A Corpse in a Teacup (12 page)

His wife whispered in his ear, then he got back on track, reminding them why they were assembled.

“Oh yes.
Of course. About Ariel. Terrible thing. If any of you have any information,” he paused to take another drink from his bottle and his wife stepped in to flash an ingratiating smile at her guests. Her clothes were dark, her makeup and hair appropriately somber. No jewelry.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I am Brava Vitale, Goren’s wife.”

Tuesday detected a slight accent, but couldn’t place it. Yes, she looked Balkan but didn’t sound it. Loyal wife, she filled in what her drunken husband should have said.

“We know you are as devastat
ed as we are over this tragedy. I can’t believe it’s possible, but if the rumors that our Ariel was the victim of a crime turn out to be true, if you know anything, anything at all that would help the police catch the monster who did this, I urge you, please report it. Even if it is embarrassing, even if it jeopardizes someone you know. Some of us have received death threats, threats to abandon the movie. We must catch this monster before he kills again. That’s it, everyone. Let’s have a minute of silence for Ariel, then help yourself to this delicious food and wine in her honor.”

There was light applause from people not sure how to respond.
The news that Ariel may not have died of natural causes seemed to stun a great number of the assembled, including some who didn’t realize they were honoring a dead girl. Tuesday noted this and said, “Apparently, not everyone watches cable news. They’re just here for the free food.”

Holley
just grabbed Tuesday’s arm. “Come with me, Miss Tuesday, there’s someone I want you to meet. Roger is here.”

Ah, Roger the nerdy, needy stalker.
Tuesday followed close behind across the cavernous living room lined with uncomfortable looking couches and the long food table in the center. The artwork consisted of a mobile of the planets and their moons in one corner hovering over an otherworldly white leather chair. Tuesday decided to steer clear of it, afraid that if she climbed into it she would need a crane to get out. Two sculptures of little green moon men looked like they had been placed as a practical joke under a huge, garish poster of his last movie. Either the Vitales used whimsy as their guiding decorating principle, or Goren’s set director had been employed while he was on an acid trip.

Tuesday guessed there were about two dozen guests scattered around the room, speaking in low tones either out of respect f
or the departed Ms. Cuthbert, Goren’s movie in peril, or because the ceiling was so high all sound gravitated to the odd metal beams and skylights above. She said to no one in particular, “A walk-in freezer would be more inviting.”

“Over here, Miss Tuesday.”
Holley turned her around to face the opposite corner of the room. Tuesday immediately ducked and covered her head as an enormous meteor came flying at her.

Holley laughed. “I did that the first time I saw it
, too.”

Tuesday opened her eyes to see three people standing by a chrome and glass console against the wall. It held a flat screen flashing videos of outer space. The meteor was receding now as the Milky Way began to zoom large across the sky.

“What is this place, Holley? A planetarium?”

Holley beamed. “Yeah, isn’t it cool?”
and began introducing her to Roger, Zora and Gray Star, a person of indeterminate gender in a bodysuit right out of Star Wars. Though black clad Zora refreshed Tuesday’s memory by announcing that, “I’m Goren’s right hand everything. He doesn’t make a move without me,” it was Roger who drew her attention.

From Holley’s description of
Roger Brand as clingy and obsessed, a cult movie groupie, Tuesday imagined a pudgy geek in baggy, unwashed jeans with a creepy smile and scruffy beard. She did a double take when tall, elegant Mr. GQ extended his hand. He smiled a perfect smile that revealed brilliant teeth. A shock of lush dark hair fell over smoky eyes and a voice that would lull cranky babies to sleep said hello.

Tuesday imagined the conversation she would have with Holley as soon as they were alone.
What’s wrong with you girl if you can’t get down with Mr. Perfect?
If her client was turning away a gorgeous man like Roger, Tuesday wanted to see the men who didn’t make the cut. They had to come from some planet that wasn’t earth and some species descended from Greek gods.

While Tuesday could admire Roger as a
beautiful museum piece, he really wasn’t her type. He didn’t have the edge that Mr. Gorgeous at the police station had, the man at the precinct that sadly she would never see again, but who nevertheless, more than twenty-four hours later, still had a firm grasp on her fantasy life. As for Roger, she couldn’t imagine feeling completely at ease in her thrift store treasures with a man who looked like someone you’d see in Vogue Magazine. But if she could get him up to Darling Valley, he was made for Olivia. A MAD man. Mature, affluent and, this one she had to guess, dependent free.

He was waiting for Tuesday to
say something so he prompted her. “Holley has told me so much about you, Miss Tuesday. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Tuesday went a little weak in the knees. He had the gift of making
her feel she was the only significant person on the planet. Oh, Roger could be trouble if you didn’t watch out. As she returned his warm greeting, she told herself to get a grip.

“It’s just Tuesday, Roger. And I have to say I’ve been very curious about you
, too. I understand you work on her film.”

