A Talent for Murder (19 page)

Finally, Polly said, “Danny’s death looks like an accident. But I’m not so sure. He died at Pepper Plantation. He broke in while we were visiting your apartment.”

“My apartment?” Lisa said. “What the hell were you doing there? Who let you in? What did you find?”

Polly folded her arms across her chest and took a solid stance. “What did you expect us to find?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“We didn’t find
nothing
.”

Lisa looked at Polly, then refocused on Tim and Placenta, then back to Polly. “What are you going to do about it?”

“There’s nothing to do,” Polly said.

“Why? Because I’m in here, and now you hold my keys to the kingdom?”

“If you say so.” Polly had no idea what she was saying, or to what Lisa was alluding, but she sensed that if she just played dumb, Lisa would reveal something important.

“You know it’s like having a treasure map,” Lisa said. “But it won’t do you a bit of good unless you know where X marks the bloody spot, so to speak.”

“You don’t say.” Polly played along.

“You need to fit all the other pieces together.”

“Placenta solved the Rubik’s Cube once. She’s helping me out on this one,” Polly said. “Don’t underestimate us.”

“Okay!” Lisa said, shrinking away from Polly. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you! There’s much more than what you see. Ask the young wunderkind producer Richard Dartmouth to explain why he secretly tapes everybody.” When Polly didn’t blanch at the mention of video surveillance, Lisa knew that Polly was on to her. “I guess it’s all for the best. You might even catch a killer… or two.”

At that moment, Officer Betty arrived. Detective Randy Archer was right behind her.

It was late afternoon. The Los Angeles basin was an oven. Although the sky above looked clear, one had only to gaze to the north, to where the Hollywood Hills were supposed to be, to see that the air was actually dense
with smog. Usually, the high daytime temperatures in L.A. cooled off at night. However, the forecast was for an evening of hot air blowing in from the steaming police detective Randy Archer.

As the cadre moved out of the police station and into the parking lot, Polly tried to ease the tension. “Don’t stress about things you can’t control. This is our fifth anniversary!”

Detective Archer, Tim, and Placenta each gave Polly a puzzled look.

Polly sighed. “Five dead bodies since we met!”

“Some people go a lifetime without having even one!” Archer bellowed.

“Exactly!” Polly added. “So by now you must realize that I can’t help it if I’m a death magnet. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

When they all arrived at Polly’s car, Tim pushed the button on his key fob to automatically release the door lock. Randy reached for the hot handle and pulled the door open. Placenta and Polly settled into the backseats and let their respective windows down to release the hot air from within. As Randy stood beside the vehicle and looked at his girlfriend, who seemed unaware of the dangers to which she exposed herself, he smiled.

“Now, that’s the look of the man I adore,” Polly said, reaching out to hold Randy’s hand. “You’ll feel a heck of a lot better when you get your clothes off… to go swimming, I mean. Follow us home. Placenta won’t cook on a hot night, and Tim thinks that barbecue is beneath his elevated level of living. So we’ll have something delivered from Orso. A nice cool pool awaits my hot police detective.”

Polly finger-waved to Randy, then raised her window as Tim backed the Rolls out of the parking space.

“Move this coach before he has a chance to catch up,” Polly called to the front seat. “Then get us over to Michael’s apartment, pronto.”

Tim and Placenta both whined, “Polly!”

“Just go!” Polly demanded.

“We don’t even know where he lives,” Tim said.

“That’s why they invented cast and crew contact lists,” Polly said, opening the storage compartment behind the front passenger seat and holding up a sheaf of papers. She scanned the first page, then turned to the second. “De Longpre Avenue! Lisa thinks we have a treasure map. I’ll wager that Michael, having worked for Thane, knows what the hell she’s talking about.”

Placenta looked out the passenger window and hummed for a moment. “Anyone else might have simply asked Lisa what she meant. But no, some other people have to pretend that they’re know-it-alls.” She looked away from the traffic and gazed at Polly. “You’re like a man who’s lost but won’t ask for directions. Would it have been so hard to say, ‘Duh! What the hell are you talking about?’“

Polly looked at Placenta as if she had never seen an episode of
Miss Marple
. “And let the potential killer think we’re clueless? How could I pose such a silly question to Lisa, when she all but tells us that Danny Castillo was murdered by the same person who killed Thane!”

