Sammy Keyes and the Hollywood Mummy by Wendelin Van Draanen
The minute we were alone, I flashed Marissa the key.
“Is that mine?”
I shook my head, but I didn't feel like grinning. I felt like some kind of stupid ground squirrel playing chicken with Old Faithful. I knew the geyser was about to blow, but I kept scurrying around it, coming in closer and closer. And even though I'd been nearly burned the last time, I had to charge in one last time. Just had to.
Marissa whispers, “So when?”
“When they've gone to dinner. How did you get away from Inga?”
“Max got her away from me. We ran into him on the stairs, and he thought she'd gone nuts. Said you couldn't be in his room when he'd just seen you in the laundry room. Inga knows, though, Sammy. She knows. And what about that branch? How do you explain that? I sure couldn't!”
“Maybe we won't have to. Nothing's missing. I left everything the way I found it…. Look, we have to go to that service. Max practically commanded us to go, so if we don't show up, it's going to look really suspicious.”
Marissa and I hurried toward the stairs, and on our way up, a group of gussied-up women was coming down. And from the way they were whispering back and forth so intensely, they reminded me of a bunch of eighth-graders who had been sent to the principal's office.
When they saw us coming up, they zipped their lips and plastered on smiles, and we were almost past them when I stopped and asked, “Which one's Tammy's room?”
A woman who looked as if she'd shampooed with black ink said, “Right across the hall from the phone cubby.” She gives my jeans and sweatshirt the once-over and says, “Max isn't making you go to the service?”
“Yeah, we'll be there….”
She pops an eyebrow up and says, “It's not black tie, but you could've done better than that.”
As they disappeared around the corner, I grumbled to Marissa, “What's it matter? She's dead.”
“It's a way to show respect, Sammy, and it's not going to kill you to wear a dress.”
“Oh, please. I've got places to sneak to and people to hide from. You expect me to do that in a dress?”
“Just wear it and change back later, okay? Trust me, you're going to feel like a bumpkin in high-tops.”
I scowled at her. “Never.”
My mother was doing fine, dressed to the nines for a funeral. She and Tammy were both in black with gold accents, but the funny thing was, they didn't look anything the same. My mother had slicked what little hair she had completely back, and Tammy's was ratted and sprayed from here to Kingdom Comb.
Okay, so maybe it's just funeral protocol to put on fancy clothes and give your hair the ol' 220-volt treatment. I don't get it, and I don't like it, and if I die, I sure don't want people saying good-bye to me in high heels and hair spray, but I was through arguing. I had too much else to worry about.
My mother says, “Girls, we're already running late.” She cringes at what I'm wearing and says, “Do you have anything more presentable with you?”
Marissa tugs me along by the arm, saying, “I brought a couple of dresses. We'll be down in a flash.”
So Marissa's dragging me off in one direction while my mother and the Ratted Rabbit scurry off in the other, and then I realize that we don't know where to go. So I call out, “Where's the service?”
My mother calls back, “In the Great Room. Past the dining hall, around the corner, double doors on the right.”
Marissa and I go into our barren barracks, lay out the elephant-trunk arsenal, and pick our weapons. And actually, Marissa could've done a lot worse. The dress she'd brought for me was a little too pouffy in the skirt, but it did have a pocket where I could stash the key, and since the top was like a fancy elasticized T-shirt, it didn't want to migrate or flap open the way some dresses do. She'd even brought me a pair of shoes that were a whole lot better than some I've worn. For one thing, they were flats; for another, they were a little bit big, so they didn't really bite me anywhere.
Marissa says, “Royal blue is your color, you know that? You look great.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned. “I don't know if it's a funeral color, though.”
“Beggars can't be choosers. So zip me up, would you?” I helped her into her little black-and-violet velvet jobbie, and after we raked a brush through our hair, off we went, mere privates in the ranks of the respectably dressed.
