The Celebutantes (24 page)

Martinson and Kaller remained silent and stony.

“And Coco McKaid,” Tallula whispered. “She obviously really had been attacked by Elijah—or something like that. The fact that her cell phone was found in the penthouse was just…bad luck for her. But very good luck for Ina. Until now, at least.” She heaved a sigh, but this time, she allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks and over her chin.

Martinson stood up. “I'm sure the police in New York are exploring that possibility,” he said. “But right now, we have to stay focused on finding Ina Debrovitch. Are you
absolutely sure
you don't know where she could be?”

“I don't know!” Tallula cried. She stomped away from the window and leaned against the small secretary's desk pressed up to the wall. “She's probably on her way to Canada, or Mexico! God knows what's going on in her mind right now!”

“Okay, Ms. Kayson. We understand.” Officer Kaller nodded politely. “Why don't you sit down now? Is there anyone you can call? Anyone who can be here with you?”

“No, there's not,” Tallula sobbed. “Don't you
know
? I'm alone! I have nobody! My whole life is cursed! I'm meant to be alone forever!”

Kaller, a man of about forty, looked at her with a fatherly concern. He was about to put a hand on her shoulder, but Martinson reached out and cut the gesture short.

“You have to find her!” Tallula shrieked. “You have to! She'll probably kill anyone who gets in her way now!”

“We understand, Ms. Kayson,” Martinson said soothingly. “Please calm down and let us reassure you that we haven't any doubts that Ina Debrovitch will be apprehended within the next few hours.”

“Hours!” Tallula glared at them, her eyes wide and rimmed with wet black mascara. “She could hijack a plane in
hours.
She could kill a bunch of people in
hours.
She could even show up here and kill me in
hours.
”

Kaller stepped forward. “Do you have any reason to believe Ina might want to come back here?”

“Of course not,” Tallula answered quietly, quickly regaining her composure. She straightened herself and wiped her cheeks again. “She's out there, somewhere. And I just hope you find her.”

“We will. And we'll be in touch.” Martinson dropped his card onto the table, and then he and Kaller started out of the study and through the rest of the house.

Tallula followed them. She opened the front door and watched as they went down the steps and into the police cruiser. She remained in that rigid position until the cruiser had disappeared behind a tangle of trees and bushes where the long driveway wound to the left. Then she stepped back into the house and closed the door behind her.

She stood for a few moments in the silence.

So much silence, in fact, that she heard the accelerated beating of her heart in her ears. She heard the blood rushing through her like a train. She took several deep breaths, but nothing would work against the angst she was feeling. No amount of booze or pills. No reassurances that everything would be okay. She would have to get through the next few hours on edge, and she would have to keep everything moving the way it had been moving up until this point. Had the cops sensed her true edginess? Her unwillingness to open up to them completely? No. She had succeeded in concealing her truths.

She climbed the stairs to the second floor. In her bedroom, she took off her clothes and changed into her paint-splattered jeans and a wrinkled white shirt. She pulled a thick sweater from one of her drawers and yanked it over her head. Never mind that it was ninety degrees outside and barely seventy in the house. Never mind the humidity either. The sweater was the best kind of flame-retardant material money could buy.

She took a pair of running sneakers from her closet and slipped into them. She tied her hair back into a ponytail.

All was in readiness.

She walked calmly to the window and stared out at the deepening twilight. She watched as a crow shot from the trees, its black wings flapping against the purple visage of the sky. It cawed three times.

Elijah would have called that an eerie omen of what was to come. And now, for the first time, Tallula agreed with him.

21

Hello, Mother

“H
er mother,” Park said for the hundredth time.

“Her mother,” Lex repeated.

Madison looked up from the screen of her cell. “Yeah. Her mother.”

They were sitting tensely in the back of the limo as it sped north on the Hutchinson River Parkway, cutting through the posh suburbs of Westchester County. In less than twenty minutes, they would be in Connecticut. At Ghost Ranch.

Madison cast her eyes down at her cell again. She hit Send and brought the phone to her ear. The call went directly to Tallula's voice mail. “Damn,” she muttered. “Still nothing.”

“Forget it,” Lex said. “You've tried Tallula twelve times already—she's obviously not going to turn on her cell. And it doesn't really matter. It's not like she'll turn us away or anything.”

“That's not the point.” Madison glanced at her sisters. “I'd just like her to
know
that we're coming.”

“And that we have a few questions,” Park added, her voice taut.

Madison sighed. “Will you drop the suspicion, please? I've already explained it to both of you, and there's nothing to be scared of.”

“Explain it to me again,” Park said. “It's not clicking together in my mind, and that's a bad sign.”

Moving her purse off her lap, Madison repositioned herself on the plush seat so that she was leaning against the door. “Elijah and Ina were having an affair,” she began. “Ina got pregnant but that's still a secret, obviously. Somewhere in the very recent past, I think Elijah found out that Tallula's mother had sold a painting to the society twenty years ago, and I think he filled Ina in on that. And together, I think they were planning to blackmail Tallula.”

“Blackmail her how?” Lex asked.