Tim looked at his mother through the rearview mirror. “It is weird that she assumed Danny’s death was intentional,” he said, and picked up his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Polly asked.

“Letting Michael know that he’s about to have unexpected guests,” Tim said.

“Unexpected is the operative word!” Polly said. “Put
the phone down, punch the address into the GPS, and never underestimate the power of surprise.”

In twenty minutes, Polly’s Rolls-Royce was traveling along Fountain Avenue, approaching La Brea. A voice from Tim’s Magellan said, “Turn left at the next signal.” Tim moved into the left-hand turn lane and when the light turned green he slowly entered the intersection. A long line of cars coming from the opposite direction made their way past the Rolls, and when it was safe to do so, Tim turned the wheel and proceeded up La Brea.

Suddenly, Polly yelled, “No! No! No!”

Tim automatically stepped on the brake as other cars behind him did the same thing to keep from hitting him. He looked around expecting to find a Mack truck bearing down on either side of the vehicle. “What? What?” he yelled, looking to make sure that Polly and Placenta were well strapped into their seats.

Polly’s hands cupped her mouth and her eyes bugged out. She pointed. “It’s gone! A & M Records! The place where my Karen and Richard recorded my favorite songs! Disappeared! What happened?”

Unnerved by the outburst, Tim managed a huge sigh of relief, knowing that he wasn’t about to be struck by another car, or hitting a pedestrian. Catching his breath and moving the car forward again, he said, “I know it’s hard to accept, but I suppose the L.A. Society for the Preservation of The Carpenters Landmarks couldn’t get enough signatures on a petition to save the old building.”

“It was more than just a bunch of buildings!” Polly said, nearly in tears. “Charlie Chaplin’s own movie studio! And the records! Herbie Alpert. Paul Williams. The Flying Burrito Brothers.”

“Yep, all gone,” Tim said. “Even Pepper Plantation will get the wrecking ball someday. If it can happen to A & M, and Pickfair, it can happen to our PP.”

“All right,” Polly said. “Just do as that Magellan lady says and turn right onto De Longpre!”

Tim followed his mother’s and Magellan’s directions and turned onto the decrepit street lined with stucco apartments and run-down early twentieth century Hollywood bungalow-style houses. “Oh God. You’re paying for an expensive security detail at the house, but didn’t think to bring her with us!”

Polly ignored the remark, although she, too, was uncomfortable driving down this street. “Um, that’s the one,” she said, pointing to a two-story house with all the curb appeal of the homes featured on her second favorite HGTV show,
Divine Demolition!

Remarkably, Tim found a place to park a half block away, and the trio gingerly made their way to the address on the cast and crew call sheet. At the walkway leading to two steps and the front door, Polly, Tim, and Placenta looked at each other and offered expressions that said, “Real people actually live here.” Then, together, they proceeded up the steps. The front door was open, but an old wood-framed screen door kept the flies and Jehovah’s Witnesses out. Tim knocked.

After a second series of knocks, a young man, who appeared to be in his late teens and was wearing a perspiration-soaked T-shirt, came into view. He looked at the well-dressed strangers on the front porch and asked, “Prize Patrol?”

The threesome outside smiled their most charming smiles. “Do you see balloons? We’re friends of Michael’s. Is he in?”

“What’s he look like?”

“Um, five-nine. A hundred and twenty. Glasses.”

“The skinny guy?” the young man said. “I think he’s here.” He unlocked and opened the door, and allowed the visitors to enter.

The smell inside instantly accosted their nostrils. “Burnt kitty,” Placenta guessed.

“Spam,” Polly said. “We ate that crap when I was a kid. I’ll never forget the stench.”

“I’m gonna puke,” Tim said.

“Mike’s place is over there,” the guy who’d let them in said, pointing toward what appeared to be the living room. A large army surplus blanket was draped over a clothesline strung up to divide the room. Tim looked at his mother as he led the way. When they were close enough to see that the khaki blanket was quite old and had been a steady meal for moths and silverfish, Tim called out, “Michael?”

“Honey, it’s us,” Polly added.

Just as they reached the blanket they heard Michael’s voice. “Wha? Who?” He drew the blanket along the clothesline and revealed himself, and his bed, which was just a recliner chair with plastic milk crates for an ottoman. “What the …?”

He looked mortified. “If I’d known that you were dropping in, I would have put up the Laura Ashley.”

