Any Given Moment (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 3)

by Laura Van Wormer

  "But that's over three years from now," Elizabeth said.

  "Exactly," Henry said. "That's why it was so important for Creighton to destroy those files and buy time. Metropolis was des­perate to release the movie, and he promised them they could release it this fall. But there was something Creighton did not know."

  He kept them in deliberate suspense.

  "Don't be cruel, dear," Dorothy said. She reached down beside her chair and came up with a copy of Mathew and the Allied Planets. She opened to a page and held the book up for all to see.

  "What?" Elizabeth said, leaning forward, straining to see.

  Mrs. Hillings tapped her finger on the page. "Here."

  Elizabeth leaned closer and read, "First published March 1941. Second edition September 1941. Copyright, 1941, by Stephen Col­lins. Copyright, 1941, in the United States of America, by Stephen Collins."

  "You see," Henry said, "what Creighton Berns did not know was that the second edition was filed for copyright protection in the United States shortly after the book was first published in England. Although it never did get distributed here, it is nonetheless pro­tected by United States copyright law."

  "So whoever lifted the story must have had the first edition of the book," Elizabeth said. "If they had seen the second edition, with this copyright page, they wouldn't have dared to steal it."

  "And if Creighton had succeeded in getting our old files on the book," Dorothy continued, "he also would have seen that, as a matter of routine, we had the Collins heirs renew the copyright here in 1969."

  "And if he had known that," Henry said, "then Marion Ballicutt could have told him that the 1978 Copyright Act had automatically extended all second terms of copyright protection to forty-seven years, which means, my friends, that all rights to Mathew and the Allied Planets are fully protected by law until the year 2016."

  Everyone's eyes had been moving back and forth between the Hillingses as if they were at a tennis match. Now, out of habit, their eyes went back to Mrs. Hillings.

  "Such a minor matter is dutiful paperwork," she said, "and yet such a major downfall it shall be." She smiled. "As I always say, one's whole life can change in any given moment, and I believe the life of Mr. Creighton Berns is certainly about to." Pause. "I will see him punished if it's the last thing I do."

  There was a moment of silence as her words sank in.

  "The next thing we need to find out is how much the executives at Metropolis Pictures knew," Henry said. "But regardless of how much they knew, they're still up to their necks now in a conspiracy to—" He looked at the FBI agent. "How did you phrase it?"

  "To willfully violate the copyright law," the agent said, "and conspire to defraud the public."

  "Defraud the public how?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Well, see, it gets complicated," Henry said.

  "And expensive," Dorothy added, eyes twinkling.

  "Metropolis has licensed merchandising rights to this movie to several companies who have spent millions to design and manufac­ture toys, T-shirts, stationery, costumes, records, puzzles, tie-in storybooks, and on and on. These companies can't market any of this stuff until the movie is released," Henry said.

  "And with the movie having been delayed and delayed, this massive inventory is collecting dust in more than a few warehouses," David said.

  "So how is that defrauding the public?" Monty asked.

  "Well, Metropolis doesn't own the rights to the story or, there­fore, the movie. The licensees have filed for—and obtained—trade­marks on merchandise derived from a story Metropolis doesn't have the right to license," Josh informed them. "So what you have, in effect, is a massive conspiracy of fraudulent copyright and trade­mark claims, with the willful intent to defraud the public."

  "Jeee-sussss," Monty said, looking at Elizabeth.

  "And," Henry added, "every company with a product licensed from this movie is subject to legal action from the author's estate. The only way those companies will be able to clear themselves is to turn around and sue the institution that contractually guaranteed them the rights, Metropolis Studios."

  "But what I don't understand, Dorothy," Elizabeth said, "is why Berns went after you so publicly, so antagonistically."

  "He went after the office because he was after the files," she said. "But when I had the heart attack, and he couldn't find the files, he evidently saw an opportunity to depict Henry and myself as borderline senile—just in case we ever did see the resemblance between the Metropolis movie after it came out and Mathew and the Allied Planets."

  "Son of a bitch!" Ted Kleczak said, squeezing his wife's shoulder.