“The oldest trick in the book—extortion,” Madison replied. “That painting,
To the Penthouse,
wouldn't be worth anything today—but it
is
worth something because it's directly linked to Tallula. She didn't paint it, but that doesn't really matter. She's a celebrity. There's a whole mother-daughter angle the public would love to sink its teeth into—
and
there's only one painting, making it more valuable. Basically, it would create a lot of unwanted publicity for Tallula—her whole story about her parents being strict and her painting in secret would be hard to believe, calling her past into question.”

“But you think Tallula knows about
To the Penthouse,
” Park stated flatly. “You think she knows her mother painted it.”

Madison nodded. “Of course. She probably has the original contract from the society in her mother's papers. That's probably how Elijah found out about it, because I'm sure as hell Tallula never mentioned it to him. She's smarter than that.”

“I'm not so sure.” Park frowned.

“So basically,” Lex chimed in, “that painting proves that her mother was more than just the strict parent Tallula has made her out to be.”

“It could,” Madison said. “But it's more than just that. It would open up a whole can of worms for Tallula.”

“So then, fast-forward to Elijah's murder,” Park urged her. “Paint me a picture.”

“Very funny.” Madison shot her a disapproving look. “I think Elijah and Ina planned to use that painting against Tallula, but then I think Elijah had a change of heart. He wasn't as successful as Tallula, you know. Didn't make as much money. But I think he told Ina he didn't want to go along with the plan, which made her angry, because there she was, pregnant and all, and the guy she'd probably fallen in love with pretty much dumped her. So on Wednesday afternoon, after Tallula left the penthouse suite, Ina and Elijah probably started arguing.
Boom
—she shoves him through the air, then breaks her hearing aid and jumps into the shower. And when Coco's cell is found at the scene, that's totally lucky for Ina.”

Park remained silent as she weighed the possibilities. She uncapped a bottle of water and took a sip. “But Ina never really believed she'd get away with it. Because she left Tallula and planned to disappear.”

“Right.”

“But why not just board a plane and go home and resume your life there?” Park tossed out. “I mean, why would Ina go to all the trouble of killing Poppy and stealing the painting?”

“Because Ina has no money,” Madison said. “She's pregnant with Elijah's baby and she's angry and she still needs to extort money from Tallula. So she stole the painting and went into hiding, and she'll use it to her advantage.”

“But kill Poppy?” Lex protested. “Why couldn't she just have knocked her out or something? Why resort to murder a second time?”

Park held up her hand. “Technically speaking, Ina killing Elijah the way Madison described it is manslaughter. Poppy's murder was…well…murder.”

“Oh, whatever!” Lex snapped. “You know what I mean.”

“Ina went to that length because she was desperate,” Madison said easily. “When people are desperate, they'll do anything. We've seen it before, haven't we? Most people commit drastic crimes because they're desperate about something.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Park agreed.

“Wait,” Lex said impatiently. “If Elijah decided he didn't want any part of the blackmail scheme, then what was the whole thing about him wanting to channel Corky—or Tallula's dead mother, as we know her now?”

“A very good question.” Madison settled more deeply into the seat. “Elijah likely came across two sets of paperwork in whatever stuff Tallula keeps on her mom. The first is the contract the society issued to L. K. Corcoran for the acquisition of the painting and the grant she received. But, a few months later, when Poppy van Lulu bought the painting from the society, another set of papers went out to L. K., and
those
papers would have listed Poppy as the buyer. He needed to get into Poppy's apartment somehow, so he used his interest in the occult and his fame to do that. He probably even told her that he didn't believe in that whole experiment at St. Stephen's College. You know, he probably made her believe that he thought she was a real psychic.”

“And you think that, in the beginning, when he and Ina first hatched this little journey, Elijah was planning to steal the painting off Poppy's wall?” Park asked, her tone tinged with disbelief.

“I think he just wanted to make sure it was there,” Madison answered. “Once he had confirmation that the painting still existed, he knew he'd be able to blackmail Tallula.”

Park frowned. “So now Elijah comes off as some sort of good guy? Like, he decided he still loved Tallula and didn't want to completely betray her?”

“You don't think Elijah having an affair with Ina was betraying Tallula enough?” Lex snapped.

“Of course it was,” Park replied. “But, if Madison's theory is right, then it looks like Elijah may have experienced a moment of…redemption.”

“It would be nice to think that,” Madison said quietly, almost romantically. Then her expression flashed into something dangerous. “Especially since men are nothing but complete mindless belly-scraping crap-eaters!”

Park and Lex remained silent, but they exchanged worried glances.

Madison quickly ran a hand over her face. “Sorry, Donnie,” she called out. “I didn't mean you. You're the exception.”

“That's okay,” Donnie said from the driver's seat.

Park leaned over and gave Madison's hand a squeeze. “I just want you to know that I think it's totally brave and awesome the way you're handling this thing with Theo. You know—not letting it eat you up.”

“Yeah…well…” Madison looked away. “I have no choice right now. I have a job to do.
We
have a job to do.”

“Speaking of which,” Lex said, sitting up straight. “How exactly are we going to explain all this to Tallula? I mean, why do we have to do this in person? Why do we even have to see her?”

