Murder Came Second (18 page)

“Sounds like he made out pretty well, too.” I sipped my drink slowly. I still didn’t know what we were leading up to.

“Yes, for some time. I’m afraid my visit didn’t help, unfortunately. When I told him I was going to be an actress, he said
he
was going to be an actor. Just like that. Like you’d decide to have mustard on your hamburger because I put some on mine, and it looked good. But his parents went along with it, planned on college and a year’s acting school.”

“What happened? Did he do well?” I had begun to wonder just how long this saga was going to be.

“A big discount store moved into the area, and downtown businesses went downhill. Some even had to close, although the drug store managed to survive. It’s ironic, that our play here has the same theme, and it’s probably not helping Bobby’s emotional state. Anyway, there was no money for acting school, and university turned into a little community college in the next town over. And Bobby, grateful boy that he was, sued his parents for breach of contract!”

“He sued them?” Cindy’s eyebrows were on the rise again.

“Yep. Sued them for breach of contract. He said they had a verbal contract to send him to the University of Pennsylvania and then to a year in acting school. His grades were good enough to get into Penn, ergo, they had to send him. He had lived up to his part of the bargain.”

“I assume nobody allowed him to pursue that madness.” I pulled my cigarettes back and lit one, scolding myself silently on general principals. I had long ago lost count.

“Well, yes, he actually found a lawyer who was willing to represent him, but a judge threw it out before it ever came to court. Can you imagine the precedent it would have set? It boggles the mind! Kids would be suing their parents over a new bike! Unfortunately, word of it spread all over town. Bobby’s parents were very popular and well thought of in the area. While most people looked on it as just a stupid teenage trick by a spoiled brat. Bobby immediately became a treacherous young villain to some. He actually received threats, to the point where he decided to leave town.”

I sipped my drink and groused, “I’m surprised he wasn’t tarred and feathered and ridden out on a rail.”

“No, it never got violent.” Elaine sighed. “But his parents were afraid it might, and gave him a couple of thousand dollars they couldn’t spare. He came to New York to become an actor.”

“I’m afraid they were much more generous than I would have been,” Cindy added. “I think my only expenditure for him would have been a one-way bus ticket to Burnt Cactus, Arizona.”

“How did he make out as an actor?” I sucked on an ice cube and hoped the end of the tale was in sight.

“He spent a few months at some third-rate acting school, and then thought he should be leading man in every play scheduled for a Broadway run. God! After four years as a drama student in college, one at AADA and three years doing off-off-Broadway walkons,
I
had finally gotten the part of a salacious maid with about twelve good lines in
A Goldfish Bowl
on Broadway. I was so grateful, I walked around saying ‘Thank you, God,’ over and over everyday.”

Cindy nodded in understanding. “Did you see much of him at this time?”

“Too damned much. He was living with a couple of guys who wanted to get rid of him, and he wanted to move in with us. But Joan was teaching, I was trying to get my own career going, and we had her little girl Katie, so fortunately, we had no room, or time, to help him. I tried to help him get parts, but he messed up the few he got. His attitude was that he knew it all, and no director had anything of value to tell him. He seemed to have no future in the theater at all. Of course, he has apparently found his niche and is doing quite well.”

She filched another cigarette and looked at me as she returned the pack. “May I presume you’ve already guessed that Bobby is here with us?”

Chapter 15

I stared at her, my mind racing like a runaway engine. Bobby Leonard. There was no Bobby Leonard in Carlucci’s group. I was sure of it! But no, he wasn’t Bobby Leonard anymore. I visualized the stocky little boy with his golden curls and big blue eyes and full lips, and unexpectedly I saw a tall, handsome, broad-shouldered man with blond wavy hair and light blue eyes and a sexily sulky mouth. I saw Hamlet . . . David Willem.

And my speeding thoughts ran on to the
A-List’s
comments about him, as if his claim of an old, aristocratic Dutch family were a lie and that his wife might well be fictitious as well. Then I recalled his superior air, his comments about his years at Princeton and his great Shakespearean training at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in England, his arrogance toward the other actors and toward the stage manager, his condescending courtesy toward the locals. Oh, yes, I knew right where our Bobby was!

I wondered how he could keep all his stories straight and why someone who knew him as a boy hadn’t faced him down with them years ago. Finally I realized Elaine had begun to speak again.

“So you see, all this stuff Terese Segal has been publishing, well, about all of us, really, has me especially worried about her comments on Bobby. He’s not the most steady boat in the river. I don’t know what he would do if the whole distasteful story came out. She hinted to him the other day that she knew something about his schooling. If she knows that, she may well already know or find out everything and blast the whole sordid account across the front cover of the
A-List
!”

Her eyes welled over. Tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. “I can’t let that happen to him, he’s still my brother. I think I could survive it if I must. I have Joan, and her daughter Katie’s grown and married now, with a fine life of her own. She’s expecting their first child shortly. We would make it through, I think. But Bobby . . . on the bottom line, Bobby has no one except me. I have to stop Terese, but I can’t think how. Can you please help me stop her?”

I had never felt sorrier for anyone in my life than Elaine at that moment. As for Hamlet, one side of me thought he had it coming. But I supposed I shouldn’t judge anyone who had been through what he had suffered as a child.

What I felt or thought or judged was really academic. The truth was, I hadn’t the foggiest idea how to shut up Terese short of a thirty-eight-caliber revolver, which was sure to put Sonny in a bad mood.