  "And now, my friends," Henry said, "we wish to finish this affair, and that is why we asked you here today."

  "If you'll excuse me, Henry," Dorothy said, rising from her chair. "I'm going to take care of that other matter now. Why don't you and Agent Healy proceed?"

  Dorothy Hillings walked out of the living room and down the hall. Outside her bedroom she paused a moment, thinking. Then she opened the door and went in. Sasha and Bernadette were chang­ing the sheets on the bed. "Thank you, Sasha," Dorothy said. "I wish to speak to Bernadette alone now, please. You can finish up later."

  "Yes, Mrs. Hillings," Sasha said, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  Bernadette looked a little confused. "We were getting your room ready for you," she explained. "Actually, Bernadette, my husband asked Sasha to keep an eye on you. Sit down."

  Looking startled, Bernadette perched on the edge of the bed. Dorothy walked over and crossed her arms over her chest, making her charm bracelet tinkle. "I suspect you know what it is I wish to speak to you about."

  The aide looked worried now. "That you're feeling better?" she asked hopefully.

  "No, Bernadette," Dorothy said. She just stood there, waiting.

  "I don't understand," Bernadette said after several moments.

  "Oh, but you do. Though I don't think you realized how many lives you would affect and how many people you would hurt. Cer­tainly you didn't know that you could go to prison."

  All the color drained out of the aide's face. "Yes, Bernadette," Mrs. Hillings said. "I know it had to be you."

  The aide buried her face in her hands and started to cry. "I'm sorry. I needed the money for the children."

  "What children? You don't have any children, Bernadette, and I command you to stop this charade once and for all right this moment! Now tell me, how did he get to you?"

  The aide straightened up, sniffing, eyes miserable. "My sister is the Bernes' nanny. He called me and said you would need someone to help out at home. He wanted me to take care of you—and let him know everything that was going on at your house. And then you hired me."

  "Yes, that's true, we did," Dorothy said, sighing and putting her hand on her hip. "But it was not as if my husband and I didn't have a few things on our minds, Bernadette—like whether or not I was going to live." She shook her head. "Listen to me, Bernadette, there is only one way to save yourself, and that is to do exactly as we tell you from here on in. Do you understand?"

  Bernadette nodded solemnly. "I'll do whatever you say, Mrs. Hillings. I swear I will. But please don't let him do anything to my sister."

  55

  The Kleczak children were beside themselves with questions Monday morning at breakfast. Where had their parents been? Why had they stayed in New York? Was it true that Mom had been arrested? Were they getting a divorce?

  "A divorce!" Ted said, coming into the kitchen as he finished knotting his tie. "Mary Ellen, what the heck are you talking about?"

  "Just wondered," she mumbled into the cereal she wouldn't eat.

  "I knew you wouldn't get divorced," Kevin reassured his mom.

  "Listen you guys," Patty began.

  "Dad," Tim said, "did you get those cleats for me?"

  "To tell you the truth, Tim," he said, going to the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee, "I completely forgot. I'm sorry." He turned to Patty,
sipping from his cup. "I told him I'd go to Paragon while I was in the city."

  "I don't think we like what the city does to you guys," Mary Ellen said.

  "And what, pray tell, does that mean?" Patty asked her.

  "Well, for starters, you go there and completely forget about us," Mary Ellen said. "And we're your children."

  "Children, you mean, as in 'ball and chain'?" Patty teased.

  "Well, you had us," Mary Ellen pointed out. "It's not like we were given a choice."

  Patty looked at Ted. "Why exactly did we abandon our poor helpless children this weekend?"

  "Because they're not poor or helpless; they are perfectly capable of looking after themselves for a weekend while we try to remember that we have lives, too," Ted said, pulling out his chair and sitting down at the table. "Besides, there was an adult here with you."

  "This is how divorces always start on the soaps," Mary Ellen told her brothers, "the parents go off to 'find' themselves."

  "Oh, shut the hell up, Mary Ellen," Kevin said, pouring another glass of milk.

  "Kevin!" Patty said.