“Oh, I guess I didn't completely explain that part.” Madison cleared her throat. “I should have said this earlier, but I think Tallula knows where Ina's hiding.”

“What?”
Park screamed.

“Dude, you're totally fried!” Lex said.

But Madison nodded firmly. “Trust me—Tallula knows. Ina already contacted her today, probably right after she stole the painting, and the last thing Tallula wants is more scandal and bad stuff attached to her name. She's probably trying to figure out a way to meet Ina and buy back the painting.”

“And then what?” Park asked, her tone overflowing with outrage. “What happens to Ina?”

“Nothing,” Madison said. “Ina will take the cash and try to make an exit out of the States.”

“And you think Tallula will accept that?” Lex stared at her incredulously. “You think she'd forget that her boyfriend and Poppy were murdered just to get that painting back and avoid a scandal?”

Madison gave a long, weary sigh. “This is a case about desperation, and what people will do when they're desperate. Tallula's not a killer, but right now I think she's in her own desperate place. And
we're
going over there to convince her to give Ina up and face whatever's coming.”

“And what if she doesn't want to do it?” Lex asked.

“Then we have no choice but to turn what we know over to the police,” Madison stated flatly. “And they'll be the ones to shake Tallula down and flush out Ina from wherever she's hiding.”

“Oh, great!” Park slugged the seat. “We do all the work, but the cops get to take down the perp? That sucks!”

“Hey, girls?” Donnie called out over his shoulder. “We're almost there.”

They stared out the window at the gathering darkness as the highway curved into a narrow-lane exit. It was all trees and shadows and black sky. Three minutes later, the limo was slowing down and turning into the entrance of Ghost Ranch. Madison opened her window, prepared to ring the buzzer and politely ask Tallula to open the front gates. But there wasn't any need for that. Madison saw even through the darkness that the gates were propped open just enough to allow a car entrance.

“That's totally bizarre,” she said, alarmed. “Why on earth would those gates be open? Donnie, drive up to the house.”

The limo started moving again.

Madison leaned over the front seat to get a better look at the property. All she saw were skittering shadows as deer fled through the woods.

“You know, that's not really a good sign,” Park said. “Those gates should've totally been closed.”

Up ahead, the main house of Ghost Ranch came into view—but only hardly. It was completely dark. Not a single light burned in the windows. The limo came to a stop at the end of the gravel drive, and Madison pushed open the door. She, Park, and Lex climbed out into the balmy night. Together, they scanned the blackness, seeing nothing but patches of fissured sky and grass trampled by deer.

Then Madison walked several paces to the far end of the property and saw, in the distance, the little white clapboard house that was Tallula's studio. It was lit up like a ballroom, light blazing from the tall, wide windows. She went back to the limo and looked at Donnie. “Wait here for us,” she said. “Tallula must be working in her studio. I'm going to try to convince her to come back to the city with us tonight, so you might have one more of us in the car.”

“Okay,” Donnie replied, nonplussed.

Madison looked at Park and Lex. “Come on. Let's head over to the studio.”

“This ground is totally unsteady,” Lex complained as they walked past the main house. “My heels are wobbling.” She clutched the magic purse to her chest and held on to Park's arm for support.

A minute later, they reached the front door of the studio, shoes intact. Madison knocked loudly on the scarred wood paneling. “Tallula!” she called out. “It's me, Madison. Can you open the door?” Her voice echoed like thunder through the wood.

Seconds passed in silence.

Finally, Park reached out, grasped the knob, and turned it.

The door opened.

“That's weird,” Madison whispered. “Tallula said she never lets anyone into her studio. I'd figured she kept it locked.”

They stepped over the threshold.

The main room was ablaze with lights, illuminating Tallula's work space, with its easels and canvases and palettes. Paint-splattered rags were bunched in the corners. Pieces of plywood were piled against the back wall. The hardwood floors were gleaming; dust caked the big windows.

“Tallula!” Park called. “Hello?” She looked up and saw the small loft space above. Not much more than a rectangular storage area, it was entirely visible from the first floor. And it was empty.

“Tallula!” Lex shouted.

“Where could she be?” Madison asked.

Park followed the floor around a sharp bend just past the easels, coming to a stop where the wall met the staircase. Yet another odd nook. Nothing here but three feet of space and several tubes of paint. She was about to turn around when her eye caught something.

A keyhole in the wall.

Blinking, Park ran her hand over the keyhole. It wasn't until she pressed her face nearly to the wall that she saw the thin indentations in the wood cutting out a perfect square: a door. But no knob. She eyed the keyhole again.
Could it be?
she thought.

“I just don't get it,” Madison was saying. “Where could she be?”

Park reached into her purse and retrieved the multi-lock key. She slipped it into the keyhole and turned it.

The lock clicked.

Her heart pounding, Park pulled on the key, making certain it didn't slip out of the hole. Shockingly enough, the door was lightweight, sliding out of the wood wall like a partition. “Madison! Lex! Come here!” When they got to her side, Park yanked the door open completely and found herself staring into blackness.