“You know, this new foam soap makes me think of shaving cream.” The inanity made me cringe, but the angry silence had just been too much.
“We’re checking into you,” Missy said. She was so stiff I thought her jaw would crack.
“Okay. What else did you say?”
“You’re a whore for the Spooks.”
Spook was an incredibly pejorative term for the vampires, werewolves, and Álfar who made up the Powers, and it offended me. She’d gotten under my skin.
“Okay, I’m not going to take you up on this,” I said. “First, you shouldn’t be approaching me without the other parties being present, and do you really think this is a winning strategy—to be nasty to one of the people judging this case?”
“That’s the problem. There’s only one person judging, and you’re questionable.”
To get a towel I had to stand right next to her, and she didn’t budge. We were inches apart. “I’m going to do you a favor,” I said. “I’m not going to mention this conversation to Mr. Sullivan, but don’t you ever approach me again. Understand?”
“I’m not afraid of you. Once we finish with the Álfar we’ll take care of the others, and people like you, too.” Missy slammed out of the bathroom.
There was a quivering in the pit of my stomach. I waved, the dispenser burped out a towel, and I clutched the material so tightly that my nails broke through the rough paper. We’ll take care of the others? Who was the we? My mind jumped to the threatening phone call from last night. Maybe I should say something to David, but I didn’t want to prejudice the proceedings for all the human actors because Missy was a bitch.
I left and found myself walking with a whip-thin older man whose deep-set dark eyes seemed even blacker when contrasted with his shock of silver hair. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was also heading for the doors leading to IMG. He held open the door and indicated for me to go ahead, displaying the kind of manners you only saw in vampires and the elderly.
Inside it seemed like the entire firm was milling around in the reception area. Everyone was staring at us. No, correction, they were staring at the old man. He paused for an instant. The young PA from earlier edged closer and said in a breathless voice, “Mr. Campos, it’s an honor to meet you. I think No Miracle was the best movie ever made.”
So, this was the expert witness, the world-famous director whose films had influenced Spielberg, Lucas, and Coppola. I knew from our documents that he was eighty-two years old, and hadn’t worked much in the past twenty years.
“Well, then, you’d be an idiot. Citizen Kane was the best movie ever made,” the man said in a rumbling, gravel bass that could have doubled for the voice of God.
The kid didn’t seem embarrassed; he just seemed dazed that he had spoken to his idol.
“Mr. Campos, I’m Linnet Ellery, one of the arbitrators in this case. I’m heading back to the conference room if you’d like to accompany me,” I said.
“Certainly.”
“Can we get you anything? Coffee? Water? Soda?”
“Water, please.”
There was a scramble as the PA and several others went lunging for the break room. We walked in silence. Then just before the door to the conference room he said, “Nothing’s like it used to be, not the town or the industry. This is just part of the change.” And he once again held the door for me.
“They’ve been a disaster.” Campos’s words were flat and uncompromising.
“But they are beautiful,” Sheila LeBlanc said. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Oh, yeah, they’re gorgeous, but looks aren’t what makes an actor. Look at Bogart, Astaire, Tracy, Orson Welles, Hepburn—who was, frankly, funny looking. Those were actors. These Álfar, they’re like pretty dolls with just about as much animation.”
There was a stir from Qwendar, and Palendar looked outraged.
“I won’t use them in my movies, and most directors feel the same way if you get them in private.”
I looked down at the statistics I’d compiled and stepped in before LeBlanc could pose another question. “I don’t understand, Mr. Campos. If we extrapolate from your statement, then the Álfar shouldn’t be getting cast. But they are. A lot. The statistics are here.” I held up the papers.
David pinned Sheila with a look. “Is there going to be a long line of directors who support Mr. Campos’s view? Because if so you seem to be making Ms. Gabaldon’s case that the Álfar don’t have an advantage.”
“We’re getting to how this is relevant,” she said. “Mr. Campos, if you would, please.”
Campos jumped in. “They get cast because they whammy the humans when they audition. They’re not winning these parts on merit. They’re cheating. Using their magic.”
Qwendar took to his feet. “That is gross slander, and I object.” It was declaimed more than spoken. I remembered John telling me that the Álfar all lived as if they were in an opera. Qwendar seemed to bear that out.
David gave the ancient elf a weary look—and a vampire could pack a lot of ennui into a look. “Mr. Qwendar, this is not a courtroom, and you aren’t representing the other party, so you really can’t object to anything. Now sit down.”
“I will report your attitude to the Council,” Qwendar said.
“That is your prerogative,” David answered. “Though I don’t see how they have any relevance to this case.
Barbara Gabaldon stood up. “If I may, Mr. Sullivan?” David nodded in assent. She turned to the director. “Mr. Campos, you state this as if it’s a fact, but by your own testimony you say you’ve never cast an Álfar. So how could you have experienced this reputed magic power?”
“No, I haven’t felt it because I don’t read them. But everyone knows it exists. It’s the only thing that explains what’s been happening.”
Gabaldon looked at us. “Forgive me, but belief isn’t evidence. I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to consider this witness’s testimony.”
David and I exchanged a glance. She had made a good point, and LeBlanc had walked right into it. “We’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Gabaldon.”
Both Missy and Palendar were looking confused and pissed. They could sense something had happened, but seemed not to understand the ramifications. Jeff, watching quietly from a seat against the back wall, gave a sad, slow headshake.
McPhee was next. It was like watching a breaching whale as he levered himself out of his chair. “Well, Mr. Sullivan, this has been most interesting testimony. Most interesting indeed. And if it’s true that these Álfar actors have put the whammy on people, then my clients”—he indicated all the studio and network suits—“can’t be held liable in any way. They were under the influence, so to speak. It seems to me that this fight is between the human actors and the Álfar actors, and all the rest of us are just innocent bystanders.”
One corner of David’s mouth quirked up in a barely suppressed smile. “Nice try, Mr. McPhee, but no. And now you can sit down, too.” He looked back at Sheila. “Are you finished with this witness, Ms. LeBlanc.” She nodded. “Well, as Mr. Palendar has an afternoon call and Ms. Gabaldon has a court appearance on another case this afternoon, we will adjourn for the day. See you all tomorrow.”