That morning, Bryan had put through a call to Jackson, explaining all the details of this case as he knew them. He knew help would arrive—important, since he couldn’t offer his body as a shield for Marnie Davante and explore all options of investigation at the same time.
In spite of the incredible way they were getting along—jerk, witch—he was discovering he was fascinated by Marnie Davante. She wanted to be independent, and she certainly wanted to go through life being a decent human being. She was a mess over the situation—who wouldn’t be? She was also capable of looking at him with very steady—and beautiful—eyes, and giving him her real attention.
Of course, he didn’t have it at this moment.
He was leaned back in a wooden chair at their table in the corner of the restaurant near the back exit—his choice of seating. Seth Smith and Marnie were involved in a passionate discussion. She wanted to work out a situation where she could rent to buy. Seth Smith was skeptical she could pull off her business plan.
“Thing is, with programs for children,” Smith was saying, “there’s usually some kind of a benefactor—a large nonprofit corporation financing some of it. You know—for the betterment of humanity or whatever. Kids don’t pay to go to plays. Kids don’t even like plays. They like video games. Like that new one that’s out, with that Blood-bone—Oh, man, sorry! I am so sorry. I know you were close with Cara Barton. Naturally.”
“It’s all right,” Marnie said, her voice flat, something in her eyes turning a bit cold for a moment. But she swallowed and went on. “I believe you’re wrong. Kids love interaction. And children’s theater can be wonderfully interactive. I also have a plan that will bring the adults in while the children are working. See...”
Marnie produced her cell phone. She had drawn up a decent floor plan of the Abernathy Theater, showing the different areas that might be utilized. “This area, a coffee shop for the parents. We’ll show old movies here, offer readings by authors and maybe have small or solo music artists appearing now and then. It can be open to many things. Here, the black box or smaller theater—classes and experimental plays. The main stage we’ll keep for the plays that will bring in the largest audiences. I’ve already started networking with LA schools.”
She was earnest; she was sincere. In Bryan’s mind, she put forth an excellent argument proving she’d manage to create not just a wonderful experience, but a sound business enterprise.
“They don’t even teach history anymore,” Smith said, shaking his head, “and you think the schools will help you get kids out in an arts program?”
“Yes. Teachers still know and value the arts. They will help,” Marnie said without hesitation. “I can make it happen. I know that I can. I have every friend known to man in the business. Actors, set designers, lighting designers... I have the right people behind me.”
“Along with a bodyguard,” Smith said, glancing Bryan’s way. “How many people are going to send their kids to a place where bodyguards are needed?”
Smith just might have caught her by surprise there; she had obviously expected to get hit with the fact Cara Barton was dead somewhere in the conversation, but Smith’s last comment threw her.
“Ah, well, Mr. Smith,” Bryan said. “You have to realize this is just for a few days.” He slipped an arm around Marnie’s shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “I’m really an old family friend, and you know family—I’m hanging around so the rest of the family doesn’t drive us all crazy!”
That was about as true as it could get.
“But they haven’t found Cara Barton’s killer yet,” Smith said. He frowned. “Mr. McFadden, are you a part of the police or another law enforcement agency?”
“Private investigator, Mr. Smith,” Bryan said, forcing a smile. “PI and family friend. And I can absolutely assure you, the killer will be found.”
Smith studied him and then looked back at Marnie.
“I like you,” he told her. “It’s a massive commitment you’re asking us to make, renting to you with the option and perhaps rent-to-buy steps being taken. You are aware of the pitfalls that might come your way. You’re a bright young woman with a steady vision and not just a dream.” He hesitated.
“So...?” Marnie said. Her shoulders seemed as cold and frozen as an ice block beneath Bryan’s arm.
Smith looked at Bryan. “How do I say this... I feel we must wait.”
“Wait for what?” Marnie asked.
Smith cleared his throat. “There are all kinds of rumors swirling around out there. Some say the cast of Dark Harbor is cursed. That the creatures of the current time are forming together to kill off the rest of the cast.”
“What?” Marnie said incredulously.
“Creatures aren’t real,” Bryan said, leaning forward. “Blood-bone is a creation. He can be played by anyone. By a killer.”
“Hollywood can be a superstitious place,” Smith said. He sighed deeply. “I won’t rent to anyone else. But let me meet with some of my peers and, of course, Mr. Wexler. I’d like this to happen for you. Frankly...”
His voice trailed again. Bryan could feel Marnie growing frustrated—and angry.
“Frankly?” he asked quickly.
“You’re a bit of a business risk right now. We just want to make sure you’re...alive,” Smith said.
“I am alive. I’m in front of you. Flesh and blood!” Marnie said.
“We need you to stay that way,” Smith said. He glanced at Bryan and then at Marnie and grimaced. “Let me talk to Mr. Wexler. Let’s see how the police do. If all is well in a few weeks, we’ll look at making this a go. How’s that?”
“I guess it’s a win for the moment,” Marnie said. “And thank you. Thank you so much for your time.”
“I’d like to see it work, young lady,” Smith said. He rose. Bryan quickly rose as well, as did Marnie.
Bryan realized he dwarfed Smith; Marnie was a few inches taller, as well.
But at least Smith didn’t seem to have a Napoleon complex. He hadn’t tried to make anyone miserable to make himself taller in his own mind.
He had just been honest.
“I’ll see the waitress on my way out,” Smith said.
“It’s all right. I’ve taken care of it,” Bryan said.
Smith surveyed him. “A bodyguard who pays. Now, that’s new in Hollywood. We may just work this all out, Miss Davante!”
Bryan wondered if Smith was aware Bryan had been studying him all the while as well, making his own observations and decisions. And one thing was in Smith’s favor—the man might be playing the game, hedging his bets.
At least it didn’t seem that he was out to hurt Marnie Davante in any way.
But who the hell was?
Someone from Marnie’s life?
From the cast of Dark Harbor? Maybe. He’d start with them tomorrow, and with the producer who wanted to get the show going again—and then with anyone close to or invested in the revamping of the series. Possibly someone who didn’t want it to happen?
When he had called the Krewe offices and talked to Jackson, asking for help, he knew the man would get his team working on bios of everyone involved, down to the nitty-gritty—things that couldn’t be learned from the star magazines that proliferated the grocery store racks.
They watched Smith leave, and then Bryan turned to Marnie. “That didn’t go so badly, right?” he asked her, his voice soft.
She looked up at him and gave him a real smile. It was weak, but it was real.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“I didn’t do anything, really.”
“Yes, you did, and you know it. You stepped in at the right moment.” Her gaze at him then was slightly amused and slightly sardonic. “I hadn’t thought of humility as being one of your virtues—or faults,” she told him.
“Don’t worry, it’s not,” he assured her. “So...what now?”
“Bridget, and our new dog, of course,” she said.
“Ah, yes, how could I forget?”
He had given their waitress his credit card on their entry to the restaurant; she saw them standing and came quickly for his signature and to return the card.
Bryan took Marnie by the arm, keeping her close as they left the restaurant and headed for his car.
“You didn’t have to pick up the bill,” she told him.
“If it will make you happier, I can total up expenses,” he said.