Chapter 11
I would have thought that the tragic death of an employee would have prompted Allen to suspend her busy schedule, but I was wrong. The next day, after a full day of flitting around town, meeting with the producers working on her upcoming show and then hitting the printing facility to check on the run of her latest edition, she was as fresh as a daisy at seven and off to the bookstore for a signing, respect for the dead and any adherence to common decency be damned.
Allen was in a pissy mood, had been since Marcus and Tanaka busted in on her yesterday. Chandler had taken the brunt of her boss’s crankiness all day but had hung in there like a champ. It was mostly quiet in the limo for the ride over, and I longed for the day to be over.
“Full house,” Ben said as we eased past the Barnes & Noble. I peered out the window and saw the lights blazing inside the bookstore and a crowd moving around.
Chandler craned her neck to see. “Excellent. I knew there would be. Vonda has quite the following.”
I stared at Allen. She’d disengaged miles back. Her head was buried in her notes as she prepared for her presentation. Business. Always business. The limo had turned the corner, headed for the alley entrance, before Allen finally looked up at me. “You read, don’t you?” Her cool, needling smile told me she wanted to play.
I sighed. It really had been a long day, and I wasn’t in the mood to go toe-to-toe with her. “I’ve been known to.”
“What? Specifically.”
I brushed a slow hand over my slacks, making her wait for it. “Cereal boxes.”
Her smile faded. There came a low snicker from the front seat, followed by a round of fake coughing. Ben.
“Cheerios, specifically,” I added with a straight face.
Allen tuned me out again, which I appreciated. I was tired of her games.
Chandler tapped lightly on the privacy glass, rolled down partway for easy communication. “Pull up to the door, Elliott. Someone will meet us there.”
Chandler was taking it all so seriously. Obviously, this event was as important to her as it was to Allen, and she was making sure everything ran like clockwork. Chandler reminded me of a swan serenely gliding on a glassy lake, graceful, quiet. You only had to look beneath the water’s surface to see little webbed feet paddling like mad. This may have been Allen’s show, but it was Chandler’s production.
“Here we are,” Chandler said as we came to a stop. Ben immediately jumped out to check the alley.
Chandler reached for the door handle, but I stuck out my arm to stop her. “Not yet. When he says it’s clear.” Moments passed before Ben rapped on the window. “Now,” I said. “Right side, please. Me first, then Ms. Allen.”
Allen didn’t look like she cared for the order of things. She was likely used to always going first. She pursed her lips into a severe line and leveled flat eyes at me. I smiled back at her, gave her a wink, and watched her bristle. We were out of the car, inside in seconds and were instantly greeted by a young, bookish store rep with curly hair, large glasses, and a toothy grin.
The young woman bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, excited as a playful puppy looking forward to a noonday piddle. “Ms. Allen. You’re here. I’m Meghan Fahey. I’m so honored to meet you.” She looked around the tight group. “And everyone. Follow me, please. We’re ready for you.”
A short ride up to the second floor in a compact elevator, a brisk walk down a narrow hall, and a shuffle into a small VIP courtesy room, and the first test of our evening was over. Fahey flitted around the room, pointing out the amenities—coffee urn, powder room with fully stocked vanity table, color TV with cable access, and platters of cheese and fresh fruit daintily diced for VIP consumption. An ice bucket filled with ice and bottled water, soft drinks, and juices sat on a narrow side table. Allen graciously turned down refreshments when they were offered. The graciousness threw me. I hadn’t seen a lot of it in the past three days. I shot Ben a look. I could tell the graciousness had thrown him, too, and he’d known Allen longer than I had.
“So, that’s our ‘green’ room,” Fahey chirped, making little invisible quote marks with her fingers when she said the word green, since the room was actually a pale yellow. “We have a few minutes, so if you’d like to relax and compose your thoughts, we should be ready to get started in about, oh . . .” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes?”
“Everything looks just wonderful,” Chandler said. “Thank you, Meghan. I’d like to take a look at the space?”
“Oh sure, no problem. It looks great. More than enough room for the crowd out there, and the books are all in. We should do absolute gangbusters tonight.” The two hustled off.
“I’ll go with them,” Ben said. “Get the lay of the land.” He leaned in toward me, whispered, “Yell if you need a referee . . . or riot gear.”
I sighed. That left me alone with Allen. Again.
It was as quiet as a mummy’s tomb when the door closed. Allen looked around for a chair that met her standards. She found one against the wall, but before she sat in it, she examined it, as if she could see all manner of parasites crawling across the upholstery.
Back at the office, after her full day, she’d showered and changed into a silk suit of vivid melon and added a gold and diamond bracelet and matching earrings to set it off. She didn’t look comfortable in the chair; she leaned back cautiously and then maneuvered around so as not to let any part of her bare skin touch it. When she’d found a position that worked for her, she crossed her legs, let the top one swing, and then looked at me as if she’d never seen me before.
I also looked around, but not for a chair. The bathroom looked secure, but I checked it, anyway. No outside access. In and out of the VIP room, there was only the one door we’d just come through, so unless Allen tripped over a lamp cord or scalded herself on the coffee urn, she’d make it another fifteen minutes.
I pointed toward the hall. “I’ll be out there. Plenty of chilled water behind you.” I reached for the knob.
“Wait,” she said.
Dang it. I turned. Allen placed her elbows on the armrests, thought better of it, and pulled them away, then folded her hands in her lap instead.
“I misjudged you. You’re not like most people I come across. You have a spine . . . and a smart mouth. I’m curious. Exactly when did you stop taking people’s shit?”
I raised an eyebrow. It was an interesting question, but a little unexpected coming from a woman wearing eight-hundred-dollar shoes. “Likely about the same time you started shoveling it.”
She smiled, but her eyes didn’t sign on to it. “You resent my wealth, find it offensive. You think me abrasive, unfeeling.”
I squinted. “That a question?”
“An observation. Here’s another. You don’t like me.”
“The jury’s still out. You’re a bit much.”
“How so?”
“Look, if you want to mind diddle Chandler and the others, that’s your business and theirs. Me? I could do with a lot less of it.” I turned again to leave.
“Mind diddle. I like that. You think I should have canceled tonight.”
“Again. All you.”
“But you would have. Out of what? Respect for the dead?”
Yep, but I didn’t say it. I watched her instead, wondering what tragedy or act of betrayal had made her, because surely her hatefulness could not have been forged by half a lifetime of happiness. What had she wanted and never gotten? What had she needed and been denied? Whatever the answer, it was unmistakable that it was anger and spite that sustained her now. Beneath all the diamonds and silk, beyond all that excess, Allen was flinty of spirit, an emotional pauper, and if she didn’t rankle me so, I might have been able to work up a little pity for her.
“Hewitt was a thorn in my side. It would have been hypocritical. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not that. I don’t lie.”
“Except by omission. You know who’s harassing you, but you won’t let us in on it. You’re at risk as a result, and so are we.”
Allen was slow to speak. “You and Detective Jones? What’s your history?”
She was still angling for that edge. She waited, watched. I didn’t say anything.
“See? Everyone has secrets.”
I said, “It’s not a secret. Just none of your business.”
She turned her head, ignored me.
When I took up my spot right outside the door, I thought about Allen and how alone she was, and a chill went down my spine. I checked my watch. Ten minutes till showtime. Oh boy.