The Revenge of Kali-Ra

by K. K. Beck

  * * *

  In the kitchen, Melanie was cooking masses of scrambled eggs and bacon in case anyone was interested in breakfast. Rosemary had fallen completely apart, and after she had been questioned by the police, Melanie had arranged for her to take a few days off and stay with her sister in Anaheim. Nadia was mercifully out of the way, collapsed in the Blue Room. There, she was being comforted by Glen, as well as her massage therapist, her aromatherapist, and her stress management therapist, all of whom the Beverly Hills Police had obligingly allowed across the crime-scene tape.

  Duncan now wandered into the kitchen with his hands in his pocket. Although he looked hung over, with little red eyes and a general puffiness, he seemed quite cheerful. In fact, he was whistling. “Oh, good. A proper breakfast. Good idea,” he said. “I couldn’t face mangos and muesli this morning.”

  “I was kind of surprised to find bacon and eggs in the fridge,” said Melanie. “Maybe Rosemary has a secret carnivorous and ovolactarian life.”

  “Actually,” said Duncan, “I bought the bacon and eggs and hid them behind that big bowl of soaking grains. I’ve been feeling a bit weak lately, and I thought maybe an animal protein stash might come in handy for a midnight feast at some point. Is there any coffee?”

  Melanie pointed to a pot on the counter. “Help yourself.” He resumed his whistling as he poured, and Melanie was shocked when she recognized the tune. It was “Ding Dong, the Witch Is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz.

  She had broken the news of Lila’s death to him earlier, knocking on his door and waking him up to do so. Duncan, half asleep and bleary-eyed, had been silent for a moment, then said, “How extraordinary,” and gone back to bed. Now she planned to tackle another matter.

  “Did you use my computer last night, Duncan?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Duncan said. She detected fear in his eyes.

  Melanie quoted, “‘To inflict pain in service of the will of Kali-Ra is a labor of love.’” Duncan flinched and she continued, “Whoever wrote that note on my computer spelled it the British way first, then revised it after the spell checker picked it up. Naturally, I suspected you.”

  “Oh, Melanie, I would never—”

  “Your secret is safe with me. This project needs a good script.”

  “All right, maybe I did get a little carried away,” said Duncan. “But if you’d heard how incredibly rude she was to me, dismissing me like a menial. I went quietly back to my room but I couldn’t resist just one little gesture on the way. I know it was petty and not worthy of me.”

  She sighed and arranged plates and cutlery on a large tray with the platter of bacon and eggs. “Okay. I’m glad we sorted that out. I’ll tell the police that little mystery is solved. But don’t pull any more stunts like that. Nadia will fire you immediately.”

  He rushed solicitously to her side, and picked up the tray. “Oh, let me help you with that, Melanie. God, I really am sorry. I couldn’t help it. The fact is I was blind drunk. I wasn’t responsible for my actions. I’d been under a lot of pressure, what with Lila ruining my script and all that. I’m afraid I let myself get too worked up about it all. Silly, really. Um, do they have any idea who killed the poor old thing?”

  “Not really,” said Melanie, who took a malicious pleasure in his groveling. “Put it on the sideboard in the dining room, will you.”

  * * *

  A few moments after he left, Nick walked into the kitchen, where Melanie was removing a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge. “Duncan said you were in here,” he said. “I came back to get my car and I heard the news. This must be a terrible shock for you.” She turned and looked at him with her level gray-eyed gaze and suddenly he remembered dreaming about her as the gray-eyed goddess Athena and was overcome by a desire not to have her think he was an oaf. “I’m sorry about last night too. I’m afraid we weren’t ideal guests. I guess I don’t get out enough,” he said with a self-deprecating smile he hoped was charming.

  “Neither do I,” she said wearily. “All I do is look after Nadia and I don’t seem to be doing a very good job of that, either. Grab that coffee pot and bring it into the dining room, will you please?”

  “Is Nadia all right?”

  “She’s not too hysterical, considering she was normally the one sleeping in that bed.” Melanie gathered up a stack of juice glasses and led him out of the kitchen to the dining room.

