Norah’s first thought had been to meet Audrey in a public place, which seemed a good deal safer than being alone in the apartment with her. But the conversation was going to require privacy, so after a lengthy phone call in which she explained to Audrey that she was, in fact, coming over to discuss a job with her, the high-strung journalist promised to behave professionally. And Norah decided to take her at her word.
She pressed the buzzer on Audrey’s apartment door, holding the Algonquin guest book in one hand and a ten-week-old Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy in the other. It was the cutest, softest, most alluring dog she could find, and a critical part of her strategy.
“I’m unarmed,” Audrey said as she opened the door to her apartment. She put her hands up as if to prove she had no intention of reaching for a gun.
“That makes two of us,” Norah said. “Put your hands down.”
“You brought me a puppy?” she said, taking a step back.
“It’s not for you.”
“Good, I’m scared of dogs.”
Norah glanced at the pup, which was about as scary as a scoop of warm mashed potatoes. “He’s not going to hurt you,” she said. “Can I come in?”
Audrey opened the door wider and Norah walked into the living room.
“What’s his name?” Audrey asked.
Norah sat on the sofa. “I’m calling him Jim Beam.”
“Funny name for a dog,” Audrey said, sitting opposite her in a faded blue easy chair with rolled arms.
“I thought Whiskey was too precious.”
“Why did you bring him?”
“I’ll get to that soon,” Norah said. “First, I want to tell about this.” She placed the Algonquin guest book on the coffee table between them, then leaned back, getting comfortable with the puppy. He gave her hand a lick and she petted his silky head. He was easy to get attached to.
“What is this?” Audrey asked, reaching for the book.
“Tell me if you recognize any of the names.”
Audrey skimmed through the pages. “I recognize almost all of them,” she said. “Mostly twentieth-century American writers, heavily skewed toward the Algonquin Round Table era.”
“Exactly,” Norah said. “In the nineteen twenties, the book was owned by the manager of the Algonquin Hotel.”
“I think I read an article about this.”
“You did, but it didn’t tell the whole story. That’s why I’m here. This book holds a lot of secrets.”
Audrey’s eyes welled with tears. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.
“Are you crying?” Norah asked.
“I’m just so grateful you’re giving me a story.”
Under different circumstances, Norah would have considered being forthright about her motivation, just to be sure there were no surprises down the road that might derail this fragile creature. But given Audrey’s reaction the last time Ted’s name came up, she knew it was best to keep him out of the conversation unless absolutely necessary.
“Wait until you hear what it’s about,” Norah said. “Because it’s going to take a lot of guts to write this piece.”
Audrey composed herself, then reached for a pen and stenographer’s pad on the side table. She opened the cover. “I’m ready.”
“Just listen for now,” Norah said.
Audrey put down the pad and nodded. “Go on.”
Norah took a moment and proceeded with the facts Dorothy Parker had given her. “During the Round Table era,” she began, “the manager of the Algonquin Hotel was a man named Percy Coates. They say he worshipped writers and loved having them around the hotel. But he had another obsession: contacting the spirit world. In his efforts to make the connection, he reached out to people all over the globe who were reputed to be gifted mediums. Eventually, he found a Romanian woman named Madame Lucescu.”
“How does this tie into the book?”
“She’s the one who gave it to him. I understand he paid a small fortune for it, because it was said to possess special powers.” Norah leaned in. “Madame Lucescu explained to Percy Coates that anyone who signed it would have the chance to stay in the physical world after they died.”
“And?”
“And she wasn’t lying.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that as long as the book is open, anyone who signed it rematerializes after they die. Most of them cross right over into the light, but one in particular has stuck around . . . and you’ve met her.”
There was a long pause as Audrey took that in, her brow creased in confusion. Then her eyes lit up as if she just heard the punch line to a long joke. She laughed so hard she doubled over. “That is rich!” she said.
“It’s true,” Norah said, trying to turn the conversation serious. “Every word of it.”
Audrey looked irritated. “You must really think I’m some kind of idiot. I mean, I’m temperamental, but I’m not stupid.”
“I’m going to prove it to you,” Norah said.
Audrey closed the book and pushed it back to her. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself,” she said.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but—”
“It’s impossible to believe. I don’t even know why you came.”
Norah sighed. “Do you remember that woman I was here with?”
“Your boss?”
“She wasn’t really my boss.” Norah opened the book and turned it back toward Audrey. “You see that name?” she said, pointing to the middle of the page.
