Diane Vallere - Style & Error 03 - The Brim Reaper

by Diane Vallere

  “Still, that was a nice opening,” I said. “Cutting the lights for her musical number.”

  “The lights? I wouldn’t know how to cut the lights like that. Your friend the detective is supposed to be around here somewhere, but I checked in when I got here and he hasn’t made contact.” He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the gift shop. “Get behind the display cases.” He shut the door and ducked behind the register. I followed.

  “Is that why no one introduced you?”

  “Hedy London was here when I arrived. She said she and Christian had this whole opening act planned, not to worry, and if he didn’t appear at the end, I was supposed to address the crowd. ”

  “Sounds more like they planned a massive distraction, don’t you think? She shows up and does a little number and he’s gone? Like maybe she gave him a head start out of town?”

  “I thought he was the one controlling the lights and that he probably couldn’t get back upstairs in time.”

  We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. I was bothered by Hedy London’s pop-up appearance and the fact that Dante knew her, Christian, and Vera. Plus, it wasn’t sitting well with me that Officer Loncar hadn’t approached Eddie after he’d checked in. Any number of people had access to our plans, whether it was because they kept popping up at the least expected times or because we trusted them and told them what we were up to. It was starting to look like we’d better watch our backs.

  I gave up trying to ask Eddie why he wasn’t mingling with the crowd. There was a good chance that he wanted to ask me why I wasn’t with Nick, and I didn’t want to answer. The good thing about friends is that sometimes you can hang out in an off-limits gift shop together and respect each other’s secrets without a second thought.

  I gave up trying to sit like a lady and flopped onto the rubber mat behind the register, pushing my legs out in front of me. The hem of my dress rode up to near-peek-a-boo levels. I pulled a scarf from a pile on the floor and set it on my lap like a dinner napkin.

  “I ran into Dr. Daum when I got here. Did you know Thad was released today?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Dr. Daum. He said Thad wanted to be here tonight.”

  “You don’t suspect him again, do you?”

  “I can’t justify the stabbing if Thad’s involved. But he did take that list of collectors from me, which means someone might have attacked him over that.”

  “Dude, I’d feel a lot better about tonight if I knew the detective was out there.”

  “I don’t know where Loncar is, but there are cops all over this joint. Vera Sarlow is here too. So is Milo Delaney.” I put my hand on top of the pile of scarves and pushed myself up. Something sharp pierced the palm of my hand and I screamed.

  A security guard flashed a megawatt flashlight in our direction. Eddie dropped to all fours and crawled to the corner of the store behind a bean bag chair. I stepped out from behind the glass counter.

  The security guard came into the gift shop. “Who’s in here?”

  I held my hands over my head, looking very much like a guilty partygoer. Blood trickled from my palm from three small puncture wounds.

  The security guard covered the distance between his post and the gift shop faster than I’d expected. “Ma’am, what happened to you?”

  I held up my hand. Eddie scooted out behind his back unnoticed. “I was hoping to find some kind of first-aid kit in here.” It didn’t take much to convince him, considering the red droplets falling onto the rubber matt.

  “How did you get in?” His flashlight danced around the store for a few more moments. “This store was supposed to be locked. Come with me.”

  He pulled the door shut and turned a key in the lock. “Are you alone? I thought I saw two people.”

  “Must have been my shadow. My date didn’t realize I’d left.”

  He eyed me up and down but said nothing. I followed him out of the gift shop to a table tucked into a corner, where he pulled out a first-aid kit and dressed my wounds.

  “Are you a cop?”

  “Nope. Security officer. Don’t get me wrong. There’s cops all over this place tonight. A bunch of us were hired for general security. You know, take care of small problems.”

  “Like what?”

  He wound my hand with an adhesive bandage. “Like this.”

  “Gotcha. Have you had any other small emergencies tonight?”

  “Just the lights going out, but the guy in charge said that was supposed to happen. Shoulda told us ahead of time. Coulda caused some panic.”

  “You saw the guy in charge? Golden hair, deep tan?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.” He secured the bandage with white medical tape and turned my hand over. “He’s in the Frowick Gallery upstairs. The elevator will take you back of the party. Don’t let me catch you in the gift shop again.”

  I thanked him and stood, adjusting my very short dress.

  “And ma’am? That’s a shame if your date didn’t notice you were gone. If my date wore a dress like that, you can bet I’d never let her out of my sight.”

  I smiled and crossed the lobby to the elevator. My ankle throbbed, my hand throbbed, and I wasn’t sure which direction to turn next. The doors opened and I got on. I pressed the button for the second level. The doors closed but the car descended instead.

  When it stopped and the doors opened, a very angry, very blonde woman in a beaded dress stood in front of me.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you. You’re coming with me.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the elevator.

  And just like that, Hedy London kidnapped me from the gala.

  35

  Her hand landed on the fresh puncture wounds on my palm, and I cried out and doubled over. Blood seeped through the bandages the security officer had applied.

  “Ow! Please, let go. My hand is hurt,” I said.

