Jinxed Page 11

  “Red for me,” Elaine says. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll try the red,” Doug says.

  “Me, too,” Dirck says. “Salud! To old times and good friends. Or is it the other way around?”

  “Works both ways,” Donna pipes up, adding a log of hard salami to the board.

  The rest of us sip our wine quietly, not bothering to respond to Dirck’s toast. Donna, on the other hand, raises her glass of white wine and says, “To Holiday! It’s so nice to have you all here. I was a great fan of the show.”

  “Thank you,” Doug says. “It’s good to finally meet you. Meg told me how kind you’ve been to her.”

  I see Dirck’s ears prick up. There’s too much I would prefer he not know about my life in the last year or so. I move swiftly to divert him. “Tell me, Dirck, how long have you been working with Chelsea?”

  “Yes, how long?” Elaine echoes. It hits me that I haven’t chosen the best diversion.

  “A good two years,” Dirck says, turning to Elaine. “She probably told you I gave her free classes until she got her first acting gig.”

  “No, she never said a word about it. And you never heard her mention my name?”

  “Not once. I had no idea you were her mother. But I set her up with an agent. Did she mention that?”

  “No,” Elaine says, her voice icy. “Not once. She never mentioned you at all.”

  “You’re kidding! She wouldn’t be out here without me.”

  “Maybe she wouldn’t be missing without you, either. Did you think of that?”

  “Wait a minute! I was in New York when she vanished. She was supposed to call in for a Skype session and didn’t. Is that my fault? First I knew she was missing is when I called Meg. Right, Meg? You said you hadn’t heard from her.”

  Thanks to Dirck, I’m back in the hot seat. Elaine turns her gaze on me and I take my time sipping wine. Do we need to get into this now?

  “Cheese, anyone?” Donna holds up a cracker slathered with Brie. “There’s some nice salami here.”

  With Elaine’s eyes still boring into me, I look at Dirck and shrug. “I was visiting Doug when you called. I had no reason to think she was missing, because there was no reason for her to be in touch with me unless she needed some help with the hat.”

  “My hat,” Donna says, under her breath. She hands the cracker to Doug, who slaps a slice of salami on top and eats it.

  “Is this the hat my daughter is supposed to have taken?”

  “She did take it,” Donna says firmly. “She walked out the door with it.”

  “My daughter is not a thief!”

  “Maybe she just borrowed it,” I say, hoping to placate her. “The hat she was using didn’t amount to much. Flimsy, hard to control.” I flick my wrist as though to demonstrate, but my hand knocks Donna’s empty wine glass off the counter. Elaine, in a move so swift I barely register it, catches the glass before it hits the floor and sets it back on the counter near the kitchen sink.

  “Nice one,” Dirck says. “Good catch.”

  “Thanks, Elaine,” I murmur. “That was quick.” But my eyes are on the business card she’s spotted on the counter.

  “Detective John Muldauer?” Elaine picks up the card, reads the name and looks at me. “He’s the one who called me.”

  “That’s mine,” Donna says, reaching for the card. “I’m the one he came to see.”

  Elaine glares down at Donna, holding the card too high for her to grab. “So that’s when you told him my daughter stole your frigging hat?”

  “Actually, I think he was inquiring about me, trying to confirm that I lived here, but Donna thought he was here about the hat,” I say, also reaching for the card.

  Elaine swings back to me, holding the card an arm’s length away. “So you were here, too?”

  “No,” Donna answers for me. “I was alone. Detective Muldauer said he’d call back to speak with Meg.”

  “He did?” I look at Donna, unable to check my surprise.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Donna and I lock eyes. “I guess he meant tomorrow.”

  “It sounds like you two need to work out your stories,” Elaine crows. “I’m beginning to wonder what else you two know and aren’t saying.”

  “I’m wondering that myself,” Dirck says, pouring himself more wine. “Let’s get this straight. Where did you actually last see Chelsea?” I’m not mistaken that Dirck’s voice has taken on the unctuous sound of Columbo about to entrap the guilty party.

  Dougie picks up on it, too. “C’mon, Dirck. Let’s not get too carried away, here. There’s no reason to think anyone’s hiding anything.”

