Box Office Poison le-2

by Phillipa Bornikova

  He pulled back a bit and gave me a wary look. “And just how are we going to do that?”

  So I told him. When I’d finished he just stared at me. If he hadn’t been an elegant vampire his mouth probably would have been hanging open.

  “Do you see any other option?” I pushed.

  “No,” he admitted.

  “And even if we go to the authorities no one will believe us.”

  “You’re sure of the venue?” David asked, and he sounded desperate for me to say no.

  “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything in my life. Think about it. It’s not the Super Bowl or World Cup Soccer, and anyway, there aren’t a lot of Álfar playing either of those sports, but it’s televised worldwide, and gets close to fifty million viewers.”

  “We’d be taking an awful risk,” David said.

  “I know. Which is why we need help.”

  22

  The next morning I found both Merlin and Maslin in the office sucking down coffee and sharing a box of donuts. I quickly outlined everything that happened, which left Merlin goggling at me and opening and closing his mouth like a guppy in pursuit of fish food.

  “You nearly got killed.” He gulped hard. “Again.”

  “Amazingly enough, I had noticed,” I said, the words freighted with enough irony to penetrate.

  It didn’t penetrate. “I mean, first Jondin and now this. How do you find the guts to step out of the house? I’d be hiding under the bed.”

  “Yep, you would,” said Maslin.

  He glared at his twin. “Not everybody’s like you. Trouble follows you. Hell, sometimes I think you go out and look for it.” Maslin just shrugged.

  “Well, I don’t go looking for it,” I said. “It finds me.” I dug a donut out of the box.

  “Maybe you should find a new line of work? Or hire bodyguards? Or change your identity? Or enter a convent?”

  “Or punch you in the nose so you’ll stop babbling and snap out of it,” Maslin retorted. That penetrated. Merlin closed his mouth with an audible snap.

  “This is serious and I don’t have a ton of time,” I said. “I need evidence, so maybe you could help me prove that Qwendar is one of the major backers of Human First.”

  “Already done,” Maslin said. “I tried to call you with the info, but you never answered.

  “Yeah, I was busy nearly getting killed.” I bit viciously into the donut, and jelly squirted across my tongue.

  “You told me to keep digging while you were gone so I sicced Merl on them.”

  “You’ve got a degree in accounting too?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s probably why I never get a date. I’m staid and boring.” He looked up at his brother. “Not exotic and exciting.”

  “I still don’t totally get why Qwendar was secretly backing Human First,” Maslin said. “If he’s all about how Álfar are superior, why let them get demonized by a bunch of house monkeys?”

  “Qwendar’s goal is a total retreat by the Álfar back into their own reality,” I said. “He was hoping Human First would help light the fuse. I want to make sure he can’t, so I want you to expose it in the most public way possible.” Exhaustion had the room spinning briefly. I shook my head, fighting off the fog that seemed to be closing in on the edges of my mind. “These kind of people hate to find out they’ve been duped and made to look foolish. Actually, everyone hates to look foolish, but people who are fueled by righteous indignation really hate to look like pawns,” I concluded.

  Maslin tugged at his lower lip. “Forgive me, Linnet, but I don’t think that’s the best idea, and here’s why. Humiliation will work on somebody like Cartwright; she’s reasonably rational, but a lot of the members are none too tightly wrapped. They find out the Álfar have been pulling their strings, even just one rogue Álfar, and some whack job might go bug-fuck and decide to take care of some Álfar himself as payback. We wouldn’t be removing a fuse, we’d be lighting it.”

  I sat with that for a few minutes. Remembered the faces of angry people from the news reels during integration. I found I had lost my appetite and set aside the half-eaten donut. “I see your point. So, what can we do?”

  “I’ll write my article and then we go to Cartwright. Use it to get her to back off and tone down the rhetoric.”

  I gave a quick, humorless laugh. “I might even be able to keep her from joining in this arbitration as an interested party. This thing is confusing enough and hard enough without a lot of grandstanding from Human First.”

