Born to Be Wild (4 page)

Detective Vasquez's eyebrows went straight up. “Really? Have you asked to have him fired, Ms. Beverly? Surely you have that kind of clout.”

“Yeah, she does,” Lou Lou said, “she just won't.”

Mary Lisa slowly shook her head. “I really don't share Lou Lou's opinion about him. Besides, I really like the donuts he's always bringing in. So does everyone else. Oh, I'm sorry. Detective Vasquez, this is Lou Lou Bollinger. Lou Lou, this is Detective Vasquez. He's going to find out who was driving that car.”

Lou Lou held up her hand, and nodded to him.

“Is Lou Lou your real name, Ms. Bollinger?”

Lou Lou's chin went up. “You got a problem with my name?”

“No, not at all. It's simply interesting and unusual.”

Lou Lou was uncertain whether or not to believe him because she'd swear there was this sort of twinkle in his eyes. “Hmmm,” she said as she sat down beside Mary Lisa and cupped her face in her palm, studying her. “You're doped up and that's good. I'm seeing just a few scratches I can take care of easily, so don't worry about the cameras. You swear there's nothing serious going on here?”

“I swear.”

“Okay. I left a message on Elizabeth's phone, told her what happened—and reassured her, so you'd better not be lying to me.” She said to Detective Vasquez, “Mary Lisa sometimes laughs when she should be screaming. Drives us nuts. You look competent, Detective Vasquez. That's a relief.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Bollinger. Okay, this Paulie Thomas, what does he do on
Born to Be Wild
? An actor? Stage crew? What?”

“Paulie's the nephew of one of the directors, Tom O'Hurley,” Lou Lou said. “He's one of the prop guys. Locations are selected and the necessary props are all set up during the night before the various scenes are shot the next day. However, Paulie likes to come to the set during the actual shooting. I don't know when the guy sleeps. Everyone likes his uncle, so no one says anything.”

Mary Lisa said, “Come on, Lou Lou, Paulie does make himself useful. Don't forget, he isn't paid for it.” She cut her eyes to Detective Vasquez. “He's a gofer—he runs errands for everyone, scrounges for missing props, fetches ordered lunches, and brings in the best donuts, you know, the kind filled with cream or jelly, or the ones with sprinkles.”

“Yeah, yeah, everybody loves his donuts, but don't forget he hates you, Mary Lisa.”

“No,” Mary Lisa said patiently, “it's Sunday Cavendish he can't stand.”

Lou Lou said to Detective Vasquez, “Most of the people who see him scowling at her think it's funny. They think it's a tribute to how good she is. Fact is”—Lou Lou tapped her head—“Paulie isn't the sturdiest tree in the forest, lots of branches missing off the top.”

Mary Lisa said, “Okay, so he's a little slow. What does that matter? The thing is, Detective Vasquez, Paulie's a fixture, sort of like a mascot.”

Lou Lou interrupted her. “Yes, he feeds people sugar and they're happy, but he's got this thing for Margie McCormick—she plays Sunday's half sister, Susan Cavendish—and he was really angry when the word went around that Sunday might sleep with Susan's husband, Damian Sterling.”

“What is Damian Sterling's real name?”

“Jeff Renfrew,” Mary Lisa told him. “He's a nice guy, a really talented actor, a little goofy sometimes. He wouldn't be involved in something like this.”

Still, Detective Vasquez wrote down his name. “Everyone's got two names. Do you ever get them confused?”

“Not really,” said Mary Lisa, “but when you play the same role for such a long time, the characters sort of become your alter egos. You get to know them very well, even care about what happens to them, and you can slip into character on a dime.”

Lou Lou grinned at him. “Like Jekyll and Hyde.”

Detective Vasquez grinned back, and Mary Lisa realized he wasn't looking at Lou Lou through a cop's eyes. No, it was pure guy. And she knew what he was seeing. Lou Lou was nearly as tall as she was, a natural blond, although who knew or cared in L.A.? She had light blue eyes, a fit, curvy body, and the brightest smile in the universe.

