Bannerman's Law Read Online Free PDF Page A

any of her other directories .
    But Dunville. That name seemed to ring a tiny bell.
    In her files, under “ miscellaneous ,” she found several xeroxed pages with references to Sur La Mer. And there it was. Dunville. It was the name of the executive director of Sur La Me r—C a r leton Dunvill e—a nd of two of its sen ior staff as well. V.P. Administratio n—C arleton Dunville II. V.P. Admission s—H enry Dunville. Must be a family enterprise. Maybe Nellie had just given her the first familiar name that popped into her head. But then, where did D'Arconte come from?
    She could ask Professor Mecklenberg to do a computer search. He had files on everyone, from 1907 on, who ever spent fifteen minutes near a Hollywood camera. But he'd ask why she wanted to know, and where she'd heard those names, and she would have to lie to him. Or, worse, she'd have to break her promise to a sad, sweet, dotty old woman who saw, in her, or in the color of her hair, the daughter she probably never had.
    It would keep. At least until Sunday. One more meeting with Nellie. Ask her the dozen or so questions she'd prepared. She would bring a recorder this time. Get Nellie's voice on tape . . but only if she agrees to it . . and if she even knows what a tape recorder is.

4
     
    Lisa could see sky now through the sugar pines. Quietly, but for her own labored breathing, she climbed forward. She saw the roofline of the ch a teau.
    It occurred to her that the greased rocks and the trip wires she'd passed would be just as effective at keeping people out. Not that any of the members could have man aged that slope, trip wires or no. She thought of the two, the younger ones, with the bandaged faces who seemed to have been breaking a rule by merely sitting on the terrace steps. Could they have been prisoners here? Committed here? Lisa doubted it. They seemed too . . . confident for that. And that other man had seemed intimidated by them.
    She stopped, still inside the trees.
    The old actress was on her bench, waiting, as if she'd never moved. Same hooded coat, her back to her, keeping an eye on any movement from the main house. Lisa looked over the grounds. No sign of Jason Bella r m i ne. No one else in sight either. Seemed strange. She was tempted to wait for another member or two to be wheeled out, some s ign of business as usual, but Nellie, suddenly, raised a gloved hand. Must have heard her. Or sensed her. She was motionin g her forward, signaling her to stay low beneath the hedge. Lisa, crouching, stepped from the trees. Her own eyes on the ch a teau, she followed the beckoning hand. She saw it open, as if to take her own hand in welcome. Lisa reached for it.
    The old woman's grip, the strength of it, surprised her. Nellie's body half-turned. The other arm came up, reach ing behind her neck as if to embrace her. No. It was seizing her. The fingers were gripping the hood of her running suit, pulling it down over her eyes, jerking her forward. Now Nellie was rising, wrestling with her, driving her sideways until her legs struck Garbo's bench and her body slammed against it. Lisa cried out, more startled than afraid, but a hand, a third hand, now reached in from the side and clamped firmly over her mouth. She saw a flash of red. A sweatshirt. Her eyes widened. It was that man. The jogger from Tower Road. And the woman wasn't Nellie at all. The face was young, dark, the skin deeply pitted.
    Suddenly all fear was gone. She felt a warmth. A heavi ness. The marble bench began to soften. Her body was sinking into it as if it were a bed. She saw, or thought she saw, a syringe being drawn from the flesh of her forearm, now bare. She wondered, vaguely, what it might be doing there. Then, in seconds, she no longer cared.
    It seemed to her that she was home in bed dreaming. Her dreams annoyed more than they frightened. She tried to wake up, to shake them, but she could not. She was in a white room, like an operating room, strapped to a table, and she felt no