Alice Kimberley - The Ghost and the Femme Fatale

My aunt couldn't believe that the FylmGeek.com guru had been murdered. "We heard the sirens," she said, "but we didn't know what was going on. He was poisoned, you say?"

"I think the killer laced Barry's soda, which ended up spilling all over me."

Sadie glanced at my saturated slacks. "Bag them when you change your clothes. The forensics people will want them."

"So you saw everything?" Brainert asked.

"Well, I didn't see the poisoning, if that's what you mean. But I found Yello's body. Unfortunately, I disobeyed Eddie Franzetti's command to stay put. I took off before the police could grill me. Any minute, I expect Chief Ciders to come stomping into our store looking for my statement, so talk fast."

Sadie opened her book on the history of Gotham Features Studio. Just like Fiona, she'd attached Post-its to several pages. She flipped the pages to one of them.

"In the last chapter, we found this passage about Irving Vreen," Sadie said. She took the glasses that dangled around her neck-today's chain was faux-pearl-and balanced them on the tip of her nose.

" 'Within three years after Vreen's death, his wife passed away,' " she read aloud. "The studio, already close to bankruptcy, went into receivership and its assets were sold off. With the family fortune gone, Vreen's daughter, Margaret, twelve at the time, was adopted by a family friend, Sydney Kline, a production chief at Paramount Studios."

"Irving Vreen's daughter was named Margaret… as in Maggie?" I said. "And she was adopted by a man named

Kline?"

"That's right," Brainert replied. "And look here…"

He snatched a paperback from Sadie's pile. It was one of Maggie Kline's mystery novels.

"I thought we'd sold out of those," I said.

"This is my personal copy," Aunt Sadie replied.

Brainert opened the book to the About the Author page. "Look here," he said, tapping it. "Maggie's biography says she's the adopted daughter of Sydney Kline, an executive at Paramount Studios." His eyes met mine. "Maggie Kline must be Margaret Vreen."

"Oh my god," I said. "Any chance it's just a wild coincidence? Is she even the right age?"

Brainert nodded. "I've already done the math-Maggie comes off as a youthful spirit, but she just turned sixty-nine. Wendell confirmed it for me. Her age is exactly right. She would have been twelve in 1951, when her mother died and she had to be adopted out to a family friend."

"If Maggie Kline is Vreen's daughter, then she has every reason to want to pick up where Dr. Lilly left off," I said. "Once she reads Dr. Lilly's book, she may even want to see Hedda prosecuted for her father's murder."

Sadie nodded. "If Hedda knows who Maggie really is, then she must know the woman is a terrible threat, and Maggie's life may very well be in danger."

Brainert nodded grimly. "We have to warn Maggie before the festival dinner tonight." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I have to go home and change. I'm expected to co-host this event so I have to arrive early."

I remembered my own damp slacks and soggy shoes. "I'll meet you at Chez Finch. Hopefully Seymour 's there already, and he can keep things under control until we arrive."

Brainert left and Aunt Sadie went to the front of the store to close up for the day. My cell phone rang and I answered.

"You called?" Seymour said.

"Where are you!" I cried.

"In the lobby of the Finch Inn, waiting for Hedda to come down to the big dinner. She went upstairs thirty-five minutes ago and hasn't budged since."

"Where was Hedda before that?"

"Our diva told Fiona she was going on a long walk, but Fiona didn't know where. I followed the trails around the pond but saw no sign of her. Finally I gave up and came back to the inn. That's when Hedda returned."

I pondered the time line and realized Hedda's "walk" provided more than enough time for her to poison Barry Yello and stroll back to the inn, with no one the wiser.

"Where's Harmony?" I asked.

"Missing in action, so far. No eye candy for me today."

"Well, don't take your eyes off Hedda until I get there!" I commanded. "I'm convinced she's a murderer, and I don't think she's done killing yet."

"Whoa, hold on. Give me some kind of heads-up. Who do you think Hedda is going to kill next?"

"No thinking about this one. I'm sure Hedda's next victim is Maggie Kline."

I CHANGED AS fast as I could, tearing off my saturated clothes and stuffing them into a plastic bag. I washed my legs and feet off in the tub, grabbed an old, black cocktail dress from my closet and zippered it on, then slipped on patent leather slingbacks and grabbed my evening clutch.

Just as I was about to race out of the apartment, I turned around, ran back to my bedroom, and reached into my leather shoulder bag. I quickly transferred Jack's old buffalo nickel to my black purse.

"Okay, Jack," I whispered. "Come on!"

Good girl. I can't watch your back if you don't take me with you!

Minutes later, I was swerving my Saturn into Chez Finch's crowded parking lot. By now the sun had set and the restaurant was radiant in the deepening twilight. Light streamed through its romantic French doors and arched windows, reflecting off the water and giving the entire scene a golden glow. Laughing couples in 1940s' costumes were already crowding the entrance, with more jovial guests crossing the parking lot.

I'd just climbed out of my Saturn when I spied Maggie Kline rolling across the lot, behind the wheel of Dean Pepper's Lexus. She probably thought I was crazy, the way I waved her down.

"Stop, Maggie! Please stop!"

"Whoa, Mrs. McClure, what's up?" she called through the open window.

"I have to speak with you, it's urgent," I said. "It's about Hedda Geist- Middleton."

Maggie frowned. She jerked her head toward the empty passenger seat beside her. "Get in."

I climbed into the car. Maggie was dressed casually in jeans, a pressed white cotton shirt, and scarlet high-top sneakers. She circled around the lot until she found a spot well away from the other cars, near the path that led to the lighthouse. I saw the parade of solar lights marching up the trail into the darkening woods.

Maggie cut the engine, released her seatbelt, and faced me. "Okay, Mrs. McClure, I'm all ears. What's this about?"

"Hedda is going to try to kill you tonight," I blurted out. Then I slowed down and told Maggie everything I'd discovered so far, ending with a personal revelation.

"I know Maggie Kline is not the name you were born with. I remember you said people in Hollywood change their names all the time. You did, too, didn't you? Only not for a casting call. You changed your name when your father and then your mother died, and you were adopted. Your real name is Margaret Vreen, isn't it?"

In the uncertain light, I could see the pained surprise on her face. People often liked to bury their pasts, and I hated to invade her privacy, but this was life or death.

"You're right," Maggie said nodding slowly. "My father was Irving Vreen. The past was difficult for me, and I've done my best over the years to leave it behind me. It hasn't been easy. Every day of my life, I've lived with what happened-not just to my father, but to my mother, and to me. But listen, Penelope, just because Hedda was involved in my father's death, it doesn't mean she wants to kill me, too."

"No, Maggie, don't you see? Hedda's already killed Pierce Armstrong, the last witness to your father's murder. She killed the woman who wrote about it, too. Dr. Lilly was on the verge of making the Vreen murder big headline news again, maybe even the next big retro Hollywood crime story. With Pierce Armstrong's interviews I'm sure she could have done it, too. Obviously, Hedda didn't want that to happen. She murdered your father in cold blood sixty years ago. She let Pierce take the fall for her while she blackmailed a district attorney and exploited his statutory rape of an underage girl. Then she got off scott free!"