Detective Vasquez suddenly turned to Mary Lisa, and now he was all business. “What about the rest of the cast? Anyone else I should talk to?”

Mary Lisa said slowly, “Well, there's Margie McCormick, who plays my half sister, Susan. She's about as different from Susan in real life as she could possibly be. Margie doesn't take grief from anybody, tells you exactly what she thinks, never suffers in silence. Her character, Susan, even though she acts weak and helpless, is really sly and manipulative. She's got both our mother and her husband fooled. But the person Susan hates all the way to her bones is her half sister, Sunday. It's a vendetta thing. Every chance she gets, she tries to knock Sunday out of the picture. For example, she and Sunday's mother hired this guy to terrorize Sunday; it went on for a good month before Sunday actually shot him when he came to her house to kill her in her bed.”

Lou Lou fanned herself. “Wow, was that ever a scene. It was so scary, Mary Lisa was so believable, I nearly wet myself.”

Mary Lisa grinned. “Yep, but Sunday always rides again. So what happened today is a little like life imitating art, don't you think, Detective?”

“I can see why you'd say that, Ms. Beverly,” Detective Vasquez said slowly. “Would you say that the actress, Margie McCormick, could be jealous of you and your success?”

“Nah, Margie's not the type. She doesn't ever slink around or lie to get her way. She's right out there. She knows what she wants and goes after it.”

“How long has she been on the show?”

“Five, maybe six years.”

“And you're telling me she isn't jealous that you show up and become the runaway star, win three Emmys in three years? An unknown to boot?”

“You want the truth?” Mary Lisa grinned. “I think everyone is deliriously happy because
Born to Be Wild
has the highest viewership in our time slot and that means the sponsors line up to pay big bucks to advertise, and those bucks mean security, money, and a solid future for everyone. The other actors might want more face time, more plotlines that put them front and center, but I'd say for the most part people on the cast feel very lucky to be a part of it all.”

“Since Mary Lisa showed up, everyone smiles,” Lou Lou said. “You can see it in the Nielsen ratings—when Mary Lisa is center stage, the ratings skyrocket. If she isn't—which is very rare now—they fall. Actually,
BTBW
is the most watched of all the soaps. I even saw the producer, Clyde Dillard, whooping and high-fiving everyone in the vicinity the other day when he landed a huge advertising deal, all because of Mary Lisa's latest big scene-chomping plotline. There's no one gonna want to knock off Mary Lisa. She's everybody's meal ticket. What's more, she's nice to everyone.”

“Well, someone doesn't like me,” Mary Lisa said, wishing it was time to take another happy pill. She peeked at her watch. No, not time yet. She said to Detective Vasquez, “The reason I mentioned Margie McCormick is not that I thought she might have been the one to hit me but because she might be able to give you insights on Paulie Thomas.”

Detective Vasquez thought about this a moment, tapped his pen against his knee, then asked, “Does Paulie Thomas have a personal interest in Margie McCormick?”

Lou Lou said, “As a matter of fact, he asked her for dates a good half dozen times. She actually agreed to meet him off-set once—he is, after all, related to one of the directors and that couldn't hurt, but mainly, she felt sorry for him. It was maybe four months ago, after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend. She told me she wanted to let him down easy. It didn't go well, at least that's what Margie said when I was trying to get her eyebrows on straight the morning after.”

Mary Lisa picked it up. “Margie said Paulie took her to Cartier on Rodeo Drive, wanted to buy her a diamond ring. She nearly freaked.”

Lou Lou said, “The thing is, Detective, it seems to me Paulie might be having trouble judging reality like that when it comes to Mary Lisa too. He's pleasant enough to her whenever anyone's around, but he really hates Sunday Cavendish, calls her names under his breath, only it's not under enough, you know? He mumbles stuff about her whenever the script calls for Sunday to do something outrageous, especially when she fights with Susan, stuff like she should have her cheating heart cut out, that sort of thing.”

“He sounds pretty dramatic himself. Why would the producer let someone like that around to bother their golden goose? Why have you allowed it, Ms. Beverly?”

