“So what does that look like, when the Sutcliffes’ friends give you presents?” Scarlett asked. “Is it kind of like what they find when they open up a pyramid? Do you go blind from all the gold?”

“It’s a little like that. But I’m staying here for dinner. I think we’re having pizza. Want to go down and ask Spencer what he wants on his? I think I just heard him come in.”

Scarlett dutifully stood and went down to Spencer’s room. He was standing by his bureau in a very strange position, leaning down on it, grasping his head in both hands as he intently read a script.

“So they finally sent it?” Scarlett asked.

Spencer said nothing.

“I’m supposed to ask you what you want on your pizza.”

Spencer said nothing.

“Is there still frosting in your ear?”

He finally looked over at her, but again, did not speak. Instead, he held out the script, open to the last page. Scarlett took it. There was only one bit of dialogue on it. It read:

BENZO

That was Frieze’s lawyer on the phone.

They just found him on the floor, beaten.

He’s dead. The son of a bitch is dead. The son of a bitch is dead.

More Surprises

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THE OFFENSIVE

It was five A.M., and Scarlett’s phone was ringing. She sat bolt upright, her hand slapping around her pillows, her nightstand, her blankets, searching desperately for the phone before it woke up Lola…

But Lola wasn’t there, of course. It was just Scarlett, alone in the pearly half dark, an empty bed next to her. She found the phone on the floor next to her bed and slapped it up to her ear with too much force, causing further chaos in the head/skull region.

“O’Hara,” Mrs. Amberson said. “Thank goodness. I need a little favor.”

It took Scarlett a moment to process that statement.

“Are you there?” Mrs. Amberson asked.

“You…what? What time…”

“I need you to go over to my apartment…”

“No,” Scarlett moaned.

“I need you to go to those Foo dog bookends I have on the bookcase near the window. They’re the Chinese ones that look like dogs with lion heads, and they’re propping up my section on Futurist and Expressionist theater. Go to the Foo dog closest to the window and…”

“No.”

“…pull its head off,” Mrs. Amberson went on, not missing a beat. “It comes off, don’t worry. I’m not asking you to break marble with your brute strength. But you have to pull hard. Inside, you’ll find a roll of cash. Take it, get in a cab, and go to the courthouse downtown. It’s the one from Crime and Punishment, the one where your brother shot Sonny.”

As soon as she heard the word courthouse, Scarlett felt herself waking up. She sat up halfway, balancing her elbow on her pillow.