  The scorn in Doug’s voice does not deter Dirck, who has assumed the mantle of Lieutenant Columbo in all but the shabby raincoat. “Sure, sure. I get what you’re saying, Doug, but let’s hear it from the ladies. When did you last see Chelsea?”

  “I invited her for dinner,” Donna says, “then went back to the kitchen.”

  “I said goodbye after our session. Then I saw that the hat was gone from the front table.”

  “That’s it?” Dirck says, disbelief oozing sweetly. “End of story? You didn’t give chase?”

  “Of course I did!” Immediately realizing my mistake, I backtrack. “I mean, I saw the hat was not where I’d left it, so I asked Donna if she’d seen it.”

  Dirck, his “aha” moment at hand, quietly says, “I thought Donna was in the kitchen.”

  “I was,” Donna says, “but then I came out to see if Chelsea was going to stay for dinner. But she had already left.”

  “And then?” Dirck says, shifting focus back to me.

  “I went out to look for her,” I dutifully respond, “but she was gone. That’s when I slipped and fell into some bushes. That’s it.”

  “Wait, that’s when you got the scratches? I thought you said you walked into some branches,” Elaine says, zeroing in. “Maybe you caught up with her . . . ”

  “Bushes, branches and a lot of wet grass, okay? I tripped and took a bad fall, that’s all. I did not harm Chelsea.”

  “I can attest to that,” Donna says, hurriedly supplying an alibi for me. “I came to the doorstep just after she fell. She was all alone.”

  “In any case, Chelsea was gone,” I say with finality, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

  “And so was my hat,” Donna mutters. “Look, dinner is ready. I’m just going to toss the salad together and then we can eat. If you want to wash up, now’s the time.”

  “Thanks,” Elaine says, “but, if you don’t mind, maybe Meg could show us where she was working with Chelsea.”

  “I was going to suggest that,” Dirck says, his “aha” moment still waiting in the wings.

  Doug rolls his eyes. “I’d rather watch a salad being put together.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “Donna, how long would that take?”

  She looks at Doug appreciatively. “Let’s say ten minutes until everything is on the table.”

  “Nine minutes,” Doug says. “We assemble in the dining room, hands washed in nine minutes. Meg, clock’s ticking.”

  Chapter Eight

  I fortify myself with a topped-up glass of pinot noir, pour another glass for Elaine, and lead my party of two down the hall to the den. “Off we go, this way, please.”

  “How did you and Donna meet?” Dirck asks, sidling up next to me.

  “A charity group. We just hit it off.” There’s no need to mention that we met while distributing Meals on Wheels to the housebound elderly. Donna’s motivation was entirely altruistic. I did it to get a free meal.

  “Lucky you, kid. I know you fell on some hard times for a while, but this more than makes up for it.”

  “Don’t get any wrong ideas. I was looking to downsize.” As much as I’d like to know how much Dirck has delved into my past legal and bankruptcy problems, I don’t want to give him an opening for more probing. “This is temporary until I find something of my own.”

  “I don’t know why y
ou’d ever leave,” Elaine says, looking around the book-lined den with its quaint mullioned windows.

  “Funny, that’s just what Chelsea said to me.”

  “Really? So she got the grand tour, too?”

  I shake my head. “Donna offered, but I don’t think she was that interested. Some people see this as nothing more than clutter.”

  “Junk, I know. First thing I’d do is clear it all out. But I wouldn’t mind having the closet space, you know?”

  Elaine’s dismissive tone does not mask her envy, nor does the appraising look in Dirck’s eyes fool me. “Pru would give her eyeteeth to live in a place like this,” he says quietly. “A backyard would be nice for the kid.”

  I unlock the French doors and give them a shove. The moisture has caused the wood to swell. “Watch out, the grass is slippery. That’s how I fell.”

  It’s also cold and drizzling. I hurry across the lawn to the pool house, Dirck and Elaine on my heels. The lock sticks, but I manage to push the door open. “Sorry, it’s chilly in here, but we’ll just be a minute.”

