Then she wet two towels and draped one over Corny's mouth, holding the other to her own. The smoke was pouring in through the seams around the windows and door. She coughed and gagged. The smell was horrible. She tried to rouse Cornelia and couldn't. Finally, Faith knelt by her friend's side and kept her fingers on Corny's pulse. f worse came to worse, she could try to resuscitate her, but the present conditions in the room made 'in with the good air, out with the bad' a farce.
She tried to think where the gas tank on the vehicle was. Underneath somewhere, but where? Maybe the ground, shadowed by the RV, was too damp for the fire to catch. She began to pray. It was hopeless to do anything else.
Help arrived in the unlikely combination of Detective Sullivan and Marta Haree, garments flapping in the breeze, trailing behind him. Hearing their shouts, Faith jumped to her feet.
“We're locked in!' she screamed out the window. 'Evelyn locked us in and drove away. You've got to call the police and stop her.' Faith assumed with all the smoke in the air, someone had already called the fire department.
Marta nodded and started back toward the house. Her expression of concern had not given way to surprise. Oddly enough, it appeared she did not find Faith's words hard to believe.
Others from the movie were now running toward the trailer. Alan Morris sprinted ahead with a fire extinguisher. Max was calling Evelyn's name in the mistaken belief his wife was still inside.
“Go to the door. I'm going to get you out!' Ted Sullivan yelled.
Faith watched in horror as he dashed close to the flames. Soon she heard his voice on the other side of the door. She pulled Cornelia over as gently as possible and stood out of the way. Was he going to kick it in? But she'd forgotten about those oh-so useful skeleton keys cops carry, and he had the door open in a flash.
“Run!' he yelled, prepared to do the same.
“I can't! Cornelia is here and she's unconscious!”
“Run, damn it!' he said again. 'I'll get her! This could blow any minute!”
She obeyed, looking back once she was clear of me fire, to see him following close behind carrying Cornelia.
Alan had trained the nozzle of the extinguisher at the heart of the fire. Max was still screaming for Evelyn. Pandemonium reigned. Safely away, Faith and Sullivan collapsed onto the ground. Sully rolled Cornelia off his shoulder. Coughing and gasping for breath, it was some time before either could speak, and Sully beat Faith to it. 'You can thank Dunne and MacIsaac when you see them. I've been tailing you since yesterday. Those guys may just have saved your life.”
Faith nodded solemnly. She knew it. But there was work to be done.
She could hear the sirens that meant help was on the way and ran over to Greg Bradley to ask him to stay with Cornelia. Sully looked puzzled when she returned with Max's stand-in.
“We've got to hurry. Greg will keep an eye on Cornelia. I'll tell you all about it in the car.”
Out of earshot, Faith quickly filled the detective in on the scene that had occurred in the trailer and her discovery of the slides, still tucked safely in her pocket.
“I didn't want to tell Marta why I thought the police should pick Evelyn up. Let everyone assume it's because she locked us in. It may be that she wasn't acting alone, although I'm pretty sure she was. In any case, Max or someone else might warn her before we could get to her.”
Sully agreed. 'So, we're on the way to the house they rented?'
“No, I'm sure that's where the police, sorry, where you guys will go first and there's no point in duplicating effort. Besides, I doubt she's there. The nanny and baby would be around and I don't think Evelyn's in a motherly mood. She may simply be driving around hell-bent for leather in that car of hers, letting off steam. As far as she's concerned, she's just had another tantrum and locked two obnoxious underlings in her very comfortable dressing room. She may even consider us lucky to be honored with a prolonged stay in a place most fans—and Entertainment Television—would give their eyeteeth to see. She has no idea we have the slides.' Faith noted she must be upset to be using such cliched expressions. She was virtually certain she'd never referred to eyeteeth or leather before. Sully noticed it, too.
“And if she's not driving around in the colorful manner you suggest, I'm sure you have an alternative.' Sully had definitely been around Dunne too long.
“As it happens, I do.' Faith gave him a slightly reproachful look. Cynicism was such an ugly trait. 'What do people with eating disorders do when they're upset? They eat. And what's less than a mile from here? Webb's, the homemade ice cream place.'
“I can't say that I've ever been there, but your logic makes a certain amount of sense. Tell me where to go”
Webb's was several turns off the main road. It had originally started as a stand adjacent to the Webb farm and was open only during the summer months, but after it was discovered by Boston magazine and listed in several guidebooks, business increased to the point where the Webbs built a year-round structure and expanded the menu to include lunch offerings. The main emphasis remained on the ice cream with its sinfully high butterfat content. Webb's was not the place for frozen yogurt aficionados.
Faith and Sully were rewarded by the sight of Evelyn's shiny red sports car, sprawled across two spots in the parking lot.
“She's here!' Faith wanted to leap from the car and drag the woman out, but she restrained herself and told the detective her plan. He gave her a look that could have been approval and stayed in the car while she went in the door.
There was nothing cute about the inside of Webb's, just simple booths, a long counter, and a calendar from a feed company on the whitewashed walls kept scrupulously clean by Mrs. Webb. The one concession to decor was red calico curtains.
Evelyn was in a booth at the rear. Faith recognized the back of her sweater. The star's hair was covered by a large kerchief, and when Faith got closer to the table, she could see that Evelyn was wearing dark glasses. Whether the disguise had worked, or because the late-afternoon clientele, busy spoiling their appetites for dinner, had decided to ignore her in their own inimitable New England way, Evelyn was being left strictly alone. Alone except for the wreckage of several of the Webb's gigantic ice cream specialties. These confections carried names such as Danny's Dairy Delight and Myrtle's Mounds of Mocha—in honor of the cows or the children, Faith had never asked. Evelyn was attacking Bessie's Chocolate Dream—a bowl of several hefty scoops of chocolate ice cream with hot fudge, marshmallow topping, whipped cream, nuts, chocolate chips, and several cherries.
Faith sat down opposite her. Sully walked in the door, said something to the cashier, and casually strolled to a booth across the aisle.
Evelyn looked up from her ice cream. For a moment, she seemed not to recognize Faith, then hissed at her,
“What the hell are you doing here? Can't you leave me alone!'
“I thought we might talk about these.' Faith held the slide box up, then quickly returned it to her pocket. Evelyn pulled off her glasses.
“Give those to me! They're mine!' Her voice was rising. 'You took them from my trailer!'
“And you took them from the storeroom after you killed the photographer, Alden Spaulding. His name is on the box, not yours,' Faith said calmly.
Evelyn stood up and reached for Faith across the table, sending the sticky contents of Bessie's Dream flying all over Faith's jacket, much to the sleuth's annoyance.
“Give me those slides, you bitch, or I'll kill you, too!”
Detective Sullivan pulled Ms. O'Clair away from Faith, thereby saving her face from possible damage. 'You have the right ...' he intoned.
Faith was very thankful. She was thankful that Dunne had had Sully follow her. She was thankful Evelyn O'Clair's talonlike fingernails hadn't reached their target. And she was thankful to be in her own house later that night with some of the cast of characters sitting around the Fairchilds' big kitchen table devouring Chinese takeout.
It wasn't a chicken feet crowd or even a clams in black bean sauce one. What wasn't deep-fried or covered with red dye number something sweet-and-sour sauce was being rolled up in mu shu pancakes. And, like other
