The Renewable Virgin (24 page)

‘I know,' I sighed. ‘I'm supposed to say something like
I was a woman before I was an actress
and then bat my eyes and smile. Sorry, Ivan, I'm just not up to it today, okay?'

‘Okay,' he said dubiously.

Marian was laughing. ‘Now, what's got into you? Come on—I think I can sneak a break at that.'

‘My family always said “bathroom tissue”,' Ivan called after us by way of goodbye.

We went to a private club on East Fiftieth that I didn't much care for except that it sure as hell was
private
. I didn't have to worry about strangers coming up to me there or even being gawked at. Normally I rather like being gawked at, but circumstances were different now. Our private booth had one-way glass in the window; we could watch the passing parade outside without being seen ourselves.

‘This place must cost you an arm and a leg,' Marian said in hushed tones. ‘All I wanted was a cup of coffee.'

I explained how lack of privacy had suddenly become a real problem. ‘I don't even feel comfortable in your office, Marian. People stare there too.'

She nodded. ‘So what's this big dramatic scene you told Ivan you wanted to play?'

‘What's his last name?'

‘Ivan's? Malecki.'

‘Malecki, that's right. Couldn't remember it. Did I offend him, do you think?'

‘No, but you puzzled him. You sounded out of character.'

‘I am. Completely out of character. Not sure what my character is anymore.'

‘Oh Gawd, not the existential miseries.'

‘No, nothing like that. It's just that everything's shaken up. Leonard sitting behind Nathan's desk and not looking at all happy about it—'

‘Really? That's a surprise.'

‘Surprised me too. I don't mean he regrets taking over the production company—he's going ahead with everything okay. But he's not getting the kick out of it he should be getting. He should be King of the Hill now, but he's not.'

‘Maybe he needs Nathan Pinking as an adversary to spark him. Could be it was the fight itself that kept him going.'

‘That's what I was thinking. He and Nathan have been battling for so long, Leonard must feel something is missing from his life now.'

A waiter appeared pushing a trolley laden with about forty fancy finger sandwiches and at least twice that many elaborately iced pastries. That's what you got in that place when you asked for
just coffee
.

When he'd gone, I said, ‘Marian, I hope you don't mind my dragging you away from your work. No big scene, that was just to keep Ivan Malecki from coming along. There are just some things I don't understand. Like why did Nathan Pinking sell out to an old enemy like Leonard? Why didn't he sell to somebody else?'

‘He couldn't. You had no way of knowing it, but Leonard Zoff already owned forty-nine per cent of Pinking's production company.'

‘
What?
'

‘And Pinking owned forty-nine per cent of Zoff's theatrical agency. It was a deal they worked out when they dissolved their earlier company—Pinking and Zoff Productions. You remember, I told you about that.'

‘Then they were still partners? All this time?'

‘They certainly were. And the contract they signed specified that neither partner could sell his share without the permission of the other partner. So once Pinking was arrested, Zoff had him over a barrel. Pinking had to sell to Zoff or see the business fold. If he hadn't been worried about providing for his family, Pinking probably would have just told Zoff to go to hell.'

‘That's something that's always amazed me,' I said, nibbling on a pastry. ‘How Nathan could be such a monster
and
a good family man at the same time.'

‘Never heard of the Mafia, huh?' Marian said wryly. ‘Anyway, Zoff bought just a big enough percentage from Pinking to give himself majority control of both the production company and the agency. I think he's going to hire somebody to run the agency for him.'

‘Yes, he's already done that. He promoted one of his own people. Leonard's going to keep on managing a few of his clients, though. Including me.' Leonard-the-agent had just negotiated my new
LeFever
contract with himself, Leonard-the-producer. I
think
I came out all right on that one.

‘Do you have a new sponsor for
LeFever
yet?'

‘Oh God, yes. NBC had to fight 'em off, even though they raised the advertising rate again. It's weird, isn't it? You'd think that once the story became public—well, look. Here's this producer that's been blackmailing somebody into sponsoring his show. The other advertisers
ought
to be thinking that the show has to be a real turkey if that's the only way a sponsor could be found. But no—they're lining up for the privilege of paying for
LeFever
. We're in the news now, and it doesn't matter what that news is. Just so people are talking about us—that's all that counts.'

