Hedda sighed. "Well, if she didn't put it in the book, I guess we'll never know, will we? I meana" The elderly actress fixed her cool green gaze on me. "We can't very well ask her now, can we?"

"No," I said, holding Hedda's fixed stare, "we can't."

The actress nodded and turned back to her signing.

"But," I added after a moment, "I'm sure someone will be asking Pierce Armstrong about it this weekend."

Hedda froze the moment I mentioned the name of her former leading man. Her pen stopped moving. Hedda G- was as far as her small, fluid script got. It took a few more seconds for her to finish writing her own name.

"Pierce Armstrong?" she finally repeated after clearing her throat. "I'm sorry. What's that you're saying, Mrs. McClure? I think I misheard you."

"Pierce Armstrong is going to appear at the Quindicott Film Noir Festival sometime this weekend. He's a surprise guest."

"Buta how can that be? Nobody's heard from Mr. Armstrong in decadesa I meana his name disappeared off the guild lists, anda Ia I didn't realize that he was even still alive."

"I haven't seen him yet myself. He's in town though. Professor Brainert Parker told me he's staying as a guest in Dean Pepper's home."

"Well, it's been years, I must say. More like a lifetime. I can't imagine what Pierce would think, seeing me after all these decadesa but I'd be very interested in saying hello to him" Hedda's smile appeared tight. She lowered her voice.

Through gritted teeth, she asked: "How many more books must I sign here, Mrs. McClure?"

I glanced up at the crowd. Only about a half-dozen more people were lined up. I signaled to Seymour. "That young woman in the blue shirt is the last one in line. Let's keep it that way, okay? We're done after her."

Seymour saluted. "Aye, aye, Captain."

Hedda signed two more books and then an attractive, dark haired man stepped up-he had sleepy eyes and a yellow J. Crew Windbreaker draped over his arm. I recognized him instantly. And I noticed with interest that he was no longer carrying his bulky canvas backpack.

"Hello there, Hedda." The man's voice was as smooth as I remembered. "Would you mind signing a book for your biggest fan?"

"Dr. Rubino!" Hedda immediately brightened. "What a delightful surprise!"

"The delight is seeing you here," he said. "I was in town on business, and I almost forgot that this weekend was the film noir festival you were telling me about at your last appointment." Randall Rubino's sleepy dark eyes glanced up at me then, and he smiled. "Penelope here was good enough to let me know about your signing." He handed the book over. "Would you mind?"

"Mind? I'm flattered! And more than happy to oblige with a personal inscriptiona "

Rubino nodded and set down the book. As Hedda went about scribbling a note in her small, fluid handwriting, I suddenly remembered something.

"Jack?" I silently whispered.

Yeah, baby?

"Have you noticed how small Hedda's handwriting is?" Yeah, baby, an hour ago. I was waiting to see how long it'd take you.

"In the dream you gave me, Benny had to squint to make out the second signature in the Gotham Features log book. The first Pierce Armstrong signature was in big, bold block letters, the second was small, fluid script."

So either Armstrong likes to write his name two different ways, or Hedda signed out the second car herself and wrote down Pierce's name to keep herself out of the written record.

"So what was she doing picking up the DA's mistress at the Hotel Chester? Was she a friend of the girl's? Isn't that a little coincidental-since the DA was at the Porterhouse the very night of Vreen's stabbing? And what's with Dr. Rubino showing up here after his run in the woods? I still think it was strangely coincidental that I spotted him near the lighthouse so soon after the burglary."

After a few more charming but fairly insubstantial remarks to Hedda, Dr. Rubino gave me another smile, then picked up his signed book and stepped away. I watched his back as he wandered toward the Event room's exit.

Why are you just standing there, baby? You're not letting him go, are you? Get your panties in gear, and go brace the man!

My eyes wide from Jack's balling-out, I hastily excused myself from Hedda's side and rushed across the room to catch Rubino.

"Doctor? Pardon me! Dr. Rubino, I'd like to speak with you in private."

Randall Rubino turned around and calmly nodded, as if he wasn't one bit surprised to be collared. "Of course, Penelope, of course."

He almost sounded resigned. I pointed to a quiet corner of the Events room. We strolled over there, and Rubino immediately started talking.

"I can't say that I'm surprised by this, Penelope."

"Really?"

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, either." "I'm not."

"Good. What happened earlier was quite a shock. Anyone would have reacted the way you did."

I blinked, hardly able to believe getting the man to talk was going to be this easy. "That's nice of you to say, Dr. Rubino, considering the situation."

Strangely enough, Dr. Rubino then handed me Hedda's book to hold while he reached into his jacket pocket for a pad and pen.

"Oh, Doctor. You don't have to write it down. Just talk to me, tell me everything. Get it all off your chest."

The doctor froze. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean? I'm talking about seeing you at the Charity Point Lighthouse and running after you into the woods. I wanted to question you then, but I lost you. I assume you have something to confess, and I'm glad you're making it easy."

"Now I really don't know what you're talking about," said Rubino.

"Well what were you talking about?"

"Writing you a prescription for Valium, of course!"

"I thought you were going to explain why you were running away from a recently burglarized bungalow. A bungalow belonging to a woman who you declared died of an accident- when it was not an accident at all."