The Great Room looked like an enormous Egyptian den. The windows were swagged with miles of earthy-colored chiffon, there were small clusters of armchairs and coffee tables, and I think the giant tasseled pillows thrown here and there were supposed to be like high-class beanbags or something. There were cat sculptures everywhere, and then stone urns and pyramid-shaped lamps and even a four-foot brass camel.
In the heart of the room was a black marble fireplace. Actually, it was more like a fire pit. It was up off the floor, with a ledge around it that you could sit on, but then it was just open. No glass, no screen. Just sort of a fancy campfire pit with a giant suspended hood that vented out through the ceiling.
A bunch of chairs had been arranged around one side of the fireplace, and as we got closer, it became clear that this was no party. Everyone but Max was seated with their hands in their laps, dead quiet, waiting.
Max checks his watch and says, “I think we should begin. Girls, if you'll take the two seats right there?”
The chairs he's pointing to are on the edge, off to one side, and as we scoot into them, my mother gives us a nervous little wave from her seat on the opposite side of the grouping. Inga is sitting right beside her, looking extra stiff, and as she glances our way, I can see she's also extra angry.
Marissa whispers, “She's not going to let you get away with it, Sammy. God, look at her!”
I couldn't. Those eyes of hers burned like acid. I turned away and started trying to figure out who was missing. Knowing Max, he'd take roll by putting out the exact number of seats. I whispered to Marissa, “Hali's not here.”
“Neither's her mother.”
“But everyone else is.”
“So?”
“So I'm thinking…”
“Oh, Sammy, no. Please. You want to flush out the killer? You want to stand up and make a scene like you know who did it, and then—”
“That's a great idea!” I whispered back.
“Stop! Sammy, you cannot be serious! This is not some TV mystery of the week!”
“You're the one who brought it up!”
Max cleared his throat and gave us a reprimanding look, then clasped his hands at his chest. And it looked for all the world like he was going to start things off with a prayer, but instead he takes a deep breath, looks from one side of the group to the other, and says, “It's been a rough day, hasn't it? From the moment Dominique discovered LeBrandi to now. It's been rough. On all of us.”
They're all sitting as stiff as their hair, listening to Max but still kind of eyeing the people around them. Max makes some long apology about the grueling police interrogations everyone's had to endure, but I'm not quite tuned in to him because my brain is running away with Marissa's idea, trying to figure out how to use it.
Then Max says, “I do have an announcement that I hope will make you rest a little easier, though. It's shocking, but still, a welcome resolution to the suspicion that has shrouded our home since this morning.” He looks across the group and says, “Officer Doyle has arrested Opal Novak for LeBrandi's murder.”
All at once the tension snaps. Everyone gasps or cries out and then starts talking a million miles an hour to someone next to her. I jump up and say, “No! Opal didn't do it! I told you she didn't do it! She …she…”
It's as if I hit the mute button. Everyone's quiet, and they're all staring at me. And I realize that I didn't have to come up with a way to put Marissa's idea in motion— Max had done it for me. So as everyone's staring at me, I look around at them, searching for a face that looks nervous or angry or scared. But what's out there?
The biggest bunch of do
Well, except for ol' Tiger Eyes. She jumps up and says, “You sit down! You are completely out of line!”
Then my mother starts frantically motioning for me to shut up and sit down, and then Tammy joins in, too, waving at me to sit down. And before I can say anything else, everyone starts talking again, and Marissa yanks me back to my seat, hissing, “Don't argue with him! You're going to give yourself away!”
Max calls, “Ladies! Ladies! If I may please have your attention!”
When everyone settles down, he says, “I realize there are still a lot of unanswered questions, and our young guest is right—Opal has not been convicted.” He looks at me sort of sternly and says, “But, young lady, the police have been working nonstop on this case and know much, much more about it than you do. I'm sure they have more than enough evidence to support their decision, or they wouldn't have taken Opal into custody.”