Mary Lisa sighed. “He usually says stuff when he knows no one else will hear him. Lou Lou didn't hear him—I told her what he'd said. Paulie's got problems, but the stuff he says about Sunday? She's a character, Detective, she isn't a person. What does it matter? There are lots of fans who say the same thing about Sunday.”

“I'll be speaking to him, Ms. Beverly. I'm thinking that after what happened today, he might not be with the show much longer.”

Mary Lisa sighed again. “The producers don't know about it. I guess I never thought of him as ominous or dangerous to me, just a little sad.”

“Get rid of him, Ms. Beverly.”

“We'll see.”

“That's another thing,” Lou Lou said. “Mary Lisa's got this gooey center.” Lou Lou started to punch her in the arm, but drew back at the last second, looking horrified.

“It's okay, Lou Lou. That's my hale and hearty side.”

“Okay, a gooey center. I got that. Is there anyone else either of you can think of?”

“Yes,” Lou Lou said. “Let me just spit this out—Jeff Renfrew.”

“Ms. Beverly mentioned him earlier. He plays Susan Cavendish's husband, right? Damian Sterling, the smooth sleaze who's after the Cavendish money?”

Lou Lou beamed at him. “Very good, Detective. You know more about the show than I thought.”

Mary Lisa said, “Lou Lou thinks he's got a broken heart and that I'm the one who broke it. She thinks he doesn't show it because he's such a good actor. It's not true, Lou Lou, I keep telling you, he's not interested in me, at least not now.”

Lou Lou reached over and patted Mary Lisa's knee. “Listen, sweetie, I've never told you this because I didn't think you needed to know, but I heard from a reliable source that Jeff hits his mother up for money to pay his gambling debts every six months or so, and she pays because she's afraid of him.

“There's something else. You wouldn't believe how long he stares at himself in the mirror each morning. Someone like that can't stand being rejected. And when he's not admiring himself, he's staring at your boobs. Maybe he wouldn't hurt you, but with what I see every day, he's worth a look-see.”

Detective Vasquez said, “So Jeff Renfrew gambles? And loses?”

Mary Lisa said, “I dated Jeff maybe three, four times—no, I didn't sleep with him—and he was always a nice guy. I never got a whiff of a gambling problem, if he has one, and I've never seen him violent.” She shrugged. “Maybe he does like to look at himself in the mirror, that just makes him a narcissist. He's an actor, after all. And he's going to be leaving the show for a dramatic series pilot this fall, another
CSI
sort of thing—what's it called, Lou Lou?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. It's called
Brain Fever
, I think. He's going to play a big-shot pathologist working with a special FBI profiling team.”

“Right. So you see, Detective, there's no reason for him to try to run me down with fame and fortune on the horizon; it doesn't make sense.”

“Hmmm,” Lou Lou said. “Oh all right. But I personally think that Jeff would make a dandy mass murderer.”

Mary Lisa rolled her eyes.

“You guys haven't agreed on much so far,” Detective Vasquez said.

“I see the rust,” Lou Lou said, “Mary Lisa always sees the shine.”

Mary Lisa rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, that's me, gooey in the middle. I heard they're going to pretend to knock Damian off—on spec, you understand—in an ambiguous way. It's a favorite ploy when a popular actor decides to try his wings.”

Detective Vasquez smiled. “If the pilot doesn't go well then he could turn up again, maybe with amnesia, lost in Africa?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Lou Lou said.

Detective Vasquez saw that Mary Lisa suddenly didn't look too good. She was paler than she'd been a moment before, her eyes not quite focused. He rose and gently took her hand. “You need rest and a pain pill. I'll be getting back to you.” He smiled at Lou Lou; again, Mary Lisa thought, definitely a guy smile.

After Detective Vasquez left with an autographed photo in his pocket for Detective Elena Farber, Mary Lisa called Bernie Barlow, listened to him shriek for five minutes, assured him a dozen times that she would be fine, that the cops were on top of things, then managed to lie prone on her sofa, an afghan over her, a pillow against her bruised hip, and another blessed pain pill swimming happily in her bloodstream.