  We sat silent for a few minutes, then Merlin said, “So Qwendar wants a total separation from humans. I can’t say I’m all broken up about that. I worry about the Álfar deciding to go into politics.”

  “So do I, but that isn’t exactly what he wants. He wants interactions between humans and Álfar to be the old-fashioned kind.”

  “Meaning what?” Merlin asked.

  “The Álfar take us as slaves and playthings.”

  Maslin, the veteran and chronicler of countless bush wars, caught on immediately. “Ah, and for that to happen Qwendar’s got to have peasants with pitchforks going after the Álfar.”

  “Making their only choice to retreat or die,” I finished.

  “That’s why he needs another bloodbath—Álfar killing humans,” Maslin mused. He set aside his donut. He also seemed to have lost his appetite. “Do you have any idea what he’s got planned?”

  “I think so. And I’m going to need your help with that, too.” I paused and pinned them both with a look. “Do you guys own tuxedos?”

  * * *

  As I was hustling through the office heading for the doors, David caught me. “A moment, please.” I followed him into his office. “What do we do about the arbitration?” David asked, once he had shut the door. “Can you face Qwendar and pretend nothing happened?”

  “Do you actually think he’d show back up?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s how I would play it, and it’s the kind of arrogance one expects from his kind. Also, he knows he’s been cleared by his alibi. He runs no risk, and he might be able to rattle you.”

  “He probably knew I was alive even before the police came calling. Whether he ever intended to take his goon into Fey or not, Qwendar would have had to return to the Equestrian Center to either kill Charles or take him away.”

  David picked up a pen and flipped it between his fingers. “I should ask some of the uniforms and the crime scene people if they spotted him. Not proof of his involvement but certainly suggestive.”

  “And still not enough to pull in the authorities, if that’s what you were thinking,” I said. “Look, since he knows I’m alive, then there’s no advantage to having us meet. And I’ve got a ton to do, so if I can miss the hearings that would probably be good.”

  “Do you want him to worry over what you are up to or think you’re shattered by the experience and have run back to New York?”

  “Much as I hate to play the victim, let’s go with shattered. He’s more likely to believe that anyway; he has a really low opinion of humans. Also, if he’s worried, he might change his plans, and we’re already working off a whole lot of assumptions about just what those plans might be.”

  “Yes, and that’s what worries me,” David said sourly. “But we can’t risk spooking him, so I’ll put it about that you have returned to New York.”

  “Qwendar knows where I live, and I think he’s had people watching me, so I better be seen going to the airport. I can then double back, rent a different car, and hopefully shake him.”

  “Yes, that makes sense, though I am disturbed by how good you are at all this hole-and-corner behavior. Oh, I have enlisted Hank in this mad endeavor. He’s a vampire and of my line, and I figured we could use the extra help.” With that he waved me out of the office.

  * * *

  Jeff was at home. With my phone’s navigation app guiding me I headed off for Newport Beach. The actor’s house sat on a promontory and looked out over the Pacific. Today it was a deep azure with only sma
ll whitecaps. I drove up to the gate and put in the access code that Jeff had provided. The large gates swung open, and I drove up the curving cobblestone driveway to the house. It was an Italianate structure with the usual red tile roof, lots of balconies filled with pots of blooming geraniums. Bougainvillea tumbled over stone walls in a riot of red and pink and purple.

  Once parked, I paused and listened to the deep-throated roar of the ocean breaking on the cliffs below the house. The air was moist on my skin and the smell of brine tickled my nostrils. Jeff opened the front door before I could ring the bell.

  “How?” I pointed at my car, me, the door.

  “Security cameras. I saw you driving in. Come in and meet Kate.”

  The entryway was polished flagstone. A curving staircase terminated directly in front of the door. The rich mahogany glowed in the sunlight pouring in a round, faceted window halfway up the stairs. For an instant I imagined myself in a gorgeous gown descending those steps while John looked up admiringly. I pushed away the fantasy and followed Jeff down a hall, through a modern white and chrome kitchen large enough to hold a long benched table and into a room that looked like an enclosed deck. The room was a horseshoe-shaped curve lined with windows and finished in heavy teak. It made me think of Tahitian beach houses. The ocean flexed and rolled outside the windows.

