Box Office Poison

when Kerrinan’s groupies got in on the act. They formed a flying wedge between Kerrinan and the crazies and escorted him to his car. One of the girls, Liesl, got a kiss for her trouble. Then he drove away.”

Maslin asked a few more follow-up questions, but we learned nothing more. Then, after a bit more conversation between the two residents about how California had become unlivable, we tied it up and headed back out to the car. The rain had slowed to a mere mizzle.

Maslin rested his elbows on the bottom of the steering wheel and shot me a glance. “So, what have you learned?”

“I don’t think you kill your wife because you sliced your drive,” I said.

“I agree. So what’s left?”

“The photo shoot.”

“Onward and upward,” he said.

But that didn’t happen because the photographer had gone to Big Bear for a photo shoot of a hot new rock star who, despite her grunge look and reputation, wanted to be photographed against a backdrop of nature. We tried to track down the ancillary crew who had worked the day of the Kerrinan shoot, but the GQ offices in New York had closed. We admitted defeat.

“So, you want to have dinner?” Maslin asked with forced casualness.

“Actually, may I have a rain check? We’re resuming the arbitration tomorrow, and I need to go over the files.”

“Sure. Look, I may just boom on up to Big Bear and find the guy tonight. I’m feeling restless,” Maslin said.

I looked at him with admiration, since I felt like a limp rag. “That would be great.”

14

Pizer gave me the less then happy news when I arrived at the office: David wasn’t going to be in today, so I got to preside. Which raised the question: why? It wasn’t like vampires took sick days.

“Is he in LA?” I asked Pizer.

“I believe not,” was the cautious response.

I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant. David had been called back to the New York office to report. Since we were maybe halfway through the arbitration, that could only mean one thing. He was reporting about me and my latest adventure. Which meant I was once more under scrutiny from the senior partners. So you better do a kick ass job today, came the unwelcome thought.

Since I had to do David’s job, I figured I could use David’s office. This was nothing against Merlin, but if I was going to play judge for the first time in my life and the partners were turning their attention to me, I wanted time to gather my wits and confidence, and that was a process better done in private.

Two cups of coffee later, and Junie let me know the parties had assembled. I gathered up the files, a legal pad, and several pens and headed to the conference room. Jeff was in his usual position, seated in a chair against the wall. There were shadows under his eyes, and he seemed smaller and thinner, as if the events on the Warner lot had diminished him physically as well as emotionally. We didn’t speak, and he even looked away as I passed. Trying to avoid any hint of impropriety? Or was I just a painful reminder. I know how seeing him affected me. I shook off the memories of that day and settled at the head of the table. Sheila LeBlanc stood and gave a small tug to straighten her gray jacket. There was a large, somewhat abstract pin of a jaguar pinned to her lapel. The way it was placed made it appear it was about to savage her left breast.

“Before we start with evidence I want to bring to your attention a disturbing discovery.” Her eyes shifted to where Jeff sat in his usual position against the wall.

“Very well,” I said.

“We have learned that Mrs. Montolbano—Kate Billingham—is a member of a cult religion known as the Phase Change Center, based on Alfar beliefs. We wish to determine if Mr. Montolbano is also a member of this cult. If so, it might explain his sudden and unwarranted intervention, some could even say intrusion, into this case. These are important issues, and they should have been heard before a court of law, not in an arbitration.”

Jeff’s spine stiffed as if he’d been hit with a cattle prod. The reaction did not make me happy. Generally that meant something had hit a nerve. I noticed that Qwendar on the other side of the room shot Jeff a look that was hard to interpret.

“It seems an odd time to be raising this issue, Ms. LeBlanc,” I said.

“This information just came to our attention,” was the smooth reply.

I looked over at the attorney for the Alfar. “Well, Ms. Gabaldon, have you anything to add?”

“This has taken me as much by surprise as it has you, Your Honor.”

My stomach gave an odd little flip as I heard those words. It wasn’t correct. I wasn’t a judge. I was an arbitrator. A baby arbitrator who actually hadn’t arbitrated yet, and I had a nasty problem staring me in the face.

Stalling for time I picked up one of my pens, balanced it between two fingers, and beat out a tattoo on the table. “When in doubt punt or bunt, depending on which sport you favor.” My vampire foster father’s nasal tones and merry smile floated up out of my chaotic, whirling thoughts.

“Given the suddenness of this objection, I think it only fair that we recess until two this afternoon to give all the parties time to gather evidence and testimony.”

LeBlanc looked sour, Gabaldon looked relieved, Brubaker looked inscrutable, and Gordon McPhee gave a purse-lipped smile and a tiny nod. I clung to what I perceived as approval like a shipwreck victim to a floating spar. Gathering up my materials I swept out of the room. Well, as much as I could sweep given my height.

This time I did head to the broom closet. Merlin looked up as I blew through the door. “My brother thinks you’re cute,” he said, then he stammered to a stop at my expression. “I take it my brother didn’t impress—”

“Nothing to do with Maslin.” And I outlined the problem. “So you’re supposed to be the research monkey. Get researching.”

“Aren’t they supposed to bring you supporting or exculpatory evidence?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I want to know who’s playing hide the football. LeBlanc is definitely playing games, and Jeff certainly reacted.”

“Good point,” and he turned to his computer.

I squeezed past him to sit at my desk and started typing. I checked my watch: 9:23. Four and a half hours to take this beyond the superficiality of a Google search. If LeBlanc’s assertions were true it was going to call into question Jeff’s reasons for forcing the case into arbitration. If it went back to court I would get to go home to New York, but I wanted to find out what was going on. The next few hours would determine if that happened or not.

* * *

In the intervening months since John had been trapped in Fey I had made it a point to learn everything I could about the Alfar. In terms of being closemouthed the Alfar made the vampires look like let-it-all-hang-out guests on a Jerry Springer show. The practical result of that secrecy meant that I had read a lot of bat-shit crazy stuff about Alfar powers. Their secret goal to rule the world. The nature of Fey—depending on who you read, it was either an alternate reality, the past, or another planet. Which meant they were really aliens. There were essays about their government structure—libertarian, communist, green, utopian. (Since I’d met Qwendar I now knew they had a council.) There were the people who believed the Alfar were the real humans and we were evil Morlock conquerors. Others postulated they were the gnomes of Zurich and they manipulated world finance. That they had no gods. That they worshiped many gods. No, actually they were gods. In short nobody knew nothin’. Serious, credible information was hard to come by, and what there was could fill a thimble.

What I’d been able to glean was that the basis of Alfar religion was mutability. The idea of something being unchanging was anathema to them, so they had one god, but he/she/it changed form, name, and function constantly. It made the Trinity look simple.

Naturally humans had tried to join this bandwagon. In my reading I discovered that the Alfar did not