  I flick a switch on the wall that turns on every light in the room and illuminates the outdoor pool. Elaine and Dirck stop on the threshold to look in awe at the wall of French doors that open on to the pool, tennis court and rolling, landscaped lawns. The Olympic-sized pool, lit underwater, glows a jewel-like turquoise, its surface ruffled with gently falling rain. Inside, shabby-chic sofas and chairs clad in chintz are grouped in front of a fieldstone fireplace. Snug in an alcove is a fully equipped kitchen with such charming 1940s touches as a vintage stove and fridge and a soda fountain ringed with shiny stools. A jukebox stands in the corner next to an old-fashioned pinball machine.

  I hear a sharp intake of breath and turn to see Elaine gazing at the lunch counter with its soda siphons and malted-milk machine. “Did Chelsea talk much about home?” Her voice is soft. I almost miss hearing the question.

  “Home? No, not at all, Elaine. To tell you the truth, we had very little time and a lot of work to do. We shoved aside the Ping-Pong table so we could work with the hat.” I flip my hand around as though tossing a hat in the air and catching it on my head. “You remember?”

  “How could I forget your precious hat?” Her tone is cold and dismissive again, but I understand. I insisted on doing all of the hat tricks myself, even in the action sequences. It was a matter of pride with me and irritated the hell out of Elaine.

  “So, that’s it. Chelsea and I worked for a couple of hours. That’s all. Ready to go? I know we’re all hungry.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dirck says. He stands at the base of a spiral staircase, looking up into darkness. “What’s up there?”

  “Nothing. Storage. Nobody goes up there.” I clap my hands together and head for the door. “Okay, ready to go?” But Elaine is looking out on the pool and Dirck can’t seem to pull himself away from the spiral staircase. “Really, nothing more to see here, Dirck. The route we took out here is the same one Chelsea and I took.”

  “You mind if I look up there?” He’s already climbing the stairs.

  “There’s no light. It’s storage.” I’m firm, but it has no effect on Dirck. “Would you please come back down? We did not go up there.” For a moment, all I see are Dirck’s pants legs from the knees down, then he slowly makes his way back down the stairs.

  “You never know,” he says.

  “I think dinner’s on the table. Let’s go.” I stand in the drizzle, holding the door open until both Elaine and Dirck are outside. While they hurry back across the lawn to the den, I turn out the lights and lock the door. By the time I return to the kitchen, Elaine is pouring herself the last of the pinot noir.

  Donna has managed with lightning speed to give the dining room a pub-like atmosphere. The long oval table is set with tin chargers under colorful Fiestaware plates on a blue-checked cloth. The lights are low and candles in ye olde English pewter candlesticks are lit. On a chilly, rainy night, what could be more welcoming than pot roast and good conversation with old comrades? Actually, one out of three is welcome. The pot roast is delicious but, for the most part, the old comrades eat in silence until Dirck clears his throat and turns to me.

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask if they ever caught that fugitive husband of yours, the one that robbed you blind?” His voice is casual, but the question lands on the table with a thud.

  “Excuse me?” Elaine’s cutlery clatters onto her plate. “What’s this? Nobody told me about a fugitive here. You were married to a criminal? You, Miss Perfect?”

  “Dirck, please.” I sit back and take a deep breath. “This isn’t something I want to go into. Not now.”

  “Hey, sorry I brought up a touchy subject.”

  “Well, I’d like to know! I mean, what’d my daughter walk into here?” Elaine asks, her words slurring. “This guy’s still on the loose?”

  “No. It’s over, okay? Let’s not get too dramatic here, Elaine.” In his stern, quiet voice, the one that brought instant silence to a set, Doug says, “We have moved on.”

  “Not so fast,” Elaine counters. “How do we know Chelsea ever left here? Think about it—no one saw her leave.” She reaches for the Cabernet and drains the last of the bottle into her glass. Swirling the wine, she looks at each of us. “Meg didn’t see her go out the door. Donna didn’t see her leave. Who knows if my daughter even left here? And if Meg, who was the last to see Chelsea, is harboring this fugitive—”

  “I’m not!” I gape at Elaine as she polishes off her wine. “That’s crazy!”