“I told Tim to call in advance,” Polly said, genuinely sorry. She had spent her entire childhood doing everything possible to keep friends from finding out that she and her mother lived in a single room in Hollywood. “We’ll leave.”

Michael shook his head. “Why bother? You came all this way from your mansion in Bel Air to my place in Flea Town. Let’s have a tea party.”

Placenta put her hands on her hips and said, “Excellent idea! But we’re having it at the plantation.”

Polly looked at her maid as though she’d lost her
mind. “Wait…” she began to say, but caught Tim’s look. “… um, of course. We’ve got dozens of extra toothbrushes. And Tim can loan you a clean pair of underpants. Come.”

Although Michael attempted to back away from three pairs of arms that suddenly reached out for him, he quickly gave in without a struggle. “Er … kidnapping is a federal crime.”

“Living in a room made of blankets ought to be,” Polly countered.

When they were all settled in the car, and heading up to Sunset Boulevard, Polly looked at Placenta and held her hand. Her eyes said, “You go, girl!”

T
he sun had long ago set over Los Angeles, but the heat still blanketed the city. Polly and Placenta, sitting at the poolside patio table sipping flutes of chilled Veuve Clicquot, watched the men horsing around in the water. The jubilant ruckus made everyone euphoric. Polly was delighted as she watched the easy camaraderie between Randy and Tim. And Michael’s cannonball jumps off the diving board gave Polly a sense of childhood glee. She glanced at Placenta for a moment and heard her best friend and maid making a sound that she interpreted to be either appreciation or condemnation. “What?” she asked.

“Men,” Placenta said without taking her eyes off the pool. “Look at those bodies. And I’m not being weird about Tim, I’ve known him since before he could tie his shoes.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Polly sighed. “I’ve got eyes too. All men are attractive in one way or another. Michael’s twenty-one. Timmy’s twenty-seven. Randy’s fifty-two. No matter what age, they’re all good looking, and we could eat ‘em with a spoon. Well, Michael and Randy, anyway.”

“Look at us,” Placenta sighed. “If Michael’s mother saw that we’re lusting after her son’s tattoo of Che Guevara, she’d call child protective services!”

“That’s the problem,” Polly said, “he’s not a child. And the big surprise is that underneath his dorky clothes is a sexy man. Whodathunk?” After a moment, Polly looked back at Placenta and said, “We’re pathetic. We’re both very good-looking women. Heck, I’ve got a police detective boyfriend, and you had a date with Tom Hanks’s doctor’s best friend six months ago. We’re not exactly out-to-pasture. As soon as we figure out who murdered Thane Cornwall and Danny Castillo, I’m taking us both to
The Oaks at Ojai
for a full spa week! We’ll fool around with every masseur in the place!”

“Better come up with a killer pretty soon.” Placenta smiled. “If I have to look at these gorgeous half-naked men in my own backyard much longer, I may have to drown just for the CPR.”

Polly sighed in agreement, and as she reached for the champagne bottle from a silver bucket on the table, she saw a beam of flashlight moving across the wide acreage. “Here comes our security detail extraordinaire. Time to get into Polly Pepper mode. Jesus Christ.”

When Sergeant Sandy arrived at the patio she gave Polly and Placenta a formal nod and reported, “The estate is secure, ma’am.”

Polly offered a wide smile. “That’s absolutely lovely. You’re taking such good care of us. I almost feel guilty that we’re having all the fun on such a hot night. Please feel completely comfortable about taking a swim. In fact, take off that hot shirt and let your body breathe, dear! Those wet patches under your arms must be very uncomfortable. As you said, the place is secure. No paparazzi!”

With wide eyes, Sergeant Sandy looked at Polly,
Placenta, the bottle of champagne, and the men in the pool. “Officer Dak will be along shortly to relieve me,” she said. “I’ll take a cold shower at home.”

“Have it your way.” Polly raised her glass to Sandy.

Placenta cackled. “Ain’t that the truth? An
occasional
sip. The rest of the time you walk around hooked up to the bottle, as if it were delivering life support!”

Polly gave Placenta a look of exasperation. She turned to Sergeant Sandy and said, “Be a dear and escort this reprobate off the estate!”

It took Sergeant Sandy more than a moment to realize Polly was joking. She leaned in closer to the two women and whispered, “If it’s a troublemaker you want removed, be wary of the boy you brought home.”