Speak for yourself, you old bag!

"Easy, Jack."

I'll show the self-satisfied biddy how irrelevant the dead are!

"No, Jack. No more haunting the customers! You promised!" Just a little levitating table action, baby. Maybe blow some frigid wind up her pristine pants. "Jack! Behave!"

Why? If I give her a heart attack, maybe she'll finally see how irrelevant she really is.

Hedda smiled and shook her head, as if amused. "Later, in the seventies," she went on, "there was a famous episode of an old television police show that was a thinly disguised version of what happened that night at the Porterhouse. The show cast me as the kind of femme fatale I played on screen, tried to say that I planned Irving 's death. But that was a television show. Complete fiction. Just like Dr. Lilly's book…"

My brow wrinkled. "I thought you said that you didn't know about her book."

"I don't. I just…" Hedda shrugged. "I simply assumed from what you've told me that she was trying to do what that journalist had tried to do: dredge up an ugly incident for her own gain."

"I haven't read the entire book yet," I admitted. " But Dr. Lilly may have found proof to substantiate her charges."

Hedda sighed. "Well, if she didn't put it in the book, I guess we'll never know, will we? I mean…" 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."

"But… how can that be? Nobody's heard from Mr. Armstrong in decades… I mean… his name disappeared off the guild lists, and… I… 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 decades… 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 inscription… "

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."