“Well,” I said, “I know there have been many complaints about her first article—I mean from the town selectmen, the Chamber of Commerce and, I believe, from certain state organizations, plus a Congressman and Senator or two. I can’t believe the editors won’t be awfully careful about what they publish in the future. There are some people you just wouldn’t want to provoke.”

“But, Alex,” Cindy countered, “If Terese’s information is
correct
, there really is no legal reason to stop her, is there? I mean, they can’t stop you from publishing something if it is true, can they?”

“No, darling.” I smiled. “You are quite right. There isn’t.” Oh, how I would have liked to put an ice cube up each of her nostrils at that moment! “But pressure from those in high office usually makes people think twice about antagonizing them. I think it may well work out. Or, Elaine, you might simply try to talk to Terese. Surely there is a heart or at least some sense of social responsibility in there someplace. Just tell her the truth. This could put Bobby over the edge mentally. I can’t believe even Terese would want to be accountable for that.”

“Yes.” Elaine stood. “I guess that’s about the best move.” She didn’t sound convinced, and I didn’t blame her. “Well, maybe I’ll have a brainstorm. We can hope. Thank you both for listening to my screed. I feel better, even though nothing is really solved.”

“Elaine, believe me.” I gave her a hug. “It will all work out. Somehow these things always do.”

“If all else fails,” Cindy promised, “I’ll get one of the tekkies at work to hack into the editor’s computer at the
A-List
and publish a sizzling tale about
her!
”

We all managed a weak laugh on that, and Elaine left us, walking carefully across the now dark yard.

Within two minutes we had cleared the outdoor table, gone into the house, and I had ordered an extra large sausage and pepper pizza, without a word of protest from Cindy. Within five minutes I had filled Fargo’s bowl with kibble, and he was chomping sturdily through it. He’d be happily surprised at the pizza for his second course.

Cindy poured herself a glass of milk and sighed. “What a terrible mess for poor Elaine. Do you think she can talk Terese out of using whatever information she has? Or can fabricate?”

I shook my head. “As you so pointedly said, my love, not if it’s true. Just think how Hamlet is always strutting around, just letting it drop oh-so offhandedly, that he went to the RADA and to Princeton. If it turns out he’s a graduate of Split Elm Community College and Ramon’s Stairway to the Stars, that alone would be worth twenty thousand extra to the A-List circulation. If Terese has found someone who knew Hamlet as a teenager, she may easily find out the whole miserable thing, and I don’t know what would stop her from publishing it, except decency, and we know that ain’t in ’er. Ah! There’s the pizza truck.”

I met the deliveryman at the back door, armed with the correct change plus tip. I wanted nothing to slow this late dinner down. We concentrated on the pizza for a time. Fargo was so attentive, making sure he got every crust. Most with a bit of meat, cheese and sauce left on. His nose was quivering.

Eventually, we slowed. Finally, we stopped. We were replete.

Cindy got around to the subject we hadn’t quite explored with Elaine. “Do you think Hamlet will have some sort of emotional break if this tale goes public?”

“I think Elaine is very worried that he might. With good reason, I fear.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s built up this whole façade about an Ivy League school and a founding father family, that kind of half-British accent, etc. That would be quite a tumble for him. He does seem edgy. He had a real wingding over nothing with Polonius the other day. And I heard him arguing with Carlucci, too. Carlucci wanted Hamlet to sound sweeter and gentler when he broke up with Ophelia. Hamlet seemed genuinely confused when he asked Paul, ‘Why should I be sweet? I’m through with her, aren’t I?’ That almost scared me when I heard him.”

“Whew! Makes you worry a bit, doesn’t it?” Cindy polished off her milk and stood up. “Want coffee?”

“Yeah, great. It is frightening, especially when you figure he’s only acting, anyway. And then there’s the old genetic thing. Mama was bonkers. Daddy may or may not have been a pedophile. God, I’ll be glad when this is all over and they all go back to New York. I’ll never complain about plain old tourists again.”

Before Cindy could answer that, the phone rang.

It was Sonny.

“Well, hello,” I said. “I wondered where you’d been of late. Where are you? Hiding from Terese?”

“In a way. I’ve been in Boston until this morning. Home now. Remember my old army pal who’s head of security for INN-TV over there?”

“Vaguely.” I nodded my thanks to Cindy for the coffee and took a sip.

“Well, he and I talked to one of their producers and convinced him to do a little special on our great theatrical weekend coming up. He thought it a good idea. It’s summer, news is slow. Great publicity for the town. For Carlucci, too, of course.” I heard ice rattle in a glass.

“Since when are you a PR expert? What’s this all about?”

“Oh, I have been known to have the rare creative idea. This was just one of my better ones.” He was very smug about something. “It’s a great little piece. It’ll be on at six tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it. And try to make sure all your people next door remember to watch . . . just in case Carlucci forgets the time. He’s always sort of in a fog.”

I took a gulp of coffee and burned my mouth. “They are anything but my people,” I sputtered, “But if I see anybody, I’ll remind them.”

“Okay, Sis, I’ll see you soon.”

We hung up. I wondered why he called me
Sis
? Usually he reverted to that childhood name only when he was very excited or upset. I shrugged and turned back to Cindy to announce our TV plans for Monday night. Neither of us could figure out how Detective Lieutenant Edward J. Peres could be involved in a TV program promoting an
outré
version of a Shakespearean play. Finally, we gave up guessing and went outdoors to enjoy the cool evening.