by Ava Barry
Five minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Theo. I was about to pull out my phone again when a police car pulled up the street and rolled to a stop in front of Theo’s gate.
Two police officers stepped out, and one of them approached the small cluster of remaining protesters.
“You’ve had your fun,” the first cop said. “It’s time to clear out, now. We’ve had complaints from the neighbors.”
“I’m well within my right to protest here,” Caleb replied. “Sweet Briar Lane is public property.”
“We’ve had noise complaints,” the cop replied. “Two or three calls in the last half hour.”
I leaned against the fence and watched them spar. Cops still made me vaguely uneasy, and even though I knew that I was well within my legal rights to be there, I didn’t want to attract their attention.
I took out my phone and called Brian, but it went straight to voice mail.
“Sir, you can’t stand here.”
I looked up to see one of the cops approaching me. I gave him an innocent look, then raised my hands. “I have an appointment to be here,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone inside that house.”
The cop followed the direction of my finger, toward Windhall.
“Sure you are. Let’s move along.”
“I’m not a protester, and you won’t find anyone who’s had noise complaints from me. I can call my editor right now and have him verify that I’m meant to be here.”
Before I could call him again, I heard the sound of rattling chains. I turned to see that Fritz was struggling with the padlocked chain holding the gates of Windhall together, and when he saw everyone outside the gate, he scowled.
“Sir, do you live here?” the second cop said, approaching the fence.
“No questions, thank you.”
“Is this man disturbing you?” the cop indicated me.
Fritz considered me. “Yes,” he said. “I find him very disturbing. He’s an invited guest, however, so please let him through.”
The cops weren’t sure how to respond. I walked toward the gate and helped Fritz with the chains, and he finally managed to unlock them.
“Thanks for coming down,” I said to Fritz.
He acknowledged the comment with a slight incline of his head.
“Has anyone come up to the house today?”
“No one.”
“I imagine it’s been a circus with photographers outside your gate,” I said, hoping to get some kind of response from him, but Fritz said nothing until we reached the front door.
“I told Mr. Bates that Mr. Langley was not at home,” he said. “He said that you may wait inside until he returns.”
I frowned. “When will he be back?”
“Within an hour, Mr. Hailey.”
He climbed the steps up to the front door. Before he could open the door, however, it swung inward, and he stepped back in surprise.
“Oh! Hello, Fritz—you startled me.” A woman stepped out onto the front steps and noticed me. “Hello, who’s this?”
My first thought was that the woman was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. She could have been anywhere from forty to sixty, with light brown skin and almond eyes. A light spray of freckles across her nose set off her complexion in a pleasant way. Her hair was pinned loosely atop her head with an antique silver pin, and she removed a pair of gardening gloves as she looked between Fritz and me.
“I’m Max,” I said.
“Max Hailey,” Fritz added.
“Ahh, you’re the famous Hailey,” the woman said, giving me a wry smile. “My name is Flannery. Are you meeting with Theo today?”
“Yes,” I said. “There’s been a change of plans.”
“Theo’s in town, but he’ll be back soon.”
I followed her down a path that led through the garden.
I couldn’t figure out Flannery’s relationship to Theo, but I didn’t know how to make the question seem innocuous. “How long have you worked for Theo?” I tried.
She stopped walking, then turned around and gave me a bemused look. “I don’t work for Theo, Max,” she said. “We’re old friends.”
“How did you meet?”
“Through a mutual acquaintance.”
The path led around the back of the garden, and we emerged into the little citrus orchard. Flannery brushed some leaves from the table and pulled out a chair.
“Have a seat, Max,” she said. “I’ll go inside and get some lemonade.”
She went inside, and I wandered around the garden. It must have been so peaceful, back in the ’40s and ’50s, when Theo had invited guests back for a bit of respite from their world of red carpets and flashbulbs. When I was sure that Flannery was gone, I walked around to get a look at the back of the house.
The windows of the upstairs guest bedroom glinted in the sunlight, but they revealed nothing. I took out the drawing that I had made in the Beverly Hills library and quickly consulted it. According to the blueprints that I had seen, the hidden maid’s room would have been on the northern side of the house. I glanced up again and saw that there was a dusty little window on the second story, one that I hadn’t noticed before.
There was no way to know what was inside that room unless I was able to see it for myself, but in order to see it, I had to pretend that it didn’t hold too much interest for me. I decided to occupy my time waiting for Theo by exploring the garden.
I meandered down the brick path that wove through the ancient orange trees, and to my surprise, saw that the path led out of the garden and branched off toward a wall at the edge of Theo’s property. There was a tall hedge, overgrown and wild, which bordered the garden. I followed the brick path and saw that buried in the mess of the hedge and weeds was a little wooden door.
The door only came up to my shoulder, and the wood was badly cracked. The hinges and door were done in an old wrought-iron style, and I ran my hands over the metal, wondering how old the door was. The handle was locked, of course, but I was still disappointed.