  “Don’t play the victim,” Hedy London snapped. She repositioned her hand to my wrist and yanked me forward. “I’ve known for a long time that you and your friend are trying to sabotage my launch. I’m not giving you a chance to undermine what we’ve accomplished.”

  We turned down a dark hallway that ran under the gallery. I’d never been in this area before. There were no offices here, only concrete floors below our feet and exposed pipes above our heads. I yanked my hand back but her grip on me tightened. This woman was twice my age. How tough could she be?

  “Let me go,” I said.

  “Not until you tell me what you did with Christian.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. London.”

  “You and your friend have been trouble from the start. I will not allow you to get in the way of this opportunity. I know you’ve been spying on us and listening to our plans. I’ll ask you again. What did you do with him?”

  As lost as I was between both our location and the conversation, her accusation meant one thing: Christian Jhanes was missing.

  “Eddie hasn’t been trying to do anything other than pull off—I mean establish—this exhibit, Ms. London. I’ve been helping. I don’t know where Christian is. Eddie’s been working here night and day to make sure everything was properly installed.” I paused, gauging whether or not my panicked stream-of-consciousness was having any impact on the hostile environment.

  “For God’s sake, stop calling me Ms. London. You’re making me feel ancient.”

  No way to interpret that other than hostile. That’s how I reacted to “ma’am.”

  She pushed me along the underground path in the dark. My eyes sought something—anything—familiar. We passed metal shut-off valves attached to pipes on the wall, square-cut openings above us that dangled ropes over our heads, and supply closets labeled in stenciling that had faded and chipped over the years. We turned a corner, and she pushed me toward a flight of stairs. I stumbled, falling down. She pulled me back up and kept going. Hedy London may have been an aging film star, but she was proving to be a tough old broad in
a lot better shape than I was. Maybe Eddie was on to something with the carrots and the brown rice.

  We reached a heavy metal door. Hedy put both hands on a vertical bar and moved it from flush against the door to out at an angle. I heard the locking mechanism of the door shift. She threw her hip into the door and pushed on the spring-loaded bar in the center. It swung open toward the grounds behind the museum.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  She grabbed my arm and flung me past her. I stumbled in too-high heels, lost my balance, and landed on my hands and knees. I felt a breeze by my shoulder and high up on my hip and knew my dress had torn.

  “It’ll take you time to get back to the front of the museum, past security. Time is what I need to find Christian and make our announcement to the media. Once we do that, you can’t stop us.”

  “I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to help Eddie with the exhibit. I’m trying to impress Tradava enough to get a job.” And I’m trying to find a killer, I thought.

  Hedy leaned down, her face very close to mine. “Christian and I were lovers before we were partners, and this collaboration will make it official. He’s finally ready to announce our engagement to the world. I will not let you take this moment away from me.”

  She stood back, smoothed her dress with gloved hands, and stepped into the dark interior of the museum. I pushed myself up and reached for the door. My fingernails scraped against the metal as it closed.

  I pounded my fist on it. There was no answer. I turned around and leaned against the utilitarian door, bending forward with my hands on my thighs. My ribs felt cold. I wrapped one arm around my body and felt a split in the fabric along the side seam of the dress.

  After my breathing and my heartbeat calmed down, I scanned the grass for my handbag. I found it a few feet away from where I’d left a Samantha-shaped depression in the grass. The contents of my handbag had scattered.

  Hedy London and Christian were announcing their engagement? What did that have to do with anything? And why would it have to be kept a secret?

  Worse, the film star had acted like I was the one who was causing her trouble, not the other way around. She had shown genuine concern over Christian’s absence. If she’d been behind any of this, I doubted she would have sounded so sincere. And if she was in love with Christian, was she blind to the fact that he was taking advantage of her?

  Or what if he simply was a man in love, who knew the day was coming soon when he could let the world know how he felt? That he was helping the love of his life realize a new set of dreams that included him?

  And if all of that was the case, then who would be the person to sabotage those plans?

  I patted the grass and crawled in a slightly larger circle, making sure I’d found everything. I felt something sharp jab into my shin. I rolled over and felt the area, revealing a set of keys.

  But I already had my keys. Whose keys were these?

  I hooked the ring over my index finger and held them up against the moonlight. They were museum keys, like the ones Eddie had clamped onto his waistband the first day I’d helped him.

  It was a sign.

  I didn’t have to go back around front. I could let myself back in the way Hedy had brought me.

  I stood up and dusted off the pieces of grass sticking to my fishnets. The fourth key I tried fit the lock. I turned it and pulled on the handle. Something clicked and the door opened.

  I tried to remember the path Hedy London had pulled me through. Three right turns and some serious pain later, I was back where I’d started. I sat on the steps again and massaged my ankle.

  I pulled myself up and rested against a valve cover. The electrical panel was only a few feet ahead of me. A screwdriver protruded from it, the occasional spark snapping from it like a Fourth of July sparkler. Otherwise the catacombs of the museum were dark.

  I crept toward the sparks, feeling my way along the wall. A figure stepped out from the shadows. His face was distorted by a mask made from Bubble Wrap, with cut out openings by his eyes and nose. He was wearing the navy jumpsuit, like the night Thad had been stabbed. He swung something cold and thick at me, hitting my midsection. I fell.