  “Is it?” Dirck intones with doomsday portent. “I wonder.”

  “I was thinking a search warrant,” Elaine says. “Getting the authorities up here to investigate just what’s going on.”

  “Enough!” Doug thunders. “Let’s not spoil this lovely dinner. There is no fugitive lurking here, never was. Nor is Chelsea hidden here. Who would benefit from that?” He puts a leathery hand on the table, stands and picks up his glass. “I would like to propose a toast to Donna. This is the best meal I’ve had in years.”

  “Hear, hear!” Dirck says. “To Donna!”

  I lift my glass. “To Donna, thank you!”

  “Yes, to Donna,” Elaine says, raising her empty glass and looking almost contrite, but definitely tanked. “Look, I barged in here uninvited, so it was nice of you to ask me to stay for dinner. I also gotta thank you for making a big, stinking deal of the hat, because the truth is the police will investigate breaking and entering or some lousy theft, but they don’t give a hot damn about a missing person, you know? According to them, because my daughter’s not a child and doesn’t have a mental disorder, she has every right to disappear if she wants to. So, here’s to you and a nosy neighbor and some cops who wanted to check out Meg’s address.” Elaine puts her glass down and buries her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know where to turn.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Elaine. I know this is hard.” I take a breath, then quietly add, “Especially when she knew you were coming today.”

  Elaine shakes her head. “No, she didn’t know. It was supposed to be a surprise. I just don’t understand what could’ve happened to her. Not showing up for work? It’s not like her. That scares me.”

  “Actually, the police have a point,” Doug says. “She may not be missing at all. Sometimes kids do dumb things. I’m a father, so I know.”

  “Maybe she’ll just turn up,” Dirck says. “It hasn’t been that long since Meg saw her the other night.”

  “Why would she take off now?” Elaine demands. “Why? Her car is gone, but then I assume she took it with her. Where would she go?”

  “She didn’t drive her car here,” I say. “Someone dropped her off.”

  “That means someone was going to pick her up,” Elaine says. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. She said she had to meet someone, but she didn’t say who it was.”

  “Damn it, you’ve got to know more than you’re letting on! I just wish to hell she
hadn’t got mixed up with any of you in the first place. I told her not to take this job. I knew it would be a disaster for her. It was for me.”

  “Man, I’m glad she didn’t listen to you,” Dirck says. “Jinx is her big break. I told her it would launch her film career if she played her cards right.”

  “Like you know everything. Why the hell she had to study with you—”

  “Whoa, there. Let’s rewind a bit,” Doug says. “You wanted her to turn down the role, but she took it anyway, right?” He rests his elbows on the table and leans toward Elaine, his gaze shifting into a middle distance that seems to fall somewhere to the side of her left ear. Elaine, too, must recall that when Doug gave notes on set, he never looked directly at you. He spoke in a kind of deathless whisper that was mesmerizing. “You must have had a pretty good reason. And she knew how angry it made you. A kid somehow always senses a surprise visit coming. And there’s always a reason the visit is a surprise. Why not let her know you were coming out?”

  I hold my breath for the answer to a question I was dying to ask. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Elaine bite her lip before answering.

  “We hit a rough patch a couple years ago. Normal, I suppose. We were close, maybe too close. She needed to break away. We had a falling out, didn’t speak for a while, but things seemed to be getting back on track until she told me she was coming out here for this role. I blew up, said things I shouldn’t have said. I could’ve told her I was coming out, but—”

  Doug lets the pause linger, then says softly, “There’s always the chance—”

  Elaine shakes her head slowly. “If she’d said don’t come out to visit, it would’ve killed me. I couldn’t take the chance.”

  Doug nods. “I know. I’d sooner die than hear that from my kid.”

  “Worse, maybe she somehow did know I was coming—”

  Speaking in a low voice so as not to break the spell Doug has cast, I ask, “Elaine, why are you concerned she might have known you were coming out here?”

  “What an asinine question!” Elaine snaps irritably. “I don’t want to think my kid disappeared just because she didn’t want to see me. I wanted to surprise her, that’s all.”