“You’re not the only one with secrets,” Irene added, though I couldn’t tell if she meant that comment for me or Gordon. “Leon told me a week ago. Swore me to secrecy. Leon is delirious with joy. He’s sure it’ll be a boy, that he’ll have the son he lost.” She cast a tender, even a pitying look to her husband, knowing that Gordon would lose his treasured place as the son Leon lost. “Denise is in a rage. Leon is certain that once the morning sickness passes, she’ll be happy, but he’s delusional. Denise only ever wanted one baby, and his name is Oscar.”

“When is it due?” I asked.

“June sometime.”

“She probably thought at his age he was firing blanks,” said Gordon. His brow creased uneasily. “Is it his? Maybe she . . .”

“You better keep thoughts like that to yourself,” said Irene.

Was it Leon’s? Or was it the child of a man much younger and more virile? A man like Jonathan Moore. At least since September, Jonathan and Denise . . . I looked from Irene to Gordon. Did they have the same suspicion? Shut up, I told myself, though I had uttered no word. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“If Leon thought Denise walked on water before this, just imagine . . . just imagine.” Gordon seemed to physically collapse inward; he reminded me of a cabbage I found last week at the back of the fridge. “She’ll consolidate her power over him. She’ll rule Empire Pictures. Really. She’ll bring us down in ruins.”

“The pregnancy won’t be public till after the premiere,” said Irene. “You can count on that. In fact . . .”

“What?” said Gordon, as he alternately flushed and paled. “What else do you know?”

“I’m sure Leon will tell you soon, but he wants the premiere moved up from February or March to January.”

“January! I can’t, we can’t—”

“But you will, because Denise doesn’t want to look pregnant when she steps in front of the press, the limelight.”

Gordon rose, with difficulty it seemed to me. He gave a tight little sort of sphincter-smile, kissed Irene’s cheek, thanked me for coming, for my time, and said he had to get back to work, and he’d be home late.

Chapter Twenty-four

I parked the MG on PCH and went up the steps to my house mentally, physically, and emotionally bedraggled. Terrence looked up from the Royal, alarmed. “What’s happened?”

I dropped my briefcase on the floor, kicked off my high heels, and went to his embrace. “I have some good news.”

“You don’t look like you have good news.”

“I have some bad news too.”

“Tell me the good.”

“Irene made up with me. She came by the office, and we went to Empire.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Denise is knocked up. Baby’s due in June.”