Free Dorothy Parker Drank Here by Ellen Meister

to the hotel. In fact, several other famous guests have signed it in the years since Percy died.”
    â€œLike who? Writers? Celebrities? Have you met any of them?”
    â€œYes, dear. I meet them after they perish.”
    â€œThat must be fascinating.”
    â€œNot as much as you’d think. Besides, they usually leave me after a single conversation. That damned white light they all think is so appealing. Here’s Teddy’s room.”
    Mrs. Parker knocked but there was no response.
    Norah pressed her ear up against the door. “I can hear him,” she said.
    â€œTeddy, dear,” said Mrs. Parker as she knocked again, “open the door.”
    Silence.
    â€œDon’t be childish. I need to speak with you.”
    Norah listened again. “I hear his footsteps,” she said.
    â€œTed, I’m here with that charming young woman.”
    They waited.
    â€œThere’s something you need to know, Ted,” Dorothy Parker said. “I told her about Audrey . . . about Audrey and your book.”
    Norah heard a glass break. “Uh-oh.”
    The door opened two inches, remaining latched, and Norah could see a sliver of Ted’s face. “You did not,” he said. “You wouldn’t.”
    â€œI would. And I did.”
    â€œI could kill you!”
    â€œA little late for that.”
    â€œWhat do you want from me?” he asked.
    â€œWe just want to talk,” Norah said. “Let us in.”
    â€œNot a chance.”
    â€œMr. Shriver,” she continued, “I understand that you feel a sense of loyalty to your ex-wife, but when you think about—”
    â€œYou understand
nothing
.”
    â€œThen explain it to us.”
    â€œGo to hell.”
    â€œWhatever crime you think you’re guilty of, you didn’t deserve to have your reputation ruined forever. The very fact that Audrey never came forward to exonerate you proves that she’s no good. You have to believe me. What she did was . . . monstrous.”
    â€œAnd who do you think
created
that monster?”
    â€œFine. You were a terrible person. You cheated on your wife. Shouldn’t she have forgiven you by now?”
    He didn’t respond.
    â€œThink about it,” Norah said. “You’ve celebrated over twenty-five birthdays and New Years since then. When do you get to turn the page? Shouldn’t there be a statute of limitations—”
    â€œNever,” he said, and slammed the door.
    â€œTeddy,” Mrs. Parker said, knocking. “Teddy! Let us in and we won’t go to the media with this.”
    Norah put her hand on Dorothy Parker’s arm. “Forget it,” she said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I just realized there’s only one thing that would get him to change his mind.”
    â€œAnd what’s that?”
    â€œAudrey,” Norah said. “We have to find her.”

W hen Edie Coates’s brother died at age forty-nine, she wept in relief. If only she had known he wasn’t nearly finished with her.
    Gavin had bullied her their entire lives. Her parents explained that he was “just jealous,” which never made any sense to her. What was he jealous of? He was her big brother, and better at everything—sports, schoolwork, making friends. And it wasn’t as if their parents showed her any favoritism. He just seethed with resentment that she was alive and occupying space on earth, and no amount of cowering on her part made any difference. As long as there was no one around to see it, Edie Coates’s brother hit her every time she came within reach.
    And then there was the mockery. On most mornings, her clothing made him snort with derision. And no matter how carefully she measured her words, he found her conversation worthy of ridicule.
    Mealtimes were a special problem, as Gavin had decided that average-sized Edie was overweight, and insisted on calling her Chubbo, which he later