For an instant Dawn thought he looked up to acknowledge her presence, but there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if he looked right through her to the house next door.
She slammed her car door and followed behind Larissa as Peter led his mother into the house. He guided her to a chair, where she collapsed, her black costume sharp against the creamy upholstery. Again he looked not at Dawn, but through her, and proceeded, without a word, to climb the stairs to the second floor.
After the accusations he’d made about Carter, Dawn had nothing to say to him that she could say in front of Larissa. Even small talk would have been arduous.
Ever since they’d worked together at the MGM, she’d felt protective of Larissa. As the two tallest showgirls, they’d been placed at opposite ends of the line. She remembered how guys liked to joke about “being sandwiched between the bookends.”
Larissa had her share of dates, but she’d never fallen in love until she began to be courted by Maxwell. What an impression he’d made.
She already had a glamorous career, but what a different world of show business he’d introduced her to. Party all night, sleep all day—that was Maxwell’s world. His reputation as a shameless womanizer had no effect on Larissa. She loved him so completely that his world became hers. If he loved other women, she loved them, too. And he never changed just because she gave birth to Peter.
Dawn didn’t want words with Peter that would hurt Larissa—Maxwell had hurt her enough.
Removing her black hat and veil, Larissa spoke. “I’m exhausted, luv. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Maxwell died. It’s an effort to make the show. I feel like a zombie going through the motions.”
Beyond the reddened eyes and swollen sinuses, Dawn still saw the sweet vulnerability part of Larissa’s ageless beauty. “The show must go on, baby.” The knowledge that her sympathy wasn’t enough to help Larissa filled her with pain. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Oh, doctors, what do they know?” Larissa waved her hand to Maria, who took the veiled hat. “Some tea?” Maria disappeared into the kitchen.
Dawn waited until the maid had left the room. Then she said, “You could get something to help you sleep.”
“I suppose. But it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Peter. He’s become so. . . so withdrawn. He won’t talk to me. This thing has hit him really hard. I haven’t seen him this depressed since he was fourteen.”
Dawn’s hand flinched in alarm. After Larissa’s stormy break-up with Maxwell, Peter had attempted suicide, a shock to everyone who knew him. It was with great effort that they’d rallied long enough to keep the story of Peter’s bloodied wrists out of the tabloids and away from celebrity television. Now he hid the welted scars beneath the ruffled cuffs of custom-made shirts.
Larissa rubbed her nose from the bridge up to a spot between her eyebrows. “Peter’s hiding a terrible secret, and I don’t know how to let him know I know what it is.”
Dawn drew in a quick breath. “The DVD—?”
“Maxwell and the Spring Solstice. He thinks I don’t know about it, but I do.” Larissa’s sagging face showed no surprise.
“You’ve seen it?”
“I watched it one day when he was out. I saw Maria coming out of his room with it in her hand. She’d found it while cleaning. Thought she was helping to organize by returning it to the entertainment cabinet in the living room. Thought it was some family home movie thing. It was unmarked, and I was curious. I didn’t remember seeing it before, so after she left I put it in the player. When I saw Maxwell’s face, I couldn’t imagine what Peter would be doing with a current video of Maxwell. Like I said, luv, I was curious. . .” Her last word caught in her throat, and she stopped.
“Oh, baby. Curiosity scared the cat?” As soon as she’d said it, Dawn realized her attempt at humor was poorly timed.
Larissa stood up and walked around the couch. When she stopped, she leaned against it as if to steady herself. She crossed her arms with her hands high, holding her shoulders, and her voice was a mere whisper. “You can’t imagine what was on that DVD. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but what I saw…”
Dawn’s heart ached for her friend. “What did you do?”