  My face hit the floor. Fabric ripped. I gulped for air. I lifted my head and stared at a pair of dusty brown construction-worker boots in front of me. A fire extinguisher dropped on the concrete next to my head. The clang echoed through the dark hollow passageways. The tank rolled in a semicircle and came to a stop next to my head.

  I couldn’t move—or didn’t want to. I blinked back tears of pain. Through blurry vision I watched the boots turn around and jog away from me into the darkness. The last thing I thought was, there’s only one person I know who would wear those boots to this event…

  Then I passed out.

  36

  I woke up in the darkness of the gift shop. The museum was empty and silent. My left cheek was swollen, making it hard to see. My tongue flicked over my upper lip and I tasted blood. My hands were bound behind my back, and my ankles were taped together in front of me. The only thing I could do was tip over.

  I didn’t know how I’d gotten here. Or how long I’d been here. Or what had brought me back to consciousness.

  “Come on, Samantha, wake up. Come on,” said an urgent whisper behind me. I tried to turn my head but the pain assaulted me

  “Samantha, wake up. Please.”

  “Rebecca?” I tensed.

  “Shhhhh. Be quiet. I don’t know if we’re alone,” she said.

  “What happened? Where is everybody?”

  “The party’s over.” I heard a glug-glug-glug sound behind me, and Rebecca held a Dixie cup of water to my lips. “Here,” she said.

  I tried to drink. Water dribbled down my chin and down the front of my dress. I struggled to hold my head up. I felt like a rag doll with too little stuffing.

  “It’s been you all along, hasn’t it?” I asked quietly. When she didn’t answer, I continued. “The boots. I saw them when you knocked me down with the fire extinguisher. They’re the ones from Christian’s office. You told me you wore a man’s size shoe when we were talking about the moccasins. You wore his boots so nobody would ever suspect a woman.”

  She stood up straight and backed away from me. In addition to the boots I’d recognized in the catacombs, she wore a nondescript navy-blue jumpsuit.

  She reached inside one of the deep pockets to her shapeless garment and pulled out a gun. It couldn’t have appeared bigger if it had been designed by Claes Oldenburg.

  “You don’t want to do this,” I said. “No matter what you’ve done already, you can stop it here. Now.”

  Rebecca’s blonde curls spilled around her face in a frizz of platinum. “You would have been found in the morning,” she said, “but now I have to kill you too. If I leave you alive, you’ll tell the police that I killed Dirk and stabbed Thad. I sold off two of the collectible hats, and I have enough cash to get to Canada tonight. To start over. There isn’t any other way.” Tears streaming down her face belied her tough-girl talk.

  “Rebecca, this isn’t the only way.” I forced myself to maintain eye contact instead of looking at the gun. “You won’t get away with it.” I wondered if I had the energy for a fight if that’s what it came to.

  “Hedy London will get her publicity.” She spat out the actress’s name and spittle flew from her mouth. “That’s’ what she wanted. She won’t come after me.”

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Christian and Hedy. And your relationship with Christian in college.”

  Rebecca set the gun on the glass counter and unzipped the front of the navy jumpsuit and stepped out. She was wearing a camel suit like the rest of the Hedy London impersonators. With her platinum-blonde hair, she had probably blended in with the crowd. Nobody had noticed her being anywhere unexpected. She balled up the blue overalls and shoved them into the depths of a camel handbag and picked up the gun.

  “He was one of your professors, wasn’t he?” I a
sked softly.

  “He was more than that. He was my mentor. He saw what I went through when my father died. I hated being at college, and my father told me if I applied myself, everything was going to be okay. He died from a heart attack the next month. Christian was the only person at I-FAD who cared about what I was going through. We had a brief …” Her voice trailed off.

  “You slept with your teacher?” It flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

  “He was my first.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I almost failed out of school when my dad died. My advisor told me to take a year off and get my head together. Christian encouraged me. When I excelled in his film-editing courses, he taught me things. Special skills. He knew what I was capable of. He saw in me what my father saw in me, and I paid him back the only way I knew how.”

  The surveillance video. It made sense. She’d learned the same skills that Dante had learned. I didn’t know what she was saying about her relationship with older men, but whatever had happened, the repercussions had left her with a lot of damage and had left me with a very large gun pointed at my chest. I tore my gaze from the gun and focused on her face.

  “Rebecca, having a crush on your college professor is no reason to kill anybody.”

  “The money ran out, and I had to drop out anyway. He promised me everything was going to be okay. He told me to get myself together and come back to the college and he’d make sure to help me get back on track and graduate. He was going to wait for me and give me a future.”

  “He left the college before you returned.”

  “He met that woman at the graduation ceremonies. He never looked back. I followed his career, tracked him on the Internet, and tried to keep in touch with him, but he never returned my calls or e-mails. They tried to keep their relationship a secret, but I found out.” Her head bent down and tears dripped onto the floor.

  “Why would they keep it a secret? If two people are in love, wouldn’t they want the world to know it?”

  “He wanted his own identity. He wanted to be known as Christian Jhanes, not the man who married Hedy London.”