Chapter 43

Fresh and More Hideous Tragedies

“I’m having an awful day,” I griped into my phone. “I’m sick, I’m grumpy, I’m basically a mess. Save me.”

“Okay,” said Matt. “Just let me get my white steed.”

“Really?” I was driving to the theater, but if Matt was coming I’d pull over right then.

“Pretty sure you know I don’t have a white steed.”

“Really, you’ll come save me?”

“Really, I’m at work, but I’ll come see you tonight as planned. By then, I suspect you’ll have saved yourself.”

“How is it that you always make me feel better?”

“I have a magic wand.”

“I’ll say you do, mister.”

I swear I heard Matt blush over the phone. “Anyway,” he said, “until then. Break a leg tonight.”

“Let’s hope I literally don’t. My flying bubble entrances and exits haven’t been exactly graceful, which is why they called me in to go over them a few times this afternoon and—omigod.”

“What?”

Blue flashing lights filled my windshield. “Something’s happened at the theater. I’ll find out.”

“Ivy, wait. Don’t go rushing—”

“Call you back later.” I hung up, double-parked, put my hazard lights on, and jumped out of my pickup. I ran toward the theater, but the street was clogged with cop cars, plus an ambulance and a fire truck.

“What happened?” I asked a fireman who was standing near his truck. “I work at the theater. Was it another accident?”

“No,” he said. “Don’t worry. Nothing wrong at the theater. A guest at the hotel.”

“Thank God,” I said. “Wait, no one fell, did they?” I wondered if Miguel had crawled out that thirteenth-story bathroom window. Maybe he’d been on a ledge all night?

“Nothing like that,” said the fireman. “Best you get out of the way, though. Let us do our jobs.”

“Right. Sure.” I headed back toward my pickup, then slipped around the back of the fire truck. If I poked my head around the corner of the truck, I could just see the entrance to the hotel. And I was out of the way. Just like I’d told the nice fireman I would be.

Noting happened for nearly five minutes, then...

“Oh, hey. Sorry!” I ran toward the policeman who was looking askance at my double-parked truck. “Just had to deliver a message. I’m leaving right—”

There was a shout, and what seemed like fifty people surged toward the entrance of the hotel. The curious cop ran over to help keep order. I scrambled onto the hood of my truck to get a better view. A couple of EMTs trundled a stretcher out of the hotel entrance. I couldn’t tell if the body had its face covered or not. Maybe if I stood on tiptoe...

“Whoa.” A strong arm reached out just as I began to topple over. “Better watch it.”

The guy and I recognized each other at the same time. “You’re that reporter.” He must have been working long hours; his jowly face looked saggier than it had a few days ago.

“You’re the one who sold me those ghost photos,” he said. “Hey, you have any of Babette by chance?”

“Maybe in the background of some other shot. Why?”

“Be worth a lot of money.” He turned to watch the EMTs load the shrouded figure into the back of the ambulance. “Now that she’s dead.”