“Returned it to the desk where Maria found it.” Larissa dropped her hands from her shoulders and looked around the room as if she didn’t know where to walk next. “But what did Carter say this morning? Why was he saying he didn’t have it? I don’t understand…”
Dawn couldn’t hold out information from Larissa. Not now. “Carter told us…Peter gave it to him for safekeeping because he didn’t want you to find it. We advised him to take it to the police. Except now it’s been stolen from Carter’s apartment.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Larissa. “The press⎯“
“I know, baby.” She reached out for Larissa’s hand in a vain attempt to reassure her. “So far I don’t think it’s fallen into their hands. It would be all over the news. More likely, someone’s holding it for blackmail.”
“Good God,” Larissa repeated. She stared at Dawn with a pleading look. “I lied to the police. I told them I didn’t know anything about the DVD. I told them I’d never even heard anything about it. I didn’t want Peter to know, but most of all I didn’t want the police to suspect Peter of killing Maxwell.” Her voice became a low moan. “They were asking so many questions about where he was just before the accident…and now Maxwell’s dead. How could anyone blackmail him now?”
“I understand.” Dawn raised her hand to touch Larissa’s forearm. “Baby, you’ve done nothing that any loving mother wouldn’t do to protect her son.”
Larissa breathed in deeply through delicate nostrils and let the air out slowly through slightly parted lips. A yoga breath, Dawn recognized, to steady her nerves.
“But Peter and Carter? It makes no sense. What’s that all about?”
“I have no idea. Carter won’t talk about it.” Dawn sat back on the chair. “None of it makes any sense. No sense at all.”
CHAPTER 49
Friday, August 12, 7 p.m.
Hands sweating on the steering wheel, Regine approached the iron gates with the M scrolls. A new guard walked toward her, but she ignored him. At the speaker panel on the twin gray stone towers, she rolled down her window and punched in the access code. The gates swung aside and she stepped on the accelerator. She drove around to the carriage side of the house and screeched to a stop.
If they hadn’t changed the gate code, they probably hadn’t changed the locks, either. Her arm ached as she fished in her purse for the separate set of keys. She would march right in there and get that DVD from Edmund Meiner.
She wasn’t sure exactly how she would accomplish this with one arm broken—it had been challenging enough to drive—but the memory of Guido’s tone of voice provided strong motivation.
She let herself inside, closed the door behind her, and paused in the back hallway. The musky scent of the house drifted into her nostrils, reminding her of Maxwell. Reminding her of a time when they had been so enamored that they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.
The house was dark. No sign of Trudy Schwartz, or anyone else. No sounds of voices, chiming birds, or other movement.
At the foot of the circular stairs she looked up at the landing between the first and second floor. Staring back at her was the carved and painted face on the lid of an Egyptian sarcophagus. She climbed the stairs and on the second floor took the familiar route toward Maxwell’s bedroom.
At the double doors leading to the master bedroom, Regine paused again to listen. She felt momentarily blocked by a flood of erotic memories. She forced herself to think about what she’d come for, opened the doors and walked in. Now, where would Maxwell stash a DVD of a ceremony that could strengthen his powers and at the same time ruin his life?
She began a methodical search. Every cushion and pillow was overturned and punched, every curtain shaken, every drawer withdrawn and examined, every box
opened, every curio upturned and felt for a hidden spring.
She climbed a chair and checked the bed’s canopy top. She crawled on the carpet and peered under the bed, under every chair and table. In the bathroom she conducted the same methodical procedure, even removing the toilet lid to see if it was encased in plastic and taped inside the bowl.
No DVD. Ditto for the hall closets and the other bedrooms. Her arm throbbed. Damn, she’d left her purse with her bottle of pain killers in the car. She hurried back downstairs. At the foot of the stairs she froze.
To her left she heard a voice raised in anger. Light projected from the half-open door to the office, illuminating the piling of the hall carpet.
Edmund Meiner.
“Yes, I figured it out,” he seethed.
Relieved, she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He was on the office telephone. Curious, she crept closer to listen to the conversation, to learn what he was so angry about. She peeked inside and saw him, his body rigid, pacing the Turkish carpet.
