by Неизвестный
“Oui, of course you are correct, my dear Sapphire. I know we haven’t been together long, but there was a connection between us, as you say. Alma loved the cinema, just as I do, and I just thought we could spend more time together.”
“Jean-Paul, honey, that might just be a little bit too much to expect of a relationship after only two weeks.” Sapphire noticed Miranda standing there, and waved her to come in.
Jean-Paul hadn’t noticed her yet. “I know you’re right, Sapphire. Alma even told me as much. It was pretty much the last thing we talked about. We argued during the film. Can you believe that? Knowing Alma, she went to cool off somewhere. If only I’d kept my big mouth shut. She would have stayed to the end of the film, and she wouldn’t have been killed.”
“Miranda, darling,” Sapphire greeted her, “please tell Jean-Paul that he should not blame himself for this.”
“Of course you shouldn’t, Jean-Paul. It doesn’t matter what she said to you, whoever did this wanted to take Alma’s life. If not today, they would have found some other way and some other time. There was nothing you could have done.”
“I should have stayed with her,” he insisted. “I should not have gone off in a mood. I will live with that forever.”
“Look, why don’t we take you to your office for a little while, Jean-Paul?” Sapphire said, gently. “I think you need to take a little rest. Somewhere you won’t be bothered?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Miranda said, “only the nap might have to wait. The police are here.”
“Oh, my. I forgot all about that. They will wish to speak to me, certainly.”
“It’s all right,” Sapphire told him. “We’ll speak to them first, and then bring them to you.”
“Yes, please,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “George, I will need that film taken good care of, yes? But for now, yes, I would like to be alone in my office.”
George, the projectionist, nodded to Jean-Paul. “Sure boss, no worries.” Jean-Paul conjured up a weak smile for the man as they all left the projection booth.
Leaving Jean-Paul to rest quietly in his office, Sapphire and Miranda gently closed the door behind them. “We’ll have to go downstairs now,” Miranda said, “the police will want to talk to everyone.”
“Oh dear, yes,” Sapphire agreed. “His aura is so heavy and sad. I have no doubt it will unsettle the ghosts of this place.”
For a moment, Miranda felt a stab of annoyance as she wondered if Sapphire even believed half the things that she ever said. After all, the building wasn’t anywhere near old enough to boast a great selection of ghosts. The only two here were Kyle and Alma.
Realizing that Sapphire wasn’t really doing anything to make light of Miranda’s own talents, she decided to let it go. After all, Sapphire was just Sapphire, and although Miranda believed that she could not see auras, Sapphire truly believed that they existed. What was the harm in letting her friend express herself?
“I just wish we could help him,” Miranda said, a little helplessly. “You know, help him move past this.”
Sapphire shook her head. “He blames himself, Miranda. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, I guess the only thing we can do is determine why Alma was killed. Truth always begins the healing process.”
“When you’re in the middle of it all, it’s hard to see into the future, isn’t it?” Sapphire said, sadly. “But when the future does come, I think we need to find somebody for Jean-Paul who he likes and gets on with. And then we need to teach him a little bit about not pushing too hard. It sounds as if things were a little full on from his angle.”
Despite the flowery language she wrapped that in, Miranda knew that Sapphire was right. “Two weeks seems a little early to be pushing for more time together, to be sure.” Miranda couldn’t help but see the look that crossed Sapphires face. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do care for him,” Sapphire nodded. “He’s a great friend to me.”
The way she said it, though, Miranda could see that Sapphire thought of Jean-Paul as more than just a friend. She didn’t need to be psychic to tell that!
They were back downstairs now, in the lobby by the concession stand, and the police had already gathered everyone together. A familiar voice greeted her, and Miranda couldn’t help but smile when she heard it.
“Oh, here’s a familiar face,” Jack Travis called to her. He separated from the group and came over to her. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Well, the invitation to come visit me at Ragged Rest still stands,” Miranda told him pointedly.
He stared back at her, and she could tell he wanted to say something. It was as if the words eluded him.
“Well,” Sapphire said, with a coy smile, “I’m just going to go back and check on Jean-Paul. I’ll tell him you want to see him, Detective.”
Chapter 5
Miranda and Jack Travis leaned against the wall as Miranda told him everything she had observed so far. The handsome dark haired, blue-eyed detective listened with interest, not interrupting her once as she gave him a full account of everything she had seen and heard.
When she was done, he nodded. “Well, it looks like we’ve got ourselves another roomful of likely suspects. I guess I should just set about interviewing them one by one. Maybe I’ll leave Jean-Paul until the last. Sounds like he could use a breather.”
In truth, she rather got the impression that Jack maybe suspected Jean-Paul, even if he didn’t have a reason to. Maybe it was just a police thing, like his keeping his distance from her. After all, Jean-Paul was the boyfriend, right?
“Anyway,” Jack went on. “Um… I guess it’s useless for me to tell you stay out of this, isn’t it? Sure it is. I’m going to take a look around. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Okay,” Miranda said. Then she shifted her feet. “Jack, listen. Did I do something? Is it the psychic thing? Come on, you have to give me something.”
