Festival of Deaths(98)

“Not as far as we know,” Gregor said.

“Well, maybe that figures, too. Max was Portuguese, of course, and not Spanish. You never call a Portuguese person Spanish. He’s likely to want to hit you. Still. They tell each other, I think.”

“Tell each other about what?”

“About where they can get hired without too many problems,” Shelley said. “I’m not saying personnel doesn’t check. I’m sure they demand to see a birth certificate or a green card or something. But I’ll bet they don’t run a computer check.”

“You never thought it was odd? That Max was in the country illegally and Maria might have been? It wasn’t a coincidence that disturbed you?”

“I never thought it was a coincidence,” Shelley said. “It’s like I was telling you. They tell each other. They bring each other in.”

“All right,” Gregor said. “Are you aware of the fact that Maximillian Dey had his pocket picked just before The Lotte Goldman Show left New York?”

“Of course I am. The desk clerk at Max’s hotel was probably aware of it.”

“Are you aware that among what he lost when his pocket was picked was his green card?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Would it surprise you to hear that on the very next day, before six o’clock in the morning, he had a green card?”

“No,” Shelley said, sighed. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I saw that one, too.”

“You saw the new green card Maximillian Dey was carrying on the morning he died,” Gregor said.

“Yes, I did. Max showed it to me.”

“Do you know where he got it?”

“No.”

“Do you know who he got it from?”

“No.”

“Did he say anything at all that might indicate anything at all about who might have supplied it to him?”

“Not exactly,” Shelley said. “He told me he’d found a new source, better than the one he had used in New York when he first came to this country. This source was cheaper and faster and more accommodating about the money.”

“Was this a source in Philadelphia? Or someone connected with the show?”

“I don’t know. But Max had never been to Philadelphia before. I don’t see how he could have known where to find a person like that here.”

“Maybe somebody else told him,” Gregor suggested. “Maybe Carmencita Boaz had a source in Philadelphia.”

“She’d never been to Philadelphia before either,” Shelley said. “She said so just before we left New York. She’d been on staff longer than Max had, but she’d only been Maria’s assistant. Maria’s assistant didn’t travel with us when we did the road shows.”

“Mmm,” Gregor Demarkian said.

Shelley Feldstein was still looking at the policeman called Jackman, still looking away from the round softness under Gregor Demarkian’s belt. Now she turned all the way around and looked again at Lotte and DeAnna. Lotte and DeAnna were no longer alone. Sarah Meyer was standing between them, holding her steno book and pouting.

She hasn’t been back to her room yet, Shelley thought, and knew it had to be true. If Sarah had been back to her room, there would have been a fuss big enough so that even the attack on Carmencita Boaz couldn’t have stopped the staff from talking about it. Surely DeAnna would have said something when she called Shelley to come to the hospital.

Sarah Meyer caught sight of her and smiled. Shelley smiled back and touched the cover of the diary one more time.

“Mrs. Feldstein?” Gregor Demarkian said.

“I’m sorry,” Shelley said. “I really do have to talk to Lotte and DeAnna now. Can the rest of this wait until later?”

“There really isn’t any rest of this,” Gregor said. “I was just a little worried about you. You’ve gone pale.”

“I’m tired, that’s all. Excuse me.”

Gregor Demarkian or his friend the policeman may have said something in response, but Shelley didn’t hear them. Sarah had closed her notebook and begun to move off. Shelley picked up speed to close the gap between them. Sarah walked into Carmencita Boaz’s room and disappeared.

If Lotte and DeAnna had stayed where they were, Shelley might have been held up. But they didn’t. They drifted off themselves, never realizing she was on her way. She let them go and went up to the door of Carmencita’s room, pushing her way gently between the nurses and policemen who were standing there. Inside she could see only the foot of Carmencita’s bed and the backs of the doctors that stood around it. She pushed in a little farther and caught sight of Sarah Meyer, listening to a white-coated woman and taking it all down in her notebook.