one corner; a tray of rat poison lay open in another.
Steele reached up and pulled the chain that switched on the lone bare bulb. “Gentlemen,” he said, his smile even wider now, if that was possible, “welcome to the celebration room.”
“Must have been some rocking parties here,” Shawn said. “You could fit at least four people in this room.”
“I don’t understand,” Gus said. “There are supposed to be rotating beds. And where’s the obscene Maxfield Parrish mural?”
“Where did you hear about those?”
“I studied this house in school,” Gus said, surreptitiously rapping his knuckles against a wall to see if it would slide aside to reveal the real room. It didn’t. “I read accounts of the parties.”
“And who wrote those accounts?” Steele said.
“People who talked to people who’d been at them, I guess,” Gus said.
“But never a firsthand account, right?” Steele said.
Gus tried to think back on his texts. “I guess,” he said.
“Because there were no firsthand accounts,” Steele said.
“Right.” Gus was putting it together now. “Because the parties were so private and the behavior so scandalous that no one would ever dare talk about them for fear that they’d be exposed.”
“Because there were no parties. Elias Adler hated people. Despised being in their presence. And yet he wanted them to worship him. So he had his architects leak false information about an enormous, decadent room that would be dedicated to elaborate celebrations. He had this door imported from Padua and let one reporter sneak a photograph of it. Just a hint of all the terrible things that were going to happen behind it.”
“And then no one would admit they’d been to the parties for fear they’d be accused of perversion,” Gus said.
“Adler never even invited anyone,” Steele said. “He just had his paid flacks spread rumors of all the movie stars and politicians that had showed up for his parties. At first, they tried to deny it. But no one believed any of the denials, because who wouldn’t deny being in such a place? After a while the parties had such a cachet that people hoped no one would believe their denials. Adler became the most famous host in the United States, and he never let a guest cross his threshold.”
“Must have saved him a fortune on catering bills,” Shawn said.
“It reminds me what a genius that man was,” Steele said. “He understood that if you simply say something with enough confidence, people will believe you. You’ve got the same kind of genius, Shawn. That’s what we’re here to toast.”
Steele raised the bottle and refilled their glasses, then knocked his back in one gulp. Gus glanced over at Shawn and saw that he was beaming under the praise. Gus wasn’t so sure this was a time to be celebrating. There was something in Steele’s tone that suggested there might be more than a few thorns hidden among the roses.
“So why exactly did you bring us up here, Dal?” Gus said.
“As I said, for a celebration,” Dallas said. “I’m very impressed with the work you’ve done for me.”
“So the investments are just as good as you expected?” Shawn said.
“Every bit.”
Again, Gus had the sensation of a thorn biting through his thumb.
“What do we do now?” Shawn said. “Can we start dividing up the profits yet? Because my friend here could certainly use six thousand dollars. And I hope you notice that I’m acting entirely in his interests here, and that I’m putting my own desires second. Because that’s what friends do for each other.”
Gus aimed a kick at Shawn’s ankle, but Shawn stepped neatly out of the way.
“You’ll certainly be getting a large share of the profits,” Steele said. “But that’s just money. I want to let the world know all about your astonishing accomplishment. That’s why we’re having the press conference tomorrow.”
Gus wasn’t sure why he was feeling so uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. He was even less sure why Shawn wasn’t. “Press conference?”
“I’ve invited the local media,” Steele said. “And some of the more important figures in the community: mayor, city council president, police chief, heads of various charitable organizations. All groups that stand to profit from our investments in the local business community. I’m sure they’ll all want to express their gratitude to you for your hard work.”
Gus glanced over at Shawn again. Was it possible that he was actually blushing?
“I don’t know what to say,” Shawn said.
“Just say you’ll be here.”
“Of course we will,” Shawn said.
Steele pressed an intercom button on the wall. Before he lifted his finger from the buzzer, Shepler had already arrived. “Yes, Mr. Steele?”
“Are the rooms ready yet?”
“Of course. I thought we’d put them in the north tower.”
“Terrific,” Steele said, then turned his dazzling smile on Shawn and Gus. “The press conference is going to start at eight in the morning to make sure we maximize the news cycle. I thought it would be much more convenient for you guys to stay here overnight instead of schlepping down and back up the mountain.”
What had been a nagging feeling in the back of Gus’ head was now spreading throughout his brain and trickling down into his body. He couldn’t remember which fairy tale he’d read as a kid that had a scenario frighteningly like this one, but he was sure that it had one hell of an ugly ending. And even if Gus managed to convince himself that the invitation was entirely for their own benefit, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tara. It was possible that she was still waiting for them at the pass. But would she stay there all night? Or would she realize that they were tucked safely away and go off to do some of Shawn’s psychic bidding?
“That sounds great, Dal,” Shawn said.
Gus tugged at Shawn’s sleeve. “Yes, Dal, great,” he said trying to put as much a significance into his voice as he could. “But we promised Shawn’s dad we’d help him clean up a little mess in his house. You remember what happened at your dad’s place, don’t you, Shawn?”
“That’s the place Shepler picked you up today? The bungalow by the shore?” Steele asked.
“Hasn’t moved in decades,” Shawn said. “He’s kind of like a fungus that way.”
“How did you know where Shawn’s dad lives?” Gus said. “And how did you know we were there?”
“Can’t hire a consultant without performing my due diligence,” Steele said, then turned to Shepler. “Get a full cleaning crew to that address this afternoon. Oh, and have the painters tag along, see if any of the rooms need freshening.”
“Oh, they do,” Shawn said.
“Great,” Steele said. “Send the whole crew: painters, plasterers, plumbers, electricians. Tell them to improve everything in the house, and not to stop until I tell them to personally.”
Shepler turned away and spoke quietly into his cell phone as Steele gestured for Shawn and Gus to follow him back the way they’d come.
“That’s incredibly generous of you,” Shawn said.
“Got to keep my crew busy somehow,” Steele said. “You’re going to love the north tower. You’ll feel like kings of the world.”
“Hear that, Gus?” Shawn said. “You always wanted to be like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.”
“Yes, because it worked out so well for him,” Gus said. “Don’t you think if we’re going to be speaking at a press conference tomorrow we should at the very least go home and change our clothes?”
“What’s wrong with what we’re wearing?” Shawn asked.
In Shawn’s case it was a plaid flannel shirt over a white T, blue jeans, and white sneakers. At least that was how his clothes had started out this morning. Now they were all various shades of gray and black, smeared with the ashy remains of the Perths’ less-than-memorable lives. Although Gus had tried to be careful when cleaning up the mess, his baby blue button-down and khakis were spotted with old oil from the chase through the auto- wrecking lot.
“Nothing,” Gus said, “if the press conference is to launch a new laundry powder, and we’re the ‘before’
