to have plenty of it, and keeping his secret meant you had something over him for life.”
“Of course,” Darius acknowledged. He sounded bored. “He’d taken away my biggest client.” His eyes went from Mick to DJ with a ghost of a smile. “If you’ll both forgive my saying so.” He shrugged. “I had to consolidate my losses. Of course, no one could replace Johnny—or you, really.” His eyes went again to Mick, and lingered. “But I can’t say I’ve done badly, over the years, with Mayo in my pocket and DJ in my stable.”
DJ moved angrily, but Darius snapped his head around to look at him, and DJ froze in his spot and said nothing. Barrie shivered; she was close enough to feel the pure fear emanating from him.
“So, why did you kill him?” Mick demanded.
“I didn’t,” Darius said, glancing casually back to Mick. “Again, this young shifter was telling the truth. It was his shifter friend who killed Mayo, with that exotic cocktail. Mayo called me as he was dying. He was high as a kite, of course, didn’t even know he was done for. Rambling on with his last breath, some bright idea that this young shifter should play Johnny’s role in the remake.”
Phoenix lifted his head at that, and Barrie felt a pang. So, Tiger did have his moment of thinking he’d gotten a lucky break. At least he had that.
“I could sense disaster brewing, and I flew to the Marmont to try to avert it. I was too late to save Mayo, but in time to have quite an interesting conversation with the young shifter, who was valiantly ready to send me along the way Mayo had gone.” He smiled. “It seems Mayo, Branson and I are the root of all evil, corrupters of youth, exploiters of talent—”
“He got that right,” Mick said evenly.
“And he was unfortunately correct about the manner of Johnny’s demise, as well. Unfortunately for him—as that insight necessitated his own dispatch. I administered the second cocktail, not without a slight...struggle.”
“That’s why there were no footprints and no witnesses,” Barrie said. “You flew, and left Tiger’s body there.”
Darius shrugged elegantly. “And that should have been the end of it. There was no reason for anyone to have connected that boy to Mayo.” His gaze rested on Barrie for a moment. “And I could hardly have anticipated that you would take his death so seriously. He was a little nothing, a nobody—”
Phoenix gave a sob of rage from the floor. “He was somebody. He was.”
“Yes, he was,” Barrie said. “He was somebody.”
“But hardly worth dying for, my dear,” Darius said softly, and Barrie felt a chill.
“Then what about Travis?” Mick demanded.
Mick was keeping him talking, Barrie realized, but she had been thinking the exact same thing: Why did the director end up dead?
Darius shook his head in disgust. “Travis couldn’t leave well enough alone. I’d cleaned up Mayo’s death, we could have gone on without anyone asking any questions about Johnny or the movie...but then, even with Mayo dead, Travis wanted to continue with the remake. Ridiculous idea. He’s too old to do it justice, anyway. A film like that needs a young edge.”
Barrie couldn’t believe he was even bringing up the point; he sounded as if he were in a development meeting.
“But he even went so far to find independent financing. And that was just too much. A desperate move, anyway. He thought it would revive his career, and he was willing to risk all of those skeletons being dug up again. Perhaps you’ve heard the saying—‘Three can keep a secret—if two are dead’? I realized the wisdom of it, and dispatched Branson. With Branson dead, the financing goes away, and the curse on the film is alive and well. I don’t think I’ll have to worry about anyone else attempting a remake for a long, long time. We can all go back to business.”
He looked around at the four of them, and his voice dropped.
“If only you’d left it alone. We could have done all this with so much less bloodshed. As it is, I’m afraid there’s going to be an unfortunate accident that kills four people tonight.”
He glanced around at the enormous stage set. “And I couldn’t have asked for a more appropriate setting. You have such a flair for the dramatic, Dennis, but this time it’s going to kill you.” His eyes swept down the line of candelabra, and he tutted reproachfully. “How many fire codes are you breaking, do