He stands up tall, then clasps his hands again and says, “For now, though, I think it's important for us all to take a deep breath, put our questions aside, and give thanks. Thanks for the time we've spent together. Thanks for the positive influences we've had on each other, and thanks to LeBrandi for having graced us with her beauty, her style, and her talent.
“It's also a time to open our minds—to rejoice. LeBrandi transcends us. She is no longer bound by her earthly shackles, her human frailties or dependencies. LeBrandi is free to start again.
“And as she is free, you too must free yourselves of the sadness that comes with her passing. She is not sad, nor should you be! She has met her destiny and has moved on. So, too, must you.” Max spread his arms up and out—like Father Mayhew does when he's talking to God—only Max never mentioned the Pearly Gates or the everlasting fire of Satan's Kingdom. It was like he was explaining some new religion.
“LeBrandi's life has doubled. She will live on in our hearts and minds, and yet she has already begun her new life. On a plane above us, higher and broader, clearer and wiser, her soul is rejoicing in its new beginning. Rejoice with her, for someday you too will be on a higher plane and know more fully your fate, your destiny, your purpose. Like the rain and the snow and the dunes of the earth, we come and go, and come again.” Max's eyes were shining. Intense. And he seemed so convinced by his own words that he was glowing. Absolutely glowing.
And to tell you the truth, even though I was still upset about Opal being arrested, I couldn't help but be swept up by what he was saying. It made me feel sort of—I don't know—floaty. Like my whole body was lifting out of my chair.
I think Marissa was feeling a little dazed, too, because she leaned over and whispered, “Wow. He ought to be a preacher or something.”
When Max was done, he asked for volunteers to get up and share some special stories about LeBrandi. And it's kind of strange — I know my mother got up and said some stuff about them auditioning together, and Tammy stood up and talked for a really long time about them shopping for avocados — but other than that, I don't remember much. I wasn't feeling right. Not sick. Just kind of disconnected. Like my mind and body were in different places.
And then, when the service was over, Max gets back up and says, “As a farewell feast, I've ordered in LeBrandi's favorites: pizza and pasta and feta salad from Portello's, chocolate raspberry cheesecake from Toppers, and an assortment of D'Fleur wines. The food is due to arrive”— he checks his watch—“momentarily. So spend some time together remembering LeBrandi and rejoicing in the life we shared with her. Tonight there are to be no diets, no workouts, no studies … and no regrets.”
This announcement seems to surprise all the women in the room, and as Max heads for the door, a brunette in front of us says, “Wow. Someone ought to die around here more often.”
I almost cried, What? I mean, it wasn't just that it was an ugly comment. It was an ugly comment made by a very pretty person. How could someone so attractive on the outside be so callous on the inside? I looked around the room at the other women, and I wondered—behind their doe eyes and their beautiful masks of makeup, were they all so cold? Did they all have secrets they were hiding? Did they all have résumés of lies?
Opal hadn't killed LeBrandi, I was sure of it. But I was becoming less and less sure that I was ever going to be able to figure out who had.
And after everyone started to file out of the Great Room, I thought that maybe what I should do was go upstairs and call the police myself. I mean, why hadn't they come back to talk to me? It just didn't make any sense. It was almost like Marissa and I weren't even there—which at first was good, but now it felt wrong. Completely wrong.
And I might actually have done it if I hadn't stuck my hand in my pocket and run into Max's key. What was I thinking?
I had places to sneak into….
Laws to break….
This was no time to call the police!
NINETEEN
I made myself focus on what did make sense. And what I kept coming back to was that once my mother finally told Max that she wasn't going to marry him, she could tell everyone else, and then if whoever had killed LeBrandi was really after her, well, at least my mother wouldn't be in danger anymore.
And since there were people everywhere, and since my mother was being driven to dinner at a busy restaurant in a limo and she wouldn't be alone—even with Max—and since I had this key burning a hole in my pocket, I told myself I'd talk to the police after I got my hands on my mother's contract. Sure, I wanted LeBrandi's killer caught, but I was at a dead end on that for now. In the meantime, at least I could try to salvage what was left of my mother's career.
