Dead Matter

by M. K. Wren

  “Marian, you work in the ephemeral world of public popularity —what would happen to Savanna if this chapter was included when Odyssey is published? ”

  Marian took a deep breath. “Well, you know, there ’s not much stars can do these days to disillusion their fans to the point of turning against them. But this…maybe it ’s the last taboo. At least for somebody like Savanna, whose popularity is based so much on her sex appeal. I think it would ’ve destroyed her. ”

  “Apparently she thought so, too. ” He turned to Justine. “Mrs. Lasky, what are you going to do with this chapter? ”

  “Normally Byron and I would decide that together, but he ’s too ill to deal with this…this utter garbage now, and I ’m simply too distracted to be objective about it. That ’s why I wanted to discuss it with you. I don ’t know, for instance, whether it might be considered evidence in Savanna ’s trial. ”

  Conan swallowed the bitter laugh that was his first impulse. That chapter would be considered damning evidence, especially since it could be compared to the other burned fragments Steve Travers said were found in the condo ’s fireplace.

  “Mrs. Lasky, you called this garbage. It ’s far worse than that. It was a knife in Savanna ’s back, and Gould relished twisting it. He had a sadist ’s eye for vulnerability, and he understood very well that Savanna Barany without a stage might as well be dead. In a sense, she was fighting for her life. And it was a battle to the death. ”

  Justine pressed her fingers to her eyes and finally said, “You ’ve put the matter into perspective very nicely. I can ’t honestly say I like Savanna, perhaps because she ’s so beautiful, so incredibly talented, and it seems that everything has come so easily to her. I suppose I ’m jealous of that. But it is not my intention to make her suffer. ” Then she added, “Nor to serve as Ravin ’s henchman beyond the grave. ”

  Marian loosed a whispering sigh. She said, “Justine, I think the place for that chapter is in the nearest fire. ” Justine nodded and began to gather the pages and tap them together. “I think Byron would agree. Thank you, Mr. Flagg. ”

  Conan rose. “I hope your husband ’s recovery continues, Mrs. Lasky. Marian, it ’s been a pleasure knowing you, in spite of the circumstances. ”

  “Well, this has certainly been an interesting vacation. Next time you ’re in New York, plan to stay with Jacob and me at the farm. ”

  He thanked her for the invitation, then turned and walked down the corridor, past Savanna ’s room and beyond through the crowd still clamoring at the entrance to the wing.

  When at length the hospital doors closed behind him, he paused to look up at a sky of singing blue filled with towers of cumulus cloud, blue-gray beneath, ivory and snow white on their crowns.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Flagg. ”

  His gaze shifted downward. Beatrice Dobie. She was carrying a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums in a quart jar. “Good afternoon, Miss Dobie. ”

  “These are for Doc Spenser, ” she said, frowning into the mums.

  Conan said, “Oh, ” hoping his embarrassment wasn ’t obvious. It hadn ’t occurred to him to ask about Doc while he was in the hospital.

  “Mable Cranwoody is a candy striper, and she said the poor man doesn ’t know what ’s going on around him, but I thought…well, people sometimes feel things they don ’t actually react to. I mean, even when they ’re sick or unconscious. I remember my sister Liz when she —”

  “Yes, a miraculous recovery. Is the shop battened down? ”

  “Mm? Well, it ’s after six, Mr. Flagg. ” Then her square face lighted with a secretive smile. “Incidentally, we set a record today. I mean, a record for the bookshop. As of closing time today, we sold five hundred copies of a book that perhaps you ’d rather not hear the title of. ”

  “You mean, of course, The Diamond Stud. ”

  She watched him, and when he didn ’t go into apoplexy, apparently decided it was safe to continue. “Subtracting freight and the cost of the autographing, we cleared a total of —” she paused for effect “— four thousand one hundred and fifty dollars. And forty-seven cents. ”

  “Amazing, ” Conan said, managing a suitably amazed expression.

  She beamed proudly. “Well, yes, it is. And Cady came in today to make arrangements to pay for the damage he did. I had a list for him, and he promised to pay fifty dollars a month. ”

  “Miss Dobie, you have snatched profit from the jaws of disaster. ” Then he frowned. “But if you ever do anything like that behind my back again…” She looked so miserably contrite among the mums that he relented. “Well, just don ’t tell me about it. ”

  “Oh, Mr. Flagg, I ’ve learned my lesson. Besides, I don ’t suppose we ’ll have another best-selling author in Holliday Beach very soon. ”

  “Especially not one who enhances the value of his books so dramatically by getting himself murdered. Anyway, I think you ’re due a vacation. And a bonus. About…four thousand one hundred and fifty dollars. And forty-seven cents. ” Her mouth fell open, then she recovered to sputter, “But, Mr. Flagg! ”

  “To do with as you see fit, ” he added, smiling benignly, “as long as not one cent of profit from a Ravin Gould book is returned to the Holliday Beach Book Shop. ”

  She made a huffing sound, and before she could manage any intelligible words, he set off across the parking lot toward the XK-E, calling over his shoulder, “The Galapagos, Miss Dobie. You always wanted to see the Galapagos. ”

  Epilogue

  On the first Wednesday in November, a sou ’wester hit the Oregon coast with forty-mile-an-hour winds gusting to sixty, and, as of four-thirty in the afternoon, over three inches of pounding rain.

