"Hey, kids," Hank called deeply, indicating the empty seats on his side of the table. "Hey, Conar!" He rose, shaking Conar's hand. "Welcome! And thanks—you're going to raise all our ratings."

  "Well, we'll see," Conar said. The scene was interrupted as others in the gathering, who hadn't seen Conar as yet, rose to greet him.

  "Hey!" Andy protested then. "Conar knows we're all glad to have him. Hell, we paid him a fortune. Let's get back to this. The spirits are waiting."

  With the commotion going on around her, Jennifer had lost sight of Abby. As people sat again, she looked at her mother. "Mom...," she began, feeling uneasy about the proceedings.

  "It's fine, darling, do sit down."

  "Such a scene was filmed here once, you know," Drew told them. "David Granger was a good fellow, but a wannabe in the worst way. He wanted to be a great director or an actor. He mostly wanted to be Houdini—the greatest magician ever. He rented out the house. That great seance scene from Death in the Dark was filmed with a company around this very table, just as we are now."

  "How exciting," Vera said.

  "Exciting," Drew said flatly. "Except that Celia Marston, the star of the film, died soon after visiting Granger and his wife."

  "That's the allure," Vera said.

  "That's the tragedy," Conar murmured.

  Jennifer was surprised to realize he had his hand at the small of her back, the bulk of his body behind her. She was more surprised to feel a certain comfort in the fact as he courteously pulled out her chair. She didn't know if he was actually paying any attention to her at all. He didn't like the seance. He was still, in his mind's eye, looking at those pictures on Liam's desk.

  "This is Hollywood," Drew said, "land of dreams—and the death of dreams."

  "Technically," Doug said, "we're not in Hollywood."

  "Oh, close enough," Vera said with exasperation.

  "We're going for mood here, people," Jim Novac told them, grinning.

  "Yes, Drew, what do we do now?" Hugh Tanenbaum asked. He winked across the table at Jennifer. The director was in his late forties and had been around as long as she could remember. He had worked with her mother years ago, and they had remained friends since. He was known as a moneymaker because he did films on reasonable budgets that drew crowds at the box office.

  It didn't matter what the decade—people liked to be scared.

  "Really, let's do this. I'm starving," Jay Braden announced.

  "All right, all join hands," Drew said. His hazel eyes sparkled. He lowered his silver head—after winking at Abby.

  Jennifer joined hands with Conar and Hank. She looked down the table. Her mother was now watching her. She smiled in assurance as she joined hands with Joe Penny and Hugh Tanenbaum.

  "Shall I turn out the lights, Mr. Parker?" Edgar asked from the doorway.

  "Yes, please, Edgar, and see that the French doors are open to the pool area."

  All of them fell silent as the lights went out. The French doors opened, seemingly on their own, since the darkness had hidden Edgar's trek across the room.

  Jennifer didn't realize that she had tensed up until she felt both Conar and Hank ease their fingers from her death grips. They held her hands then rather than allow her to choke their bones once again.

  "Celia Marston," Kelly said, "what happened to her? I know you can visit her grave. In fact, I think she's right near Marilyn."

  "Marilyn?" Doug asked.

  "Monroe," Thorne McKay supplied with exasperation.

  "Hey, all of you," Andy Larkin said with aggravation, "this is a seance, not a coffee klatch."

  "Yes, but how did she die?" Jim Novac asked.

  "She fell, they say, down the cliffs at the back of the house," Hugh Tanenbaum provided.

  "She did fall," Jennifer said, aggravated. "According to all the reports about the incident."

  "Ah, but did she fall—or was she pushed?" Andy demanded with deep, husky dramatics.

  "We'll never really know, will we? None of us was here," Conar said.

  "Oh, but I was here," Drew announced.

  "If we're going to chat all night, can I get a drink to bring to the table?" Jay Braden asked.

  "Come, come, children, let's play nice or not at all," Jim Novac directed.

  "So was she pushed, or did she fall?" Andy demanded.

  "May I get a drink?" Jay asked again.

  "Jay, we're supposed to keep holding hands," Serena reminded him.

