A Talent for Murder (16 page)

Steven Benjamin looked into the camera. “And we’re back. After one more interview question, it will be up to the voting viewers to decide who stays on after next week, and who gets the axe!”

“More blood,” Polly said.

“Without further ado, welcome back Miranda Washington!”

Miranda made her entrance down the long flight of stairs that graced the stage and wandered up to the microphone and the panel of judges.

Steven Benjamin said, “During the commercial break the judges decided to let Richard Dartmouth have the final question for the evening. Do you feel lucky?”

“No, but what can I do?” Miranda said.

“At least you’re honest,” Richard said, “which is no way to win this game, but have it your way.” He stared at Miranda for a long moment. “Everybody has a dark side to their personality. Some otherwise very nice people suddenly snap and kill a noisy neighbor. Or the quiet guy at the office gets one e-mail too many and shoots his colleagues. If you were this close to being famous, but someone smarter or more talented… or younger got in the way, what would your dark side reveal?”

Miranda pursed her lips and rubbed her nose. “I’ve got a mean streak a mile long, all right,” she said. “I sent my dumb-ass boyfriend to the ER for constantly leaving used Kleenex around in piles. I suppose if I were faced with someone about to steal my limelight, it would be like they were taking a parking space I’d been waiting a long time for. If they pulled into my fame space, I’d have to whup their sorry butt. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from winning this game, and becoming the famous person I was meant to be. I’ve got dreams, and I mean to make ‘em come true. My voice alone will take me where I’m going.”

“To the unemployment office,” Polly said. “Yikes! What a lousy show! I may not go back, even if they ask me!”

Just as Placenta was about to turn off the television, Steven Benjamin looked into the camera and said,
”Join us next week when one of our contestants will say adios to all their dreams of becoming famous. And we’ll have extra security on hand, just in case a poor loser takes aim at one of our wonderful judges. Don’t forget what we, who have important Hollywood jobs, always say, ‘When the going gets tough, the tough take out their rusty razor blades and carve up anyone who gets in their way!’ See you next week!”

Placenta turned the lights on in the media room as Polly stood up and yawned. “It’s time for a nightcap,” Polly said, looking at the four empty bottles of Veuve left on one of the chairs in the room. She put her arm around Raul’s waist and said, “Are you sober enough to drive, or shall I ask Placenta to dust off the sheets in one of the guest rooms?”

“I had another dreadful night,” Polly complained when she arrived at the patio breakfast table Saturday morning. “Which one of our friends does a commercial for sleeping pills? I’m getting desperate. Kelsey?”

“I think he’s irritable bowel syndrome,” Placenta said.

“Cybill?”

“Menopause.”

“Whosy Whatsy, from
Northern Exposure
?”

“Janine? Nah. She used to do a commercial for that dry-eye disease. I think it’s off the market like the stuff that Dorothy Hamill hawked.”

“Well, what does Sally sell? She always looks young and well rested. She must have a pill!”

“Osteoporosis, I think. Just go to Dr. Feel Good. He’ll prescribe anything you want,” Placenta said.

“Drugs are too damned expensive! I just want a
sampler to get me through an afternoon nap. Tonight’s important, and I’m going to be a wreck if I don’t get some shut-eye!”

“Speaking of tonight, Tim has hired a guard to keep us safe from those murderous contestants you’ve invited to dinner.”

Polly looked up from sipping her Saturday morning mimosa. “What’s his name?”

“Sandy.”

“As in hunky Orange County surfer? Leave it to my Timmy.”

“As in Sandra. Tim hired a female security guard.”

Polly rolled her eyes and poured another mimosa from a juice pitcher. “If she’s anything like Officer Betty down at the jailhouse, I feel safer already.” She looked around, then glanced at her wristwatch. “Speaking of Tim, he’s got a ton to do before tonight. He can’t sleep the day away.”

Placenta cleared the breakfast table. “Timmy’s long gone. He and Raul … no, he didn’t spend the night … were meeting for coffee. Apparently, Raul has access to the files that SOS kept on Thane Cornwall.”

Polly took another sip of her drink. “Sounds a tad unethical. I knew I liked that young man. I’ll bet he knows the secrets and mating habits of every celebrity in Bel Air.” She paused. “If SOS has a file on Thane, surely they have one on us! That’s not good.”

