Cybil immediately chastised her, saying she’d called her a thousand times. She hadn’t, exactly, but Marnie had missed calls from her.
She was pretty sure her agent had wearied of her; there were bigger fish to fry if Marnie didn’t want to work.
But, like the others, she had done guest star roles and commercials now and then. Cybil still sent her scripts. With the possibility of the return of Dark Harbor—even without Cara—Marnie was hot again.
“My dear girl, do you begin to understand the opportunities open to you now?” Cybil said. “And I heard you attended a meeting at Vince Carlton’s studios today! Without me! Marnie, what are you doing?”
“No one had an agent there today, not even Malcolm Dangerfield,” Marnie told her. “Cybil, forgive me, but now is not the time for...for pushing things.”
“Sure! Keep on doing those silly conventions, my girl. I mean, think about it. Have you ever seen Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts or...or Meryl Streep or any such other A-list personality at a comic con?”
“Yes, actually, I have seen many extremely talented people at cons,” Marnie said. She decided she wasn’t going to mention the fact she’d agreed to Horror-palooza.
She heard Cybil’s deep sigh over the phone. “Marnie, you can’t imagine the interest people have in you lately. There are offers.”
“And I can’t tell you just how nice that is,” Marnie said.
For a moment, she wondered just what the hell was the matter with her. She knew so many people—amazingly talented people who worked hard, who did all the right things, who could sing, dance, act, and who were all around hardworking—who never got a break.
Her passion lay elsewhere now.
“Marnie, girl, think of it this way,” Cybil said as if reading her mind. “Make some big bucks, and then you can buy any damned theater you want—and let me slip away to a lovely retirement.”
Marnie laughed. “I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment. Let’s talk Monday, okay?”
Cybil agreed, and she and Marnie rang off.
Not so hard after all.
She walked back out to the living room. Bryan was just pocketing his phone.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “My parents. I’m trying to get them to stay down in Australia. They’ve dreamed of this trip forever, and they’re finally on it and I don’t want them coming back. Oh, God, you can’t imagine what it’s like if they’re on a worried streak!”
He smiled. “Oh, hell, yeah, I can. And I’m hoping my parents are staying in Virginia!” he said. He sighed, smiled and shook his head. “You may well meet them, anyway, before this is all over.”
“And you may meet mine. I also spoke with Cybil Sherman.”
“Your agent.”
“You know her?”
“I know of her. She has a very good reputation.”
“She’s a great person and a super agent. Anyway...I’ll talk to her again on Monday.”
He looked at her curiously. “I imagine there are offers flowing in for you now. For more than just a revamp of Dark Harbor.”
She waved a hand in the air and changed the subject. “Anything with the detectives?”
He nodded grimly. “They had officers out knocking on doors. A number of people saw someone in a Blood-bone costume around the neighborhood. Cara was right.”
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
“Task force meeting later. We’ll go over everything we have again.”
She hesitated and then said quietly, “It wasn’t in any way serious, but when I was talking to Jeremy today, he mentioned offhand, the way we all do—he said he wanted to kill Cara sometimes. I don’t believe for a minute, a single second, he meant it in any way. For real, I mean. We all get angry and say that we could just kill someone.”
“It’s okay. I know,” he said.
“Do you suspect it could be Jeremy?”
“Honestly? I can’t pinpoint any of the cast as a likely suspect.”
“But—”
“I said I can’t pinpoint any of them. That doesn’t mean any one of them is off my list. Except for Marnie, and I was with her when the man was killed in her pool.”
“Clever killer, dressing up as a Blood-bone just as the hired killer was dressed.”
“Yes. Because it is Hollywood. And anything goes.”
“Sounds like a dead end.”
“This won’t be a dead end,” he promised. “I won’t let it be,” he added softly.
“Lord, no! I’d never wish a haunting on anyone!”
He smiled and walked to her, taking her into his arms. “Miss Davante, you are continually surprising me. Actually, your casual announcement today stunned me.”
She felt a blush cover her cheeks again. “I’m sorry. I really had no right. I don’t know what caused me to say that... To do that.”
“I like to think it might have been because you really do want to keep sleeping with me. I tend to be a monogamous kind of guy, as you might have figured, so...”
Marnie laughed. “Okay, okay, I just wanted Roberta to keep her grubby little hands off you.”
“Fine by me—it was just... Wow. Shocking but nice.”
Marnie leaned in. They heard the door opening.
Jackson was returning with George.
Any “sleeping” of any kind would have to wait.
*
They were home again. All of them.
Bridget and Marnie.
And the damned dog.
Bryan McFadden and his friends: FBI special agents. Oh, yeah, they were special all right.
So making a move on the house was out.
It was still fun to watch. Maybe it was the edge of danger. He almost wanted someone to realize he was down the street. That he was in his car—a rental car, changed frequently—and he was slunk low in the seat, able to observe without being observed. He had every right to be there, of course. All he had to do was hop out and say he was on his way to visit Marnie. Maybe he would just do so one day.
He smiled.
Not today.
Soon enough, they’d all be scrambling. They’d be in shock. They’d be in mourning again. And they’d be so confused. They wouldn’t understand at all what had happened.
He did so love drama.
Soon enough.
He just wished he could get into the house. Watch how they reacted. That would be just great.
He imagined all the hell that would soon break loose.
He could hardly wait.
Anticipation, he was learning, was absolutely delicious!
12
Bryan became more impressed with the Krewe of Hunters—perhaps Jackson Crow and Adam Harrison specifically—as he attended the task force meeting late that afternoon.
It seemed at least a hundred police officers had been summoned to the station. He met another half-dozen detectives who had been instrumental in questioning witnesses.
Grant Vining spoke for the police, going through what they knew, didn’t know and suspected. He warned the officers to be on the lookout for a Blood-bone who might just be walking down the street or hanging out.
There was no proof that Cara’s killer had been hired and then in turn killed. But considering the circumstances and the identity of the body from the pool, it was a probability. Otherwise there was a copycat.
“But I don’t believe so, and neither do our FBI partners on this investigation.” He looked over at Jackson.
The field director walked to the center of the room, taking the floor. “We all believe these killings are directly related. We also believe Marnie Davante’s home was targeted for the second killing. It was a warning to her, or just a way to torment her. We’re keeping close tabs on everyone involved, as you know.”
A few of the officers spoke, naming the sources who had seen the Blood-bone in Marnie’s neighborhood, but they were unable to find anyone who knew anything other than “He walked off down the street.” No clues as to where the killer might have gone.
Another officer reported no weapon had been found. They still searched the neighborhood, but it was most likely the killer had kept his gun or he had discarded it elsewhere.
No sword—as in the weapon that had killed Cara Barton—had been found. There were no further clues to help anyone.
“The point is we must be vigilant,” Jackson said. He shrugged. “The rest of the people involved with Dark Harbor are still trying to function in the world. They are actors.”