Read Online City of Mirrors by Melodie Johnson-Howe - Free Book Online Page B

drinking rotgut out of the urn. Who had taken the picture?
    Celia clicked the remote, turning on the sound, sitting down again.
    â€œWe now have more information on the murder of Jenny Parson,” said the news anchor. “This is a picture of the actress Diana Poole soon after the discovery of her friend’s body.”
    â€œFriend? She wasn’t my friend.”
    â€œWhat is that she’s holding?” the co-anchor asked.
    â€œIt’s apparently the urn containing her mother’s ashes. According to Al Bailey, the doorman at the Beverly West condos, Ms. Poole used the urn to trick him into gaining entry into Ms. Parson’s condo.”
    â€œOh, God, in the alley the doorman must’ve taken the picture with his cell phone.”
    â€œThis case is getting more and more bizarre,” the co-anchor smiled broadly.
    â€œDiana Poole’s mother, the famous actress Nora Poole, died last week of natural causes at the Hotel Bel Air,” the anchor said, as if that piece of information cleared up everything.
    â€œTurn it off.” I sat up and downed the last of my wine.
    Clicking the remote, Celia slid it angrily across the table, then stood. I peered up at her. Her mouth was set firm, her face pinched. “I want you to go.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI told you to leave this alone. And you went and got involved.”
    â€œI didn’t search out Heath. He walked into a room where I was standing.”
    â€œI can’t trust you anymore, Diana.”
    â€œI know this has been a shock for you. We’ve both been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours.”
    â€œYou never approved of my relationship with Robert.”
    â€œYou keep bringing that up. This has nothing to do with what I feel about you and Robert.”
    â€œIt has everything to do with it! I don’t want to lose him. To lose everything.”
    â€œDid you want me to lie? Not tell you what happened?”
    â€œI’m not sure I believe you.” Her voice rose, angry and hurt. “You’re using this to create some kind of … I don’t know … distrust between Robert and me.”
    â€œThat’s not true. What’s going on? Does Heath have some kind of hold on you? Or is it Zaitlin?”
    â€œYou honestly think that Robert has …”
    â€œWhy was Heath using an assumed name at Bella Casa?” I paused and asked in a softer voice. “Why did he beat you up, Celia?”
    Tears streaming down her face, she screamed at me, “Maybe because I looked like a woman who needed to be beaten up!”
    â€œYou don’t mean that.” I reached for her hand.
    She recoiled from my touch. “Get out.” She swept past me and into the hallway. Stunned, I gathered the urn and my purse.
    The front door was open. Celia glared down at the floor.
    Stepping outside, I turned back to her. “Let me help you …”
    She slammed the door in my face. Celia and I had never had a major fight. But there was a disturbing finality to that closed door.
    Acting is a series of emotional adjustments or beats, as they are sometimes called. But the adjustments have already been made before the scene is played. The actor knows how the story will end. I know this is my cue to cry or to laugh, so I have already prepared my feelings because I’m aware this moment is coming. Now driving down the street to my house, unlocking the door, and turning on the lights in my living room, I was at a loss. I was not prepared for Celia’s reaction, for the possibility of losing her as a friend. I told myself we were both overwrought and I just needed to give her time. I hoped I was right.
    From the TV in the kitchen I could hear my name being tossed around by two female anchors.
    â€œShut up!” I yelled at them. They didn’t.
    I set my purse and the urn on the coffee table. My gaze shifted to Colin’s Oscars. There was room on the mantel for another