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When Julia came down the stairs after dinner, Mason’s jaw dropped: She looked amazing. She always looked great, but tonight she was wearing a deep green 1950s evening gown, with long gloves and an elegantly coiled and braided chignon. She looked like Holly Golightly’s ass-kicking aunt, and Mason was suddenly very underdressed. Will was wearing a dark suit, and stepped forward to offer his arm. Julia took it and actually smiled at him.

Mason said, “Are we going clubbing? Or just to the store?”

“Just to the store,” replied Julia. “I wanted to match the apples in the grocery section.”

Mason made a face at her. “So…Galliano’s, then?”

Julia nodded. “I’ve been friends with Maggie for twenty years, more. I want to know why she never told me she was married to Tony. If Casper hadn’t told me, I never would have believed it.” She raised her eyebrows. “I knew she was a crafty cat, but I’m impressed with her commitment to secrecy. Plus we need to talk to her about Becky, a topic on which we need to tread carefully.”

The front door opened and Archie walked in. Mason swallowed. He was wearing one of his beautifully cut suits and looked like a million sexy bucks.

“Oh,” said Julia, lightly, “Archie’s joining us, too.”

Great .

Julia looked at Mason, somewhat pityingly. “Do you own any grown-up clothes?”

“I am a grown-up, and these are my clothes. Ergo, they are grown-up clothes.”

Julia sighed. “Come upstairs. There must be something more appropriate in my closet.”

“We’re not the same size.” This was not a conversation she wanted to have in front of Archie, strangely.

Julia laughed. “I’m taller than you, but as a regular human woman, I’ve been several sizes over the course of my life, and I hoard couture, so let’s just see, shall we?”

“No,” said Mason, starting to frown. “I’m comfortable.”

“You look like you just came from the arcade where you played Pac-Man for three hours then drank two liters of Mountain Dew.”

Mason opened her mouth, then closed it again. Pointless. “I’m not changing. Not for you, not for anyone.”

“Fine. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb at the club, but I imagine you’re used to that.”

Archie spoke. “It’s a burlesque club; people will be wearing all kinds of things. She looks fine.” He paused. “She looks like herself.”

Julia looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Fair enough, counselor for the defense.” She smoothed out her gloves against the dark fabric of Will’s suit. “Let’s take the Citro?n. It looks so cool that the valet will leave it parked outside the club and we’ll be able to get right in when we leave.”

Will bent his arm, and she slid her hand through his crooked elbow.

“Come along, milady,” he said. “Your chariot awaits.”

Archie bent his arm and offered it to Mason. She grinned at him, suddenly, and bent her own in response. Smiling, he slid his arm through hers and they followed the others out.

Mason hadn’t been to Galliano’s before, and she looked around with interest. The front of the club was discreet, apart from the yellow neon of the sign, but inside there was no attempt at discretion. Red velvet booths, golden tables, ornate chandeliers and some of the most beautiful girls Los Angeles could provide, and that’s a deep pool. The curtained stage was quiet for now, although a small sign promised “Mimi’s Manhattan Moments” would be along later. In the meantime, there were a dozen women walking around who weren’t exactly dressed for winter. But they weren’t your usual fake boobs, spray tan, college to pay for, but instead women in their late twenties, each of them perfection without being homogenous. They didn’t dance; they just walked and posed and stood and were happy to join you at your table, for a price. Once there, they merely flirted and engaged in conversation, and although Mason doubted any of them were explaining the basics of string theory, they were all able to put a sentence together. It was far, far sexier than a strip joint. Looking around, she saw several actors, a couple of actresses and a large number of men wearing expensive suits and even more expensive watches. She was the only person in the place in jeans, and she was one hundred percent confident she wouldn’t have gotten in without Julia Mann.

Julia’s arrival had caused a minor sensation, and once they had run the gauntlet of old friends and older enemies, they’d arrived at a well-located velvet booth. Mason noted how well Julia’s dress went with the color, and doubted it was a coincidence. Thirty seconds later, Mrs. Galliano herself appeared, along with a man who looked like he broke noses for a living. Or maybe just for a hobby. He was darkly good-looking, but his expression was guarded.