  “Wow,” said Nick. “You know, it was a very strange night all round. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. The police want us to stay,” he added. He didn’t want her to think he was hanging around on his own without an invitation. God, the food smelled good. He realized he was starving.

  Duncan had left the tray on the sideboard without bothering to unload it, and could now be seen through the archway into the living room, where he was chatting cozily with Callie. Melanie began transferring the bacon and eggs to silver chafing dishes, while Nick arranged the plates and silverware.

  “Your girlfriend seems to have made a quick recovery,” said Melanie. “Did you find her house all right?”

  “Oh. That. You must have wondered why I didn’t know where she lived.”

  “The thought did cross my mind,” said Melanie, giving him a sidelong glance.

  Nick couldn’t come up with any plausible explanation for not knowing this, so he sighed deeply and said, “Well, the fact is she isn’t really my girlfriend. I just met her and she wanted to come along and—”

  “And you wanted to impress her by introducing her to a movie star,” finished Melanie. “Are you hungry? Help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” said Nick gratefully, heaping scrambled eggs on his plate. “It wasn’t like that at all. It turns out she was really interested in Uncle Sid. She saw me holding Lila’s book in front of the Scheherazade Apartments where Uncle Sid lived, and she started talking to me and tagged along here. It’s kind of a weird story. In fact, her name is Kali-Ra.”

  Melanie stared over at the girl, who seemed to be flirting with Duncan. “What?” she said. She turned and looked at Nick with wide eyes. “Were you with her all evening?”

  “Well no, not exactly. These eggs are great.”

  “There was a tattoo on her breast,” said Melanie, whispering now. “Did you see it?”

  Nick began to blush. “Well, actually I’ve never seen her breasts except in the dark when we were swimming and then when she crawled out of the bushes topless for just a sec, but you’re right, there was—”

  Melanie leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I thought it might have been a rose or something. I couldn’t see it clearly, but it could have been a scarab. The slaves of Kali-Ra all have a scarab tattooed on their left breast. My God, she must be the person who’s been stalking Nadia!”

  “Oh, Callie isn’t a stalker or anything,” protested Nick. “There’s a perfectly plausible explanation for her being named Kali-Ra. Her mother, Gail, believes herself to be Uncle Sid’s daughter, the result of a union between Uncle Sid and his teenage neighbor.”

  Melanie stared at him. “Really? There was a statutory rape charge in 1952, but it was dropped.”

  “There’s some question about paternity, apparently. Callie is kind of hoping she might be entitled to some money for the rights to her grandfather’s books.”

  “I see,” said Melanie.

  “She wouldn’t want to stalk Nadia or harm her. That would ruin her chances at getting money for the movie rights, because without Nadia, there would be no movie.”

  But as Nick reassured Melanie, he had another thought. Now that Lila was out of the picture, Callie had a much better shot at the rights money. He wondered if this would occur to Melanie too. He didn’t want her to think he’d brought a cold-blooded killer into Villa Vera. And then he wondered if it could possibly be true.

  CHAPTER XXX

  SAVED FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH

  He glanced at Melanie nervously to gauge her reaction, and saw she was now staring into the living room. �
��Oh my God, not him again,” she said. The same policewoman who had escorted Nick and Callie into the living room had just arrived with Vince Fontana and his chauffeur, Bruno, in tow. “I told the police that he was here last night but if I’d known they’d bring him back here, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  She left Nick’s side and went into the living room to announce that breakfast was available. Fontana, Callie, and Duncan all trooped into the dining room, but Bruno sidled over to Melanie, and twisted his uniform cap nervously in his large hands. “I’m kind of worried about Mr. Fontana,” he said, maneuvering her to a quiet corner of the room partially obscured by a large potted palm.

  Melanie said defensively, “Look, I had to give the police the names of everyone who was here last night. Your boss isn’t going to hold that against me, is he?”

  “No, no,” said Bruno. “I was just worried when I heard about the terrible tragedy here last night. And now I hear there was some kind of assault on Miss Wentworth while we were here too.”