“Dorothy Parker?”
“Didn’t the woman I called ‘Didi’ look familiar?”
Audrey folded her arms and sat back. “Okay, so she looked a little like Dorothy Parker. That’s meaningless.”
“Give me a second,” Norah said. She positioned the open guest book in the middle of the table. “Mrs. Parker,” she said, talking into it, “I know you’re mad at me, but I think I can make it up to you.” She held up the puppy. “Can you see this? I bought him for you. Maxed out my credit card. He’s yours to keep, but you have to appear right this minute or I’m taking him back.”
Nothing happened.
“Please, Mrs. Parker,” Norah said. “Look how cute he is. He needs someone to love him. He’s lonely, just like you.”
Audrey sighed, exasperated. “And they say I’m crazy.”
“Hold on,” Norah said. “I know I can get her to appear. She won’t be able to resist this puppy for much longer.”
Audrey shook her head. “I’m thirsty,” she said, rising. “Can I get you something?”
Norah declined and Audrey went into the kitchen. The moment she was gone, a swirl of dust particles settled themselves upon the faded blue chair, and Dorothy Parker’s form quickly emerged. She held her hands out toward the dog.
“Give him to me,” she said.
“Forget it,” Norah said. “Not unless you show yourself to Audrey.”
“We’ve been over this, my dear.”
Norah stroked the puppy’s head and gave him a kiss. “He’s so darling, isn’t he? I’ve never seen a sweeter puppy.” She spoke to the dog. “You’re a little dumpling, aren’t you? Oh, yes you are.”
Dorothy Parker stamped her foot. “I want that dog now,” she said through her teeth.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” Norah said. “Can you speak up?”
“I must have him,” Mrs. Parker whispered.
“What’s going on in here?” Audrey asked as she walked back into the room.
And just like that, Dorothy Parker vanished.
“Did you see her?” Norah asked.
“Sure. Little woman in a hat—the ghost of Dorothy Parker.”
Norah stood, excited. “You did?”
“Absolutely. She came with Oscar Wilde, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, and Santa Claus.”
Disappointed, Norah sat down again. “Didn’t you at least hear voices?”
“I heard your voice.”
The puppy rolled over on Norah’s lap. He wanted his belly scratched and she complied. His little hind leg twitched in ecstasy.
Audrey picked up the book again. “It’s a pretty interesting relic, and certainly valuable. But I just don’t see how there’s a story here.”
“Uh-huh,” Norah said, not really listening. She knew Dorothy Parker was so enamored with the puppy that it would be easy to coax her out again. The trick was distracting her, if just for a second. All she needed was for Audrey to catch a glimpse. She considered another tactic.
“I think Jim Beam is thirsty, too,” Norah said. “Do you mind if I get him some water?”
“Help yourself,” Audrey said, nodding toward the kitchen.
Norah placed the docile little pup on the table next to the book. “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?”
“Does he bite?”
“He’s two pounds, Audrey. I think you can handle this.” She went into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, intentionally making noise.
“What’s going on?” Audrey called.
“I can’t find a shallow bowl!” Norah said, and continued creating a racket.
Just as she had hoped, Audrey came into the kitchen . . . without the dog.
“These are all too deep,” Norah explained, indicating the pile of bowls she had placed on the counter.
“Did you look in the oven?” Audrey asked.
“The oven?”
Audrey opened it, and showed Norah the piles of dishes she had stored in there. She pulled out a shallow china soup bowl. “Will this do?”
“Thanks,” Norah said, inspecting the bowl. It was an old-fashioned pattern—probably something her grandmother had given her. Norah turned it over and saw the name Wedgwood printed on the bottom. She filled it with water from the tap and handed it to Audrey.
“You want me to give it to him?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Norah said quietly. “I’ll just put these bowls away.”
“Go on,” Norah said. “He’s harmless. Just make sure you step in very quietly so you don’t startle him.”
Finally, Audrey walked out, and Norah continued making noise in the kitchen, banging together metal mixing bowls. Her goal was to make it sound as if there were still two people in the kitchen. She strained to listen carefully over the clanging, and then she heard it—the distinct sound of fine china breaking. And then, a scream.
Norah ran into the living room, where she saw Audrey standing, her face white and her hands shaking. The broken bowl was at her feet. Jim Beam was on the shabby blue chair. Norah went to him and scooped him up. His poor little body was trembling. She petted him gently.
“Are you okay?” she said to Audrey.
“She was there. I saw her.”
