Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
I find Allison sitting in the hallway, scrolling through her tablet.
An assistant to a movie star sounds like a great position but, honestly, Isabelle treats her like a servant.
Look at her waiting, like a dog the owner has told to sit.
I absently wonder just how long she’d sit there waiting on Isabelle’s call.
It’s demeaning and makes me feel sorry for her.
I have a few things I need to ask her and wait for her to look up.
“Isabelle wants you, but before you go can you tell me if Jenny left any notes on her work? She did mention that you cleaned out the room when she vanished.”
My suspicion rises when Allison’s eyes widen and she drops her voice to just above a whisper.
“Vanished isn’t how I’d describe what happened.
” Allison tucks her tablet under one arm and her gaze flicks back and forth along the hallway as if making sure no one is listening.
“Jenny had been working with Isabelle for a few weeks and she’d written some chapters.
Isabelle insisted on checking everything and during the reading, she went ballistic.
She used a marker to redact parts of the manuscript.
I have no idea what Jenny had written that upset her so much and I’m not sure if Jenny knew either.
The strange thing is, when I gave the documents back to Jenny, she went back to edit her files and said they’d been changed. ”
I lean in, interested. “What do you mean? Changed by Isabelle?”
“I don’t know. This is where it gets interesting.
” Allison moves closer to avoid being overheard.
“I figure Jenny was a little unstable because she insisted that someone hacked her files and changed the document after she printed it. She told me that parts of the chapters were different to what she remembered writing.” She sucks in a deep breath.
“Late that night, she stormed back to Isabelle and accused her of messing with her things. They had a blazing row. It was dark and Linc tried to calm everyone down. Jenny said she refused to write the book because Isabelle manipulated the truth and treated her like a servant. I remember seeing her running along the hallway back to her room. She was gone in the morning. Isabelle told me she’d fired her and Jenny had left in a hurry.
I was sent to collect her laptop and files.
Isabelle gave them to Oliver to delete everything.
A couple of weeks later the cops showed and asked questions.
Everyone in the house played dumb.” She grips my arm.
“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this but as you’re in the same position as Jenny, I suggest you tread lightly if you want to keep your job. ”
I nod. “Thanks. Are you saying Jenny left her laptop behind?”
“Isabelle supplied it and insisted she work on it. She didn’t trust her to use her own laptop.
” Allison frowns. “The thing is, Isabelle is so dependent on people doing everything for her, she didn’t know that Jenny couldn’t sell her story to anyone.
Jenny told me Linc had made her sign an NDA, and I did try to explain that to Isabelle but she didn’t believe me.
” She sucks in a breath. “Even Linc told her to stop worrying and they were covered.”
Astounded, I nod slowly. “And Linc didn’t explain everything to her?”
“I believe he tried and maybe he got through to her because she employed you, didn’t she?” Allison laughs but her eyes show concern. “Unless she has something she can use against you. I’ve seen her in her foulest moods. I wouldn’t put anything past her. When she gets mad everyone ducks for cover.”
Blackmail? Does Isabelle believe that she can hold the fact that Sam didn’t report a gunshot wound over me?
I want to laugh; at that time I hadn’t seen my adoptive parents for years.
How could I possibly know Sam’s dirty little secret and why would I care?
A thought enters my head. Why does Linc stay married to her?
They don’t get along. What is Isabelle holding over his head?
I stare at Allison, and her hand trembles as if she regrets telling me.
I smile to reassure her. “No, I’m an open book and I’ll make sure Isabelle is happy. So, all the notes were destroyed?”
“Unless Oliver kept copies, but I found notebooks.” Allison bites on her bottom lip and then, as if deciding, nods. “I guess it’s okay for you to look at them but you must return them.”
My mind is spinning with questions. Who in the house had the ability to change Jenny’s work?
Clearly Isabelle didn’t agree with what Jenny had written but that would be a simple editing issue.
I wonder what she’d discovered and if it was cause to fire her.