  “Someone tried to kill her,” said Melanie indignantly.

  Bruno looked horrified. “I’m sure Mr. Fontana didn’t have anything to do with it. Okay, I understand he pushed Mr. Smith, who was with us, into a pond or something. Sometimes he gets a little carried away. But he’s harmless, really.”

  “I see. Um, actually, he implied some harm might come to Miss Wentworth,” said Melanie carefully.

  Bruno leaned toward her and said in a confidential tone, “I hope you can understand. Mr. Fontana is an elderly man and sometimes he isn’t completely in touch with reality. Did he talk about the Mafia?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  Bruno sighed. “Please try to forget about it. For the sake of his family. They’re lovely people and they’re worried about him. You see, Mr. Fontana doesn’t have anything to do with the Mafia at all. Years ago, when his career was kind of sagging, some publicist put that story around to make him sound more interesting. Unfortunately, in the last few years, Mr. Fontana has grown to believe it. It’s a shame really.”

  “Are you sure?” said Melanie. “He seemed awfully certain.”

  “I hope you’ll keep this in strictest confidence,” said Bruno. “The fact is Mr. Fontana isn’t even Italian. When he started out, he didn’t think anyone would listen to love songs from someone named Horace Bloggs.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m sure sorry if he’s been a nuisance.”

  “Oh, not really,” said Melanie, managing a little smile. “Would you like some bacon and eggs?”

  “Thank you,” said Bruno, “but I already ate, and anyway, I mostly do carbs.”

  The detective who had been using Melanie’s office appeared and told her he was leaving for a short while due to a new development, but would return soon and interview the others. “I want everyone to stick around until I come back,” he said. “Meanwhile, feel free to use your office.”

  “Great,” said Melanie. She had turned off the ringer on all the phones to avoid the tons of media calls she knew were coming in, but she was looking forward to a chance to check the e-mail. She had rehired Karen, Nadia’s publicist, and was expecting a draft of a statement about last night’s crime at Villa Vera.

  Karen’s statement wasn’t there yet, but there was a message from George, Nadia’s recently fired business manager. It was titled “Interesting News about the Rights!” and the gist of it was that Quentin Smith had sent an early-morning fax to George saying that he no longer had anything to do with Maurice Fender Associates, and adding the name and number of a lawyer representing Carla Lomax, formerly of Carla and the Cleartones, who was said to have some interesting information regarding Maurice Fender Associates that he was willing to share in the hopes that increased pressure on Maurice Fender Associates would strengthen his cash-poor client’s position. A call to him had revealed that Maurice Fender Associates was almost certainly a criminal money-laundering enterprise in a precarious bargaining position. “In fact, our guy says we can tell them to forget about it or we’ll join Carla in blowing their operation sky high.”

  “Of course,” the e-mail went on, “according to our lawyers, this doesn’t put the rights back in the public domain. We must now determine who does own them. Shall I get on it, or am I still fired? Some family history would help.”

  She e-mailed back, “Get on it right away. We start shooting in a month, for God’s sake,” and went into the dining room where it appeared Nick had finished breakfast. She caught his eye and beckoned to him. “I need to ask you some questions about your family,” she said as he came into the living room.

  “It looks like we can get these Maurice Fender folks off our back, but we need to know who might own the rights if they don’t. Valerian Ricardo was your uncle. Are there a bunch of relatives out there? How many are there?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nick, feeling the dawning rays of hope. “I mean, Lila was his widow, but she’s dead. And there is some question whether or not they were legally married. They never had children. I have a letter from Uncle Sid that says my grandfather would inherit the rights, and just recently, my grandfather left everything to me, so theoretically I could own them. But Gail Cunningham, Callie’s mom, thinks she’s his kid. I guess that would take precedence over my grandfather and me. If illegitimate kids can inherit.”

  “It sounds complicated,” said Melanie. And expensive, she thought. The way this would probably shape up, the lawyers would throw cash at everyone until they shut up. Nick Iversen didn’t seem particularly greedy, but that hard-bitten Kali-Ra bimbo looked like she would hold them up for whatever the traffic would bear. Lila, of course would have been just as bad. At least she was out of the picture.