Norah smiled, satisfied. “Why don’t you sit down,” she said, leading Audrey back to the blue chair.
“She was right here,” Audrey said, running her hand through the empty space over the seat. “She was petting the dog. Then she just . . . vanished.”
“She does that.”
Audrey lowered herself slowly into the chair, as if she were afraid she might sit on something. “Was it really her? It looked like her. It looked like Dorothy Parker, sitting right here in my living room. And then she turned to dust and vanished. Am I imagining things? Did I really see that?”
“Of course you did,” Norah said. “Hold Jim Beam for a minute. I’ll clean up the mess and then we can chat.” She handed Audrey the dog, and got some paper towels from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry about your Wedgwood,” Norah said as she cleaned and dried the floor.
Audrey remained expressionless, absently petting the tiny puppy.
“You seem shell-shocked,” she continued. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’ve never seen a ghost before.”
Norah threw the mess away and came back into the living room. She was going to take the dog back, but Audrey was still stroking him.
“So what do you think?” Norah said.
“Think?”
“About the book, about writing the story.”
Audrey looked down at the pup. “He really is cute. Awfully cute.”
“Focus,” Norah said. “I need you to focus.”
“I never knew dogs could be so sweet.”
“Audrey,” Norah said, “this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you.”
“Opportunity,” Audrey repeated.
“Listen to me,” Norah said. “If you write this story, you’ll be a star. It’s going to get national attention. Your career will take off.”
Audrey stared at her blankly. Norah took the puppy from her arms, and it seemed to break her reverie.
“Are you paying attention?” Norah asked. “This is what you’ve been waiting for. You’re going to have work again—more than you can handle. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a book deal. But you have to concentrate now.”
“Okay,” Audrey said, and she did indeed look focused. Her demeanor had transformed—she was back in the conversation.
“Do you understand how big this story is going to be?”
“It’s going to change everything,” Audrey said.
“Exactly.”
“Was that really Dorothy Parker?” she asked.
“Hand to God.”
“Are there others?”
Norah shook her head. “Apparently, there have been others, but they all crossed over to the afterlife. Doesn’t make the story any less astounding, does it?”
“It’s the story of a lifetime,” Audrey said, “but it’ll never work, not unless I have witnesses. Reputable witnesses.”
“I can get you those,” Norah said. “A few anyway.”
“Like who?”
“There’s a hotel employee who saw her. He’ll be great—he even interacted with her.”
“Will he talk to me?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Norah said, though she wasn’t sure at all. In fact, she thought it might be damned hard to get Angel to open up. “And there was another man who saw her—a big tough bodyguard. He’ll add some great color to the story.”
“Who else?” Audrey asked. “This is going to be a tough sell. I saw her myself and I hardly believe it. I’ll need some people who seem like they would never in a million years believe in ghosts.”
“There’s a woman named Edie Coates who says she’s the great-niece of Percy Coates. She’s suing for the book.”
“That will add some spice to the article, but it’s not enough. Who else?”
“Aviva and Pete saw her, but I led them to believe she was my boss.”
“That doesn’t get me where I need to be. If they had actually seen her materialize it would be different.”
“I’m sure you can find others if you ask around at the hotel. She’s been hanging around the Algonquin since 1967—there may even be some retired people you can interview.”
“I’ll investigate,” Audrey said. “That’s my job. But I need you to tell me every person you know of.”
“That’s it,” said Norah.
Audrey squinted at her. “I feel like you’re holding something back from me.”
For a twisted wacko, Audrey was remarkably astute. But Norah didn’t want to set her off by telling her about Ted.
“I’m not holding anything back,” Norah lied.
“Are you sure there’s no one else?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ve been a reporter for a long time,” Audrey said, “and I’ve learned to read people. It may be my only true talent. And right now my bullshit detector is in the red zone.” She folded her arms. “I can’t take this story unless you’re fully honest with me.”
Norah sighed. She still felt like bringing up Ted’s name was just too risky—it could push Audrey over the edge again. “There is someone else,” she said, “but I don’t think you’ll want to talk to him.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Trust me, Audrey, this isn’t something you even want to know.”
Audrey stared at her, as if trying to glean the truth. Then she stood and paced the room while Norah held on to the puppy. She continued petting the velvety spot under his neck until he fell asleep in her arms. It was easy to get attached to the little guy. She wondered if there was any way she could make room for him in her life.
“Okay,” Audrey finally said.
“Okay?”