  "While you've been off finding yourself, he's turned into a hood," Mary Ellen dutifully reported.

  "Cut it out, Mary Ellen!" Tim told his sister. He turned to his parents. "I'm just glad you're home. I've had enough of her."

  "And who fed you all last week?" Mary Ellen wanted to know. "Ha!" she said, slapping the table. "That's gratitude for you."

  "Now you know how it feels," Patty murmured over her cup of coffee.

  "Your mother has to go back into the city this morning," Ted said, reaching for a banana from the fruit bowl and starting to peel it.

  "But I'll be back before you get home from school," she said, reaching over to tousle Kevin's hair, "so you won't turn into a hood." She looked at her daughter. "Mary Ellen, darling, do you love me?"

  Mary Ellen rolled her eyes. "Mary Ellen, darling—geez, Mom, you’re gonna make us crazy. You're talking like one of the characters in your novel. So are you going to sell your book now or what? You said we could all go away somewhere really cool when you did."

  "Mary Ellen," Patty said. "I'm serious. Do you love me?"

  Mary Ellen screwed up her face. "Yes, Mmmooommm."

  "Then would you mind showing it once in a while?" Patty said, her voice starting to break.

  Everyone looked at Patty. She sniffed sharply, blinking back tears. "Sorry," she said, getting up. "I'm just a little tired, I guess." And she walked out of the kitchen.

  The kids all looked to their father.

  "Dad," Kevin said, "what's happened to Mom? She's different."

  "She's just going through changes," Ted said, swallowing a bite of banana. "Just like you guys are. Every day you change a little bit and your mother's just catching up, that's all."

  "I thought adults weren't supposed to change," Kevin said. "That's why they're adults."

  "Ah, but there you're wrong," Ted told his son.

  "You told us that!" Mary Ellen said. "You said you grow up and you settle down and you don't change much after that."

  He smiled. "I was wrong, Mary Ellen. You grow up and you settle down and hopefully you change a lot, always. So you're never bored with life and never take it or the one you've settled down with for granted."

  Mary Ellen looked at Tim. "Now he's getting weird." She got up and carried her dishes to the sink, something, her father noticed, she had never done before without being reminded.

  The group was assembled in the Hillingses' living room on Monday by ten o'clock, each looking a bit wary of the number of official-looking strangers in the apartment. Agent Healy of the FBI then divided up the group: Elizabeth and Monty were assigned to the study with a man and a woman; David and Georgiana were sent to the dining room with Healy and another man; and Patty Kleczak was assigned to the kitchen with another man and woman.

  "Storage room eighteen is here," the man said to Elizabeth and Monty, pointing to it on the floor plan of the maze of rooms that made up U-File-With-Us in Queens.

  "Yes," Elizabeth said, "you go in this way, through this door—"

  "And this blueprint is correct?" the black woman said. "This is the only means of access?"

  "Yes," Monty said. "Right, Elizabeth?"

  "Yes, but this part is wrong," she said, pointing to the plan. "There are floor-to-ceiling shelves on this side of the room. They go along this way—not that way." She closed her eyes, trying to visualize. "Yes," she confirmed, "they're here, so you have to move around to the right."

  "Use this, Professor Robinson," the man said, handing her a pencil.

  Elizabeth leaned over and started to draw.

  Monty stood there, looking not at the floor plan, but at Eliza­beth, as if trying to memorize her face. The man checked his watch and said to the woman, "I think the bureau can have that call placed now."

  Monty looked at him. "How long have you been with the FBI?"

  "He's with NYPD, Mr. Smith," the black woman said, "I'm with the FBI." She held out her hand, "Andraya Lafayette."

  Elizabeth glanced up at her. "You're not related to—"

  Agent Lafayette smiled. "Josh is my brother."

  "No, that's where they have a big Xerox machine," Patty said, bending over a floor plan on the kitchen table with an FBI agent and a New York City policewoman. "There might have been a water cooler there before, but it's not there now." She pointed with the pencil. "This is still Marion Ballicutt's office, but this"—she drew in a faint line—"has been divided into a space for Miss Andersen. James Stanley Johnson's office is over here. They both have the file cabinets in their offices—here and here. The ones I would go for would be in the lower bottom file cabinet of her desk. The one with the lock."