“Max?” Flannery’s voice came floating out through the orange trees. I stood up and walked back down the path to go find her.
“There you are,” she said, when I reappeared. “Where did you go?”
“I was looking around the garden,” I said. “Did you know that this path ends in a little door?”
Flannery poured the lemonade and didn’t respond. She handed me a glass, then looked up to meet my eyes.
“Fritz has told me all about you,” she said, taking a sip. “He’s not very happy about your visits.”
“There’s only been one, so far,” I said. “And what exactly has he told you? I haven’t interacted with him at all.”
“Fritz has ways of getting information,” she said, then gave me a rueful smile. “He and Theo are thick as thieves. What exactly are you hoping to find? Why are you here?”
“I’ve been fascinated by Theo and Eleanor since I was a kid,” I said.
“You’ve bought into the fairy tale.”
“It’s not exactly a fairy tale,” I countered. “Director finds his muse and kills her in the rose garden.”
“That was never substantiated, Max.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which question?”
“Do you know about that door?”
She smiled. “It’s been out of use for years,” she said. “I’m told that movie stars used to sneak between each other’s yards when they didn’t want to interact with the outside world. It got a lot of use during parties.”
“Who lived next door?”
“Some old silent star,” she said. “If you know anything about film, you know that a lot of silent stars were ruined when film started using sound technology.”
“So I’ve heard. Who lives there now?”
“Who knows? Old Hollywood got chopped up and sold a long time ago. It’s probably some reality star, maybe a young pop idol.”
“I like the idea of a secret
door.”
“They were all over Beverly Hills, at one point,” she said. “I’ve heard that Harold Lloyd had a secret road under Greenacres, but of course, it’s probably a rumor. Old Hollywood was very much a private world—if the old stars didn’t want to interact with the commoners, they didn’t have to.” She said commoners with disdain.
“Somehow they always managed to get inside, though!”
I turned to see Theo at the edge of the garden. He pointed at Flannery.
“Flannery’s the perfect example,” he said. “I can’t remember for the life of me how she got onto my property. Windhall used to be so well guarded.”
“Theo’s an old recluse who can’t stand change,” Flannery replied. “He’s been out of touch with reality for years, unwilling to move beyond the glory of the old days.”
“Tell me, Hailey,” Theo said, walking toward the table. “Have you ever heard of a Mexican named Flannery? Her parents must have had some sense of humor. Or maybe they wanted everyone to think that she was Irish. Let me tell you, kid, you ain’t fooling anyone.”
“Oh, Theo, I’m not sure that Fritz passed the message along, but please stop leaving your denture glue in my passenger seat. I had a foster kid in there yesterday, and he was mortified on my behalf. I had to explain that I’m too young for dentures.”
Theo burst into laughter, then squeezed Flannery’s shoulder. “Look at Hailey, he’s so embarrassed,” he said. “We like to exchange barbs, Hailey; it’s how we stay young.”
Flannery stood up. “I’m going into town,” she said. “Please behave yourself while I’m gone.”
Theo kissed her cheek, then took a seat across from me. “So, Bob Woodward,” he said. “Back for another round.”
“You’re very funny,” I said. “You don’t think I’ll write the story?”
He shrugged. “You aiming for a Pulitzer, or something more on par with a TMZ spread?”
“You should fix up your garden,” I said, looking around.
“It has its charms,” he replied. “You know how some people start to resemble their dogs after a while? My garden is a reflection of my inner self.”
“Come on.”
“It’s a waste of water,” he said. “With Los Angeles dying of thirst, I don’t need to add to the problem. Besides, what makes you think I’m going to stick around?”
“Where would you go?”
“I’ve always wanted to visit Tokyo. Greece? Ethiopia?”
“While we’re on the topic of travel, where have you been this whole time?”
Theo looked at me, then burst out laughing and slapped his knee. “You don’t really think it’s going to be that easy, do you?”
“Not at all. I had to ask, though.”
“I travel a lot. But I don’t like the cold.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to stick around. Flannery said she’s been working on the garden.”
“Bless her.”
“How did you two meet?”
Theo opened his mouth, then gave me a sly grin. “A mutual friend,” he said. “No questions about Flannery. Leave her out of our dealings.”
I pointed toward the hedge. “Who was your neighbor? When you still lived here, I mean.”
“Tom Mix,” Theo replied.
“Good relationship?”
Theo shrugged. “Sometimes his guests would get drunk and sneak into my yard,” he said. “I found a few strangers in my pool. They were always completely top-heavy with booze.”
“How’d they get over here?”
“There’s an old door in the hedge.”
“You still have the keys?”
“Long gone.” Theo picked up Flannery’s glass and finished off the remainder of the lemonade. “Let’s go on that tour. I’ve got other things to do today.”
* * *
A long time before meeting Theo, I had come to know his house by heart. With the help of the feature in Architectural Digest, as well as numerous society columns, photographs in Time and opaque shots in the Los Angeles Times, I had memorized everything there was to know about Windhall. I knew about the gold and avocado tiles in the master bathroom, the stained glass roses frozen in the windows above the eastern garden, the stone faces peering down from the shade of the tennis court.