Placenta tossed bits of a blueberry muffin to a few sparrows that had flown into the yard. The birds pounced on the meal and hopped around looking for more. “You won’t have to worry about SOS until after Tim and Raul stop seeing each other. Right now, Raul is in the ‘Let me impress you’ phase. He’ll volunteer classified information just to keep Mr. Perfect hanging around. He’s the one who recommended the new security guard.”

Polly huffed. “When things cool down, I’ll have to get the poor boy fired, so he doesn’t take revenge by letting any of Pepper Plantation’s secrets out! Oh, I hate playing the bad cop! And speaking of cops, or at least security personnel, when does this Sandy person begin?”

“Noon. She’s coming to meet you, and to start patrolling the grounds. She’ll be working in twelve-hour shifts, along with a partner.”

Polly stood up from the table. “I’d better put on my Polly Pepper face,” she said, tightening the belt around her bathrobe. “I’ll be in the shower if anybody needs me.” She left Placenta to continue cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

At eleven-thirty, Tim entered the house and greeted his mother with an air kiss to her cheek. “It’s been a very productive morning!” he said as he poured a glass of lemonade for himself. “Raul is amazing! He got us into the SOS confidential computer files and we had a blast checking out George and Tom and Keira and Kevin and Elton. I felt like a snoopy nurse at Cedars!”

“Anything useful …for when Angelina calls to dish?” Polly asked. “What types of records does SOS keep? Guests to Thane’s home? Telephone calls? The time of day when he activated his security system?”

“Thane had their super celebrity protection package,” Tim said. “They watched the house twenty-four-seven. In addition to the regular remote alarm service, they patrolled the property with drive-by service once every half hour. And get this! They had a two-way intercom connection. Raul said that without clients knowing, the guy who owns SOS monitors what goes on in their homes. He’s got months of recordings on some of the biggest stars in town, including Thane Cornwall!”

“Oh my God,” Polly said, shocked. “We’re definitely changing to Mayday!”

The chime at the front gate sounded. Tim looked at his watch. “It’s our new security detail. Your very own armed response team!” After confirming who the visitors were, he pushed the intercom button to release the entrance gates. Within a minute, he was introducing his mother and Placenta to Sandy Sanchez and Dak Ditson.

Polly reluctantly put on her professional face and instantly ingratiated herself into the lives of the two women. Dak was old enough to be Sandy’s mother. The women were military professional. They “Yes, ma’amed/no, ma’amed” and never cracked a smile or let on they may have been impressed by Polly Pepper. Indeed, as they rattled off the list of celebrities for whom they had served, Polly was merely one of many notable names.

Polly, Tim, and Placenta listened with trepidation as the pair of guards explained how the estate would be operated under their care. It was made clear that no one was allowed to exit the grounds or reenter without first notifying the guard on duty and signing in on a minute-by-minute log. Also, visitors, including close friends, would be screened before being admitted to the property, and scrutinized throughout their stay, in order to ensure that not only the family would be safe, but also the contents of the house.

“We
do
expect to be addressed as Sergeant Sandy and Officer Dak. We don’t expect to be your friends,” Dak explained in a clipped military tone. “We’re here with one mission, to secure the residents and property from unwanted and potentially hostile intruders.”

Polly and her troupe could only nod in agreement.

“Do we get any time off?” Placenta asked.

“We are not here to make you comfortable with us,” Sergeant Sandy stated. “We’ll be watching you as closely
as we watch your video monitoring devices. Get used to it.”

Polly looked at Tim, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Sorry. I didn’t know the Gestapo was moving in.”

Sergeant Sandy looked at her wristwatch, then nodded to Dak. “Enough small talk. Dak will return at midnight. In the meantime, I’ve got a job to do.” Sergeant Sandy saluted Polly and with toe to heel, she pivoted 180 degrees and marched away.

Polly looked at Tim and made a face. “How can we have any privacy with the SS keeping their eyes on us? I may as well stay in bed all day!”

“Alone!” Placenta added.

Tim shrugged. “She came highly recommended by Raul.”

“Then why aren’t they still working for all those B-list celebrities?” Polly said, and walked away in a huff.

“Give her a fair chance,” Tim said. “She just might save our lives!”

