“Mrs. Gee, it’s so good to see you.” The crowd at the bottom of the stairs broke around us, everyone heading in to find seats.
“Call me Lillian, please.” She beamed at me, and I realized she was wearing a perfect replica of the Katharine Hepburn coat I’d lusted over. Of course she was.
“Lillian, you look amazing.” She was the source of Callie’s wild curls, but tonight she’d tamed her own with a chic chignon. She did a little twirl and struck a pose just as Trixie popped into view behind her.
“Do you think she’ll feel me again?”
“Nora, dear, I’d like to introduce you to my husband.” Lillian reached for the arm of a compact Chinese man in a timeless gray suit who stood on the first step of the stairs.
“Here goes.” Trixie wrapped her arms around Callie’s mom in a full-body hug.
Lillian stilled. She’d been looking up at her husband, but now she turned wide eyes to me. “She’s here!” she announced in a thrilled voice. “I can feel her!”
“It’s working!” Trixie squealed.
“Now, dear…” Lillian’s husband had come down the stairs and was giving her the kind of look that usually accompanies a husband saying “Now, dear…”
Trixie nestled her head on Lillian’s shoulder in contentment.
“Dr. Gee.” I extended my hand. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. Callie’s told me so much about you.” Callie had told me exactly two things: that he was a doctor and that I would never meet him.
“Er, hello.” He nodded perfunctorily in my direction, his attention on his wife.
Lillian had a faraway look in her eye, as if she were communing with the spirit world. Which she was, in the form of the blonde bombshell currently draping herself around her like a boneless cat.
Then she focused on me. “Nora, we absolutely must hold a séance,” she said. “I insist.”
Her timing was terrible, because Monica, Abby, and Kristy had just caught up with me. They heard what Lillian said and they were all immediately on board with the notion of trying to raise the ghosts of the Palace.
The ghost of the Palace was equally taken with idea.
“Nora, please,” Trixie pleaded, her arms around Lillian. “I’ve never been to a séance.”
“Um…” I said, brilliantly.
“I don’t think—” Dr. Gee began.
“Come on,” Monica encouraged. “It’ll be fun.”
I wasn’t so sure of that. On the other hand, it would drive Callie out of her mind when she found out, and that was always entertaining.
“Nora?” Trixie’s blue eyes were huge and pleading.
I couldn’t say no.
“Sure,” I agreed. It might be crazy, but it also might help Trixie. “If you really want to. Let’s do it Monday, when the theater’s closed.”
I left Dr. Gee rubbing his forehead like a man resigned while the rest of them all started planning the séance. I had to get to the stage. Reference Desk Trivia could wait no longer.
It was close to three in the morning by the time I locked up the Palace. The moviegoers were gone, the cleanup was over, we’d all basked in the glory of a successful event, and I’d declined Hector’s offer to come back and give me a lift after he took Gabriela home. I’d wanted to be alone. I usually do after a big social thing. Walking the few blocks back to Robbie’s guest house in the quiet of the wee small hours sounded like just what I needed.
What I did not need was to open my office door, intending only to grab a jacket and my bag, and instead find a man snoring on the couch.
I yelped in surprise and he stirred but didn’t wake. He was splayed face-up, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, with a baseball cap lowered to cover most of his face.
Most, but not all. Once I got over being startled, I recognized him. About fifteen options flitted through my mind, from turning around and leaving him to calling the cops to whacking him with the nearest blunt object. I settled on going to my desk, sitting in my chair, and yelling at him.
“Tommy!”
He shot up to a standing position before he was fully awake, his hands held out, his whole body tensed. Then he registered where he was, saw me at the desk, and slumped.
“Nora. What the hell?”
“I could ask you the same thing. You may own a quarter of this place, but I wasn’t aware that gave you napping privileges.”
He sank back onto the couch, wiping a hand over his eyes. “You’re the one who told me to come here.”
“I didn’t mean at three in the morning.”
His eyes widened as he checked his watch. “I must have fallen asleep. God, I’m exhausted. This has been a nightmare.” He passed a hand over his face. He did look exhausted, his complexion tinged with gray beneath his out-of-season tan. “Where have you been?” he asked accusingly. “Didn’t they tell you I was here?”
“Didn’t who tell me? When did you get here?”
“Right before the movie started. You were onstage doing something, but Monica saw me. She was with those two women from her shop. And Callie absolutely saw me—she made me pay for a ticket!”
I bet she did. I really did love that girl.
“Well, I know you’re here now.” I wafted my hands. “I’m less sure of why. How do you think I can help you?”
He blinked. “I need coffee.”
I might have taken him down to the excellent espresso machine in the lobby. But he didn’t deserve excellent espresso. Maybe if he’d said, “Could I have a cup of coffee? or “Is there any coffee left?” But he hadn’t.
“Let’s go to the break room,” I said. The coffee would be terrible.