“I’ll take the story.” She paused. “But I want the puppy.”
“What? No. You don’t even like dogs.”
“I like this one.”
“Audrey, it’s a big responsibility. You have to feed him, walk him, take him to the vet. A dog is not a hobby.” Even as she said it, Norah understood that she was trying to convince herself that she couldn’t possibly have a dog at this point in her life.
“I understand all that.”
“A few minutes ago you were afraid to let him in here.”
“I know it sounds impulsive, but he did something to my heart.” She walked over to Norah and took the sleeping puppy from her arms. She kissed his head and laid him to rest on her shoulder. “I’ve never taken care of anyone else in my life and I think I can do this. I think we’ll be good for each other.”
“You’ll need a carrier and dog bowls. You’ll need squeaky toys and wee-wee pads. You’ll need puppy food—lots of it.”
“There’s a pet store one block away. They have all of that.”
“Can you afford it?”
“I’ll make it work.”
Norah looked at her face and could see that the dog had a calming effect. Clearly, he was good for her. But was she good for him? Could she really give the pup a reasonable home? Norah had only known him for about an hour, but she already felt a sense of responsibility for this little creature.
“I don’t know,” Norah said.
Audrey sat down and shifted the sleeping puppy to her chest. Without opening his eyes, he stuck out his tiny pink tongue and licked her hand. “See?” she said. “We’re bonding.”
“What about the gun?” Norah said.
“What about it?”
“I don’t want to give the puppy to someone with violent tendencies.”
“It’s not loaded,” Audrey said. “I don’t even have bullets. The gun is just for show. A friend gave it to me after I was robbed—he thought it would help me feel safe.”
Norah didn’t say anything. She was trying to figure out if Audrey was being honest.
“You don’t believe me?” Audrey said. “Go see for yourself. It’s in the night table under my copy of Strunk and White.”
She went into Audrey’s bedroom and found the pistol just where she had said. Norah had never held a gun before, and picked it up carefully. It was heavier than she expected. Norah examined it for several minutes, trying to figure out how to check for bullets. She found a button near the trigger, and assumed it was a release for the magazine, which she could see protruding from the bottom of the handle, but how could she know for sure?
Norah coughed against a scratch in her throat and reasoned it out. If it wasn’t a trigger, what was the worst that could happen?
Holding the gun pointed away from her and as far from her body as she could, she pressed the button. The magazine fell out of the handle and hit the floor. Norah picked it up and inspected it. There were no bullets inside. She looked into the gun and there was nothing there, either.
So Audrey had been telling the truth—the gun wasn’t loaded. Of course, that didn’t prove anything—she could have ammunition hidden somewhere. Norah couldn’t very well search the entire apartment, but she did take a look in the night table drawer on the other side of the bed. There were no bullets, but she found something else—a hardcover copy of Dobson’s Night. She picked it up and read the opening paragraph she knew so well. She was about to put it back when she noticed a small bookmark sticking out. Norah turned to the page and saw that Audrey had tabbed the very scene that had stayed inside Norah’s heart all these years. She imagined Audrey rereading it again and again, just as she had.
She returned the book to the drawer and went back into the living room, where she saw Audrey sitting on the floor playing with the dog. To Norah, she no longer looked like a dangerous explosive, but a broken woman who simply couldn’t figure out how to put herself back together again. Norah didn’t know if little Jim Beam would help, but he certainly couldn’t hurt. And Audrey would be an attentive pet owner. In fact, Norah figured that the worst thing she would do was spoil the pup.
“Satisfied?” Audrey said.
“I have a leash and a baggie of puppy chow in my purse,” Norah said, “but you’ll need to go shopping right away.”
“And you’re going to have to find a way to take care of him and write the article at the same time. You think you can do that?”
“I do.” She picked up the dog and stood to face Norah. She was actually smiling.
“And another thing,” Norah said. “I can’t leave the guest book with you. So if you want to inspect it again, you’ll have to come see me.”
“I understand.”
“Do you have any more questions?”
“Just one.” She looked down at the dog and then back at Norah. “The other person who saw Dorothy Parker . . .”
“Audrey—”
“It was Ted, wasn’t it?”
Norah looked into her eyes, which already seemed so much more accessible. Not that all the crazy was gone, but there was enough humanity there for Norah to understand that she could handle the truth.
“Yes,” she said quietly, and watched closely to see the reaction.
Audrey simply nodded, and Norah knew what would happen next. Audrey was going to visit Ted Shriver.