“She could have been,” he spat. “After that shitty studio in Vegas turned her down, we found the perfect actress. Such a resemblance, and easy to get rid of. We spent thousands on cheekbones and a nose job. The transformation was perfection, and finally she had what she always wanted. A chance in Hollywood. That was all she wanted—a chance. And first her bitch stepsister took that from her. And then you. You took that from her. She was starting over. And you’re back. You won’t be satisfied until we kill you, too.” He swung the hammer and missed.

“I wasn’t following Luna,” I said. A small lie. I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. I was only sure that it was buying me time. “I was following you.”

He paused but only a little. “Why?”

I swung the umbrella, twice. “You know who killed my mother,” I said. “You were there. I wanted to know if it was my father.”

He stopped for real this time, lowered the hammer, and laughed. “Milo?” He laughed again. “Milo couldn’t put a match out with a fire hose. No, he didn’t kill her.”

“Bill Hollis, then,” I said. My arms were killing me.

His face drew itself into a hateful line. “No. Believe it or not, Bill Hollis did not run the entire world. Even if he thought he did.”

I shook my head, uncomprehendingly. “Then who?” I asked.

“She was mine,” he bellowed.

“My mother?”

“No, you stupid girl. I didn’t want your used-up mother. Vanessa was mine. I would have done anything for her. And I did.” He pounded the air with the hammer as he talked. “I supported her. I ruined careers for her. I hurt people for her. Anything she asked for. We were Vanessa and Peter. We were VP.”

Candy cane and mustard lit up in my mind. He wasn’t the vice president of anything. He was still holding a torch for Vanessa Hollis.

“And then she left me. Met that bastard, Bill Hollis, and left me. Hired that moron Basile and he started doing my job. I was out, stuck with a snot-nosed kid who looked exactly like the woman I wanted. The one I rightfully deserved.” He pointed to his chest with the hammer. The movement startled me, and I thrust the umbrella forward again.

“I don’t understand,” I said. Wind pushed my hair across my face; it stuck to my bottom lip. “What does this have to do with my mother?”