“You’re behind Equine Technologies. I knew something was wrong when I discovered the company’s registered in the Cook Islands—”
Whoever was on the other end of the line said something that sent him into a fury.
“You stole the money! You’ve stolen everything I ever had!” His rage-red face belied a voice that shook in his attempt to calm himself. “The police have been here. They’re questioning everybody. They’ll find out what you’ve done!”
Outside the door, Regine stood paralyzed. Though she couldn’t tell who he was speaking to, she felt a horrible premonition. She didn’t understand how it could be possible, but this house was full of magical, terrible secrets.
She couldn’t stay to hear more. She planned to let herself quietly out the same way she’d come in, but it didn’t work out that way. She stepped quickly along the hallway and had reached the stairs when suddenly she heard his voice behind her.
“What are you doing here?”
She stopped and turned. “Hello Edmund.”
“How did you get in?” Cold steel edged his voice.
“I have a key, remember?” She smiled. Her broken arm made her feel stupidly vulnerable.
“Give it to me,” he demanded. “You have no right to keep it.”
“You’re right. I came to give it back.” She held out the key in her free hand.
He squinted, gray eyes suddenly suspicious. “Why don’t I believe you? How long have you been here?”
Edmund’s ability to sooth his voice to hide its menace reminded her of Guido. She inhaled a deep breath. “I just came in. But now that I’m here, let’s talk.”
She changed direction and walked to the living room, passing close to him. She counted on her height to intimidate him and it seemed to work. He followed her, his steps short and awkward.
Still, his tone challenged her. “What do you want?”
Regine turned on a large lamp that took up the entire surface of a side table. “Sit down, Edmund,” she said, pointing to a couch. To her surprise, he obeyed. She sat down in a wing-backed chair, the coffee table between them, pleased that the chair raised her eye level higher than his.
“I’ll get right to the point. Maxwell may be dead, but the debt for the production money he borrowed isn’t.”
Meiner hedged. “That’s all in the hands of the estate.”
“Well, the estate better know that that money still has to be repaid. However—” She paused for dramatic effect.
He interrupted, his words a little too eager. “However, what?”
“Edmund, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. There’s a certain DVD of Maxwell performing a magic ritual during the summer solstice. Give it to me and perhaps the debt will go away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, Edmund.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Of course you do. Let’s not play around. We want that DVD. Let’s go get it together right now, shall we?” She leaned forward in her seat and was encouraged when his body sunk deeper into the sofa.
“Honest to God, Regine, I don’t have it.” Some of the steel had gone out of his voice, replaced with—could it be?—desperation. “I think Dayan has it, but it’s not in his apartment, and I don’t know where he is. I talked to Robert—he doesn’t have it, either. And we haven’t a clue where Dayan is.”
“So if we find Dayan, you’re sure we’ll find the DVD?”
“Dayan made it. Who else would have it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Good question. If it’s not found soon, there’s every possibility copies will be made and anyone could have it. I’m sure you’ve thought of that. And Maxwell’s backers want it first—or their money. Do you have a plan for damage control?”
Her sarcasm did not have the effect on him that she expected. He straightened and for the first time looked directly at her. “It’s too late for damage control. I pray that Dayan has that DVD and hasn’t made copies, because I can tell you this—all hell will break loose when the press finds out the truth about—” He spat the words. “The world’s greatest magician.”
CHAPTER 50
Friday, August 12, 7:00 P.M.
Cheri had scheduled the appointment with the counselor at Tom’s school for Friday morning before she knew about the Maxwell funeral. She successfully buried her guilt pang about sending her sister to meet with the counselor in her place, and now Bon had blown it by not showing up. And since Bon hadn’t gone, Tom hadn’t gone.
Cheri grabbed a cantaloupe, a whole chicken and green beans from the refrigerator. Preparing a nice, healthy dinner for her family on Friday night would calm her, make her feel better. At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she scowled at her meager collection of spices.
