Dying to Have Her (2 page)

“Routine,” they had all been assured. They were all being questioned again, one by one, alone. This was shocking to them, but it was business as usual to the police.

“Jane Dunne. Dead, on her first day of work.” It was Kelly Trent, seated with Serena just outside the office of producer Joe Penny—a space now taken over by the police—who spoke. Kelly played Serena’s younger sister on the set. Five-seven, slim, sweet, with wide eyes and a look of innocence, she was the middle sister. Serena herself had deep auburn hair, Kelly’s was a shade lighter, and Jennifer Connolly—whose maternity leave had brought Jane Dunne to the set—was a strawberry blonde, an inch taller than Kelly, an inch shorter than she. They’d been perfectly cast as sisters. All three had been with
Valentine Valley
since the show’s first day, and though they were constantly at odds on the show, they were close friends off the set. The cast had supposedly been an assembly of “beautiful people.” As the oldest sister, and the oldest of the three cast members, Serena was usually the one to reassure the other two. She was the take-charge sister. But right now she was feeling awfully unnerved herself. It didn’t help that everyone had been so concerned for her because she had been so close to Jane when the light fell.

“It’s so sad,” Serena said. That sounded lame. Was that the best that she could come up with?

“Poetic justice!” snorted someone nearby. Startled, Serena turned to see Allona Sainge, one of the writers on the show. She was being as outspoken as usual. Allona was a striking African American woman with skin a stunning shade of copper and eyes that were almost yellow, gorgeous cat eyes. Allona was often frustrated because plot lines seldom had much to do with reality. She was still astonished when the producers would ask her opinion and then come up with ideas that totally disregarded everything she’d said.

Allona let out a sigh as she saw the way Serena looked at her. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said. “That did sound awful, didn’t it? But what a bitch she was.”

“Allona!” Kelly whispered. “She’s dead!”

“That’s why I say that it was poetic justice. The spotlight
didn’t
hit Serena—and it might have. That is what scares me most—
you
were on that set. This could have happened to you. I’m sorry, but you would have been a real loss to both humanity and the show. Jane Dunne … all right, I’m sorry she’s dead. It’s tragic. But she was scratching and scrounging her way up the ladder, wanting a rewrite on every scene so she could take center stage. She meant to get in so tight that Jennifer wouldn’t be wanted back after her maternity leave.”

“Allona, I’m glad that you’re grateful it wasn’t me, but God is going to strike you down. What you’re saying is terrible,” Serena said.

“Serena, you’re too kind. God has spoken—He struck down Jane Dunne.”

“It was a freak accident,” Kelly said. “That’s all.”

“It was the hand of God,” Allona muttered.

“The police aren’t acting much like it was the hand of God,” Kelly said. “Look, here comes poor Jinx. She’s nearly in tears.”

Serena’s assistant was emerging from the door to Joe’s office, where they were doing the interviews.

Jinx had come on the show about six months ago, and now Serena wondered what she had ever done without her. She helped Jennifer Connolly out, too, since she and Serena had always received the most fan mail and gifts. Even though Jennifer was on leave, her mail continued to pour in. Jinx was charged with the responsibility of responding.

A tiny person with huge blue eyes and sable hair, she was young, adorable, slim—and painfully shy.

“Jinx!” Serena jumped up. She always felt like the Jolly Green Giant next to Jinx, towering over her assistant’s five-foot-two-inch frame. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Jinx muttered. “I’m so confused. When they finished with me, I wasn’t even sure that I was there, sitting in the office anymore. Oh, my God, Serena, it’s just so horrible …”

“Yes, of course, it really is horrible,” Serena said. “But you’re done now. Go on home. Go relax, try to forget about it.”

“There’s so much mail … I’ll take it with me,” Jinx said.

“Don’t you dare. Go home, go to the movies, do something that will take your mind off this. The rest of us will be leaving when we’re done. They’re closing the set. Don’t you dare work, do you hear me?”

