As soon as the news had come in, all the members of law enforcement had gathered by the booth—except for Sophie Manning. Sophie was looking for David Neal, since he had been followed to the convention center by a diligent police officer.
He was there, somewhere.
And he was wanted for questioning.
Marnie didn’t have a chance to ask just what was going on until Detective Vining had arrived at the booth, the line had been dispersed and convention security personnel—along with Jackson, Angela, Sean, Madison and Bryan—had managed to get Roberta, Grayson, Marnie and Vince Carlton out.
The detective, the FBI agents and Bryan were all making rapid-fire comments, all of them aimed at keeping people safe.
An officer was taking Grayson home; he would stand guard at his residence.
Another was taking Roberta home, and he would stand guard at her residence.
“But I don’t understand—how was Jeremy killed? Or was he killed?” Roberta wailed in the parking lot.
“The medical examiner believes that he suffered a massive heart attack in his sleep, but...well, we have to very careful,” Bryan said.
“Wait. The dude chose last night to die, and we’re going to lose out on today?” Grayson demanded.
“Grayson!” Roberta said, shocked.
“We have limited information at this time, but yes, that’s what we were told,” Bryan said.
“Jeremy just died...of natural causes? Last night?” Marnie asked.
“Yes, that’s what we understand.”
“But—he’s dead?” she asked.
Bryan looked at her sadly. “This is according to the medical examiner’s preliminary report. From what he’s been able to determine so far. Jeremy went to bed last night, fell asleep and never woke up.”
“Today was important for us. And I’m so sorry, but Jeremy was no spring chicken,” Grayson said.
They looked at him, appalled.
They were all still grouped there when Malcolm Dangerfield came rushing out, his security personnel hurrying to keep pace with him.
“I’m so sorry! I just heard!” he told them. He looked at Vince Carlton. “Wow. I’m really sorry. I mean, sorry a man is dead. Jeremy was good old fellow. And sorry for...well, for Dark Harbor. Anyway, I guess I have to get back in there... I mean, maybe I don’t—”
“I would,” Grayson said. “You might have been slotted for a revamp, but you weren’t in the original show, and now... Well, hell. We’re all going... Dying like... Popcorn! Pop! Pop! Pop!”
“I don’t intend to die!” Roberta protested.
“For the moment, until the medical examiner has really had a chance for an autopsy and can report their findings, you all need to be in your homes or somewhere safe,” Bryan said.
“We’ll see to it,” Vining added firmly.
Grayson looked back at the convention center. “Wouldn’t that be safe? There are so many people in there.”
“Are you forgetting Cara Barton already?” Roberta said.
“That was a comic con.”
“Grayson!” Marnie said. “There are more creatures than ever running around in that convention center. No, you’re not safe in there.” She was stunned that he seemed so callous—and desperate.
“We’re surrounded by cops and FBI. Jeremy didn’t make it here, and that was the problem!” Grayson said.
Marnie just shook her head, looking at Bryan.
“Take him home,” he told the officer assigned to Grayson.
“What if I don’t want to go?” Grayson asked.
“Then die, Mr. Adair!” Vining snapped. “We can’t help quote-unquote ‘stars’ who are hell-bent on getting themselves killed.”
Grayson pursed his lips. “Fine. I’m going home. The magazines will interview us all over again, and I’ll tell them what I think of the police!”
“Who are trying to save your life,” Bryan said.
“And what I think of the FBI!” Grayson added.
“I’m just a PI. And I really don’t give a damn what you say about me,” Bryan told him.
With something like a growl and a hunch of his shoulders, Grayson sighed and said, “Whatever! Living isn’t so great when you can’t pay the bills!”
“Grayson, what is the matter with you?” Marnie demanded. “We’ve just lost another friend. A very good friend.”
She felt tears in her eyes. She had just been with him yesterday. And yesterday he had been just fine.
“I’m sorry!” Grayson said. “Marnie, we’re supposed to be on a panel tomorrow. Our day had barely begun, and we were being barraged.”
“I’m sure Jeremy would be horrified to find out just how inconvenient his dying was for you!” she exploded.
“I am sorry. Jeremy played my dad, too, you know. But...let’s face it, it’s not like we met every Friday for coffee or drinks. He wasn’t murdered—he died, Marnie. Died of natural causes. And we have to go on. We have to speak—”
“We don’t speak on a panel until tomorrow,” Roberta said.
“The organizers aren’t heartless,” Madison said, trying to come between them all and ease the situation. “I’ve been gone from Hollywood awhile now, but these people are nice. They can rearrange anything. Things do happen. You will be all right. They will understand—”
“But they’ll strip down our spot and give it to someone else, and...I need to do this!” Grayson whispered.
“Not today,” Marnie said. “Jeremy died.”
“And we should be in there, mourning with friends.”
“Not me,” Marnie told him. “Not right now.”
Grayson walked over to her and took her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Marnie! I’m going to go down. My family made some bad investments, and I’m broke. I’m going to lose my house. If I don’t meet my obligations, I’ll lose all custody when it comes to my kids. You’ve got to help me.”
“No one would expect us to stay, Grayson,” she said.
“But...tomorrow? We can be here in honor of both of them. Share their lives with other people who loved them!”
Marnie could see Bryan wanted to step between her and Grayson then. She saw he was trying very hard not to interfere.
The cast could go back in. Jeremy’s death could be announced. Sad, but—as far as they knew—natural.
And it might be right to mourn and honor Jeremy and Cara together tomorrow.
As if reading her mind, Grayson said, “A service. A moment of silence—a time when a few words are said in memory of both of them.”
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tonight. We just found out that he’s dead, Grayson,” Marnie said. “We had a seat for him—he was supposed to be with us.”
“We’ll talk tonight,” Roberta echoed.
“Really?” Grayson asked.
“Yes, yes...tomorrow. Just not today,” Roberta said.
He lifted his hands and smiled at the cop assigned to him, who would be driving him home. “I’m ready. You ready?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Adair,” the cop said.
“Miss Alan?” the other officer said to Roberta.
“I’m going—this is too much for me,” she said.
Then she was gone, too, walking way with her assigned officer in the wake of Grayson, who was moving quickly now toward a patrol car.
“Mr. Carlton, would you like an escort home?” Detective Vining asked.
“No, thank you, not if they believe that Jeremy Highsmith’s death was natural,” Carlton replied. “It’s an unfortunate coincidence, to be sure. But we’ll be fine. I mean, I am so sorry. But...we’d only met a few times. And I do have other business today.”
“Come back in with me,” Malcolm said. “I have security.”
Bridget walked over and hugged Marnie.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
“Let’s,” Marnie agreed.
She turned to look at Bryan, and she could somewhat read his feelings.
Bryan wanted Marnie out of there; every mannequin and person in costume seemed like an automatic enemy to him.
But he needed to stay. He wanted to find David Neal.
“Jackson and Angela will see you home,” he told Marnie. “Sean and Madison will watch over Bridget.”
“You’re not coming?” she asked him.
He hesitated. “I’m going to stay and work with Detective Vining and Sophie—to find David Neal.”
“David Neal?” she asked, perplexed.
There was more. She had a sinking feeling the day was going to get worse.
“He was trying to drug you yesterday,” he said very softly.
“Drug me...to death?”