  Conan Flagg found it most satisfactory.

  He might ordinarily have watched the storm from his house, where he could see the wind-whipped ocean assaulting the shore, but there was no one else to mind the bookshop since Miss Dobie had —finally —departed on her vacation three weeks ago.

  And so Conan sat on a stool by the cash register, which had registered only two sales since ten this morning, with the weekly Holliday Beach Guardian spread out on one end of the counter and Meg spread out on the other. The bookshop was empty, and the stereo in his office was at full volume, the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor providing a suitable accompaniment to the rain slashing at the windows.

  Meg was using the telephone for a headrest, and when it rang, she was startled into an easily translatable Siamese yowl of annoyance. She shifted an inch or so away from the offending instrument and gave Conan a strabismic glare as he reached for the receiver.

  He wasn ’t startled by the ringing of the phone. He had been expecting the call, although Miss Dobie had steadfastly maintained that he wouldn ’t hear one word from her until she returned.

  Still, yesterday had been election day.

  “Holliday Beach Book —”

  “Mr. Flagg, I ’m calling from Guayaquil, ” Miss Dobie shouted, unnecessarily, since the line was quite clear. “We just sailed into port a little while ago. ”

  “I hope the Galapagos lived up to your expectations. ”

  “Oh, it was a fabulous trip. I shot twenty-nine rolls of film. But I just couldn ’t stand the suspense anymore. What about the election? ”

  Conan said blithely. “Well, the weather was perfect, and there was a good turnout. According to the Guardian, a fifty-one percent —”

  “Mr. Flagg, please, I ’m just interested in the results! ”

  “I have the newspaper right here. “ He turned to the front page. “Let ’s see, Frank Spanicek held on to his city council seat, but Harry Lufton lost to Jean Casper Davis. She must be Denny Casper ’s daughter. Judge Lay managed to hold on, too, but it was a squeaker. ”

  “Mr. Flagg! ” There was a definite edge in her tone.

  And since Conan was feeling perverse, he replied, “You probably want to hear about the state races. Senator Hatwood won again, but he had to get out and dirty himself in the trenches this time, and Donn
y Jones lost quite thoroughly to —”

  “Mr. Flagg, the sheriff ’s race! Who won the sheriff ’s race? ”

  Conan smiled at Meg, who was watching him intently, the tip of her tail twitching. “Well, Miss Dobie, there ’s good news and bad news, as they say. ”

  A groan, then: “What ’s the bad news? ”

  “Earl Kleber lost by a little more than a hundred votes. ” Conan let Miss Dobie sputter awhile, then interrupted her with “The good news is, Giff Wills also lost. By about a thousand votes. ”

  In the ensuing silence, Conan looked down at the headline under the Guardian ’s masthead: SURPRISE WINNER IN SHERIFF ’S RACE.

  Miss Dobie shouted, “What happened,Mr. Flagg? ”

  “An unprecedented write-in campaign, spearheaded by Lydia Quigley, who is, of course, a force to be reckoned with, since she ’s active in every civic and/or women ’s organization in Taft County. And she had an excellent candidate to throw her considerable weight behind. ”

  “Oh, you don ’t mean…” Miss Dobie all but giggled. “You don ’t mean the write-in candidate was…”

  Since she couldn ’t seem to get the name out, Conan provided it: “Deputy Neely Jones. ”

  Conan hoped Miss Dobie was making this call in the privacy of a hotel room, since if she was in a public place, her whoops of joy would make passersby assume she was either hysterical or drunk.

  At length she calmed down and caught her breath. “But what about Chief Kleber? Is he terribly disappointed? ”

  “I talked to him last night, and he seemed relieved. Earl and Neely will be the finest law enforcement team Taft County ever had. ”

  “Amen. Oh, I must send Neely a telegram of congratulations. ”

  “But you ’ll be home in a day or so. ” When that met with a long silence, he asked, “Won ’t you? ”

  “Well…I thought maybe while I was in the neighborhood, so to speak, I might have a look at Machu Picchu. And there ’s an air tour of the Andes I heard about from a lovely gentleman I met on the ship. ”

  Conan smiled and whispered to Meg, “The plot thickens. ” Meg flicked a velvet ear at him.

  “I mean, since business is always slow this time of year, and Lord knows when I ’ll ever be in South America again…”

  “Miss Dobie, go. With my blessings. ”

  “I was hoping you ’d feel that way. Oh —sorry, I have to sign off now. Miguel, uh, Mr. Rivera is waiting for me. Thanks for the good news. ”

  Conan hung up, frowning. “Meg, I may have made a serious error in sending Miss Dobie that close to the equator. ”

  Then he looked down at the Guardian. No. Miss Dobie would be back. She wouldn ’t be able to resist returning to see Taft County ’s good-ol ’-boy network shaken to its foundations. He wondered idly what Giff Wills would do for a living now.

  Open a real estate office, no doubt.

  Meg stretched methodically and thoroughly, baring her teeth in a benign grimace of a yawn, then stalked across the newspaper to rub against Conan ’s arm with a hoarse, running commentary.

  He took the hint. An early twilight had already activated the streetlights outside, and Meg ’s internal clock, which was linked directly to her stomach, was sounding an alarm. “All right, Duchess. Time to close the shop. Come on, I ’ll serve your royal highness ’s dinner. ”