  Tom Thorndyke, who had been gone all morning, presumably ashamed that he had completely botched his job protecting Villa Vera, now came into the room, flapping his arms dramatically. “I have an announcement to make,” he said, rushing over to Melanie and guiding her and Nick into the dining room, where the others, now at the table, looked up at him with curiosity. “I have some wonderful news. Lila hasn’t died at all. She was unconscious because of some sleeping pills she took last night, but she isn’t dead. It was a medical miracle.”

  Melanie ran upstairs to tell Nadia. As she ran, she realized that this bizarre development would change everything. Now, Lila was probably first in the running to be bought off. And she’d start messing with the script again, although maybe the old girl would need a long period of recuperation and would be too weak to ruin it completely.

  Down in the dining room, everyone in the room had fallen silent at Tom Thorndyke’s startling news. Only Vince Fontana continued to eat.

  Nick looked over the table at Callie and saw an expression he’d never seen there before. She looked like a sullen child about to stamp her foot, and her mouth was pulled into a mean little frown.

  Duncan Blaine broke the silence by getting up from the table and heading into the living room toward the liquor cabinet. “This calls for a celebration,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I’ve spent the morning with the police and the doctor and it’s an amazing story,” said Thorndyke. “Apparently, Lila’s pacemaker deflected the blade just enough to make the incision perfectly harmless. Her vital signs were very low because of the sleeping pills, but now she’s conscious and everything. The doctors say it’s a one in a million shot.”

  Melanie, Nadia, and Glen now rushed into the room and Glen said, “My God! Is Lila’s heart on the right side of her body like Madge Barclay’s?”

  “Does she have a heart at all?” asked Duncan Blaine, who had made himself what appeared to be a Bloody Mary.

  “Can she talk? Has she said anything about what happened?” asked Melanie.

  “She’s made a statement but it’s a little incoherent,” said Tom with a puzzled frown. “Something about someone named Betty Lou conspiring against her. It may mean nothing. Meanwhile, there’s no sign of the guy who impersonated Kevin anywhere on the grounds, but it’s pretty cl
ear he’s our guy. We think he’s been leaving weird messages on the Kali-Ra website too. He’s lost his grip completely. Says he’s waiting for the final summons of Kali-Ra. Thank God he didn’t actually kill anyone!”

  Nadia ran over to Tom Thorndyke and began to drum her fists on his chest. “You son of a bitch,” she said. “He could have killed someone. He stabbed Lila, and it’s your fault. My God, that could even have been me! I can’t believe you let this happen. I swear to God I’m going to make sure you never work in this town again.” She wheeled over toward Melanie. “This is all your fault! Why did I think you could handle anything? Everyone lets me down.” She ran into the living room and flung herself on the sofa, followed by everyone except Vince Fontana, who appeared to be in a world of his own and was helping himself to more bacon and eggs.

  Melanie rushed to Nadia’s side. “It’s okay, Beanie,” she said. “It’ll be okay.” She stroked her hair.

  Nick was stunned. Lila had said Betty Lou had attacked her. No one else in the room knew who Betty Lou was. No one but Callie. Callie’s mother had said that Callie was the spitting image of her grandmother, Betty Lou. Was Lila saying Callie had stabbed her?

  Horrified, he looked over at Callie to see how she was reacting. But Callie had her back to him and was in deep discussion with Tom Thorndyke. Something about her posture and Thorndyke’s own attentive, grim-faced pose indicated that she was speaking urgently to him and that he was listening with great interest.

  Now he had his arm on her elbow and was guiding her to the door. What was going on? A phrase flashed into his brain.

  Strange forces were at work, forces with a power so alluring yet terrifying that they could only come from the beautiful evil one, the Queen of Doom.

  “Glen, I need you,” wailed Nadia, rising from the sofa. He now rushed to her side and embraced her as Melanie stepped away and stood beside Nick while Nadia sobbed on Glen’s shoulder.

  Nick must have looked surprised because Melanie whispered, “They seem to have fallen in love last night.”