Rose
After roughly ninety minutes, Edgar shoos us from the table. He might be generous with a peek into Loretta’s private world, but he’s not about to offer us endless time.
Rae packs up her notepad and phone along with the few photos Edgar allowed her to keep. She wants to ask me about them. I can sense it in the curious glances she tosses my way. Her body language, as well, is an indicator. She’s stiff, her movements deliberate. Pissy, as Phillip would say. I personally loathe the term, but when it fits, it fits.
We bid our goodbyes to Edgar, promising to keep him in the loop, and march down the concrete walkway to my car.
“Rae—”
She halts and whirls on me. “I thought you trusted me.”
One thing is for sure, my ability to read people is still razor sharp. I am, however, in a pickle. Do I owe it to Rae to share George’s secret affair with Loretta? I’ve promised my cooperation on this story, but to what extent? How much of myself am I required to compromise?
My word is gospel in Hollywood. I intend to keep it that way. “I do.”
“Clearly not, because I think you were aware of…something…concerning George and Myles and Loretta. You’re a smart, savvy woman, Rose. In the last few days, I’ve watched you open doors that were otherwise glued shut. If there was something going on with George and Myles and Loretta, I think you knew.”
She’s not wrong. However, I’m not about to stand in front of Edgar’s house, drawing his—or anyone else’s—attention. “Let’s talk in the car, dear.”
“Great. We’ll talk. In the car.”
“What does that mean?”
She opens the rear door, tossing her briefcase on the seat. “This whole Hollywood thing. The secrets, the phony airs. It’s bullshit.” She shuts the door with enough force to make it an exclamation point. “Who cares if we make a scene on the sidewalk? People you cared about are dead. D.E.A.D. and you’re worried about what we look like? Come on, already.”
I stifle a sigh. I love her idealism and her passionate pursuit of it, but there’s a line.
She’s crossed it.
I survey the area. Neighbors’ houses, Edgar’s front window, sidewalk. All empty. Still, I step closer to Rae and peer down at her. “Listen well. I’ve spent half my life building a reputation for honesty and loyalty. With that comes responsibility. And difficult choices. People make mistakes and they’re not always about right and wrong. It would be lovely and a whole lot simpler if it were, but life holds gray areas. Until you’ve survived sixty-three years in those gray areas, I will not have you lecturing me.”
Simon, George, Loretta. They’ve all left me with their secrets and now I’m being judged by a cub reporter?
I don’t think so.
Once in the car, I reach back and set my purse on the floor behind Rae’s seat. She’s still standing on the sidewalk, apparently stewing, so I tap the ignition button and stare out the windshield. The quiet of the car combined with the low hum of the engine settles my simmering anger. I despise emotional outbursts. Who has that kind of energy to spare?
After a minute, Rae is still on the sidewalk. So this is how it will be? I press the button on my door and lower the passenger window.
“Rae, you’re more than welcome to take one of those Ubers you’re so fond of, but I will not sit here all day.”
She bends at the waist, staring at me through the open window. Did she just bare her teeth at me? Little spitfire. Even mad at her, I like her spunk.
I like even more that she’s gotten her tail moving and is climbing into the passenger seat.
I ease the car into drive and set both hands on the wheel, pulling away from the curb. “Obviously, you’re upset.”
“Ya think?” She buckles up and angles her body to face me. “I mean, Rose, what are we doing here? You said you trusted me. We’ve been running all over the freaking place talking to people when you had information about Loretta that could have been useful.”
“I disagree.”
She gawks at me, her mouth an open hole I could drive this car through.
“All right,” I say, “calm down. Please.”
“I’ve got news for you, Rose. This is calm.”
If I weren’t driving, I’d spear her with one of my looks Phillip says could stop a charging rhino. “What specifically would you like to know?”
She flaps her arms. “You’re unbelievable. How can I answer that when I don’t know what you know?”
Well, she has a point there. Up ahead, there’s a sign for the 101 and I make a production of reading it while I align my thoughts. I’m stuck. I’ve offered my help to Rae in hopes we’ll finally find those responsible for the Grande fire, but somehow, our research has driven us off-topic. We’re suddenly dissecting the private lives of my friends and I don’t see how those salacious, intimate details matter.
I make a left at the intersection and merge to the right lane, anticipating the on-ramp ahead. “Are we not trying to find an arsonist?”
“Of course we are!”
“Then what does that have to do with Loretta and George? And Myles, of course.” I hastily add that last part, hoping she won’t pick up on my tongue slip.
“Loretta and George?”
“And Myles.”
“Oh, come on, Rose. You added that bit about Myles to throw me off. It’s not working.”
“It’s—”
She puts her hands up. “Forget it. I’m gonna make this easy and tell you what I think. The union guys have been suspected of starting this fire, but I think that’s false information. Now, before you start with your whole Haughty Rose bit, this is just a theory. I’m not printing it. At least not until I can prove it.”
Haughty Rose? I should be insulted. Somehow, I’m not.
“I think,” Rae continues, “it was convenient that the union was in the middle of negotiations and they’d set smaller fires around the island. We already know none of those fires were the inferno the Grande was. They were started in sinks and wastebaskets and were easily contained. Why would they suddenly deviate with the Grande?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s because they didn’t, Rose. I think Myles was freaking out over this counterfeiting scheme and the Secret Service and a possible twenty-year prison sentence. It’s a pretty happy coincidence that the fire started above the casino, where a lot of cash was flowing. And the count room was just below that. The majority of the cash was confined to that front corner of the building. Did you realize that?”
No. I hadn’t. I keep my focus on the road while I mull this over. It’s not out of the question, of course, but why would Myles burn down his own building? Even with the insurance payout, the financial loss would be astronomical.
“I’m guessing by your silence,” Rae says, “you didn’t think about that.”
I merge onto the 101, but quickly throw my counterpart a glare. “Don’t be a smart-mouth. But to answer your question, no, I hadn’t made that connection. You think Myles started the fire to destroy the counterfeit cash they were laundering through the hotel?”
“It’s a theory.”
“Fine. What does that have to do with Loretta?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Edgar said Myles and George used her. Was she somehow involved in this counterfeiting thing?”
Oh, now she’s reaching. Loretta, a counterfeiter? Please. “I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because she had nothing to gain. She was a simple woman. Yes, she led an extraordinary life, but she had more money than she could spend. She still shopped the sale racks because that’s what she knew. Money was not a driving force for her. At least that I could see.”
“So you’re saying it was just her bum luck that she was wasted in the middle of the afternoon and passed out in her room? Right above where the fire started.”
“Oh my God, RaeLynn. Now it’s a conspiracy to kill Loretta?” This girl. Too much. “Stop this. Loretta was not involved in the counterfeiting. She and George were having an affair. According to George it ended months before the fire. That’s the big secret you’re so angry with me over. We all knew it—or at least suspected it. They didn’t flaunt it, but there were signs.”
“Like what?”
“Like George’s wife never coming to the Grande when Loretta was in residence. Then there was the flirtation. Loretta was a flirt, but there was something more with George. Touches here and there, a physical closeness she often resorted to that she didn’t have with other men. I’m sorry, dear, but that’s all there is. An affair. As far as her being in a room above the casino? She was afraid of heights, so she stayed in the most luxurious suite on the lowest floor possible. That’s it. Loretta was not murdered.”