  "Celia Marston—did she fall, or was she pushed?" Jim Novac asked, repeating Andy's question.

  "I don't know. I heard her scream, but nothing more," Drew said, his tone provocative. "And then there she was...at the bottom of the canyon."

  "It had been a wild night, and everyone had been drinking, and God knows what else, and she certainly just fell," Conar said. His tone was curt. Silence fell around the table.

  He was still seeing that other body at the base of the canyon.

  "Well, we're having a seance, right?" Abby asked lightly, looking at Conar. She smiled, as if they shared a secret. "Drew will just summon Celia to the table, and we'll ask her."

  "All right, concentrate now. Listen to the air, the world, feel the night around you," Drew directed. The room was no longer completely dark. The lights from the pool area spilled in, causing a deep cavern of shadows and forms. Outside, the moon rose high over the pool, where palms dipped and waved, the foliage whispered...

  "Hold hands," Drew instructed.

  "We're already holding hands," Serena reminded him.

  "Close your eyes and concentrate. Celia...Celia Marston...," Drew intoned. "Years ago you left this very table where we are joined now. You were young, you were beautiful, you held the world in the palm of your hand. You left this house that night. And wandered...and plunged to your death. We've come to help you, Celia, to solve the mystery. Talk to us, Celia, let us know that you're with us..."

  A wind suddenly ripped through the room. Something fell over with a thud; the curtains flew and fluttered.

  A scream was heard from the other side of the table.

  "What is it?" Jennifer cried, jumping up.

  "Andy Larkin, get your hand off my thigh," Serena sputtered.

  "Serena, I wasn't—"

  "Oh, bull!" Serena announced.

  "Hey!" Joe Penny protested. "This was going pretty well. What a great breeze! We should have had a camera going. Serena, hell, the two of you were married. What difference does it make if he slipped a little?"

  Serena let out an aggravated groan. "Joe, you really don't understand what a wretched chauvinist you can be."

  "Serena, sweetheart, darling—"

  "I rest my point."

  Conar stood, ready to turn on the lights.

  Suddenly, there was another scream. They all froze. There was a figure in the center of the open French doors, a silhouette created in the light and shadow. Standing there, staring at them. As if on cue, lightning rent the sky.

  A shadow, a form that didn't disappear.

  So still, standing, staring, watching them, as if summoned from the depths of hell.

  "The Grim Reaper!" Jay Braden whispered.

  "My God!" Kelly breathed.

  Lightning split the sky, but the shadow remained, dark and ominous, staring, watching, waiting...

  There, dark and haunting, against the night sky.

  "She's come back!" Vera whispered. "She's come back!"

  "Who...who...?" Kelly began.

  "Who has come back?" Serena whispered.

  "Oh, my God!" Vera cried out, rising, her hand flying to her throat. "Oh, God, oh, God! You have summoned the dead!"

  "What the hell's going on?" a deep voice demanded.

  The silhouette stepped forward.

  Chapter 7

  D

  rew Parker quickly rose to reach Vera as she slumped in her chair.

  Conar swore—and reached for the lights. Brightness flooded the room.

  "Is everyone all right? Just what the hell is going on here?"

  The "ghost" was Liam Murphy, standing between the double doors that led to the patio. He was wearing a trench coat, Jennifer realized, which had given him the appearance of a floating, spectral visitor.

  "Liam," Abby breathed.

  She had remained calm and rational, not panicking like Vera, who was now back in a chair, flushed, her eyes opening, enjoying the attention of those who hovered around her. Kelly had gone for water, Drew was fanning her.

  "I knocked at the front door, but no one seemed to hear me. So I came around and the gate was open...What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

  "A seance," Serena explained, studying the newcomer.

  "And who are you?" Jay asked.

  Abby laughed softly. "Don't worry, he's not another actor."

  "A cop," Andy suggested.

  "This is Detective Murphy," Jennifer agreed.

  "Lord," Hugh Tanenbaum exclaimed, "you haven't found another body, have you?"

  Liam smiled. "No," he said softly.

  Andy Larkin rose and walked over to him. "Well, how do you do, Detective? Andy Larkin, producer, actor, Valentine Valley. You sure do look the part. If you ever need extra work, we can always use a good cop on the show. Anyone want a drink?"