Maggie Galliano herself was a surprise. She was heavy, and not classically attractive. She wore no makeup, and only the vaguest attempt had been made with her hair or clothing. There was something supremely unconcerned about the lady, a rarity in Los Angeles, and the minute she sat down, Mason realized she effortlessly oozed sex appeal.

“Julia, what an incredible pleasure.” Maggie hugged Julia tightly. Then she looked at Mason with a not-insulting level of evaluation. “New friend, Julia? I saw her picture in the paper the other day. Very nice.” She leaned across the table and sparkled at Mason. “I love a young woman who isn’t afraid to use her middle fingers.” She grinned deliciously and leaned back again. “After years of eating through men, you’ve decided to change the menu?”

“Don’t be daft, Maggie, though you’d be the first to know, I’m sure.” Julia was relaxed. “This is Natasha Mason, my assistant. She has very poor impulse control, so watch out.”

Maggie smiled at Mason. “I’m not scared of pretty girls, Julia. You know that.”

“And this is Archie Jacobson, who works for Larry and therefore also for me, and Will Maier, my good friend.”

Maggie smiled around and raised her hand for a waiter, one of whom instantaneously materialized at her elbow. “Bring us something yummy, Frank, and something nice to drink. Wine for me and Danny, virgin something for Julia.” She shot Julia a glance. “Or are you drinking again?”

“Not today,” replied Julia, evenly.

The waiter nodded, took everyone’s orders and turned to leave. Maggie gave him a quick pat on the bum as he left, but he didn’t seem bothered, just threw her a quick grin. Maggie saw Mason looking and winked at her before turning back to Julia. “Are you here to ask me about the murder?”

The man with her murmured dissent, and Maggie looked at him sharply.

“Danny, there’s no point pretending it didn’t happen. Sam was murdered here, and it’s not like she was the first. In the hundred years we’ve been in business, five people have died here, four of them violently. You know that.”

The man made a face. “I know, but that was in the old days.”

“Apparently, times don’t change that much.”

Julia looked at the man. “I assume you’re Danny Agosti? I’m not sure how we haven’t met before, but I don’t think we have, have we?”

He shook his head, and then reached across the table and shook her hand. “I’ve only recently started spending more time here, so I guess our paths haven’t crossed.” He looked at Mason, Archie and Will. “I’m a partner here, but my role is mostly passive.”

“Danny and his family have been investors in the club since we opened in the nineteen twenties,” said Maggie. “His great-grandfather, grandfather and father before him.” She smiled at Julia. “You probably remember Mikey, his dad. He was an investor in Repercussion, too; you must have run into him all the time.”

Julia shrugged. “Not that I remember. Tony handled the business side, and I didn’t have as much interest in how everything worked back then.” She pulled an expression that sharpened her next comment. “I was only interested in the art , not the money. Maybe I should have been paying more attention.”

“Casper said organized crime played a fairly big role at the studio, financially,” said Mason, looking at Danny Agosti. “Care to comment?”

“Are you assuming because my last name is Italian and I’m a financier that I’m also a mobster?” His tone was cool but nobody was fooled.

“If the cap fits,” replied Mason. “But I’m just asking a question.” There was something about Danny Agosti that caught her attention, and she realized it was a level of suppressed energy she sometimes came across in AA meetings, too. A little danger. An awareness that although these people were staying clean now, they hadn’t cared to in the past.

Danny paused. “It’s possible that my forebears were involved in some aspects of business that were less than…totally aboveboard…but these days, my company is entirely clean. We invest in clubs, real estate, the movie business, some Internet start-ups…I work hard to maintain our reputation. It’s a valuable asset.”

Maggie laughed. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Danny. I expect everyone at this table has parts of their history they’d rather not air in public, and what your father and grandfather did before you were born hardly reflects on you.”

Danny looked at Mason. “And yet some people love to throw stones.”

Mason said nothing. She knew her glass house could only take so much, and Julia’s face suggested it was time to move on.

