Eddie gently pushed by me, pressed his fingers against Barry's carotid artery. "He's dead."
Using his police radio, he called for an ambulance and backup. Only a few people remained in the auditorium, watching us curiously. But Eddie and I knew there was a mob of people waiting in the lobby to come in for the next showing.
"Pen, wait here, and don't let anyone get near him. I've got to secure the auditorium," Eddie took two steps up the aisle, and then he stopped to tell me again. "Stay here, Pen. I mean it. Chief Ciders is going to want to hear your story, and you're going to have to answer a lot of questions."
I nodded dumbly, staring at the back of Barry's head. I remained that way for what seemed like a long time, until I was finally shaken from my numbed paralysis by Jack's voice bellowing in my head.
Hey, Penelope! What the hell are you doing? Wake up! Get to work!
"Work? What do you mean, Jack? What do you want me to do?"
First, look for cause of death. Search him for bullet holes, a knife wound-any sign of violence. Find out what exactly killed this lug.
I shook my head clear and took a deep breath. I didn't want to disturb a crime scene. On the other hand, with people dropping like flies, I knew somebody had to solve this case. At least Jack was here. He was an ex-cop, not just a dead private dick. He wouldn't steer me wrong-I hoped.
Have a little faith, baby.
"Okay, okay… "
I took tentative steps forward, approaching the corpse until popcorn crunched under my shoes. Barry had worn another Hawaiian shirt today; this one was yellow and green, and it was clear there were no holes, not even any bloodstains.
"He wasn't stabbed or shot," I told Jack. "Not that I can see."
You're missing something. Keep looking.
"For what, Jack?! There's a soda here and a bunch of spilled buttered popcorn. Maybe clogged arteries killed him!"
Maybe you're onto something.
"What?"
Something he ate or drank, doll. Maybe he was poisoned.
"Poisoned!" I crouched low, and stared into Barry's dead face. His eyes were half-open, the pupils dilated. There were flecks of foam around his lips.
"Oh, my god. I think he was poisoned."
I looked down at my wet shoes and slacks.
"And I think I have the stuff all over me."
Check the seat next to him. If someone gave the poor stiff the joy juice that killed him, it's possible the killer sat down next to Ponytail Man, just to make sure he drank it, and maybe to make sure he stayed upright in his seat until the show was over.
There was nothing left behind on the seat beside Barry. But as soon as I got close, I smelled something-the cloying scent of orange blossoms.
I'd only smelled that fragrance once before… in my bookshop, during an author signing. "It's Vouloir!" I realized. "Hedda Geist-Middleton's signature scent!"
Nice nose, baby.
"Thanks. But Jack… " I shook my head. "It seems so obvious. Did Hedda really come here and poison Barry to shut him up? Or… do you think maybe Harmony could have borrowed her grandmother's perfume?"
Good question, doll, because that's a good setup, too. Borrowing Granny's perfume to frame the old dame. That way, if Harmony is involved, the clue will throw the cops off her scent… literally.
I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call Seymour. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a signal right away, so I had to pace around the theater. Finally I found a spot where I got a decent signal, but when I called I got Seymour 's voice mail.
"Call me as soon as you get this message," I told him. "I need to know if you located Hedda, and I need to know her exact movements over the past hour. It's urgent!"
I closed my phone and it beeped. I had received a message myself, probably while I was out of range.
"It's Brainert." His tone sounded urgent. "I'm here with Sadie at the store and guess what? She found something in that out-of-print book about Gotham Features. Something that's going to blow this thing wide open. Don't bother to call. Get back here as soon as possible. It's a matter of life and death."
I closed the phone and looked around. The auditorium was empty now, except for me and Barry Yello's corpse. But from the lobby, I could hear Eddie shooting orders to the crowd. Far away, I heard sirens.
I raced all the way to the front of the theater and climbed the stairs to the stage. I hurried down the backstage staircase to the basement, and ran to the steel fire door, which led to the alley.
Before I pushed it open, I switched off the alarm system, just like Bud had showed me the previous night.
A minute later, I exited the alley. On Cranberry Street, lights flashed and sirens wailed. I took off in the opposite direction, toward Buy the Book, my wet shoes squishing with every step.
I started to gripe about how gross the squishing felt when Jack cut me off.
If I were you, doll, I'd count my lucky stars.
"Why's that?"
'Cause I worked plenty of crime scenes in my day, and when it comes to walking around fresh corpses, there's a lot worse things to step in than soda pop.
CHAPTER 21. Dying for Dinner
JOHN: You're a bitter little lady. EVELYN: It's a bitter little world.
– Hollow Triumph, 1948
"I'M BACK," I called, pushing through Buy the Book's front door.
The shop was still busy. Aunt Sadie was back behind the counter, ringing up sales. Brainert had been waiting for me in one of our overstuffed chairs. He leaped to his feet the second he spotted me.
"Where have you been?" he demanded.
"I went looking for Barry Yello at the Comfy Time Motel. You won't believe what I found."
Aunt Sadie turned the cash register over to Mina. Then she tucked the Gotham Features hardback under her arm, along with a few other books, and led Brainert and me back to the shop's storeroom, where we could speak in private.
As soon as the door closed, I told them what I learned about Barry Yello, ending with the grisly scene at the Movie Town Theater, and the scent of Hedda's rare orange blossom perfume Vouloir.
My aunt couldn't believe that the FylmGeek.com guru had been murdered. "We heard the sirens," she said, "but we didn't know what was going on. He was poisoned, you say?"
"I think the killer laced Barry's soda, which ended up spilling all over me."
Sadie glanced at my saturated slacks. "Bag them when you change your clothes. The forensics people will want them."
"So you saw everything?" Brainert asked.
"Well, I didn't see the poisoning, if that's what you mean. But I found Yello's body. Unfortunately, I disobeyed Eddie Franzetti's command to stay put. I took off before the police could grill me. Any minute, I expect Chief Ciders to come stomping into our store looking for my statement, so talk fast."
Sadie opened her book on the history of Gotham Features Studio. Just like Fiona, she'd attached Post-its to several pages. She flipped the pages to one of them.
"In the last chapter, we found this passage about Irving Vreen," Sadie said. She took the glasses that dangled around her neck-today's chain was faux-pearl-and balanced them on the tip of her nose.
" 'Within three years after Vreen's death, his wife passed away,' " she read aloud. "The studio, already close to bankruptcy, went into receivership and its assets were sold off. With the family fortune gone, Vreen's daughter, Margaret, twelve at the time, was adopted by a family friend, Sydney Kline, a production chief at Paramount Studios."
"Irving Vreen's daughter was named Margaret… as in Maggie?" I said. "And she was adopted by a man named