He moved over to make room for Tuesday out of the way of the flat screen pummeling the viewer with space wars. The gentlemanly gesture was not lost on
her. Holley had been looking around the room and waving at people she knew, oblivious it seemed to Roger’s adoring glances in her direction. Tuesday had the feeling he was trying to make a good impression so he could ask for Holley’s hand in marriage.

“Yes, well we’re still in casting and Goren is concerned about
Ariel’s death killing his picture. Oh, dear. I didn’t mean that. And, it’s not officially a murder, is it?”

Tuesday shook her head and smiled
don’t worry about it
and he continued. How could you take offence at this guy?

He explained himself.
“It’s really an opportunity for me. I’m a still photographer. I’ve been dying to try film.”

Holley
piped up with, “He’s in LACMA.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tuesday knew the LA County Museum
, but she didn’t get the connection.

“You know, next to Ansel Adams.”

Roger smiled modestly. “Just two photographs. I’ve told Holley I’d like to do a series of portraits of her if she had the time to sit for me.”

Tuesday turned to Holley. “
Baby doll. There’s an offer you can’t refuse.”

Holley raised her empty glass. “I think I’ll get a refill. Anyone else?”
and she drifted away without comment.

Though
Zora and the android had been quietly listening in, Zora’s bored sighs and disinterested smirk made it clear she was over this conversation, these people. Perhaps, Tuesday thought, because the conversation wasn’t about her. Zora turned to Gray Star and gave a nod toward the bar. She clinked her friend’s glass and said, “Let’s top these off.”

When they were alone, Roger said, “You know, Miss Tuesday . . .”

“Just Tuesday.” Her attention was split for a moment. She very much wanted to find out what Roger was all about. He couldn’t be more out of tune with her preconceptions. Yet she watched Zora walk off without so much as a goodbye to the others. It wasn’t her rudeness that set off Tuesday’s alarm bells, but something else. An aura of, what was it? She couldn’t put her finger on it but it was close to danger. Not that Zora was in danger, exactly, but that she could be the perpetrator. She shivered, but the feeling remained, then Roger spoke and got her attention again.

“Sorry, but that’s what Holley calls you. I’m sure you know
you have a great influence on her. I’m intrigued by what you do.”

“You mean read tea leaves?
”

“Yes. I’ve never been interested in the occult. I’ve always been t
oo pragmatic. But,” he paused, hemmed and hawed a bit. “Do you mind if I tell you a little about myself?”

Tuesday waved her glass at him. Here we go, she thought. Let’s make it all about you, Roger who is too good looking to ask Tuesday about herself. She gave him an unctuous smile
, and said, “Carry on,” believing there’d be no stopping him anyway.

“Well, you see, until two years ago I was married to the love of my life. We were true soul mates. We’d been together for seven years, married for five. The day she told me she was pregnant was the happiest day of my life.”

Tuesday had no idea where this came from, perhaps the gloom of the memorial was affecting him, but she was suddenly mesmerized.

“Well,” his voice thickened with emotion. “You think these things only happen in third world countries or Victorian novels, but she died in childbirth. I lost the
baby girl also.”

In the silence that followed, Tuesday thought she would fall down weeping just from the grief in his voice.

“Well, as we do when these things happen, you think your life is over. And it was for me. For a long while. I couldn’t work, couldn’t eat or sleep. For two years I had no reason for living. Then a friend of mine who was the Director of Photography on a movie invited me onto the set. A silly piece, but it was fun. I was glad I went along. Then the day they started shooting, Holley appeared. And in an instant my life changed. She was so beautiful and full of life. My heart lifted just being in her presence.”

‘”She has that knack
,” Tuesday agreed.

“Her innocence and joy in living brought me to life.
We stayed friends after the movie ended.”

Tuesday was adjusting her opinion of Roger. But she was a little suspicious of where he was going with all this.

“I can see that she would have that effect on you, but are you trying to get me to influence her readings in your favor? I mean I have ethics, I can’t do that.”

M
ore than one client had given a reading as a gift to a love object for the purpose of having Tuesday insist that the giver was their true love. Or, in the case of one woman, have Tuesday tell her husband they should buy a bigger house. She refused on both accounts despite the offer of big tips.

Roger threw up his hands to protest.
“Oh, but this isn’t about Holley. I know I’m wallpaper to her. But maybe in time . . . or even if nothing happens, I feel alive just having coffee with her and listening to her talk about her new lipstick or her yoga class. Have you ever seen her do yoga?”

“Oh yes. That girl can bend.”

“You see, since my wife died I’ve questioned everything. Life, death. The
What is it all about
questions. I’m much more open to everything now. And since Holley has been talking about her readings with you, I’ve been curious to have you do a reading for me. If that would be okay, you know, not breach confidentiality or something.”