Placenta put her hand on Tim’s shoulder. “As a matter of fact, with the lowlifes who are eating at our table this evening, I’m very happy for the added protection. What the heck is your mother thinking when she invites killers to the house?”

“We don’t know that one of tonight’s guests is a killer,” Tim said.

“Someone’s out there killing judges and contestants on that sucky show,” Placenta said. “Every single one of the people she’s having over tonight had a motive to kill Thane Cornwall. And opportunity, too, I suppose. Do me a favor. Run back to your new friend and have him check out the file of Thane Cornwall for the night of his murder. See if there’s a recording of what went on in the house. Maybe there’s a record of someone
other than Lisa Marrs being there. Oh, how about a tape from the intercom? Something that proves that one of the kids didn’t do the deed. I’ll feel much better knowing that Ped-Xing, or Miranda or Taco Bell or anyone else I’m serving, isn’t going to carve me up.”

“We already checked. So did the police,” Tim said. “Thane’s security system failed that night. The cameras, too.”

Placenta heaved a heavy sigh. “Life’s too short to worry about death.”

Sergeant Sandy stationed herself at attention outside the front entry gates to Pepper Plantation, imagining herself at the gates to Buckingham Palace. As each guest arrived she insisted on two forms of identification, plus contact with the main house to confirm that the name on her clipboard matched the master guest list that Tim kept by the front door.

When Ped-Xing finally got through the checkpoint and entered the mansion, he opened his sports coat and boasted to Polly, “The chick in the pants didn’t catch this!” He showed off a large knife sheathed in leather and attached to his belt.

Well-trained hostess that she was, Polly offered a hearty laugh and a hug. “She’s new at the job. I’ve planted a dozen WMD and she hasn’t found a single one. So much like that last idiot we had in the White House, but not quite as moronic!”

Soon the invitees were all in attendance and Tim was serving drinks. Polly, dressed in an elegant aqua-colored silk back-zipped dress with a ruched bodice blouse above a darted skirt and a matching beaded jacket, circulated among her young guests. As they each asked questions about the grand house, wanting to see
exactly where their cocontestant Danny Castillo’s body had been discovered, Polly became more comfortable with the group. Everybody loved the house, and seeing the display of Emmy Awards, People’s Choice Awards, and other symbols of Polly Pepper’s fame, made each even more impressed with their hostess.

“So, which way was his head twisted?” Taco Bell asked when Tim escorted her to the place where Danny was found. “Did it look like the priest who got thrown down the stairs by Satan in
The Exorcist?”
she asked.

Tim assured her that no, the body looked like Danny had just gone to sleep.

“That’s not what I heard.”

Tim and Taco Bell turned to the sound of Amy Stout’s voice, and found that she and Miranda Washington had joined them at the scene of the crime. “Thane’s assistant, Michael, said Danny looked like he was staring at a ghost.”

Tim cocked his head. “I was here, he wasn’t.”

Amy shrugged. “Are you calling him a liar?”

Tim was taken aback. “I’m just saying …”

At that moment, Michael joined them. “Who’s a liar?”

“Apparently, you are,” Miranda said.

Tim shook his head. “We were just talking about finding Danny’s body right in this spot, that’s all.”

Taco Bell took another sip of her champagne. “And Mr. Rich Boy here said you lied about how the body looked when they found it cold as ice on the granite floor.”

Tim was incredulous. “I didn’t say anyone was a liar. I just described what I saw, and you said that’s not what Michael saw. And the floor’s not granite.”

Michael squared his shoulders. “I just reported what I heard, that’s all. Ped told me what it looked like.”

Miranda put two fingers to her lips and blew an ear-shattering whistle. “Yo! Ped! Over here!” she demanded.

Polly, who had been speaking with Ped-Xing about the lack of sadness felt by almost everyone over the death of Thane Cornwall, followed him into the foyer where the others were gathered.

The center of attention, Ped-Xing was surrounded by his cocontestants and the Pepper Plantation household. “Whassup?” he asked.

Miranda said, “Our host says you’re a liar.”

Tim gasped. “I never said that. In fact, I never said anything about anybody lying about anything.”

Amy Stout joined in. “Michael said Danny’s body was a twisted wreck, with his eyes popping out of his head, like he was being attacked by zombies. But Tim here disagrees. Michael told us that you saw the body. So now you’re being called a liar. Whatcha gonna do ‘bout that?”