“
You should be glad you didn’t join their little crime family,” I said, trying to fight my revulsion at this confession. “It’s been a bit hazardous to their health. They all get dead.”
“
Yeah. Which sure points a finger at everybody’s favorite gun industry spokesmodel as the murderer, doesn’t it? He was their number one mark. Turn here.”
I shivered in the cold night air, thinking the facts could equally well point to Marva herself—especially the frying pan murder
“
Why wouldn’t a gun person like Walker shoot Toby like the others?” I blurted out. “And why all the gang stuff? None of that sounds like Walker Montgomery to me, but maybe you know something I don’t know…”
I stopped myself before I got in bigger trouble. At least I hadn’t told Marva about Rick, or his gang friends who might be at the Hacienda. I did not need to tell her how friendless I was at the moment.
“
Who knows? Walker’s a loose cannon. He threatened to kill Toby if he didn’t turn over the letters. Then he threatened Luci, after the letters disappeared the night Ernesto died.”
“
What did happen to those letters that night?” I kept my eyes on the road.
“
I have a feeling Ernesto took them from Toby out of revenge. Maybe he was going to blow the whistle on the whole deal. Confess to Plant Smith or something. He and Toby had a big fight that night. The kid had his own scam going—trying to sell Plantagenet Smith some forgery he was doing on his own—and Toby went ballistic when he found out—and confiscated all Ernie’s stuff. That night, the folder with all the blackmail evidence—Ernie’s forgery, the Joaquin letters, plus that photo of me—disappeared from Toby’s desk. Toby was pretty sure Ernesto stole it. He called me to warn me the kid might have the copy of my photo with Jonathan. I was pretty annoyed. But not as annoyed as Walker. He’d already paid Toby his blackmail money, so technically, the letters belong to Walker.”
I peered through the dark as my brain sorted through this. Maybe Ernesto did steal the letters, but that didn’t explain how they got to Mrs. Boggs Bailey—or how the Viboras figured in.
Marva fished in her bag for something.
“
Slow down and take a hard right.”
After I made the treacherous turn onto what was clearly marked a “private drive,” I glanced over to see that Marva was efficiently inserting a clip into a small, rather elegant silver and onyx pistol.
I clutched the wheel and tried to keep my voice calm.
“
Please, let’s not shoot anybody. They may not know we’re on to them. Can’t we just talk Donna into coming back with us? I can say we’ve set up an interview with Jonathan for her. I don’t think she even knows about the letters. Walker Montgomery sort of seems to like me, so…”
Marva clicked something on the gun. “Don’t be taken in by his aw-shucks act. He can be a vindictive bitch. Of course, he’s always had it in for me because of my relationship with Duncan.”
“
You’re involved with Duncan Fowler?”
This was getting more and more surreal. I was not relishing the idea of engaging in a shoot-out with Mr. Heavily-Armed Testosterone and Mr. Right-Wing Pundit, whether they were gay or not.
“
Was,” Marva said. “Long time ago. When I was…somebody else. But I know my way around his place. My parents had a little ranch just over the next hill. Sold out to a big winery a few years back.” She pointed ahead. “Drive all the way past the stables and park just this side of the helicopter pad.”
I negotiated the winding drive through the oaks up to the sprawling, mission-style ranch house on the hilltop. I heard a horse whinny into the night. It sounded spooked. I could sympathize. As I rounded a curve, I saw the helicopter, silhouetted in the moonlight, perched like some monster insect in a clearing a few hundred yards ahead.
“
Park here,” Marva said. “They can’t see us with that big old chopper in the way. Then you need to change out of those clothes. We have to be absolutely quiet once we get in the house. I’ve got a couple of pairs of flats and some jackets in the trunk. You can’t do this in couture and heels, sweetie.”
