LITMIR.BIZ

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and dreadfully dead.”

      “Mother—”

      “Don’t you dare tell me that dead is dead—dreadful or otherwise. She was murdered. Viciously murdered by a sword-wielding villain. Well, someone in a costume. But... Oh, Bryan. It was horrid, quite horrid—you must have heard about it on TV or in the news online!”

      “Nope,” he told his mother.

      “How could you have missed the news?” Maeve demanded. “Oh, I do hate to say it, but Cara is far more famous now in death than she was in life.”

      “I come out here to enjoy the mountains and scenery, Mom. Not watch TV.”

      “The news would be on your phone.”

      “News is on anywhere, Mother, if you look for it.”

      “All right then, I’ll tell you about it. Comic Con—West Hollywood.”

      “I thought the big comic cons were in San Diego. Maybe New York.”

      “Comic cons are all the rage—they are cropping up everywhere,” Maeve informed him. “And this—Oh, son... Horrible, horrible, horrible. Cara was my good friend. Okay, so imagine this. The cast of Dark Harbor is lined up at a booth. People are flocking over to them for signed pictures. There’s a Blood-bone character whipping his sword around—at first, all to the delight of the crowd. Then he walks up to the Dark Harbor cast booth and starts off as if he’s performing with them—and then he brought his sword down, slashing poor Cara to death, right across her throat!”

      “In the middle of a crowd of people, some costumed character slashes a woman to death and walks away?” Bryan demanded, incredulous.

      “Well, that’s just it. People thought it was a performance. Cara fell dead, the others began to realize it—people were clapping, thinking it was just an impromptu show done very well. Blood-bone walked off... The cast began to scream. Cops came, but by then, the killer was gone. From what I understand, it was a zoo.”

      “But no one noticed a masked man in costume?”

      “Well, of course, they did. They gathered up at least twenty Blood-bones—you know, conference attendees in Blood-bone costumes—but they don’t believe that the killer was any of the men, or the one woman, with whom they spoke. They couldn’t find a Blood-bone with actual blood on him or a lighted sword that was really a sword. Don’t you understand? Someone is going to get away with this. Bryan, you have to do something.”

      “Mom, at the moment, I’m not a cop.”

      “Don’t be silly, darling, I know that. And if you had stayed on the force, you’d be a Virginia cop, anyway. However, you did get your PI license.”

      “Yes, I did.”

      “So you need to get out to California and help Marnie Davante. Please.”

      “Mom, you know that I’m supposed to be meeting with your other sons next week. They’ll be back by then.”

      “I know where they are,” Maeve said indignantly. “Brodie took a temp job as a bodyguard for that chain store CEO, and he’s still in China somewhere. Bruce was helping out a friend who is with the Texas Rangers.”

      “Right. But we’re due to get together and decide if we do want to form an investigation company.”

      “That would be in the near future. You need to help Marnie now.”

      “Mom, I have no ins with the West Hollywood Police or even the California State Police. I’m sure they would resent—”

      “Please.”

      “Mom, again, I’m not in Hollywood. I’m sure there are very capable police out there. Your friend isn’t being threatened—she’s already dead. I’m not sure—”

      “It’s Marnie! Cara is terribly worried about Marnie.”

      Bryan stopped pretending that he could continue chopping wood. He leaned on the ax and looked at the ghost of his mother.

      “Does Marnie know that she needs my help?”

      “How could she?”

      “Come on then, what do you want out of me?”

      “Someone who is invested in the horrible thing that happened—and in Marnie—believes that a dead woman is out there trying to help solve her own murder. Please, Bryan. It’s you—you need to help. You were just working with that FBI friend of yours, helping track down that missing child. And you said that he knows Adam—my friend Adam Harrison? Well, my friend and dad’s friend. I think your father knew Adam first.”

      “Yes, I was working with a friend named Jackson Crow, and we were lucky—we found the missing child.” He didn’t mention that his old friend was with a special unit of the FBI, or that he’d suggested that Bryan might be just right for that unit.

      He could only hope that she didn’t know that her old friend Adam Harrison had actually created the unit.

      “How is Adam? Such a dear man.”

      Hopefully, she hadn’t seen Adam since she’d...

      He could never think the word died.

      Maybe because she was his mother, and he did love her.

      And maybe because she had never really gone anywhere.

      “And you—all three of my boys—still at odds and ends, taking on various odd jobs.”

      “Good jobs, Mom. We help people. You should be a happy camper. All three of us served our time in the military and went through college. And yes, in the last year or so we have taken on some strange jobs, but they’ve been good ones, jobs that help people.”

      “And here’s someone who needs help. Yes, I hope, eventually, you and your brothers are going to get together. You’re looking to form a company. I do like that idea. You want to know what to do with your life? You’re doing quite nicely at the helping people thing, and this—this!—would be an important part of that. I mean, you broke my heart when you completely ignored the fact that your father and I were known for our extreme talents and absolute love of live theater. And you didn’t even want to head in the direction of film. I must say, I created—I created!—three of the most handsome men one could ever want to imagine, and you’ve no interest in using that beauty to a good—to a paying—end.”

      “Mother,” Bryan said, “I believe you and Dad did emphasize that in life, looks mean nothing, that the heart and soul of a man or a woman matter most.”

      Here she was, giving him a pitch about helping someone.

      And she was still brokenhearted she hadn’t produced a single actor among them.

      “Yes, well, of course,” Maeve said, sweeping back a long, curling strand of her dark hair. “Looks do not matter. Heart and soul and kindness and compassion. Things like that matter most with everyone you meet. Seriously, of course, decency—it’s a total given. But I have these three strapping lads! Strapping, I say—tall, dark and absolutely, stunningly handsome—and not one of you chose to use such wondrous good looks.”

      “Mother, you don’t think you might be a little prejudiced on that?”

      He moved past her to fetch another piece of wood.

      She waved a hand in the air. “One can only be so prejudiced!” she said. “But that’s so far beside the point. I am afraid that I must have done something terribly wrong if not one of you felt the lure of the stage. The military! Well, I do understand. Your father and I were gone and... The military. Noble. What an honorable and lofty ideal—to serve one’s country. Yes, that was all quite fine, and thankfully you all came home in one piece. But that was then, and this is now. You went out and got a PI license. You’ve been working with the FBI and cops. You do realize that if you were to just choose to be an actor, I might not be so determined

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