7c6cdd7d45cb035b54aafd3ac9eb9cc8

“I never kid when I’m on duty,” said Chase seriously.

Mr. Warner quickly sobered.“Well, what can I say? It’s ridiculous, of course. Perfect nonsense. Are you sure the woman is dead? Dan is a great practical joker. He could simply be playing a trick on you—and me. At my expense, of course.”

“You and Dan don’t get along?”

“Oh, everybody knows that,” said the man with an airy wave of the hand. “I run the Society, he runs the Gnomeos, and the water between the two clubs runs very deep indeed.”

“So you’re the chairman of the Maria Power Society,” said Chase, jotting down a note.

“That’s right. The oldest and most popular official Maria Power fan club.”

“Which is exactly what Dan says,” Chase remarked.

“Of course he does. Look, we launched in October 1976 and he launched his Gnomeos—ridiculous name, if you ask me—in November. So I ask you: which one of us is the oldest? We are, of course, and it’s something that’s always stung. To this day Dan can’t help but smear my good name and saythe most horrible things about the Society.”

“But… you’re both fans of Maria Power, right?” said Odelia.

“Look around,” said Jack. “What do you think?”

“So… shouldn’t you be best friends instead of enemies?”

“It’s frankly impossible to be friends with that man,” Jack scoffed. “In the past I’ve suggested we join forces but he shot me down each time. Take the Maria Power retrospective, for instance. That was my idea! But of course Dan had to muscle in and take over. And now he claims it was hisidea all along. Which of course is a blatant lie, but since he’s the big newspaperman everyone believes him.” He shrugged and flicked a piece of lint from his slacks. “I’ve learned to simply ignore Mr. Goory’s delusional antics.”

“Can you tell us where you were this morning between eight and eight fifteen, Mr. Warner?” asked Chase, getting down to brass tacks.

“I was right here, enjoying my breakfast and reading the newspaper—not the Gazette, mind you. How anyone can read that drivel is frankly beyond me—no offense to you, my dear. I’m sure you’re a wonderful reporter. Working for the wrong man.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Well, no. I live alone, you see. My dear wife passed away three years ago, and it’s just been me and Maria ever since.” He gestured to the portrait of the actress above the mantel, a wistful expression on his face.

“Dan claims that Heather Gallop might have had a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet in her possession,” said Odelia, causing Mr. Warner’s eyes to twinkle with delight.

“Oh, goodness gracious. Another old wives’ tale. When are you going to stop believing that man? Of course she didn’t have a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet. No one does. The director destroyed every single print of that movie. Everybody knows that.”

“So you don’t think she was going to hand over a copy to Dan?” asked Chase.

“Of course not! There are no copies. A pity, naturally, because by all accounts it must have been the most amazing picture. It established Maria Power as a leading lady straight out of the gate, and destroyed the career of its director in the process. A beautiful story, don’t you think? Out of the ashes of Rupert Finkelstein’s career rose the most wonderful actress the world has ever seen. A little bit like A Star is Born, though without the dreadful music.” He heaved a sigh and showed us his arm. “Look. Just talking about it gives me goosebumps.”

“So you wouldn’t know anything about Heather Gallop or why she was in town to meet Dan?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. If you ask me she’s probably an old flame of Dan’s—the man is an inveterate Lothario, even at his advanced age. She must have told him she was leaving him for another man and he must have flipped. Goory has the most horrendous temper. But you know that, don’t you, dear?”

Odelia said,“Actually, I don’t. And I must say I don’t recognize the Dan I know in your description.”

“Then you’ve been very, very lucky, Miss Poole.” He gave a little shake of the head. “By the same token that dead woman could have been you.”

Chapter 12

Tex arrived home feeling only slightly more uplifted than when he’d set out for the office that morning. Examining strange and multi-colored spots on patients’ backs and gazing deeply into hairy earholes, infected throats and even poking his (gloved) fingers into one man’s backside for a prostate exam were all things designed to take one’s mind off any problem vexing it, and so by the time he’d sent his last patient on her way he’d almost forgotten that some dastardly demon had absconded with his gnomes the previous night.

Almost, but not quite.

And so by the time he’d changed into his Bermudas and loud Hawaiian shirt and was standing in his backyard surveying his domain, his melancholy was back in full force.

He’d asked his brother-in-law to investigate the case but hadn’t heard back. He’d asked his future son-in-law the same thing and hadn’t heard back either.