“Oh, well of course I could do a reading for you
. I’d be happy to. I’d see you at my apartment where I see private clients.”

Was he for real? Tuesday could fall in love with him herself if only he weren’t so, well, perfect. She liked men with a little more of an edge. The LAPD guy fit the bill for her.

She dug around in her purse and fished out a card. “Here. Call me anytime. I won’t tell Holley. Anything we talk about is confidential, but you can divulge the information to anyone you wish.”

He stuck the card in his pocket just as Holley, Zora and Gray Star returned.

“So, Roger,” Zora said
, getting to the nasty heart of things. “Who do you think did it?”

Tuesday stood back from the conversation observing the director’s assistant. She was just this side
of pretty. Her eyes were good with an even mouth and a perfect nose. Yet something was off, because when you put them all together, they were askew. Nose and mouth too far apart. Nose and eyes too close together. She looked like she was wearing a badly made Halloween mask of her face with a touch of menace thrown in. To make matters worse, her clothes were slapdash. Shapeless top and long skirt with an elastic waistband that made her look middle-aged, though from her flawless skin, Tuesday guessed she was barely thirty. Overall, Tuesday did not pick up any happy vibes from Zora, the grim nature of the memorial notwithstanding.

Tuesday noticed Roger stiffening
at Zora’s question. “The girl? Are we sure someone did something to her? And how would I know? I never met her.”

Zora took a sip of her drink before answering. “Well, if you don’t know her, she must be t
he only actress in Hollywood you’ve missed.”

She smirked at Gray Star, who returned a look that could have been in agreement or a symptom of brain death.

Roger’s voice was low and intimidating. “You need to stop spreading those rumors, Zora. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His response startled Tuesday. This was not the Roger who wanted his tea leaves read.

Menace was not just in Zora’s eyes, but in her voice as well. “You can fool a lot of people, pretty boy, but not me.”

“Zora. This is n
either the time nor place.”

“You mean you didn’t ask
the dead girl to sit for one of your,” Zora hooked air quotes in front of him, “portrait sessions?”

Roger set his glass on a nearby table and nodded to the group.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to leave. Really nice meeting you, Miss, er Tuesday. Take care, Holley. We’ll be in touch.”

He walked off without even acknowledging Gray Star.

Zora called after him. “I hear you can’t account for your whereabouts during the time she was killed.” He left without answering.

Tuesday stood there in a state of shock. So maybe her first instincts about Roger were correct, after all. But he seemed so sincere. Yet, after hearing the way he growled at Zora, not that she didn’t deserve it, Tuesday could imagine that voice threatening Holley. Though why would he? She needed to get home and do a Tarot Card reading on all this. She looked around for a clock to see how much longer before she could politely make an exit.

Then Zora turned
her attention to Holley. “What are you doing here? I thought it was a closed party. You haven’t been hired for anything yet.”

S
he gave Tuesday the once over. “Are you and our Electra doing a wardrobe smackdown tonight?”

She let the sentence fade away, her sneer conveying her disdain for Tuesday’s getup.
Tuesday chose her denim skirt today. To spruce it up she had sewn on a dozen or so laminated wine labels, finishing it off with a Flamenco type fringe made of colored, plastic paperclips over rainbow striped tights. Her puffy shirt and Christmas ribbon tie completed her outfit. What’s not to like?

Under ordinary circumstances Tuesday might have suggested she give Zora a makeover,
Cuz god knows you need it, girlie.
But out of respect for the occasion, she kept her mouth shut and decided to attack the food table. “Holley, I’m going to get something to eat. Coming?”

Grabbing
a plate for each of them, Tuesday said, “Holley, if that girl doesn’t watch her mouth she might end up the next cast member to, you know,” Tuesday rolled her eyes, “have a heart attack.”

“I know what you mean, Miss Tuesday.
From what I hear around town, she isn’t very popular.”

Tuesday shook her head
in bewilderment. “I guess she’s good at her job. Or, keeps the boss fooled.”

Tuesday
was beginning to wonder if Zora’s nastiness had real teeth. Could she have made the phone call to Holley? Or had something to do with Ariel’s death? But what motive would she have? Did she have a friend she was trying to get into the movie? That would explain trying to scare Holley off, but why kill Ariel, unless the two events were actually coincidences?

Holley was loading up her plate.
“I’ll tell you what I think, but promise not to say anything? I don’t like being negative.”

“Speak to me girl
,” said Tuesday. “I’m all ears.”

Ho
lley took a piece of prosciutto-wrapped melon and Tuesday followed suit. “I think she’d like to be in the movie, not just working on it. What you see is a massive case of jealousy.”

S
urprised that Marco would serve something so ordinary, a combination that lost its appeal years ago yet still showed up on every craft table in town, Tuesday popped the melon in her mouth. But then the ambrosial fruit overwhelmed her taste buds, followed by the mellow, salty ham. Her knees almost buckled with pleasure.