Julia said, “I do want to talk about the murder, yes, but not just that. I’m sorry, it must have been shocking.”

Maggie nodded. “It was. You know what it’s like here—we’re a family, and when they said it was drugs it was bad enough. She was a nice kid, talented, sharp as a tack, maybe too sharp, but she hadn’t been a user as far as I knew, nor was Becky. She turned up on time, did her set, had a few drinks, went home. No trouble at all until her girlfriend killed her. And, like I said, this place has seen more than its fair share of drama and excitement of course, especially during Prohibition, but still…murder is murder.” She looked at Julia intently. “You’re Becky Sharp’s lawyer, I hear.”

So much for treading carefully. Mason watched Julia, ready to make a run for it if her boss seemed concerned. She wasn’t.

“Yes. Her mother was a friend of mine.”

“Was? Did I know her?”

“No, she was a friend from another…sphere.”

Mrs. Galliano nodded. “I see. Well, I’m not totally convinced that little girl killed Sam anyway. They seemed pretty happy together, and not so intense they’d kill over it, you know? People do kill people they love, of course, all the time. The police seem convinced, but they’re easily fooled.” She lowered her voice again. “And several senior people over there don’t like Galliano’s looked into too deeply, if you follow me. They’re keen to close the case.”

Mason looked at Danny Agosti who, it turned out, was looking at her. “Not because of any bribery or corruption, Ms. Mason. Just mutual respect.”

Mason shrugged. She was young, but not green enough to forget the interplay of law enforcement, organized crime and the gray world that was strip clubs, after-hours bars and the like. Whatever Agosti might claim, she doubted he’d been able to completely whitewash his business dealings.

The waiter came back with a tray of small dishes, two glasses of red wine and a bevy of icy Mexican Cokes. Mason looked over the food: bacon-wrapped dates, goat cheese–stuffed figs, Marcona almonds, anchovy olives. A better class of bar snack than she was used to, for sure.

Maggie sipped her wine and smiled over the rim at Mason. Then she looked around the table. “What else did you want to talk about, Julia?” She popped a bacon-wrapped date into her mouth. “Why don’t you get on with whatever you came for, because the show’s going to start soon and I’ll have to focus.”

Julia nodded. “Fair enough. Maggie, how come I never knew you were married to Tony Eckenridge?”

Maggie Galliano nearly choked on her date. She swigged some wine and recovered herself. The waiter came rushing over to help, but she waved him away. “I’m alright…Jesus, Julia, did someone take out an ad or something? I married Tony when we were both seventeen, had just discovered sex, and thought we were Romeo and Juliet. It lasted three months, which is how long it took our parents to find out, and was annulled faster than you would have thought possible. We stayed friends—actually, we stayed lovers—on and off for the next thirty years, but that was it. It was a total and complete secret until this morning, apparently, because the police also know.” She looked genuinely interested. “How did you find out?”

“Casper Waggoner.”

Maggie laughed. “Oh Lord, of course. He signed a pact with the devil, that man.” She turned to Mason. “He used to be really quite tall, you know, and then he started reporting on entertainment and lost half an inch a year. I seriously believe he traded inches for info, to some evil spirit or other.” She didn’t look that upset, Mason thought, and apparently Julia agreed.

“So tell me, how come you weren’t at Tony’s funeral?” She snagged a stuffed fig, reached for a Coke, changed her mind, called over a waiter, and said, “Can I get a glass of seltzer with an obscene number of lime slices and plenty of ice?”

Maggie sobered a little. “I don’t do funerals. If I did I’d be at one a week, and during the early eighties I would have done nothing else. That’s when I stopped going. Too many good friends dying too young. I decided to pretend they’d all just gone off to the Bahamas instead, and were having a fantastic time.” She sighed. “Fuck AIDS. And, now that we’re all a little older, fuck heart disease and cancer, too.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Julia raised a glass. “So who do you think killed Tony?”

Maggie shrugged. “No clue. Most people loved him, but it’s hard to live that long in this town, and have that much power, without irritating the crap out of folks.”