  Kate Billingham sat on a window seat, a book held loosely between her fingers. She was lovely in person, with long auburn hair brushing her shoulders, dark brows, and pansy brown eyes. Without lighting and professional makeup I could see tiny crow’s feet around her eyes and a few lines in her forehead. Clearly no Botox had been applied to that heart-shaped face.

  She stood and extended her hand. “How do you do? I’ve heard so much about you from Jeff.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  The hair swirled as she shook her head. “No, no. All good. About how brave you are, and I believe he called you ‘sharp as a tack,’ which in Midwesterner speak is very high praise indeed.”

  I glanced over at the actor, who smiled and shrugged. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll have coffee and snacks waiting in the kitchen when you’re done.” She floated out of the room.

  Jeff indicated a window seat. I sat down, and he pulled around a wicker chair to sit facing me. “Okay, you sounded very serious on the phone. What’s up?”

  “First, a question. Can you get six people into the Academy Awards? And not in the nosebleed seats, but down on the main floor.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s going to be another Jondin incident, but with Jujuran in the starring role this time. Or some other Álfar that he can get blood from. Or maybe a lot of Álfar, I don’t know, but it will be bad.”

  “Okay, you are officially scaring the crap out of me, and I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Blood? Him? Who him? Jujuran?”

  “Qwendar. He’s on a holy crusade to save his people from evil human influence, and he’s doing it by forcing elves to kill humans. Then we turn on the Álfar, igniting a big war, the Álfar retreat back into Fey, the other Powers get worried because they’re always worried about peasants with pitchforks, and we’ve set back human-Powers relations by decades if not centuries. And you think I sound crazy,” I finished.

  “Weirdly enough, I don’t.” He gave me a sick smile. “Maybe because I’ve starred in too many action movies, but it all makes a sort of twisted sense.” He stood and paced, the distressed teak floorboards creaking lightly with each step. It set an odd counterpoint to the sigh and boom of the waves below us. “Was he behind Kerrinan and Jondin?”

  “I believe so. I talked to someone who has lived in Fey. He said a really powerful Álfar, trained in their techniques—mental powers, magic, whatever you want to call it—could control someone’s actions.”

  “Meaning Kerrinan and Jondi weren’t…” Jeff stopped, snapped his fingers irritably. “What’s that Latin phrase?”

  “Compos mentis.”

  “That’s it. In their right minds”

  Jeff crossed to me and leaned in close. “If you think he’s going to do something at the Awards we’ve got to warn the authorities.”

  “And tell them what? That I think a respected representative of the Álfar Council is a murderous manipulator who has mysterious powers that can cloud men’s minds and force them to do horrible and violent acts? I couldn’t get a deputy this morning to believe I had nearly been murdered because Qwendar had used his powers to establish an alibi.”

  “Whoa. Wait. Whoa. You do not get to just casually toss out that you were nearly murdered and not give me the whole damn story.”

  I pressed my fingers hard against the skin above each eyebrow where an incipient headache was lurking. I blew out a breath. “I guess I’m just tired of going through it again and again. Suffice it to say that Qwendar realized I had figured out his game, and he decided to stage my suicide. I didn’t oblige.”

  Jeff gave me a quick, hard hug. “Holy crap, Linnet, that’s awful.”

  “Which is why I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Right, right. Okay.” Jeff was back pacing again. “Okay, so if our authorities won’t listen to us, how about we go to the Álfar authorities? Talk to this council of theirs.”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather not, and here’s why. They might deal with Qwendar, but they’d probably just yank him back into Fey and sweep it all under the rug. That won’t help Kerrinan and Jondin.”

  “You think the Álfar would actually throw Kerrinan and Jondin under a bus?” Jeff asked.

