The Unholy. Heather Graham

wasn’t as if she was totally averse to a whirlwind romance—here today, gone tomorrow—it was just that the right opportunity hadn’t come along. She preferred to remain friends with men she might work with again, and she didn’t want the girlfriends, wives and lovers of actors or colleagues not wanting her to be part of future projects. So she kept her distance. Sometimes the actors she worked with could be cold and full of themselves, but luckily, that was seldom the case. And when she kept her distance, she earned their respect. Maybe men always admired and longed for what they couldn’t have. Maybe women, too.

      And maybe she was just damaged. Maybe a friend like Bogie was a reward for the strange and painful things that had happened to her.

      Right now, she needed to concentrate and focus on the moment—and not on Sean Cameron. She didn’t know the man. Not at all. She’d seen him standing outside a car. She’d heard his voice and shaken his hand. Watched how he’d silently laid his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, a true sign of friendship and support. There was something about his voice, though. It seemed to enclose her and make her feel his words were sincere, that he was some kind of secure bastion against the world. Eddie had called on him in a time of need.

      As they pulled up in front of the cinema and studio, Madison saw that there were four police cars guarding the entrance. She looked past the cars and the crime scene tape to the beautiful Art Deco–style Black Box Cinema with its terra-cotta sunburst facade, and the elegantly crafted sign. The building itself was a handsome and historic structure; it appeared sad, though, wrapped in crime scene tape as it was.

      When she looked to the side she saw the parking lot, empty now of cars. During lockdown it was usually crowded even at night—all hands on deck.

      She noted a vintage Cadillac that was out of place among the clearly marked patrol cars. It was parked at the far end; there was a man standing outside the car, staring at the buildings, as if he was carefully watching the police and every move they made.

      He turned as they drove up. Before they could exit, he walked over to the car, and Eddie rolled down the driver’s-seat window. From the passenger seat, Madison leaned over and saw that it was Andy Simons, Eddie’s partner.

      “Hey, you doing okay?” Simons asked Eddie.

      Madison didn’t know him half as well as she knew Eddie; Simons was money, Eddie was art. But the two were longtime friends and Simons—like everyone else associated with the studio—would stand by Eddie to the very end. Eddie and Andy were complete opposites in more ways than one. Eddie was slim and athletic, an attractive middle-aged man, casual and easy in his manner and dress. Andy was muscular and his clothing—even his jogging attire, as she’d seen once—was pure designer quality. He had a head of light blond hair that he kept artfully colored and his nails were manicured. He’d always been nice when Madison encountered him, he just didn’t have Eddie’s natural ease with the artisans and employees of the studio. However, that didn’t matter much, since he was seldom around.

      “Thanks, Andy,” Eddie said huskily. “I’m doing all right.”

      “And Alistair?”

      “The best he can be—under the circumstances.” Eddie gestured at Sean. “Andy, you remember Sean Cameron—”

      “Of course I do,” Andy said, looking into the backseat and smiling. “Nice to see you, Sean. We missed you—and your talent—when you left. Odd timing, though,” he added.

      “He’s not here for his old job,” Eddie said. “Sean is with the FBI. His unit is going to take the lead on the investigation. I told you I was going to call in some favors to see that Alistair got a fair shake, that I wanted to bring in an FBI unit.”

      “Yeah, I know. But, Sean—you’re FBI?” Simons asked.

      “Career change,” Sean said with a shrug. “Life takes us to some strange places.”

      “That’s a major change.” Simons looked at Eddie, frowning. “I knew you wanted the FBI involved, but I wasn’t sure you could pull it off. But then, you’ve always been able to create magic.”

      “Never hurts to have two law enforcement agencies working together—we can bring different specialties to the table,” Sean explained.

      “But from fabricator…to FBI?” Simons said, grinning.

      “You never know,” Sean Cameron said.

      There was an air of expectancy in the silence that followed, but Cameron didn’t say anything else and Eddie spoke up.

      “Madison is going to show him around the studio. It’s been a while.”

      Simons nodded. “Great.” He smiled at Eddie and tried to sound cheerful. “No one works harder than Madison, and I’d say she’s definitely a good choice for bringing Sean up-to-date. And we can’t ask for anything better than the FBI,” he said. He bent lower and grinned at her. “You’re the best, too, Madison. We all appreciate what you’re doing, but I have to ask—you okay with this? You don’t have to be here, you know. We can only ask so much of you.”

      “I’m just fine. I’ll do anything to help Alistair,” she said.

      “Anything,” Simons repeated. His comment seemed odd to Madison, or maybe not. To the outside world, there was no way that Alistair hadn’t committed the murder. Maybe he was really asking if she’d be willing to lie, if necessary. Was he? she wondered. Andy Simons’s fortune was tied to Eddie’s, and while he might have had the seed money, it was Eddie’s talent that had kept them both going.

      The one aspect of the business Andy didn’t have anything to do with was the Black Box Cinema. That was strictly Eddie’s.

      “Agent Cameron, welcome, and thank you,” Simons was saying. He straightened a bit. “Glad you’re with us. I’ve been standing in the parking lot for hours—don’t know why, except that I want the police to realize that all of us at the studio believe in Alistair, and we’ll be watching them.”

      “I know why you’re here. You’re my friend,” Eddie said. “And I’m grateful for the support.”

      “Sure. With Sean on the case now, I’ll head home. But, Eddie, if you need me—for anything, anything at all—just call.”

      “Thanks, Andy,” Eddie said.

      “Thank you. And I will be calling on you.” Sean Cameron reached through an open window to shake the man’s hand.

      “I’ll talk to you later, then.” Simons gave them all a grave nod and walked to his car.

      “Thank God I do have friends on board, and we’re not just throwing Alistair to the wolves,” Eddie said.

      “Character can mean everything, Eddie. And a vicious murder isn’t in Alistair’s character.” Sean Cameron opened his door to exit the car and Madison did the same.

      “Keep the faith, Eddie,” Sean said, ducking his head down to the window.

      “I will.” Eddie nodded, and eased the car toward the road.

      One of the police officers on guard duty approached Madison and Sean. Madison felt awkward about this; Sean Cameron did not. He smoothly produced his credentials and they were ushered through the massive gates. They were stopped once again, at the entrance to the cinema.

      “Even though you’re FBI, are you sure they’re going to let us in here?” Madison asked.

      “Yes, they’re required to. The agencies will be working in tandem. I want to see the studio today. The crime scene experts are probably still in there—looking for anything and everything. But it’s important that I meet the LAPD detective in charge,” he told her. “How do you feel about Andy Simons?” he asked, looking at her closely.

      “Andy? Honestly, I don’t see him that often. Neither Eddie nor Andy comes to the studio daily, although Eddie’s in far more often and is usually with us when we go on location,” Madison said. “When