“You saw him a lot?”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, maybe once or twice a month, sometimes more, sometimes less, if he was busy on a project or out of town. He would come by here really late, once he was done with his evening stuff, and just kick back and relax. For both of us it was a pretty special friendship. We’d met in high school, right? Long before either of us became successful. We could really just be ourselves.” She looked sad for a moment. “I’ll miss him every day, the poor fucker. Everyone here will.”

“Did you know he was sick?” Mason looked over at Julia, but she didn’t seem annoyed by Mason asking questions. Doubtless she’d kick her under the table if she wanted her to stop. Or punch her in the nose.

“Sure. I was probably the first to know. Maybe after Helen; they’ve always been pretty close.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “She wrote a lovely obituary.”

Maggie shrugged, and chewed another date before she answered. “She’s a writer; of course she did. They argued from time to time, but I was never sure if they weren’t about to get back together. It was a strange relationship. She’d been a writer’s assistant on The Codex , very young.” She looked over at Julia. “She ended up writing most of the script and took the Oscar for it. You must have known her.”

Julia gave a wry smile. “I should have, but somehow I didn’t, not really. I was…intoxicated quite a lot of the time, and absent a fair amount.” She paused, drew a circle in the condensation on the table. “I don’t have many memories of that time that aren’t colored by Jonathan’s death. I know she hates me.”

Maggie said, “She was a total fanatic about movies. One of those that knows the smallest detail about everything, who the production designer was, gossip from the set, details of the script, everything. She fangirled all over Tony and Jonathan in pretty equal measure, but Tony was the one who returned the favor.”

Julia turned up her palms. “He always loved a fan.”

“Yeah, he always did. Often literally. So many women, I can’t remember them all.” Maggie laughed suddenly. “I forget a lot these days. I’m always so surprised when I look in the mirror and this old lady gazes back at me.” She grinned at Julia. “Aren’t you?”

Julia shook her head. “No. But then again, I rarely let old ladies into my house.”

Maggie looked thoughtful. “It’s not a good basis for a marriage, in my opinion.”

“Old ladies? Or a shared love of movies?” Will was confused.

“No, fandom. It’s a basic imbalance, right? One person worships the other; it’s hard for that to shift into equality. It’s not unusual, especially in LA, where fans can find the object of their obsession and make personal contact. There were rumors Helen had had to fight for script credit back then. Jonathan wrote the first version of the script, and had no issue sharing credit with Helen, but I guess Tony felt differently.”

“He would,” said Julia, sourly.

“And she was certainly obsessed with remaking The Codex . He told me she’d rewritten the script a dozen times, lost sleep over it, cried over it.” She turned up her palms. “I can’t imagine caring that much about anything.” She grinned at Mason. “Too lazy.”

Archie asked, “That’s why he left her the rights?”

Maggie shrugged. “I guess. At one point she was broke as hell and he didn’t want to give her the rights because he thought she needed money and would partner with the highest bidder. I didn’t think she would have, and told him so. She loved it too hard. At that time, he wanted Repercussion to have it, end of story. Always the studio first; you know that as well as I do.” She looked at Julia. “The studio, then you…the two great loves of his life.”

There was a pause. Mason looked at Julia, who was frowning. “Don’t be stupid, Maggie. His two great loves were the studio and himself.”

The other woman shrugged. “Think what you like, Julia. Tony loved you from the first moment he met you, and never wavered.” She turned to Mason. “Julia met Tony first, and he was a smitten kitten. A month or two of total bliss, to hear him tell it. But then he introduced her to Jonathan and it was all over in about five minutes. Not sure he ever really forgave Jonathan for stealing you.”

“He didn’t own me. I could hardly be stolen.” Julia’s tone was very dry.

“When Jonathan died and Julia went to jail, he was here every night for months, crying like a little girl. He was never the same.”

Long silence. For an actress famed for her emotional range, Julia certainly could keep a stone face. Fortunately, the curtain went up at that moment, revealing an exquisitely naked girl in a giant martini glass, and the evening went downhill from there.