  I shrugged. “They’re the Álfar equivalent of politicians. Are they really going to want to tell the world full of nervous humans that there’s Álfar magic that can turn any Álfar into a killer? Better to let the humans think these were isolated incidents with a couple of nutty actors. But if Qwendar acts again, and I can prove he’s doing it, it may clear them.”

  “You’d do that, take this terrible risk for a couple of people you don’t even know? Why?”

  “Because I’m a lawyer, and I have to believe that occasionally justice prevails.” I once again got a hug.

  “You’re sure it’s going to happen at the Oscars?” Jeff asked after he released me.

  “No, but I’m pretty sure. Qwendar wants a shocking incident. What better place? We’re talking about a worldwide audience, a live feed, and movie stars.”

  “Will he have to be there to do his magic shit?” Jeff asked.

  “I think so. He was on the lot when Jondin went nuts.” I chewed at a hangnail. “I’d love to find out if Qwendar was somewhere in the neighborhood when Kerrinan killed Michelle, and when he made his run for Fey. Also, I think Qwendar will want to see and enjoy the mayhem.”

  “So we can stop him by just not letting him into the ceremony,” Jeff said.

  “Nice thought, but it won’t work. He’ll come in through Fey.” I stopped. “I just figured out where Jondin’s guns came from. He had them stashed in Fey and just brought them through once he had control of her. Hell, they could have been right outside the door of her trailer.”

  “And this helps us how?”

  “It’s something we need to consider. He’ll find a way to arm the Álfar once he’s taken control of them.”

  “So, we keep all Álfar out of the ceremony.”

  “Like that’s not going to cause any problems or comment. Besides, Qwendar will use it to whip up anger against humans because the Álfar were excluded. A lot of Álfar actors are going to defy the ban and come in through Fey. Qwendar still gets his bloodbath, and we’ve pissed off their council. Let’s not do his work for him.”

  Jeff gave me a rueful smile and sat back down. “We don’t have any really good choices, do we?

  “No,” I said bleakly.

  “And how, exactly, are six people at the ceremony going to help?”

  “They can knock down maddened elves and protect humans.”

&
nbsp; “And who handles Qwendar? He’s the guy with all the magic whammy. He’s going to be tough.”

  “That would be me,” I said.

  Jeff stopped pacing, turned, and stared at me. “You.”

  “Me.”

  “All five-feet of you?”

  “He can’t affect me.” I hesitated, thinking back on all my near miraculous escapes, then added, “And no matter what is going on around me, I suspect I’m going to be able to get through it pretty much unscathed.”

  We sat silent for a few minutes with Jeff just looking at me. It was one of those awkward, uncomfortable silences, but I was too tired to break it. Finally the actor stirred, slapped his palms against his thighs, and stood up. “Okay, then, it’s time to enlist Kate.”

  He led me back into the kitchen. There was the sweet, rich scent of hazelnut coffee in the air. Kate finished arranging cookies on a plate and set them on the table. Jeff moved to her side and gave her a kiss. She smiled down at him. He pushed a long strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Sweetie, Linnet is going to be going to the Oscars, and she’ll need a gown. I can’t think of anybody better to help her out.”

  “Oh, what fun.” Her eyes raked over me, head to toe, as she walked in a slow circle around me. “Petite and very feminine. Elie Saab, I think. He made Natalie’s Oscar gown, and she’s a tiny little thing.” She checked her watch. “It’s too late today to make it over to Rodeo Drive. We’ll go tomorrow, and we can hit Tiffany’s for your jewelry.”

  “Wait, I can’t afford—”

  “Not to worry: unless you’re Liz Taylor you borrow everything.”

  I glanced over at Jeff. “I’d rather not be wearing anything really valuable.”

  “I think no jewels,” he said.

  Kate looked from one to the other of us. “You both look grim.”

  I could read Jeff’s thoughts as clearly as if I’d been telepathic. He looked at his wife. He considered what I’d said about a bloodbath. He steeled himself and took Kate’s hand. “Honey, let’s go upstairs for a minute. I want to talk to you.”