Marissa, on the other hand, wasn't big on chasing down my mother's contract. She'd experienced Tiger Eyes up close and personal and didn't want to risk getting anywhere near her again.
We went back to the bedroom so we could talk, and the minute the door was closed, Marissa said, “Inga is out there somewhere, watching, and believe me, she is not going to let you get away with it. She is going to get you, Sammy!”
“Get me? Look, Marissa. Once we're in Max's office, we can lock the door and stay in there, safe and sound, until we find the contract. Then all I have to do is burn the thing and we're done. We could go to the Great Room and toss it in the fire! How's she going to get us?”
Marissa grumbles, “With that pitchfork.” Then she gets right in my face and says, “You haven't seen that thing, Sammy. I thought she was going to stick it up my nose and skewer my brains!”
“You don't have to come, you know. Or you can just stand guard while I—”
“No! Remember what happened the last time you left me behind? That was probably more dangerous than being with you!”
“Then just stay here.”
Now, I guess while we were arguing, my mother was down in Tammy's room changing her clothes, because all of a sudden there she is, in sequined shoes and that ruby red dress, wearing white gloves and carrying a little white beaded clutch bag.
Marissa gasps, “You look beautiful!”
She did, too. And something about that seemed completely wrong. I closed the door and said, “Wouldn't it be better to look really ugly when you go to turn a guy down? I mean, at least that way he's not, you know, totally devastated.”
My mother gives me a little smile. A sweet, loving little smile. Then she kisses my forehead and says, “It's Trouvet's, Sunshine. You can't do ugly at Trouvet's.”
“Well, maybe tone it down a little? Paint some bags under your eyes or something?”
She sits down beside me on the bed and says, “I've thought a lot about what you went through today and what we said to each other, and I want you to know that I'm sorry.” She shakes her head. “That you thought I killed LeBrandi …” She looks at me and whispers, “I haven't been a very good role model for you lately, have I?”
I folded my hands in my lap, and after a minute of staring at them, I whispered, “I think I understand things better than I used to, but …” I looked up at her. “Would it kill
She lets out a sigh and says, “There was a time when I thought it would.”
Just then there's a knock on the door. Not just a knock-knock-knock, more a rat-a-tat-tat! My mother calls, “Who is it?”
Even through the door, there's no mistaking Inga's voice. “Dominique, the limousine is here. Are the girls in there with you?”
“Yes, and I'll be right down.” She turns to me and says softly, “Now, Samantha, don't worry, and don't wait up. Tomorrow I'd like to spend some time with you coming up with a plan. I appreciate very much what you told me about Hali, because now I realize that I don't have to tell Max anything tonight.”
Oh, great. I'd put myself right back to square one.
She could tell what I was thinking. “Samantha, it took me a little while to get into this mess, and it's going to take a little while to get out of it. I am planning to distance myself from him, and I do think a move is in order, but it's going to take some time to do it right.” She pats my knee and smiles. “Monday I'm going to do everything—short of killing somebody—to land the part of Jewel, and after that I'll know what our options are. In the meantime, please just tell me that you don't hate me or think I'm a despicable person. It all kind of got away from me, but I will do my very best to pull it back together.”
You know, it's funny. Until that moment, my mother had always been my mother. Just my mother. But at that moment, sitting there on that bare mattress with her hand on my knee, I realized that she was much more than just my mother.
She was also a person.
And the reason it struck me the way it did was because for the first time in my life, she wasn't treating me as a daughter.
She was talking to me like a friend.
There are times when I'm at a total loss for what to say. Not very often, but there are times. This was definitely one of those, and since my mother was getting all teary-eyed, I guess she thought it was time to get the show on the road. She got up, gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, and said, “You two have a good time stuffing yourselves on Portello's pizza and chocolate raspberry cheesecake. I'll see you in the morning.”