  "Hell, yes!" Joe Penny announced.

  En masse the company rose from the table, heading for the bar.

  The food was delicious. Abby had done the menu, Edgar had done the ordering and the hiring of the help. There were elaborate vegetable plates for the vegans among them, sushi, delicate egg rolls, spiced chicken wings, turnovers, patties and pastries and fruit.

  Jennifer freshened drinks for the company, hovering near her mother, who was holding court in one of the large leather wing-backed chairs in the den.

  Hugh Tanenbaum was trying to get her to accept a role in his movie. "Just a cameo, Abby. You're so beautiful, so sensational."

  "And so not up to it at the moment," Abby told him politely.

  "You're as stubborn as your daughter," Hugh said.

  Abby's eyes touched Jennifer's. "Hugh offered you a role?"

  "Um," she murmured.

  "The two of you in the same movie... You've never appeared together, have you?" Hugh asked.

  "Hey," Joe Penny protested, "if Abby does any more acting, she does it for me."

  "You're a soap, I'm a movie."

  "You mean you're legitimate and I'm not?" Joe said sharply.

  "I didn't say that at all. Movies are just easier. I can work around Abby far more easily if she isn't feeling well," Hugh said.

  Andy Larkin sniffed in protest. "We'd do anything for Abby."

  "You know, I have scriptwriters who can do anything," Hugh said.

  Doug lifted his glass, clearing his throat. "Excuse me. They have a scriptwriter who can bring bodies back to life out of the bellies of sharks!"

  The laughter that followed his statement eased the tension that had begun to grow.

  "You know I admire your work," Joe told Hugh. "I sent my writer to study your moviemaking."

  Hugh lifted a glass to Joe. "You all are the best soap out there."

  "Hear, hear," Drew said and applauded.

  "We're quite an admiration society," Jennifer murmured, filling Hugh's glass with ice. He wanted another Stoli on the rocks with double lime.

  She looked up. Conar was across the room leaning against the mantel of the fireplace. He had been watching her, she realized.

  Her...

  And Abby.

  "You make a fortune with your films," Joe Penny commented to Hugh. "You must be pleased."

  Hugh shrugged, smiling at Abby. "Well, I pay the rent. But things just aren't the same anymore. Abby and I can remember when filmmakers were great, when actors acted rather than relying on special effects. The greatest filmmakers...created excitement, fear, suspense...from thin air."

  "Special effects can create amazing films," Jennifer heard herself argue.

  Joe nodded. "Yes, and there are great special-effect films out there. But look at the old Haunting with Julie Harris and Claire Bloom. Nothing happened. Nothing really. A few doors rattled. It was all atmosphere and psychological suspense. Spectacular. It's still a scary movie, a very scary movie."

  "Fear is all in the mind," Conar said. "And there's nothing as frightening as what the mind can do, is that what you're saying?"

  "Exactly," Joe agreed.

  Across the room, Liam Murphy made something like a strangling sound. "There's real fear, too, ladies and gents," he said flatly.

  "Of course," Conar said, walking across the room. He set his glass down on the bar, barely noticing Jennifer there. "Real...and psychological. You, Hugh, and you, Joe. You're both obsessed with the films of Hitchcock."

  "Obsessed is a rather strong word," Hugh protested.

  "We admire him," Joe said, looking defensively to Hugh for agreement, as if the two, who had argued just minutes earlier, were now the best of friends.

  "Hm. Well, the 'psychological' with, say, Hitchcock's famous shower scene," Conar continued, "is that the knife never touched Janet Leigh. We saw the knife, saw her face, saw the flashing blade, saw the shadow of the killer. But the result was the 'real.' She was stabbed to death."

  "The point, of course, is that we don't really need all the gore."

  "I agree. Hitchcock was a great filmmaker," Conar said. He stared at Joe Penny. "So why do we try to imitate him? We should move on to something new. Especially in a soap."

  "Soaps should have suspense," Joe protested.

