaque next to it, had once hung in the Ziegfeld to advertise the opening of the movie.

"You look embalmed, darling. And stuffed,"Elizabeth told Kurt, her top lip curled as she studied him in his blue uniform.

"And you, my dear…" Kurt's smile glinted in the light of the cameras that flashed all around. He eyed the cleavage that peeked out from the top of the famous blue velvet dress. "Whoever thought they could pass offNew Jersey trash asOhio blue blood must have been as crazy as a loon
and
nearsighted to boot." I left them at it.

Good thing, too. As soon as she saw me, Ella latched on to my arm. "Can you believe it?" She tugged me over to a glass case that featured the (fake) diamond and sapphire necklace Opal wore in the scene where she connived a naive banker into loaning her the money to save the family's shipbuilding business. At the same time I wondered what she'd say if she knewElizabeth was standing right behind her in the same green outfit Opal wore to call on the bank, I made the right clucking noises.

"This is the most exciting day of my life," Ella said, and I didn't contradict her, even though it was what she'd said the day Merilee arrived at Garden View. What was the point in arguing? And what difference would it have made?

Ella was beyond thinking logically.

Her cheeks aglow, and the same shade as the flamingo pink dress she wore with a snappy little matching sweater, Ella drifted from display case to display case, grinning from ear to ear and taking me along for the ride.

"Look! The Opal doll!" She clutched her hands to her heart, and while she beamed at the eighteen-inch doll inside the nearest case, I shook out my arm to get the circulation going again. The doll was dressed asElizabeth had been the night she'd first popped up in Merilee's study, in the ubiquitous blue gown. She had the same tumble of golden curls, the same sapphire eyes. "I wanted one of these dolls so bad when I was a kid, I got on a bus and went downtown to ask Santa for one." Ella gave me a wink. "Considering that we're Jewish, my mother wasn't exactly thrilled. I did get the doll, though. For Hanukkah that year. You think maybe Santa's interdenominational?"

She didn't wait for me to answer, and that was okay. There wasn't much I could say, and she probably wouldn't have heard me, anyway. Ella looked toward the next case and practically melted in a puddle of aficionado mush. "The
So Far the Dawn
lunch box! Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" I wasn't so sure. I looked at the twelve-by-twelve metal box with the picture of a smiling Palmer and a pouting Opal on it. Even before I could comment, I heard them behind us.

"Oh, Kurt! A lunch box. The perfect item for a ham like you."

"And for you, Elizabeth. But only if one of the things packed inside is a tart."

"A lunch box like this is as rare as hen's teeth." Ella's comment cut across the sniping. Her sigh fogged the glass case. "It's the one piece of memorabilia I've never been able to get my hands on, and it would be the crowning glory of my collection."

"You're not thinking of a smash and grab, are you?"

I was kidding.

The look of lunch box lust in Ella's eyes told me that maybe I shouldn't have been. Fortunately for her criminal record and for my bank account (because of course I would have bailed her out of jail), her better self took control. Ella pulled her gaze from the lunch box to me. "I'm glad you showed up," she said. "Since I was coming over here anyway, I brought your gown. I hope you don't mind. Bob showed me which room was yours, and I put it up there."

I wasn't sure which comment worried me more. The one about Bob being in my bedroom. Or the one about the gown.

Because the one was too icky to consider, I glommed on to the other.

"What gown?"

Ella patted my arm. "It's gorgeous. I promise. It had to be retailored completely, of course. I mean, you and Trish Kingston… " She laughed. "Well, she had such a stick of a figure. And you're so gorgeous and curvy. But not to worry. When I stopped by your apartment to pick up your mail last week, I took the liberty of checking your closet and taking one of your dressier dresses. You know, to the seamstress. She used it for sizing, but of course, you'll still need to try on the gown before—"

"What gown?"

I guess the second time was the charm. Or maybe Ella finally heard me because I spoke so loud. The confusion in her eyes cleared. "The gown? Oh, you forgot, didn't you? Your gown. The one you'll be wearing to the gala."

As it happened, I had not forgotten. I had never been told. I didn't bother to point this out to Ella because just as I was about to (along with the fact that there was no way in hell I was going to wear a hoop skirt or a corset), she spotted something in the next case, and if I'd stopped to talk, I wouldn't have been able to put an arm around her when I thought she was going to collapse on the floor.

"Oh, Pepper!" Tears welled in Ella's eyes. Her shoulders heaved beneath my ministering hands. I don't imagine the folks who designed the museum displays wanted people touching the glass cases, but Ella did anyway. With one finger. Like what was inside was so precious, she didn't dare do any more. What was inside, according the sign above it, was the original handwritten copy of So
Far the Dawn
. Merilee's original handwritten copy.

"To be this close to greatness!" Ella was sighing again, and I had to wipe the condensation off the glass before I could get a good look at the looseleaf pages inside the display. There in front of me was the whole, entire manuscript. It was opened to the scene where Opal heads off toBaltimore . I scanned the pages, and I'll say this much: There was nothing like seeing Merilee's work to take a girl aback.

I stood there staring. At the pages and the neat, careful writing. At the smudge-free margins and the words that were, by now, familiar. I'd seen them in print only a couple of nights before when I sat in my room and read the book.

Right then and there, every question I'd ever had about Didi and her claims to the authorship of the book washed over me like the cold slap of aLake Erie wave.

There was
So Far the Dawn
.

Every word of it in Merilee's cramped handwriting.

Could there be any doubt she was the author?

Could I deny the fact that she'd had fifty years to copy the manuscript, word for word, and in her own hand?

The question hurled me firmly back to reality and the mystery I found myself embroiled in. I actually might have had a chance to think about it further if a camera hadn't flashed from over Ella's left shoulder. Automatically, I glanced that way.

Imagine my surprise (or maybe
irritation
was a better word?) when I caught sight of the photographer just as he finished up and ducked into the hallway.

A photographer who looked a whole bunch like Dan Callahan.

"Excuse me," I told Ella, and honestly, I don't know if she heard me or not. Because I was already on my way to the door when I said it.

When I got there, I had to sidestep through the crowd, and after that, I had to elbow my way through the press of people in the entryway, and when I made my way through that bunch, I was forced to sidle around the gawkers, the reenactors, and the neighborhood busybodies who hadn't been invited to the event and were milling around on the front porch.

Is it any surprise that by the time I clumped down the stairs and into the front yard, the Dan who might not be Dan (but maybe he was) was nowhere to be seen?

There's only so much any woman can take and still hold on to her sanity and her rationality. Believe me when I say this: I had reached that point. Okay, so it took me a while. But hey, I'd been preoccupied. I was still preoccupied, what with talk of me wearing a ball gown and thoughts of Weird Bob the camera thief in my bedroom, and, oh yes, the mystery I was supposed to be solving. But all that aside, I was also now officially and completely pissed.