For years, I had imagined the parties that began at twilight and lasted well into the dawn, the champagne glasses shattered against the garden walls. I could almost hear the music of parties long since faded drifting down the drive, but as I grew older, I knew that no matter how well I knew the house, it was something that would never belong to me. And in all that time, in all those daydreams, I had never imagined that there was an entire section of the house that had been hidden.
Theo took me into the house through the back entrance, which led out onto the garden.
“Any place in particular you want to see?”
“All of it.”
He waved a hand. “In case there’s not enough time,” he said. “Upstairs? Downstairs?”
“Upstairs.” I didn’t want to lead him directly to the upstairs guest bedroom, but I could get him close without leading him to suspect anything. If Eleanor had been murdered there, there must be faint spatters of blood, perhaps a single strand of hair. It would be enough.
He hummed as he led me up the stairs.
“Golly, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he said, pausing in front of the stained glass window on the landing. “I’m forgetting a few details, Hailey. The rear foyer used to be the medical dispensary, back when this place was a clinic. The kitchen was actually where they stored bodies, while they waited for the coroner to come. They used the counters as cooling boards. We could never get those stains out—bodies leak a lot, you know. My kitchen staff prepared the Bolognese alongside bloodstains.”
“Really?” My ears perked up.
“Of course not. How morbid do you think I am?”
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and I walked down the hallway ahead of him. The late-afternoon sunlight cast spokes of light against the wall, a slanting mosaic that made the house seem even more unearthly. My brain glazed over as Theo opened various doors and showed me the conservatory, the laundry and linen closet, the upstairs study and secondary library, and the twin bedrooms. He skipped over the upstairs guest bedroom as though the room weren’t there at all.
“Well? Anything else before I show you downstairs?”
“Nothing.” My heart rate accelerated. I didn’t want to risk calling him out on skipping the room, because it was already our second visit, and he had promised me two visits. If he chose to kick me out of the house then, there was nothing I could do about it. I had a different idea, though, for how I could see the room.
“Let’s go downstairs, then,” Theo said.
I followed him downstairs and patiently listened as he recited the function of each room. I could tell that he was boring himself, doing exactly as he had agreed upon in the contract, not a flowery sentence more.
“Any other questions, Mr. Hailey?”
“You’ve done what I asked, so thank you.”
“Not at all,” he said, inclining his head. “I wish you the best of luck with your article.”
We started walking toward the front door. I stopped, then patted my pockets.
“I had a notepad,” I said. “I was taking notes.”
“Perhaps you left it in the garden.”
“No, I had it after that,” I said. “I think I left it somewhere in the house. Give me a moment, I’ll be right back.”
Before he could protest, I took off down the hallway. I had reached the stairs before I heard him calling my name. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the top in less than thirty seconds. I ran down the hallway, toward the guest bedroom where I had encountered Ben and Leland that first night.
My hands shook as I turned the doorknob. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was hoping to find—a bloodstain on the far wall, or all the furniture moved out, maybe—but
there was nothing. The room was just as innocuous as the others that Theo had shown me.
It was a mirror image of the first guest room. As with all the rooms in the house, it had a dark wooden floor and white walls, with quaint decorations at intervals around the room. The windows offered a view of the rose garden and the mountains beyond. I closed my eyes and tried to remember where Ben and Leland had been standing when I had encountered them that night, and then reopened them.
The armoire. It was standing on the north end of the room, and it hadn’t been there before. I crossed the room in three paces and grasped the edges of the armoire, which was a heavy, antique thing. Grunting, I managed to shift it slightly to the left, just enough to see the peeling wallpaper and scrape marks, the edge of a doorframe behind the wood.
Someone cleared his throat behind me. Slowly, I turned around. Theo stood in the doorway, a tight smile on his lips.
“Did you find your notebook?” he asked.
I stepped away from the armoire. “No.”
“You thought rearranging the furniture might be of some assistance, I see.”
I wondered what he could possibly do. If it were a match of physical strength, there was no question that I would win. Still, a brief thought crossed my mind, and that was that Theo had the entire house rigged with trapdoors, sliding chutes down to buried cellars, nails and screws and horrible things that would slice and cut and kill. He had been the best set designer, a kind of magician, and for the first time since coming to Windhall, I wondered if I was safe.
But there was one more thing I needed to know before I could leave Windhall.
“What happened to Cate Chapelle?” I asked.
There was a flicker of recognition in his face—it was quick enough that if I hadn’t been expecting a reaction, I might have missed it.
“Who?”
“I know about Cate,” I said. “I know how she died.”
His face closed, then, and I realized that I had pushed my hand.
“All right, Hailey,” Theo said softly. “You’ve had the tour. I think it’s time to leave.”
Resigned, I crossed the room and slipped past him, out through the door. He remained five paces behind me as we walked down the hallway, back down the stairs, and then out through the grand foyer.