Ten minutes later we were seated across the much-scarred table in the break room. This was not the first time I’d had a conversation with a rich, powerful, entitled man who assumed I existed to do his bidding. I’d been married to one. And I’d done a lot of negotiating with others of the breed in the years I’d spent in Hollywood. I’d found myself unconsciously slipping back into negotiation mode as we’d gone down the hall to the break room. My method was simple—I mentally put myself in charge. I gave myself all the power in the room. Lord knows they never would.
“Where’s the agave nectar?” Tommy glanced around the kitchen. It had come as a shock to him that I hadn’t made his coffee for him. Now he couldn’t find an acceptable sweetener.
I passed him a box of sugar packets. “Our budget doesn’t stretch to agave,” I informed him.
He passed on the refined white sugar. He probably had a nutritionist who sampled his blood weekly for such toxins.
“Now,” I said as Tommy winced at his first sip, “what do you think I can do for you?”
He took the baseball cap off and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I need help,” he said. “I’ve got the best lawyers and private detectives money can buy, but I’m not impressed with their results. I haven’t had the bandwidth to pay much attention to what you do up here, but I know you’ve been involved in a couple murder investigations. I want you on my team. Maybe you can see something that the professionals don’t. I can’t afford to leave any options on the table.” He looked at me. “My life is at stake.”
I swallowed. As much as I hated that this man had threatened to close the Palace, it was hard to look him in the eye and hate a person who was asking for help. Even though he hadn’t said anything like “Please help.”
I looked at him, considering.
“Please,” he said.
Ugh. Fine.
At least I’d satisfy my own curiosity.
“Did you kill S?” I asked.
“No!” Tommy seemed affronted at this most basic of questions. The best lawyers money could buy probably took a less direct approach.
“Why do the police think you did?”
He pushed the coffee cup aside. “I had o
pportunity—I was with him all morning before we went onstage. And they think I had a motive.”
“Which was…?”
“Two things,” he said. “One, everyone knew I’d had it with all of S’s secrets. He really was the only person on the planet who knew how to find the coins. That wasn’t a gimmick. But it went beyond that. S was the only one who fully knew how the game would evolve.” He grimaced. “I had concerns about the game’s profitability over the long term. He kept telling me to chill and trust him. And I couldn’t argue with how much money his last game made, so I did trust him—up to a point. I mean, he said he had a plan, but we’re talking about real money, and…”
“And you were already in financial trouble,” I finished for him.
He looked startled.
“Why else would you care about the income from the Palace?” I reasoned. “It isn’t hard to figure out that you’re not swimming in millions anymore. What was the other thing?”
He opened and closed his mouth, struggling with what I’d put so bluntly. “Does everyone know I’m broke?” he asked.
“Apparently the police know,” I said. “Which is enough. What’s the second motive?”
He blinked, still stuck on the fact that his secret was out.
“Tommy,” I said sharply, “why else do the police think you killed him?”
“We argued,” he said. “That morning, before the webcast. I found out he had this endorsement deal with some energy drink—”
“Lyquid,” I said. “The thing he drank onstage.”
Tommy banged the table in anger, and it occurred to me, probably a little late, that I was alone with an accused murderer in an empty theater in the middle of the night.
“We were launching a product.” He stood so suddenly he knocked over his chair. “And the man was incapable of being professional for one goddamn morning!”
I put both hands flat on the table and leveled a look at him. “Calm down,” I told him. “Or leave.”
He hesitated, seeming surprised, then he swallowed, took a breath, and put the chair to rights. He sat, crossing his arms, his face clouded with anger. “The guy showed up high,” he said. “I mean, everyone in the business knew about him, but I guess I was stupid enough to believe he’d show up just once—for arguably the most important event in his life—not completely stoned out of his mind. And then he tells me he’s going to drink that stupid smoothie on camera.”
“How much were they paying him?” I asked.
He glared at me. “A quarter of a million dollars.”
Wow. I’d have to tell Callie. And maybe figure out how to get an endorsement deal.
I refocused. “So you argued about that,” I said.
He scowled. “You might say we argued. Or you might say that I yelled at him and he smirked at me. The guy took nothing seriously.”
I thought about the enraging power of a smirk. “I might have wanted to kill him, too.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Tommy reminded me.
“Right,” I agreed. “How do the police think you did it?”
He looked at me warily. “With poison, I guess. Isn’t that what everyone says? Everyone thinks the poison was in that drink.”
“Who’s everyone?” I asked.
He looked surprised. “The Internet?”
Of course. “The Internet didn’t arrest you,” I informed him. “The police did. Have they tested the drink?” I remembered seeing a stagehand take it from S after he’d taken his lucrative sip on camera.
“My lawyers tell me tests take time.” The tone of his voice communicated quite clearly that Tommy was not accustomed to waiting for anything. I felt an unexpected flair of solidarity with his lawyers.
I wondered if Detective Jackson would have access to the crime lab results when they came in. Probably. But that didn’t mean he’d tell me. Particularly since all I’d be able to tell him in exchange was that Tommy was insisting on his innocence. Which wasn’t exactly ground-breaking news.