‘What about your movie?'

‘Same thing. They've even started negotiating about my new series, the one to be based on the movie. In fact, all of Nathan's shows have been covered except
Down the Pike
—ABC cancelled that one. But if things keep going like this, Leonard Zoff is going to end up a rich man.'

Marian made a vague gesture with her hand. ‘Well, that's show biz.'

‘No, it isn't,' I said glumly. ‘That's the advertising biz.'

A silence grew between us. We drank our coffee and looked out the window. There was something I wanted to ask her, but my mouth had grown suddenly dry. I took a drink of water; it didn't help.

I'd forgotten Marian Larch could sometimes read minds. She said, gently and considerately, ‘He's undergoing psychiatric examination. A whole team of doctors, the Cameron clan got them for him. The police psychiatrist has already declared him competent to stand trial, but the date won't be set until the Cameron psychiatrists are finished.'

I nodded; that's what I'd wanted to know. ‘I've decided to put him out of my mind.' My voice sounded strained.

Marian smiled sadly. ‘Good idea.'

And then I was surprised to hear myself saying, ‘I don't want to do any more
LeFever
episodes.'

Marian raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, well. Now what do you suppose the connection
there
is?'

‘I don't know.' I tried to think. ‘I tell you I'm going to put Ted Cameron behind me and I suddenly realize I hate the television show I'm doing. Why would one lead to the other? Ohwowohwow. I don't know, Marian—I told you I was out of character today.'

‘Maybe that's it,' she said. ‘I'll bet it's the character you're playing that you don't like. Do you see any connection between your television role and the role you were playing with Ted Cameron?'

I was so shocked I couldn't speak. I wanted to yell, I wanted to hit her, I wanted to deny it at the top of my voice. The character I played in
LeFever
was only a human toy, for God's sake, something for the hero to play with. I wasn't like that, I didn't
think
of myself like that, I knew better … at least I thought I knew better. All of a sudden I was filled with doubts, uncertainty. It was an
awful
feeling.

Finally I said, ‘Fiona Benedict was wrong about me.' Somehow that came out sounding too much like a question. I made it more positive. ‘She was wrong. She had to be.'

Marian looked at me a few moments as if trying to make her mind up about something. Then abruptly she said, ‘Kelly. Don't judge the Miss America contest. Call your lawyer friend Howard and see if he can break the contract for you.'

How ironic. How dumb. I started to laugh. It sounded artificial, even to me. ‘Relax. I'm not going to judge any Miss America contest. It's all been decided. They cancelled
me
.' Marian didn't say a word; just sat there with her mouth open. ‘That's right. Seems my image is no longer wholesome enough for them. What with a killer for my lover and a blackmailer producing my shows, I'm no longer fit to associate with young American virgins. That kind of dirt rubs off, you know.' I sounded even more sarcastic than I'd meant.

Marian let out the breath she'd been holding. ‘If I said I was sorry, I'd be lying and you know it. I'm sorry you didn't have the pleasure of telling
them
where to get off, but you're well out of it, Kelly. You don't need that.
You don't have to play those games
. Now for Pete's sake pull yourself together and get back to being your usual peppy self. You make me nervous, the way you're drooping around. You're well rid of all of them, Cameron and Pinking and even Miss God Bless America. You've had just one fortunate escape after another—what are you so gloomy about? Cheer up, damn it! You don't realize how lucky you are.'

She looked and sounded exactly like a sixth-grade teacher I'd once had. ‘Yes, ma'am,' I said in a tiny voice. ‘Go screw yourself, ma'am.'

‘That's better,' she beamed. ‘Now I hate like the very devil to leave this sinfully luxurious establishment you've brought me to, but I do have to be getting back. Work awaits.'

Belatedly I realized how much of her time I'd taken and signalled to the waiter. ‘Thanks for listening, Marian. What are you working on now—or am I allowed to ask?'