A few minutes later, wearing a gray hoodie and shoes that looked like they used to belong to somebody named Bozo, I followed Marva as she glided, cat-like, toward Duncan Fowler’s ranch house, clad in a black satin trench coat, Gucci scarf and jeweled satin ballerinas. Trying desperately not to trip over the borrowed size twelve Adidas, I plodded behind, past the helicopter pad and onto to a path that led past the stables to a driveway that ran along the side of the house.
Once we reached the house, Marva sneaked behind the famous Mustang and a Lexus with vanity plates that said NEWSFOWL. She led me toward a fenced-off area full of trash bins.
“
Uh-oh. Company,” Marva whispered. She pointed at a car parked further down the drive.
It was a Ferrari 360 Spider convertible.
“
Plant!” I said. “That’s Plantagenet Smith’s car!” What could he possibly be doing here?
Marva held her gun ready as she kept an eye on the house.
“
Plantagenet Smith, the screenwriter? Cool. He’s a friend of yours?”
I nodded.
“
Fabulous,” said Marva. “This will work great. Go up to the front door and ask for Mr. Smith and distract them. I’ll sneak in the kitchen and find our little media whore and do my best to get her out safe. Meet me back at my car in ten minutes.”
I checked my watch
“
Distract them? It’s nearly eleven o clock at night. Why do I say I’m here?”
“
Say you’re looking for your ex. Or Mitzi. You’ll think of something.” Marva disappeared into the dark.
I clomped up to the massive carved doors of Duncan Fowler’s house and shivered as terrible questions ricocheted around my brain. If Walker Montgomery had already murdered three people, was Donna was even alive? What if he’d killed Plant, too? My panic rose. It didn’t make much sense to me that Plant would be visiting an arch-conservative pundit—gay or not—at this time of night.
Duncan Fowler himself came to the door. He looked old and tired without his TV make-up and his signature crew cut was more gray than blond. He pulled the door partly shut behind him and spoke in a fierce whisper.
“
Marva, it’s too late. We know you lied about having those letters, and we’re about to leave…” His eyes rested on my chest. “Oh, excuse me. You’re not Marva…”
“
No. I’m Camilla Randall—the Manners Doctor. I’m staying at the Rancho Grande. I’m a friend of Plantagenet Smith. Is he here?” I hoped my polite, clueless smile covered my inner terror.
The thought came to me that Marva might be a liar—or crazy. And this could be a horrible trap. But at this moment, I had no choice but to keep my smile pasted on and step into Duncan Fowler’s lair.
“
Camilla! Darling, what are you doing here?” Plantagenet appeared at the door behind Duncan. “Is something wrong?”
I quieted him with a friendly hug as I whispered in his ear. “The shoes are borrowed. I’ll explain later…”
Duncan
ushered us into a faux-rustic sitting room, where Silas rose to greet me.
“
Duncan, you didn’t tell me you and Dr. Manners were friends,” Silas said. “But of course, with her ex-husband in the business…”
“
Yes, Jonathan Kahn and I have met.” Duncan Fowler’s gracious-host mask betrayed nothing as he ushered me into the room. He poked the remains of a fire that glowed in the stone fireplace.
Plant didn’t sit.
“
Darling, we were just leaving. Duncan’s taking off for Australia in the morning. He’s taking his helicopter to LAX. Nice way to avoid the traffic.”
I had to avoid Plant’s eyes as I forced a laugh. I looked at my watch. I just had to keep them all occupied for ten minutes. I plunked myself down in a distressed leather easy chair, ignoring Plant’s disapproving glance.
“
Are things okay at the Rancho?” Duncan’s eyes showed anger, but his voice was polite. “Any news about Gabriella? I hope she has a good lawyer. It’s such a tragedy about her…”
“
I don’t have any news about Gabriella, but…” I put on a dramatic expression. “Mitzi Boggs Bailey has been arrested.”
A small truth rather than a big lie. The Manners Doctor always said it was the best route out of a difficult situation.
“
Oh my. What has that poor old girl done now?” Duncan said.
“
She and Jonathan Kahn have been detained by the Chumash security people. Something about stealing a horse. And things at the Rancho seemed, um, a bit chaotic when I spoke with Alberto.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as phony to them as it did to me.
