Page 76 of There is No Devil

“Hey there Mr. Pratt. My name’s Kyle Warner. I write for theChronicle, and I’m doing a story on an artist named Mara Eldritch. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

A long pause.

“Not interested,” Randall grunts, rustling the phone like he’s about to hang up.

“Well, hang on!” I say. “Could ya at least confirm a quote I got from her mother Tori Eldritch?”

Another pause, even longer.

I hear his heavy breath on the other end of the line.

“You talked to Tori?”

“That’s right.”

“In person, or over the phone?”

“I flew up to speak with her.”

“Flew where?”

Now it’s my turn to let a brief silence fall between us. Keeping my tone cheerful, I say, “Well, we can discuss that in person. I need another source for this article. Pay’s five hundred bucks, and it won’t take but a little of your time.”

Breath. Breath. Heavy breath. Hot and wet in my ear.

“Alright,” Randall grunts. “I’m in La Crescenta. You can meet me at a pub called The Black Dog.”

A smile spreads over my face where Randall can’t possibly see it.

“Perfect.”

* * *

Maraand I drive out to Burbank together. She’s going to be interviewed for the DBS morning show.

“I don’t know if I want to be on TV,” she tells me, raising her hand to her mouth, then quickly putting it back down on her lap, twisting her fingers together in anguish.

She got a manicure and doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“You’re going to be great,” I tell her. “I’ll be right there with you, watching the whole time.”

“What do you think they’ll ask me?”

“Nothing challenging—it’s a morning show, for fuck’s sake. If they weren’t talking to you, they’d probably be interviewing the lady who baked the world’s biggest donut.”

“Theyshouldinterview her,” Mara laughs. “What an accomplishment.”

“You know we have to be at the studio at 4:15 a.m. for hair and makeup.”

“Are you serious!?” she cries. Mara’s not an early riser.

“That’s why they call it a morning show—‘cause it’s at the goddamned crack of dawn.”

“I’m so nervous. I’m not gonna sleep a wink.”

“Do you want an Ambien? I brought two with me.”

She considers, tapping one nicely polished nail against her lower teeth. “What if I can’t wake up in time?”

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