"Penelope, I really do think you need some medication." Rubino began scribbling on his prescription pad.

"Don't evade the question, Doctor. What were you doing at the Charity Point Lighthouse?"

"If you must know, I was hiking the area, looking for a good spot to fish. I did notice a NO TRESPASSING sign near the light-house and that's why I hurried away. I had no idea I was on private property." He shook his head. "I'm surprised to learn you saw me-or that you were trying to chase me down."

I studied Rubino's knitted brows. "You fish?"

"Yes, the area near your town has some of the best oceanside fishing in the state. When Chief Ciders called me here today, I packed my gear."

"Oh, you packed your gear, did you? Then where is it?"

"In the trunk of my car. Where else?" Rubino ripped off the prescription and handed it to me. "Now if you'll give me back my signed book, I'll be on my way."

"Buta "

Dr. Rubino snatched the book from my hands. "I'd advise you to get that prescription filled right away, Penelope. The stress is obviously getting to you." Then he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "And don't take it with alcohol," he tossed over his shoulder.

Congratulations, baby, your gumshoeing just got hinky.

"Well, you weren't exactly a big help."

There was no saving that interrogation, honey. It was about the absolute worst I've seen in all my years-and I'm including the dead ones.

"You don't need to rub it in."

Tell you what: I'll make it up to you.

"What? Another night tailing cheating husbands while drinking martinis stirred not shaken?"

No baby, another lead. Turn around and take a look at who else seems to be Dr. Rubino's friend.

Through the archway connecting the Events room to the store's selling floor, I saw Randall Rubino speaking with someone. I took a few steps closer to the room's exit and finally saw who: Harmony Middleton. The two were standing very close, their heads bent together in private conversation. As I watched, it appeared the good doctor was growing impatient, even angry.

A lover's spat? Jack proposed.

"Could be," I replied.

Suddenly, Rubino stepped back, grasped young Harmony's upper arm, and pulled her away from the crowded part of the store.

Get closer, baby. Follow them.

I did. Careful to stay clear of their sightline, I tailed them to a quiet aisle near the back corner, where I stocked a collection of children's and young adult mysteries for the families in the area. I peeked around the endcap display of Encyclopedia Brown books-the ones Spencer had devoured back in fourth grade.

"Come on, Randya you know I need it."

It was Harmony's voice and it sounded whiney, like a brat who wanted candy.

"Let's not go down that road again, Harmony. You remember what happened the last time."

"You're being difficult. Can't you see my side?"

"Let's table this discussion. It's not the time or place. Talk to me another time, all right?"

"When?"

"Whenever you need to. Ring my cell, and we can straighten this out."

The two parted then, and I quickly moved away from the aisle.

"What do you think, Jack? Seems awfully suspicious," I noted.

Jack agreed then reminded me of one more suspicious thing. Dr. Charm says he was looking for a fishing spot when you saw him hiking near the lighthouse with a backpack, right?

"Right."

When you saw him out there, he was carrying a pack and nothing else. Where the hell was his fishing pole?

CHAPTER 14. True Crime.

It was a great big elephant of a place, the kind of place crazy movie people built in the crazy twenties.

a" Sunset Boulevard, 1950 I RETURNED TO the front of the store, resolving to keep Randall Rubino high on my "suspects with hinky alibis" list. I noticed Brainert finishing up a call on his cell. I walked over to him.

"Have you spoken with Dr. Pepper?"

Brainert closed his phone. "All I get is his voice mail. I've tried his home, the college, even the box office at the theater, but I can't locate the man." He sighed. "I'm sure Pierce Armstrong is settled at Wendell's house by now, but the old man might be reluctant to answer someone else's phone-"

"Then let's drive over. Surely Armstrong will answer the door if he's there."

Brainert nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I'm parked right across the street, and it's a short drive to Larchmont Avenue."

"Let's go."

I gave Sadie a heads-up, grabbed my purse from behind the sales counter, and hurried back to Brainert, who quickly scanned the room. "No sign of Seymour," he said, and started for the door.

"Wait! I'm sure he's around. He was helping me with Hedda's signing, but we're all through with that now, so he's probably changing out of his uniform-"

"No, no, Pen. You misunderstand," Brainert whispered conspiratorially. " Seymour 's absence is a good thing. We don't need him fawning over Pierce Armstrong while we try to interview the man, or poking fun at Dr. Pepper's good name and embarrassing us both."

Suddenly a large arm snaked around Brainert's neck and a beefy hand mussed his neatly combed hair.

"That's what I love about you, Brainiac," Seymour said. "Always a stickler for etiquette."

Brainert quickly extricated himself from his friend's bear hug and smoothed down his neatly cut brown hair. He whirled to face Seymour and gasped.

"What's the matter?" Seymour said, arms wide. "I told you I was going to change into civilian clothes."

Seymour 's large T-shirt sported a vintage Mighty Mouse flying over a cartoon skyline, tiny cape fluttering in the breeze. His hairy legs stuck out of khaki shorts that ended just above his dimpled knees. Size-twelve feet were tucked into clogs, which he wore sans socks.

Brainert groaned. "How old are you?"

"Old enough," Seymour replied.