He surprised her by reaching out and putting his hand lightly against her arm. “It’s not you. I’d love to take you to coffee again, or dinner. Definitely dinner. Just… can we leave it at that for now?”
“Sure,” she told him, even though she could feel the walls going up around her heart. She watched him walk away, fascinated by the movement of his butt, just like always.
There was no way she was going to let him leave it at that, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it. She was going to make him talk to her later, though.
Miranda decided to take a walk around to clear her head. Since there were no other films scheduled tonight at the Orbit Cinema the place felt eerily empty. As Miranda continued her walk down deserted corridors, she thought she heard a conversation going on just around the corner. She stopped for a moment and strained to listen. She heard two voices, a man and a woman, both of whom sounded cheerful. It was so out of character with what was happening. Eager to listen in, she stepped closer.
A door marked private lounge was right there as she rounded the corner. It was slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Miranda gently pushed at the door, opening it just a little further and hoping against all hope that it would not squeak or creak.
Amazed to find that it did neither, Miranda was able to peer into the room unnoticed. It was a rather dimly lit, small room, and Miranda could easily see who was in there. She was surprised by the sight of Christopher Clark holding Pearl Anderson in an intimate embrace. Miranda fleetingly wondered if they had been interviewed by Jack yet as she strained to listen.
“Listen, Pearl,” Christopher was saying, “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure the police don’t suspect you. You know, what with Alma firing you and everything.”
She laughed softly. “My hero. You don’t need to worry. I’m completely safe from suspicion, and I know I am. But thank you all the same.”
Pushing up on her toes, she kissed him.
“But are you all right?” Christopher asked. “I thought you jus
t seemed a little bit off earlier.”
“To be honest, I was a little upset that I didn’t see my name mentioned in the credits. Whatever. I’m over that now. In the great scheme of things, I don’t suppose it really matters.”
“That witch. I hadn’t realized that Alma would do something like that to you, too.”
Too? Miranda thought, frowning with concentration. What does he mean too?
Before Miranda had a chance to mull that over any further, Alma O’Neal faded into being right in front of her and shouted. “I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve heard something really important!” Miranda jumped in shock. It was loud and surprising even if it was just her who could hear it.
Kyle arrived in the next instant, but it was too late to stop Miranda from stumbling over her own two feet, and right into the private lounge where Christopher and Pearl were.
The moment Miranda gracelessly blundered into the room, Christopher and Pearl quickly broke away from each other.
“Oh, um,” Miranda stuttered. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was looking for somewhere quiet to sit down for a while and I guess I… I tripped. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to burst in like that.”
“Smooth move,” Kyle chuckled. “Remind me never to ask you to lie for me.”
Miranda shot him a dirty look. If it hadn’t been for Alma frightening her like that, this never would have happened.
Pearl straightened her shirt and touched a finger to the corners of her mouth, making sure her lipstick wasn’t smudged. “Please don’t worry, Miss Wylder. No harm done.” Her squeaky voice hummed with insincerity.
“Oh, that’s good,” Miranda said, settling into a padded chair as if that really had been her plan all along. “Can you believe all of this? It really is so awful, isn’t it? Tell me, did you know Alma well?”
Miranda looked at Pearl first, thinking her the easiest bet. However, Pearl simply shook her head from side to side and looked a little upset. Alma looked annoyed that she was being ignored, and she stared at Christopher and Pearl, daring them to say something.
Pearl opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t talk about this.” And with that, she dashed from the room.
“Oh, I do hope I didn’t upset her,” Miranda said, looking at Christopher.
“Now why would you say that?” he asked her. “Just because you interrupted a moment between us and then started pressing us on our connection to Alma?”
“Oh, I don’t like him,” Kyle said, crossing his arms and floating higher even though he had several inches of height on Christopher as it was. “I bet he did it.”
Miranda shook her head a little, trying not to let Kyle distract her.
“Well, I think Pearl’s flight from the room seems a little suspicious,” Alma added. “But I still need to tell you what I overheard! Come on, come on!”
The ghosts in her life were always more annoying than the flesh and blood people she dealt with. For the moment she was able to ignore both Kyle and Alma. “How did you know Alma?” she asked Christopher.
“I was a co-writer for the film, actually,” he said, a little grandly. “It’s been a great project, as a matter of fact.”
Miranda smiled, pretending that news impressed her.
“Listen,” he said to her now, “have you seen Liam at all? If you really need to ask all these questions then I think he’s your man. He used to be seeing Alma, but she cheated on him with the cameraman. Anyway, there’s something about him. He’s a bit of a loose cannon, to be honest, and I think he’s a little bit dangerous. He’s certainly no good, at any rate.”
Miranda nodded in what she hoped was a grateful manner. Whether she believed him or not, it was good to know how all the key players felt about one another.
“Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got a few things to do.”
And with that, Christopher walked out of the room.