All through slicing the melon and the beans she obsessed over the missed counselor appointment and the Maxwell case. In demonic movements, she stabbed the knife at the chicken. She deliberately avoided looking at her sister, who sat at the kitchen table painting her nails hot pink.
“You’re thirty-six years old and should be more responsible,” Cheri raged.
Bonni scrutinized her left hand. “I forgot. Hey, I have a life, too.”
“Just because you never had kids doesn’t mean you don’t have to be responsible for keeping an appointment you agreed to.” Cheri turned and waved the knife to accentuate her point. “You said you’d take him. You said you’d talk to the counselor and report back to me.”
When her sister had moved in and agreed to help her take care of Tom, she’d thought it to be a godsend. An erratic work schedule and a sixteen-year-old morphed into a challenging handful. It had been a great relief to know her sister would be in the house when Tom came home from school.
“Jeez, Bon. This was important. I counted on you.”
“Well, I met the neatest guy⎯” Bonni began.
Cheri turned the chicken carcass over. It hit the cutting board with a resounding swaap.
“The last thing you need in your life right now is a guy,” she flared. “You’re broke. You’re making more money now than you ever did as a secretary, but cocktails is not a lifetime career. You have a chance to get out of debt, go back to school and get your degree, maybe even buy a house of your own. I’m happy to help you, but you have to do your part.” She whacked the knife against the chicken in frustration. “God helps those who help themselves, and so do I. Work with me on this.”
Tom appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What’s the beef?”
“Your mom’s mad because I was supposed to take you to meet the counselor this morning, and I forgot.” Bonni blew on her wet nails, lifted her eyes and glared at Tom. “You could have gone on your own.”
“Oh, that. I forgot, too.” He picked up a piece of sliced melon from the platter on the counter and popped it into his mouth. “Need anything tonight from the mall?”
Cheri inhaled a deep breath to control her anger. “You’re not going to the mall. Your aunt’s right. Y
ou could have gone alone. Because you forgot, you’ll stay home tonight.”
“Mommm…” he protested.
“Give me your car keys. Read a book.”
He hesitated, as if he were thinking about refusing. Cheri reminded herself that he was sixteen, almost as tall as she, and she wouldn’t be wrestling him to the ground for his car keys. She gave him her strongest parental stare and held her hand out palm up, faking a power as elusive as Maxwell’s murderer.
She should have taken Tom herself. She knew it. It wasn’t right to pawn her parental responsibility off onto her sister. And she had to go to the funeral.
Having to make difficult choices like this was the part of being a police detective she didn’t like. Even on her days off, she was often on call part of the time. It wasn’t easy to take time off to be a parent.
Still, she loved her job. She never regretted the lost sleep while she struggled to dance, go to UNLV classes, and manage a baby at the same time. And she would never regret the baby, either.
Tom reached into his pocket and handed her his car keys. “Don’t lose them,” he grumbled as they disappeared into her pocket. “I’ll be upstairs.”
Bonni had finished painting her nailsand was waving her fingers in the air. “So I know this guy’s been eyeing me, and now he says to me⎯”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Cheri said, picking up the knife again and slashing a leg and thigh from the body of the chicken.
“Let’s talk about your magic case, then,” Bonni said. “Who do you think killed him?”
“There are several likely suspects, but we don’t have anybody locked up yet.”
“Ah ha! Your voice just slid into your talking-to-reporters tone. Do you think it was the ex-wife, what’s her name? Louisa? The one you roomed with in college?”
“Larissa. Lots of elements to the case that may not have anything to do with her.” She didn’t want to get too far into a discussion of Maxwell’s murder. She couldn’t mention the DVD or the fact that Dayan Franklyn appeared to be missing, two pieces of information not yet released to the press. She brought the plate of sliced melon to the table and set it in front of her sister. “Great looking melon in the market,” she said. “Check it out.”
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