“I thought that now she and Gil were...”
“Me too. I think maybe she’s playing both men at the same time.”
“Yuck!” Kate said. “Not fair to either of them.”
Sara shrugged. “To each his own, I guess. Go on. Jack is waiting for you.”
“Yes, he is,” Kate said, smiling happily. She left the room quickly.
When she was alone, Sara sent a text to Billy:
Sara: I want you and your resident cohorts to help us solve this murder.
Billy: I thought you’d never ask.
Sara: We don’t know much, but it may be connected to a murder that probably happened in Hollywood. I think in the early 1940s. An 18-year-old man killed a so-called nobody actor. The killer’s name was Harry Adair, but he may have used another name at the time of the murder. I have no idea of the victim’s name. Whatever and whoever did it, Derek Oliver found out about it from the docs and videos in the Palm Room.
Billy: And you want me—us—to find out the same thing that Derek did?
Sara: Exactly!
Billy: Old as it is, I think my brain can match his.
Sara sent an emoji of a laughing face:You and me both.
Billy: Send it all. It’ll be a party.
In the kitchen, she told Lenny that documents and videos needed to be pulled out of the Palm Room. He said that Dora and her friends could go through things and box them. Sara started to ask if she could do that. After all, she was sometimes called “Daffy Dora.” But Lenny’s look stopped her. “Anything 1940 to 1946,” she mumbled.
“It will be done.”
She paused at the doorway. “I want a gift sent to Billy. Does anyone know where to get one of those tall red popcorn machines? And a giant bag of corn and lots of butter?”
Lenny’s nod was his answer. If he didn’t know, he’d find out. And with all of that to do, he’d be too busy for kitchen duty. She didn’t want to overtax him.
Sara left the room. She needed to figure out how she was going to play her interview with Rachel—a woman she had come to seriously dislike. “I think you have the personality of a killer,” would not be the way to start a conversation.
Sara then did something she truly hated: she made a telephone call. Emails and texts were fine with her, but talking on a phone was something she avoided. She called Bessie at the Mitford Tea Room and asked if she would please, just this once, deliver a lunch to Lachlan House. She could even send food that had carbs in it.
“That’s drastic,” Bessie said, then sucked in her breath. “You have another murder, don’t you?” When Sara was silent, Bessie laughed. “I knew it! I’ll be there in twenty minutes. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word. But later, I’m going to tell everyone that I knew about it beforehand.”
“I’ll thank you in my book,” Sara said and clicked off. So far, so good. Now she needed to find Rachel and arrange to meet in the nursery—which Sara guessed she’d probably searched. Looking for a hedgehog full of jewels?
With her teeth clenched, she went searching. Gil or Reid? Which man was Rachel going to focus on? Or both at the same time? “Over my dead body,” Sara mumbled. After she met with Rachel, she was going to warn Gil.
Eleven
“I’d like to invite you to lunch,” Randal said to Barbara. As he could have predicted, she hesitated. A person with her fame had to be cautious. “White wine, salad and pasta, with fruit drenched in Grand Marnier? None of my sister’s low-carb, no-booze diet.”
She was softening.
“Bring a swimsuit. It’s at my sister’s house, and I’ll cook.”
“You sold me. When do we leave?”
“Now.”
“I do love a decisive man. Five minutes.”
