The phone call was sobering. Anastasia’s editor told her that she should be ready to pack up and leave Elysium at any time.
“Vernon Abernathy is on the warpath, Anastasia. Our publisher is a golf buddy of his, and Abernathy has been demanding to know who Anastasia Fernands is.”
“He didn’t tell him, did he?” she asked.
“No, but Abernathy is in a rage about those pictures you took. He says his lawyers tell him he can sue us, because there’s a no-cameras policy at Elysium.”
“Can he sue?” asked Anastasia.
“Of course. This is America. I guess his lawyers can do anything they want. Whether they’d win or not is another story. The point is, you should know that your time at Elysium is almost over and act accordingly.”
Lingering over her morning coffee, Anastasia kept her eyes trained on the entrance to the dining room. Finally she decided that it was stupid to wait any longer. The actress might not even be coming down to breakfast.
Getting up from the table, she pondered the situation. If there was any chance to get what she needed to show that Kyle Quigley was a predator, the actress was it. Anastasia had to persuade her to go in with the hidden camera while she had a sleep treatment.
That was a lot to ask. But she would make an emotional, moral, and professional appeal to the actress. This guy had to be stopped. The actress would be using her professional skills to catch him. And, as a bonus, she might even get some publicity out of it.
Anastasia walked into the lobby, went to one of the house phones, and asked to be connected to the actress’s room.
“We have no one registered under that name,” said the operator.
Of course, thought Anastasia as she hung up. The actress hadn’t registered under her own name.
Anastasia was undeterred. She had to find her.