Tommy leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands, his anger seemingly spent. His voice when he spoke was muffled. “Does everybody really know about the money?”
Naturally that’s what he’d focus on. Never mind that he was facing a murder charge. “Not everyone,” I said. “Probably not most of the people downloading the game.”
He groaned. “I’m going to have to pull it.” He looked up, reeking of self-pity. “That bastard completely screwed me.”
I stared at him. “By getting murdered?”
He shrugged that detail off. “He’s gone and I’m left holding the bag. I have no idea how long it will take to find those coins.”
“And the payout goes up every day,” I said.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Do you really think S had a plan?” I asked. “Was there another level or something?” Brandon had been speculating about it, but I hadn’t really paid attention. “If there was, wouldn’t S have written it all down somewhere? Aren’t there technical documents or something? Especially since S smoked so much pot—wouldn’t he have been afraid of forgetting his own brilliant idea?”
“We’ve been looking everywhere,” Tommy said. “Nobody can find any plans. No specs, no schemas, no code. Whatever his plans were, they died with him.”
Tommy’s stupidity left me breathless. What kind of a person would jump into a business that seemed guaranteed to bankrupt him? How could he have had such total and blind faith in S? Was it arrogance? Had so many people told him he was a genius for so long that he actually didn’t think he was capable of doing something so enormously stupid? Which is when it hit me.
“That’s it,” I said softly.
He gave me a bleary look. “That’s what?”
“I think you might be protected by the enormity of your stupidity.”
He flushed a lurid shade of purple. “What the hell—”
“Listen,” I cut him off. “That’s why you didn’t do it. S had you hostage and you knew it. As long as he was the only one who knew how the game would play out, you needed him.”
Tommy blinked, his mouth hanging open.
“You would never have killed him.” I sat back. “Not with that much at stake.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. My. God!” He leapt to his feet, sending the chair flying again. “That’s it! That’s my defense! Do you think the cops will buy it?”
“I don’t see why not. I hate you and I buy it.”
He stopped, staring at me. “You hate me?”
Whoops. I hadn’t intended to say it, but now that I had... “You threatened to close the Palace. How do you expect me not to hate you?”
His jaw actually dropped. “I don’t want to close the Palace!”
Like hell he didn’t. “You said you did.” Before I knew it I was on my feet, furious, facing him across the table. “You said it quite clearly at the owners’ meeting.”
He shook his head and waved his hands. “I didn’t mean close close,” he said. “I just said we should close it while we regroup.”
“That’s closing it!” I yelled. “What else does ‘regroup’ mean?”
“It means regroup!” he yelled back. “Explore strategic alternatives, pivot, something like—I don’t know—filing for non-profit status.”
I’d been on the point of calling him a very unoriginal name, but that stopped me cold.
“What?”
He took a breath. “If we can’t make it profitable, we could re-incorporate as a non-profit so the owners can at least get write-offs,” he said. “Nora. How could you think I wanted to close the Palace?”
I sank back into my chair. Was he telling the truth?
“Look,” Tommy said, calming down, “I may not get up here much but trust me. I love the Palace.”
“You—”
“Well, naturally
he does,” said a bright voice. “Everyone loves the Palace.” Trixie winked into view and perched on the table. She looked from Tommy to me, smiling expectantly. “What did I miss?”
Chapter 14
I wrapped things up with Tommy soon after Trixie appeared. Not because he could see her, but because I was too tired and too frayed to continue a conversation with him while Trixie was around. Especially when I could tell she was bursting to talk to me.
I walked Tommy down to the lobby and sent him home with instructions to let me know what his lawyers thought of his new defense.
“I will, and…” He struggled with the next bit. “Thanks, Nora.”
A thank you? From him? I was too shocked to respond.
The minute the doors closed behind him Trixie launched into an excited report of the plans she’d overheard for the séance.
Oh, right. I’d agreed to hold a séance.
“Lillian will be there and Monica and those two other gals who were with her—I didn’t catch their names—”
“Probably Abby and Kristy,” I said.
“Sure,” she nodded, curls bouncing. “And Albert, and Hector and his cousin—”
“Gabriela,” I supplied. I wondered how they’d even heard this thing was happening. Had Callie heard about it yet? Because I really wanted to see the look on her face when she did.
“Don’t you think it’s awfully nice of them to go to so much trouble to meet me when they don’t even know me?” Trixie asked. “I mean—oh, you know what I mean. They know about me ’cause of the way I died and all, but they don’t know me.”
“It’s awfully nice,” I agreed.
“They don’t even know I’m the only one. They think there are other ghosts hanging around, too. Like that showgirl everyone’s always talking about from the old Vaudeville days, and even that fella who died right when you got here, remember him?”
“Vividly.” I’d found the body of Hector’s brother on my first day at the Palace. It wasn’t something I was likely to forget.
Did Hector really think he’d be able to contact his brother from the misty beyond? Did Hector believe in ghosts? Because if he did…
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