‘Sure you are. I'm on the Richard Ormsby case now.'

‘Oh?' The waiter brought the bill and I signed; two coffees, fifty dollars. When he'd left, I said, ‘That case is still open? It's been a while. Do you really think you'll ever know who killed Richard Ormsby?'

‘I already know who killed him,' she said bluntly. ‘I even know why he was killed. What I don't know is how the hell I'm going to prove it.'

CHAPTER 17

MARIAN LARCH

Ivan Malecki sat on his spine and scowled at his feet stretched out in front of him. ‘I don't believe it. There's no way that can be right.'

I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and give him a good shake. It had taken me the better part of an afternoon to convince Captain Michaels, and now Ivan was being stubborn.

The Captain shifted his considerable weight in the big chair behind his desk. ‘I'm not totally convinced myself, Malecki,' he said. ‘But if she's wrong, there's no harm done. If she's right, we damn well better follow through.'

‘I just don't believe it,' Ivan said mulishly.

One more try. ‘Look, Ivan,' I said, ‘can you suspend disbelief about one basic matter, for just a moment? Every time we investigate a killing, we go in assuming the victim is dead for a reason that directly involves him. Either he's been killed in the heat of passion, or he's a threat to somebody, or he stands between the killer and something the killer wants, or—'

‘Yeah, yeah. This isn't my rookie year, you know.'

‘Okay, then, can you just forget about all that? Assume, just for a minute, a man can be killed for reasons that have nothing at all to do with him personally—all right?'

‘Sure.' Ivan sat up straight. ‘Jesus, Marian, you think I'm dumb or something? The gangs go joyriding and take pot shots at whoever happens to be standing on the sidewalk. Shooting up the neighborhood just for the hell of it. Those people aren't killed for any
personal
reason. Matter of chance.'

‘Then assume for just a moment that Richard Ormsby too was killed for reasons that had nothing to do with him.'

‘Crap.'

‘Maybe it's not, Malecki,' Captain Michaels helped out. ‘Scotland Yard turned up a few enemies who wouldn't mind seeing Ormsby out of the way, but every one of them was in England at the time he was shot. Ormsby was in New York only four days before he was killed. Yeah, I know—it's
possible
something happened in those four days that made it necessary for somebody to get rid of him. But it's not very damn
likely
, is it? Well, is it?'

‘No,' Ivan muttered reluctantly.

‘And we haven't turned up any reason why anyone over here would want him dead except Dr. Fiona Benedict and her damned book, and we know she didn't do it because she was in the lock-up at the time of the killing. So what's left? Do we tell the Commissioner and the British Ambassador and maybe even the Queen herself, gee, we're sorry, we can't find out who killed the visiting celeb so we're going to go work on other cases now, goodbye and thank you? Look, Malecki, he didn't get it for any of the usual reasons, so now we gotta take a look at the
un
usual reasons. And Larch here has come up with a lulu.'

‘It's downright weird, Marian,' Ivan grumbled.

I couldn't argue with that. ‘The whole case has been weird. Starting with Fiona Benedict's attempt at murder. The police case against her was weak right from the start. Both of you two had trouble believing Fiona was guilty of attempted murder—a lot of people felt that way. But she did try to kill Ormsby. She tried hard. Even though she didn't succeed, her
trying
to kill him is germane to what happened later.'

‘You know what happened later?' Ivan cocked an eyebrow at me.

‘I think so. If you're willing to assume for a moment that Richard Ormsby was killed for reasons that had nothing to do with him personally—then take a look at the aftermath of the shooting. Three things happened. First, there was a big surge in the sales of
Lord Look-on
. Second, the collapse of Ormsby's planned publicity tour caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people. But it's the third thing that's important.'

Ivan nodded impatiently. ‘Fiona Benedict was released from custody. So?'

‘So, who benefits from her being out of jail? Who, aside from Fiona Benedict herself, is the one person on this earth
who is better off
because Fiona was released? What did she do when she got out?'