"Last month I got a letter from this guy who said he'd written a story about me and posted it online," I said. "I thought that was so sweet. Look at me, inspiring fan fiction and I'm not even a fictional character. So I type in the link he sent and I start reading it, and it's really cute, all about him meeting me at a show, then being taken backstage…"
"Uh-huh," one guard chortled.
I nudged him with my foot, letting my black silk skirt ride up my thigh, their gazes riding up with it. "So you think you know what happens next? You don't know the half of it."
He grinned. "Gonna tell us?"
"Let's just say that being able to contact ghosts makes for some very interesting menages a trois… and menages a quatre, and me-nages a… whatever five is in French."
They laughed.
"I never knew I had a thing for geishas and Amazons, but there it was, in vivid detail, and even more vivid color illustrations."
"Spirit photography?" one of them said.
I smacked his arm, letting my fingernails graze his biceps. "Drawings, of course. Very imaginative drawings."
The youngest guard swung around the laptop on the desk, fingers poised over the keys, brows raised in a dare.
"You think I memorized the URL?" I said.
All three of them teased me until I sighed and said, "Try these keywords. Jaime-spelled J-A-M-I-E, his attention to detail not extending to my name. Vegas. Geisha. Amazon warrior. And, ahem, Nubian slave master."
A howl of laughter.
"Found it," the guard said. Then, after a moment. "Holy shit."
"Did I mention it was imaginative? I don't know where I got those missiles." I waved at the picture, then at my chest. "But apparently there's more to me than meets the eye. A lot more."
As they laughed, Angelique passed the door, heading for the dining room. I jumped off the desk.
"Angelique!"
She stopped, frowning as she saw where I was.
"I need to talk to you. Someplace-" I glanced at the guards, "-private. Sorry, guys. Maybe there's an empty room someplace-"
"Take this one," the head guard said. "We'll clear out."
"Are you sure?"
They were. As they left, I thanked them and agreed to come by later with more stories. They waved Angelique in and closed the door behind them.
"We're supposed to stick to the common rooms," she said
"Do you know why? I'll show you in a minute." I moved behind the desk and sat. "But first, I bet I know who fed you stories about me. It's either Becky or Will, but my money's on Will. He tried the same shit with me the second day-hinting that you were talking about me behind my back. I wouldn't bite, but if I had, I can guarantee you'd have seen my response on the show."
Confusion, then dawning horror.
I continued. "Whatever you said about me, Angelique, it's now on film. And when it airs, you won't see what led to your comments, just the end results. Just you spouting seemingly ungrounded insults and accusations."
Her face paled. I waved for her to sit down.
"Whatever you said about me, I don't care, but you won't see me saying a word against you because I haven't. I've been around long enough to know better. I also know better than to do anything that will make me seem too good, and risk pissing off my costars. For example, sneaking a peek at a file on potential subjects. Did Becky tell you I did that?"
"Will. But he said he wasn't supposed to tell-" Her pretty face hardened. "That was part of the setup, wasn't it? Let on he's sneaking me secrets, and I won't go after you about it. They played us against each other."
"Becky did get me to look at a memo," I said. "Accidentally. On Gabrielle Langdon. That's why I tried to pass you the tips. And that's why I wouldn't make contact myself. It wasn't fair."
She flushed. "Guess I haven't been very fair myself. But Todd Simon warned me I had to be on the defensive, especially against you. He said everyone's out for blood in this town, and I'd get eaten alive if I didn't come out swinging."
"Well, you can stop swinging now, because I'm not your enemy. As for why I told you all this in here, let me take you for a little stroll. Show you a few features of the house they didn't cover in the tour."
I SHOWED her the hidden cameras in the common areas. She managed to hold it together until we were back in the guard room, then collapsed into the chair.
"I can't believe… my dad said I wasn't ready for Hollywood, but I was so sick of the revival circuit. I thought this was going to be my big chance." A strained laugh. "My big chance to make a fool of myself on national television."
I took the chair opposite hers. "Maybe not."
After talking to Angelique, I tracked down Becky and apologized for my poor performance the day before. I promised to do better that afternoon.
"I just… I guess I get nervous about contacting famous people who died fairly recently. With a case like Gabrielle Langdon, it was all over the news and so many people know the details. If I get them right, I'll look like I'm just remembering the case. If I screw up, everyone will know it."
She nodded. "I can see that. But you won't need to worry about that this afternoon. This guy hasn't been in the news for…" She calculated. "About thirty years."
"Thank God."
She checked her PalmPilot, then said casually, gaze still down. "You live in Chicago, don't you?"
"I do."
"Then you'll have an edge, because what he was famous for is a lot better known in Chicago than Hollywood, though he himself lived here. And there's no murder involved. Not his murder, that is, though he certainly sent a lot of people to their graves." A slow shake of her head. "Live that kind of life and die in your sleep. Proof that life isn't fair."
She studied my face, trying to see whether I needed any more hints. I didn't. I thanked her for her time, then went in search of Claudia and Grady.
JEREMEY HAD dined alone. That seemed wisest-letting Becky believe that her stars had passed the stage of feigning civility and now were avoiding one another even for meals.
The next seance segment would be later that morning, so I had to stick around. I tried persuading Jeremy to go-to hook up with
Hope, maybe pay a visit to Botnick at his shop-but he insisted there was no rush. We'd leave together after I was free.
In the meantime, I wanted to go into the garden, to try contacting the ghosts again.
"I know I'm not going to have some sudden breakthrough, but…" I let the sentence trail off.
"At the very least, you're letting them know you're still here. That's hardly a waste of time, if they're comforted."
Before we went outside, I collected my necromancy kit, then picked up a package I'd ordered from town. A little gift for Jeremy. Not much of a gift, I thought, as I looked into the bag. Unoriginal. Probably unwanted, under the circumstances. I wished I'd chosen something better. I wished I knew what better would be.
I took it out to the patio and thrust it at Jeremy with a mumbled "just a little something."
He opened the bag and smiled. Reaching in, he pulled out a sketch pad and pencils.
"Okay," I said. "Probably the last thing you need on this trip. But I thought, well, maybe if we had some downtime like this, you could use a distraction from the research."
"I could. Thank you. It'll help me clear my mind so I can see fresh angles. It's perfect timing too. I know you prefer to work without an audience breathing down your neck."
"Strange for a stage performer, huh?"
"No, not really." He folded the bag and put it into his pocket. "Let's get out there then, before they find work for you."
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
SO WE "WORKED" TOGETHER at the back of the garden, me kneeling on my ritual cloth, Jeremy seated off to the side out of my field of vision. If anything, I was more relaxed than when I been alone, maybe because I knew he'd detect-and warn me of-any intruders before I was "caught." Or maybe it was just comforting having him nearby, the steady scratch of his pencil underscoring the children's whispers. Even they seemed more patient with me, their encouraging caresses never turning to jabs and slaps. For all that, though, I made no progress.