“It looks like a remote sound unit,” Kelly said before Dalton could. Jason rolled his eyes and Kelly could only hope that was all he would do.
“Can you tell me what this was doing in the vent your crewman supposedly disappeared from? Call me suspicious, but it doesn’t look like it’s original to the house.”
“We were conducting a sound test for the Halloween show, in case we wanted to place microphones in the heating vents for coverage.” She looked at Harris Dalton. “I forgot to mention that Kyle had placed it — that was why he was in here.”
Dalton frowned. He now had his evidence that Kelly had been using a gag — and a bad gag, at that. He now knew she was desperate enough to have engineered this whole stunt. He was tempted to come clean right then about the tape and his suspicions, but decided he would just report it to corporate and let them handle it.
“I don’t see what this has to do with our missing people,” he said instead.
“Is that right, detective Dalton?” Jackson said snidely. He placed the speaker and remote down on the tabletop. “Right now, everything has to do with your missing people and that traumatized boy.” He raised his eyebrow again and pulled a sheet of paper from his inside suit jacket.
Kelly looked from the paper to Harris. He refused to look her way. She knew he was going to explode directly in New York’s direction the first chance he got.
“We ran a check on this gag-man of yours. It seems Kyle Prichard did time in prison — three years in Chino, to be exact.” He looked up from the report. “For…guess what?” he asked smugly.
Kelly glared at Jackson. Anything he had to say about Kyle would news to her. He had been an acquaintance of one of the special effects guys at the network lot.
“No guesses?” His smile faded. “He did time for sexually assaulting a child.”
“Look, we didn’t—”
“It was just a boy, not much younger than Jimmy Johansson,” he said. “Now, we have a boy that’s obviously been traumatized severely, and we discover that one of your crew has a lurid criminal history and is capable of inflicting such trauma. And then, amazingly, he comes up missing.”
“As I was trying to say, we—”
Again, Jackson didn’t allow Kelly to speak. “If we don’t find your men, I’m going to charge you and your entire production crew with criminal endangerment of a minor for having this man on your crew.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kelly said. “Is this what you did to Professor Kennedy, railroad him like you’re trying to do to us?”
“You’ve already lost one host — he’s probably out in the woods, hiding your child molester.” He stood. “I want to speak with the other host.”
“Answer my question. Is this the way you treated Professor Kennedy?”
Jackson glared at Kelly. He was just starting to respond angrily when two men walked in through the double doors.
“Ms. Delaphoy, please, I advise you to not say anything more, other than what you directly witnessed.”
The two men wore brand new jeans and cotton shirts. One had a briefcase; the other, older man, a scowl.
“My name is Harvey Dresser, Attorney at Law. My partner and I have been retained by the UBC television network to represent your interests.”
“Were you hiding in one of their vans?” Jackson asked.
“No, Lieutenant, we were actually staying about ten miles from here on a fishing vacation. I received a call from Abraham Feuerstein, the Chairman of the Board of General Television and Electronics. I don’t know him personally, but someone I do know does, who also knew I was up here.”
“Now that’s what I call pull,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Another coincidence.”
“Not pull, Detective Jackson, we’ll call it fortuitous, since I believe you were about to cast an awful lot of circumstantial perversions of this strange situation at the people I now represent. Any other questions can be asked after you conclude your immediate investigation. My clients will, of course, be amenable to further interview at any time. But until then, I have instructions for them to return to New York posthaste.”
Jackson reached out and removed his trenchcoat from the back of a chair. He put it on, following it slowly with his brown hat.
“You bet, Counselor. We’ll be in touch,” he said. His smile didn’t reach his dark eyes.
The attorney and his associate continued into the room, toward Wallace Lindemann. The estate’s heir had stopped pacing and was watching the exchange. He lowered his cell phone and took a quick drink from his glass.
“Mr. Lindemann, I was instructed to pass on to you the network’s sincere apology for what has transpired on your property this evening.”
Wallace nodded and puffed out his chest, looking from the attorney to the other faces watching him.
“Well, that’s the least of your worries my friend. I plan to—”
“Also, I am to pass on to you that if you attempt to break the lease for the dates and times specified in your contract with UBC, we will sue you for the price of said lease, in a breach of said contract. It is my understanding that would be almost all the remaining liquid funds available to you.”
Wallace suddenly lost the liquor-induced bravado he had been feeling just a moment before.
“By the way, sir, I was a great admirer of your family.”
The attorneys turned away and gestured for Jason, Harris and Kelly to follow them out of the salon.
“Detective, the network and their legal department will be eagerly awaiting your findings,” he said to Jackson as they left.
“I’ll be sure to get your bosses everything, Counselor. You can count on that.”
On her way past the large gate, Kelly leaned out of the van and looked back at the brightly illuminated house. If and when she returned, she needed to be armed with the best people money could buy. She had a distinct, inexplicable feeling that the house wanted her next.
She desperately needed one man — a man who knew Summer Place better than anyone alive. She needed him to come trick-or-treating with the rest of America on Halloween night.
She needed Professor Gabriel Kennedy.
PART TWO
CASTING CALL
SIX
Harrison Lumley had known Gabriel Kennedy since their graduate studies at Cal Berkley. For the past few days he had seen his old friend go from his classes to the quad area outside of his building and do nothing but sit under one of the trees and pretend to eat his lunch, or read a book. Harrison knew that television producer had visited Kennedy, and had a hunch her visit was what was occupying Gabriel’s mind. After reading this morning’s Houston Chronicle, he thought he better check on Gabriel.
“You know, October in east Texas isn’t like October in LA, my friend,” Lumley said as he looked down on Gabriel. “It’s hot as hell out here. It’ll make your peanut butter melt.”
Kennedy looked up, shielding his eyes, and held out the sandwich.
“With what you pay me, all I can afford is cheese.”
Harrison tossed the Houston paper down upon the grass next to Kennedy.
“I already know. It was on Good Morning America. Nice way to start the morning information, losing your toast and coffee.”
“This vindicates what you told the police seven years ago, wouldn’t you say?”
Kennedy shook his head. He looked at his half-eaten sandwich, then tossed it onto the brown paper bag next to him.
“Vindication for me, or vindication for my lost student?” he asked, looking away toward the science building.
“You. If you’re cleared of this mess, that means they have to reopen the case and try again to find that kid.”