  "Is there a paper shredder on the premises?" the policewoman asked.

  "I didn't see one," Patty said. "But I did notice a garbage dis­posal in the kitchenette."

  In the dining room, Georgiana was frowning, shielding her eyes with her hand. Then she dropped it, opened her eyes, and stared at the floor plan again. "This is all different now," she said, pointing to the reception area of ICA in Beverly Hills. "But I'm almost positive the dimensions of the outer room—here—and Creighton's office are still pretty much the way they are shown here." She looked at the police officer.

  "Mr. Aussenhoff?" agent Healy said. "Please come take a look at this."

  David turned from the window and came over.

  "Yeah, this is the old floor plan," he said after a moment.

  "How do you think it goes now?" the policeman asked him.

  "This outer reception area is different. But Georgiana's right, I think, Creighton's office and that little waiting room are still the same." He picked up the pencil. "The entranceway now goes like this." He started to draw. "Does that look right to you, Georgiana?"

  "Yes," she said, watching. "There's a door there, isn't there?"

  He stared at the plans and then shook his head. "I honestly don't know."

  "Okay, Mr. Aussenhoff," the FBI agent said, unfolding another blueprint and spreading it out over the first. "Now, Ms. Hamilton­-Ayres, Mr. Aussenhoff, I want you to look at this carefully."

  "This is Metropolis Pictures," David said, recognizing the stu­dio's trademark five-sided building and a number of smaller ones on the studio lot.

  "But it's very different now," Georgiana said. "Isn't there a huge parking garage by the entrance?"

  "Yeah," David said.

  "Well, this is not a good sign," the agent sighed, "if we can't even get an accurate floor plan from the fire department out there."

  "Let me think a minute," David said, looking at the plans. "This whole area over here is Bestar Studios, the TV people. They're just renting on the lot, so there's nothing there you want, I don't think."

  "This is the movie area," Georgiana said. "The soundstages. Scenery. Dressing rooms."

  "But where is the administration building?" Healy asked.

  "Here," they said in u
nison, pointing to the five-sided building.

  "But that's not where the big brass is anymore," Georgiana added. "They're over here in this little building."

  "Mr. Aussenhoff, do you agree?" the agent asked.

  "Yeah," David said slowly, "she's right. But what I'm trying to remember is—Georgiana, isn't there something here now? Where this parking lot is?"

  "You're right. They ripped out these old offices and the lots here, and the new commissary's in here."

  The agent looked at him. "This is very important," he said. "The parking lot is where?"

  "Here." Georgiana pointed.

  "And then you walk around this way," David said, "to get to the president's office." He picked up the pencil and started to draw.

  "Okay, this is good," Agent Healy said. "We know what we're looking for now."

  It was a very simple glassed-in office downtown. Bernadette, formerly employed by the Hillingses, sat across the desk from a man in a tweed coat. He pushed the phone across the desk to her. "Ready?"

  She looked at the notes in her hand and nodded. She picked up the phone and dialed. She stood up then, moving about as if she were in a hurry.

  "I have an urgent message for Mathew—take this down," she whispered. "Tell him everything is at U-File-With-Us, 2345 Man­hasset Boulevard, Queens, New York, storage room eighteen." She repeated the information one more time. "That's right. Tell him everything he wants is there." She hung up.

  "Well, my friends," Dorothy Hillings said to the group as Henry saw the agents and police officers out, "we simply cannot thank you enough. Will you stay for lunch? We thought we'd order in something special."

  "Sorry, Dorothy, but I'll have to take a rain check," Monty said, going over to give her a kiss and a hug. "I'm on the air in thirty minutes."

  "Oh, of course, Monty, dear, run along. But I expect to see you again before you leave town."

  Leave town. The phrase seemed to cast a pall over everyone in the room.

  "I won't be here when you get back," Patty said, walking over to Monty. She held out her hand, but changed her mind and threw her arms around him.