“
Mitzi was arrested for horse thieving?” Duncan laughed. “I’m not surprised. That husband of hers was an old horse thief, too. “Gaby Moore has been a saint to put up with her all these years. Maybe that’s one of the reasons she snapped.”
“
Gaby didn’t snap,” Silas said with a sharp tone. “I’m sure she’ll be released as soon as the Sheriff does some homework.” He pulled a phone from his pocket. “I’ll try the Rancho again. If Gaby hasn’t been released yet, we’ll head back to my house. The Rancho will be a zoo with the investigation going on.”
He paced the room, trying to get a signal.
“
I can’t believe Gaby relies on that prehistoric phone system,” Plantagenet said. “We haven’t been able to get through to anybody all evening.” He turned to me. “At one point your policeman friend answered, but we were cut off. He told Silas there’s been a kidnapping, but for some reason, the Sheriff had been delayed…”
“
I can’t get a signal in here,” Silas said. He took the phone out to the hallway.
“
How did you find out we were here, darling?” Plant said. “Did you call Silas’s store? I should have given you my cell number. Not that you can get any kind of reception in these mountains. Trying to have a conversation on the way up here from Santa Barbara was comical…driving my Ferrari forty miles an hour so I could hang onto a tenuous phone connection before the next curve in the road cut me off entirely.”
A look of shock flashed on Duncan Fowler’s face.
“
You? You drove over the San Marcos pass last Friday—in a Ferrari?” With a nervous laugh, he turned to poke the fire again. “They’re so unreliable. I like my Lexus.”
Plantagenet stood beside my chair. “I guess Silas’s manager told you his Wilde first edition has been stolen? Duncan was the last customer who looked at it, so…”
“
He wanted to make sure I hadn’t nicked it.” Duncan gave a stiff smile.
Plant looked hurt. “Of course we didn’t suspect you. But Silas thought somebody might have tried to sell it to you, before it made its mysterious reappearance at the Rancho, since you’re a Wilde collector…”
“
So the book Mrs. Boggs Bailey gave you—it’s not a forgery?” I found this odd news. “Are you sure? What about the letter?”
“
That’s the strange thing.” Silas called from the hallway, pacing as he pushed buttons on his phone. “The handwriting is identical to what’s on my book’s flyleaf.”
“
But that’s the problem.” Plant perched on the arm of my chair. “It’s precisely the same. Usually a person’s handwriting changes over the years.”
Duncan
cleared his throat. “Don’t feel you have to stay. I’m sure you’ll be in a hurry to rescue poor Mitzi...”
Silas stood in the doorway. “As soon as I check with the Rancho, we’ll be on our way. I need to know if we should stay at the Rancho or go back to San Luis.”
I glanced at my watch again. I needed to stall at least another five minutes.
“
So that book Mrs. Boggs Bailey found was stolen from Silas’s store? Didn’t Ernesto Cervantes work in one of his stores? Isn’t it likely he’s the one who stole it—and stashed it in Mrs. Boggs Bailey’s room for some reason?”
“
You think Ernesto stole from Silas?” Plant’s eyebrows went up. He looked in Silas’s direction, but Silas finally seemed to have reached someone. He was listening intently as he paced the hall.
I wondered if he’d reached the Rancho, and what he’d found there.
Duncan
’
s eyes had sharpened as he glanced from Plant to me.
“
Are you talking about that boy who was killed? He was in a street gang, wasn’t he? I think I heard that on the news. I don’t know why Silas would have let him work around valuable books. I hate to say it, but you just can’t help these people. They don’t want to work, and they’ll steal you blind.”
Plantagenet’s lips went tight. “Ernie loved Silas like a father. I refuse to believe he would steal from him.” He stood and tried to get Silas’s attention. “We all should go. We’ve stayed way too long. Duncan, I’m sorry we barged in at this hour.” He shook Duncan’s hand with stiff politeness and gave me a significant look.