  "Thank God I do movies," Hugh muttered. "And Abby, you've a part anytime. We'll rewrite anything for you. And Jennifer. And hell, maybe we could talk Conar into a role. Wouldn't that be the feat of the century?"

  "Conar would never agree," Andy Larkin said.

  Conar shrugged suddenly. "Who knows? If Abby and Jennifer were to agree..."

  "A whole damned family affair," Drew Parker muttered.

  "If you all will excuse me...," Abby announced. "I'm so delighted that you've all come, and I've had a wonderful time. But..."

  Conar was instantly at her side.

  "Let me help you, Mom," Jennifer said quickly, setting down her glass and walking around the bar. Conar already had her arm, Jennifer could see that her tremors were beginning to set in. Abby had waited a bit too long.

  "Jennifer, stay with our guests. Conar will see me to my room."

  She kissed Jennifer's cheek. Jennifer was loath to let her mother go.

  "Good night, Mom."

  "Good night, everyone. Once again, thank you all for coming."

  Conar escorted her, and Abby swept out. She kept her chin high. She might have been walking down the aisle after the Academy Awards.

  "Jennifer?" Hugh Tanenbaum said.

  "What?"

  "Your mother looks wonderful."

  "Absolutely wonderful," Andy agreed ruefully.

  "She doesn't want to work," Jennifer said firmly.

  "She didn't say that," Joe told her.

  "Hey, lay off," Serena butted in.

  "Serena!" Andy said sternly.

  "Abby is ill, and you are all fools if you don't see it," Serena persisted.

  "Jennifer is here with her all the time; she's her daughter, and she knows what Abby is really thinking and feeling," Kelly said.

  Andy started toward Jennifer, stopping right in front of her.

  He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. He was a solid man, tall and broad in the shoulders, and imposing when he chose to be.

  "Maybe Jennifer is just a little jealous."

  "What?" she demanded sharply.

  "You are like a pit bull, keeping everyone away from Abby. Abby looked great tonight. Abby was really famous. Maybe you're just a little jealous, wanting to keep Abby out of the spotlight."

  Jennifer felt her face flood with color. She didn't think that she had ever been so furious. She wanted to hit him. "Andy, you're an a—"

  She didn't say the words that might have gotten her fired. Help came this time from an unlikely source.

  "Andy, you can be an idiot," Conar said, striding casually back into the room. He had obviously heard the comment. To Jennifer's surprise, he came to her side. Smiling, he said, "My stepsister is surely one of the loveliest creatures to ever grace the earth. She adores Abby and wants to keep her from being tormented by money-hungry mongrels like you, Joe, and Hugh." His eyes remained on her for a second. "She has an assistant pit bull, now, you know."

  Andy turned and walked away. "Maybe, just maybe, Abby wants to work," he said.

  "I'd never keep Abby from working," Jennifer flared.

  "Hey, we're keeping that horror movie in mind, right, Jen?" Conar said dryly.

  "Oh, certainly. Right."

  "Enough!" Vera announced suddenly. "This is Abby's house, Jennifer was kind enough to invite us. Mr. Parker, do tell us more about the legends regarding the house."

  "Vera," Jennifer protested, "you passed out when you saw Liam in the window."

  "I didn't exactly pass out," Vera protested.

  "No," Hank said teasingly. "You swooned. Far more ladylike."

  "Very Southern." Jay Braden laughed.

  "Are we supposed to be Southern?" Kelly asked.

  "Southern Italian, if anything," Hank assured her.

  "I think my character was originally from the South," Vera said, fluffing up her hair. She winked at Jennifer and smiled. Jennifer smiled back. Vera could act like an airhead, but mostly it was an act. Vera had been drawing the fire away from her.

  "What else happened in the house?" Vera persisted.

  "There was the magician in the box," Doug said.

  "I even heard that story," Thorne announced. "He was supposed to escape—like Houdini. He wasn't in the box when they opened it the first time, certain that he couldn't make it out on his own and that he'd suffocate if they didn't bring him out."

  "Well, what happened?" Kelly asked.

  "This is a great story," Hugh commented, sipping from his drink.

  "A day later, the magician still hadn't shown up. It was as if he disappeared into thin air," Drew said.

 

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