Cards on the Table - lanyon Josh - Страница 20

«My father didn't kill that bimbo! He didn't give that for her!» He snapped his fingers in front of my face. «Then what's the problem?»

His hand rose as though he was going to throw his glass at me. He screamed, «My mama, God bless her soul, is still alive. You think she should have to read that filth? I want you to drop this goddamned book.»

«Someone is going to write it,» I told him. «Sooner or later this big secret that you're willing to have Clyde break my neck over is going to come out. You'd be better off letting someone like me write the story because I don't give a damn about your father's kinks. I can write it so that no one will think twice about Eva breaking her engagement. But if you knock off another reporter looking into Eva Aldrich's death, you're going to alert the interest of a lot of people – including the cops – and a lot of writers who aren't going to be as sensitive as I am to this particular angle.»

He stared at me for what felt like a very long time. I didn't look away, and I tried not to show that I was wishing I'd left some final word for my parents or bothered making a will. After a few moments, I put my glass to my lips and finished my drink. «He didn't kill her,» Fumagalli said again, at last.

«I believe you.» The car was slowing. I glanced out the window and we were drawing up to the sidewalk outside my apartment building.

«You break your word to me and it'll be all she wrote. You get my meaning, Mr. North?» «Yes.»

«And I don't want any visits from Glendale PD. This conversation never happened, you got that?» «Yep.»

Clyde jumped out and opened the door for me. I unfolded and got out into the bright sunlight. The heat felt good after the unnatural cold of the limousine. I glanced back in, but Fumagalli was staring straight ahead. «'Til we meet again,» I told Clyde. He slammed the door shut and grinned at me. «'I'll be counting the minutes.» «Do you have that many fingers?»

He shook his head like he would dearly have loved to pop me if he only had the time, and jumped back in the limo. Watching the car pull away, I wondered if maybe Jack didn't have a point about pushing my luck.

Music drifted down from Jack's apartment as I walked past the pool: Bob Seger's «Beautiful Loser.»

He's playing our song, I thought grimly, letting myself into my own apartment. I was in no hurry to hear what Jack had to say. I already knew what Jack would have to say –about everything from my joyride with Frankie Fumagalli to our own doomed relationship.

I loosened my tie and went to the fridge. I still had a couple of hours before my next interview with Roman Mayfield. I toasted sourdough bread, spread it over with cashew butter and sat down with a glass of milk, flipping through the old copy of Life magazine yet again.

A picture of Eva standing in the pool yard at the Garden of Allah caught my attention. Or rather, not Eva herself, but the crowded pool behind her. There were a few familiar faces, nearly forgotten starlets and blandly handsome young men, but one face stood out. He had hair back then, which is why I'd never particularly noticed him in the bobbing mass of

young, laughing faces. I stared at the slightly blurred face staring past the camera, staring past Eva into the encroaching darkness.

Roman Mayfield had gone swimming the night of Eva's murder. And now I knew how, under the cover of darkness, someone could have waited for the right moment and washed away all that blood.

Chapter Twelve

«Did you bring it?» Mayfield demanded as I was ushered into the room with the starry ceiling. «Bring…it?»

«The exact hour of your birth. For your chart.» He planted a bony index finger onto some papers on the desk in front of him. «I forgot,» I admitted as I reached his desk. «Forgot?» «I've had a lot on my mind.» He was staring at me as though he couldn't believe his ears.

I said, hoping to redeem myself a little, «I do have an astrology-related question, though.»

He put his head to the side as though considering whether he should deign to listen to it. Then he nodded. «Would Sagittarius and Aries make a good team?»

The mismatched eyes lit with interest, although he asked sardonically, «Were you thinking of playing baseball or getting married?» «I'm just curious,» I said. «This is mostly theoretical.»

«Isn't everything? Hmmm…the Archer and the Ram. Yes, that's a very good match indeed. In fact, it's a 5-9 sun sign pattern, what we call trine – which means positive and harmonious vibrations. Depending on the moon and other aspects, your chances for finding happiness and love in a permanent relationship with an Aries are excellent. In fact, the empathy and emotional fulfillment you'll find with an Aries will rarely be as effortlessly achieved with another sign.»

I felt a weird desire to burst out laughing. Maybe Mayfield read something in my expression because he tilted his head to the side and said, «Any misunderstandings with this person will soon be cleared up.» «That's a relief.» He shrugged. «Mock if you will, but the stars don't lie.» «I wouldn't know about the heavenly ones, but the human ones sure do.»

After a moment he indicated the chair behind me with his finger. I sat down. I felt nervous – not afraid. The only real danger, I believed, was that I might be wrong. I might be way off base in my speculations, but I didn't think I was. «What have you learned?» Mayfield asked.

«I think I know who killed Eva. And I think I know how. What I don't know is why. That's the part that puzzles me.» «That's the only thing that puzzles you?» His tone was dry.

«Well, I'm not sure why you agreed to talk to me,» I admitted. «And I'm not sure why you stuck that tarot card on my door. It's almost as though you wanted me to…» «Discover the truth?» I nodded.

He smiled. «Fifty years is a long time to carry the burden of grief and guilt, wouldn't you say?» «Yes. I suppose so.»

«Yes.» He stared up at the cobalt blue ceiling with its blazing gold stars and mysterious moons. «My time is coming to a close.» «Is that what the stars say?»

«It's what my doctor says.» He permitted himself a grim smile. «And two specialists. It's a cliche, but as my hour wanes, I feel the need to…make peace with the past.»

Since I had already worked out this much, I'm not sure why it felt like such a jolt to hear it out loud. «You killed Eva?» I remembered the horror of those blood-drenched photos and I just couldn't seem to reconcile that manic violence with this quiet, gentle man.

«You already know that, my dear.» When I didn't have an answer, he said, almost reminiscently, «She'd discovered that Tony was queer. Eva was a naive girl in many ways, but even so it shouldn't have been such a shock to her. She was disgusted by what she had seen and it made her cruel.» «To you?»

He nodded «She was angry and bitter and more than a little wild that night, and I…was in love with her.»

«You were?» That hadn't occurred to me. I had pegged him as gay; that he might be bisexual never entered my mind. «Very much so. And I made the mistake of trying to tell her so that night.» «Oh.»

«Yes.» A strange smile touched his pale mouth. «And, you see, at the time I had been experimenting with peyote – mostly for spiritual reasons, though not entirely – and we all drank a good deal all the time back then.» «You're saying it was drugs and alcohol?»

«The drugs and alcohol didn't help, certainly.» He was silent for a moment. I thought of the times he had canceled our interviews, and I held my tongue.

At last he said, «I was the only one in the pool when she came out of the hotel and walked through the courtyard to Ball's villa. I got out and followed her inside. We argued. It was unlike either of us, really, those ugly, horrible things we said that night. She couldn't separate me from Tony, you see, she thought we were the same, and she was worse after I told her I loved her.» He fell silent. I said, «And so you picked up a knife?»