“I don’t like it,” Kyle said. “He was a little too keen to offer you a suspect, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s always like that,” Alma said. “Always ready to throw someone else under the bus to save his own skin. Half the time I couldn’t work out what his problem was.”
Miranda added that into the growing list of personality quirks the movie people seemed to have. “So Alma, when you frightened the life out of me in the doorway, you said you had something to tell me. What was that?”
“We both heard it, actually,” Kyle said, not keen on being left out of things.
“Well,” Alma began, “Liam and Dax were at it again. Not so bad as before, I mean they weren’t at each other’s throats or anything, but Liam was trying to make Dax believe it was me who told the police about his drug use. Liam said I sold Dax out. He even told Dax to get over the witch.”
“And did you tell the police about Dax using drugs?” Miranda pressed.
“Well, yes. I mean, I remember talking to the police about it. The thing is, I can’t exactly remember why it was I invited him to the screening. I mean, if we were on the outs because of a breakup, and I flipped him in to the police…”
She shrugged, and Miranda knew she was experiencing the gaps that every newly dead person seemed to have in their memory. How easy would it be if she could just ask Alma to tell them who killed her? In time some things might come back to her but they didn’t have the time to wait. There were still things that Kyle didn’t remember. No doubt, just like other ghosts Miranda had encountered, Alma would be stuck on this plane until she worked out who had killed her.
Which always brought up the question of why Kyle was still here. They’d solved his murder months ago.
“Well,” she said out loud, “that’s something, at any rate. I think it might help to question Dax again.”
Miranda left with the ghosts trailing behind her as she went back up the corridor, meaning to find Dax or Jack Travis, although that last one would be its own sort of conversation. She sighed, thinking how solving the question of love could be more complicated than solving a murder.
Ahead of her a door began to slowly open. How odd, Miranda thought. Moving closer to inspect it, she heard a muffled noise come out from behind the door. A split second later, a hand shot out from the gap and latched firmly onto her left arm followed by a second hand which wrapped around her mouth.
Too late to do anything but scream against the palm over her face, she was pulled into the dullness of the room. She heard the door close behind her.
Chapter 6
Whoever held her was strong, and was standing behind her, one arm now around her waist and drawing her firmly back into them. The hand around her mouth pulled her head back painfully.
She was in a closet. A single lightbulb overhead gave off dim light. Just enough for her to see she was in trouble.
Realizing that whoever was attacking her was likely to be the killer of Alma O’Neal, Miranda began to panic. She did not want to die here in the Orbit Cinema. What would she do, haunt the place and watch bad movies for the rest of eternity?
With a firm resolve, she managed to open her mouth far enough beneath the attacker’s hand and bite down on the flesh.
With a grunt and a sharp intake of breath, the person behind her loosened their grip. Seizing her opportunity, Miranda struggled free and pushed her way through the door and began to run until she hit a wall.
Smooth, some detached part of herself told her. Or was that Kyle’s sarcastic encouragement she heard?
Miranda heard footsteps running away from her, and at the same time she heard a thud of something hitting the floor as her attacker fled. Whatever it was, it sounded heavy.
Breathing heavily, she slumped back against the wall. It was over.
Kyle was at her side in the next moment, hovering face full of worry through the blue aura. “I’m sorry, oh Miranda I’m so sorry. I got here as soon as he grabbed you, and I was looking for something to throw at him. I think I made a broom quiver and maybe rattled a few
stacks of paper towels but I doubt either of them would have been much help!”
Miranda was still trying to swallow her heart down into her chest. “Look, don’t worry about that now, Kyle. Did you see who it was?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Neither did I.” Alma seemed to appear suddenly, and just as quickly she faded away.
“What is her deal?” Kyle wanted to know. “Can’t she see you’re hurt? Doesn’t she understand you’re trying to help her.”
Miranda doubted such things crossed the mind of people like Alma O’Neal, alive or dead.
She went back to the closet door and, gathering her courage, peered inside. There really wasn’t that much to see. Cleaning supplies, unopened boxes of candy, and other stuff that a cinema needed to operate were stacked neatly on shelves. Well, mostly stacked neatly. Where the villain had held her and they had crashed into one side, things had been knocked out of place and lay sprawled on the floor. Spray bottles of all sorts mixed with bottles of bleach and other things.
Just inside the door was an open-top waste basket. There wasn’t much in it. In fact, there was only one thing. A singed piece of paper.
It was a note, she saw, or at least a corner of a note. The rest of it had been burned away but this piece had escaped. Maybe the killer had been in the act of disposing of this when they saw her coming and got distracted with attacking her. “Well,” she thought out loud, “score one for me.”
All that she could read were the words credit has not been fairly given. Frowning, Miranda wondered exactly what that was supposed to mean.
Kyle stuck his head through the wall of the closet, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Jack’s coming. We like Jack, right?”
Miranda frowned at him. Kyle had been on the last date with her and Jack, an annoying little insect giving tips on dinner selections and wine choices and when the right moment to kiss Jack’s pillow-soft lips would be… Not that they’d actually gotten to the kissing part yet. She pondered that thought for a moment.