The nerd, as Lucas had called him—his brother, Oliver—had deleted the files from the laptop, so he had the password—if there was one.
Would he change the manuscript, on his mother’s orders?
My mind spins but now I’m suspicious of Allison’s motive for telling me.
Is it the truth or is everyone playing games with me?
I decide to lean into Isabelle’s poor me act for Allison’s benefit.
If she reports back to her as Linc had suggested, it will be to my advantage.
“Yes, of course I’ll return the books. It’s just to save Isabelle the trouble of going over everything twice.
I believe she finds the interviews stressful.
I’m finished with her for the day. Where will I find Oliver? ”
“Do you recall where I took you when you arrived?” Allison raises one eyebrow and waves a hand toward the stairs.
“His bedroom is upstairs, but he spends all his time in his gaming room. It’s set up for him to create all types of apps and other things.
Don’t ask me what he’s doing because I have absolutely no idea.
He’s always in there and only sometimes comes out for meals, usually breakfast.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
As I make my way down to the gaming room—I imagine that’s what it’s called—I consider the two different stories I’ve received from husband and wife.
I decide to check all media outlets on my phone as I walk, for a mention of the night she flashed Linc on stage and the time she ripped her dress at a premiere of one of her movies.
Most media coverage comes from eyewitness accounts.
The reporter was either at the concert or the premiere and actually witnessed what happened, so it would probably be unusual if the accounts differed in many ways.
I would like to get to the truth of the matter even for my own peace of mind.
I’d really like to have the absolute truth written in Isabelle’s memoirs as the book will remain in print for many years to come.
I’m surprised when I come to an open door and see a room that’s larger than I expected.
Desks and display units fill every wall.
Monitors, LED lights and half-built tech projects clutter the desks.
Oliver has his long dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck and is working before a screen.
I watch for a few seconds as his fingers fly across the keyboard.
He seems to be in a different world, with headphones hanging loosely around his neck.
A tray of food sits untouched on the desk beside him.
I stand in the doorway waiting for him to pause.
The room is dark and I feel as if I’m invading his privacy.
The moment he sighs and leans back in his chair I knock on the door.
“Hi Oliver. Can you spare a few minutes to chat with me?”
“I guess so.” Oliver glances at the tray of sandwiches and opens a can of soda sitting beside them.
“Do you mind if I eat while we chat? Dad is always checking I’m eating.
” He pokes at a sandwich, shrugs and takes a bite.
“He still figures I’m six. I don’t believe he looks at any of us as adults—well, maybe Lucas. ”
I get the overall feeling that Oliver doesn’t trust me.
He has a wary expression. Maybe he has been burned by media attention before and sees me as the enemy.
I smile at him. “I’m here to write your mother’s memoirs and I want to show her in the best possible light.
I’d also like some anecdotes or something we can put in the book as a hook for the readers.
Your dad has told me a couple of stories from his past. I’ll be writing a chapter on each of you.
Maybe we can start with: How do you get along with your mother? ”
“I don’t get to see her that much but when I do, I guess we get along.” He turns his attention back to the sandwiches and drink.
The two incidents that Linc divulged would be stories that came up over the years. Oliver had likely overheard them when Linc’s group of friends got together, so I ask him directly but he just shrugs and interacts with an AI assistant, asking for information about the incidents.
“I don’t recall my parents talking about either incident but my AI assistant confirms that they both happened.” Oliver twirls around in his chair to look at me. “I guess you’d better ask them.”
I laugh. “I have and they both give me different stories so I’m not exactly sure which one to write.”
“Why don’t you grab one of the chairs over there and sit down.
You’re making my neck ache.” Oliver indicates to one of the chairs in front of the many desks.
“Well, I’m assuming you’re speaking around the time I was maybe two or three years old.
Up to the time I went to high school I rarely saw my parents.
My dad was always away on tour, much the same as he is now, and he’d come home for, say, four weeks and then be off somewhere else. My mom was always on a movie set.”