Jinx was almost smiling. “Thanks. But if you need me for anything—”

“I’m going to go home; the show will wait, and the mail will wait. We’ll make it all up when this is over—”

She broke off when she spied Jay Braden coming down the hallway. Dark-eyed, tall, and sleek, he was the actor who portrayed Randy Rock, muscled hunk and estranged husband of Jennifer’s character on the show. Seeing him these days still gave her a start. Last year he’d had sandy blond hair. Because his character had gone through an almost-twin plot twist a few months back, he’d gone back to his own deep brown color. He looked good that way, she thought.

She thought that he had already been questioned.

“Jay, did they call you back?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was about to head out. I heard you wound up at the tail end of the questioning since that cute lady cop had checked your hair and head for glass again. They should let you go. I mean, you were right there …”

“I’m all right. Really.” Was she? She would never forget the look on Jane’s face. Never forget the way her eyes had closed, the light fading from them. She’d still had a pulse, but standing there, watching as the paramedics worked, she had known that the pulse would fade, just as the light had faded from Jane’s eyes.

“Jinxy, you okay?” Jay asked softly.

Jinx nodded. “Of course.” She didn’t look or sound all right.

Serena met Jay’s questioning gaze. “Why don’t you see Jinx home, Jay?”

“No, no, I don’t want to be any trouble,” Jinx protested.

But over her head Jay nodded at Serena. “Jinx, it’s no trouble whatsoever. Let’s get some fresh air, eh?”

“All right. Thanks. Maybe I am a little too shaky to drive. My car will be all right in the studio lot.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Jay said.

Jinx flashed a weak smile at Kelly and Allona, and moved past them.

Watching Jinx and Jay leave, Allona let out a long sigh. “You do need kids,” she said, studying Serena with a sage appraisal. “The maternal instinct is all over you. Poor little Jinx, hell. I promise you, the writers won’t be getting any breaks for emotional adjustment. We’ll be up for days. We have to totally redo all the scripts.”

“They’re not going to hire a replacement for Jane?” Kelly asked.

“The producers closeted themselves right away and the answer to that is no. We want to show our care and compassion to the world,” Allona said.

“Miss McCormack?”

At the sound of her name, she nearly jumped out of her seat. George Olsen was calling her in. He was a pleasant-looking man with large jowls, short-cropped white hair, and a coffee stain on his blue tie. He was probably good at his job, she thought. His voice was so carefully modulated, his expression so benign, that talking to him seemed like talking to a grandparent.

“Watch it,” Allona warned softly. “He looks like Santa Claus, but I’m betting he knows how to go right for the jugular. Look how Jinx came out of that office!”

“Be strong,” Kelly told her. “She’s right. Think of Jinx.”

“Jinx is shy and young. I’m not shy, and—well, I’m not young either,” Serena murmured.

“Hey, we’re talking about the queen of daytime television,” Allona told Kelly. “She’ll put those cops in their places.”

Serena made a face at her and entered the office.

The detective offered his hand. “I know how upset you must be, Miss McCormack, but of course, as you already know, we have to question everyone about this tragic circumstance.”

“Of course.”

He was silent for a minute, smiling. “Do you wear contacts, Miss McCormack?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I admit I’m not a soap fan, but my wife is. She loves this show. Still, in person, Miss McCormack, you do have the most extraordinary eyes. Aqua. Like the Caribbean Sea.”

“Thanks. Thanks very much.”

“And they’re real?”

“They’re not contacts. And they don’t dye eye color yet, even in Hollywood.”

He laughed, but she wondered if it was a real laugh. Did he start off with compliments to set people at ease? Yet she wasn’t really nervous. A woman was dead. Tragically. An accident. And they were all shocked, emotionally drained and horrified. This was an inquiry to find out exactly what had happened. They had started with the lighting and set personnel, and they were being thorough, questioning anyone who had anything to do with the case. She would do whatever she could.

“Please, come in all the way and sit down, Miss McCormack.”

He sat behind Joe’s desk. She took the seat in front of it. She’d taken that same chair many times before, but never to face anyone other than Joe.

“She hadn’t been here very long,” Olsen said, shaking his head. His jowls wiggled.

“We’re all in—total disbelief.”

“Naturally.” He leaned forward. “You were close when the light fell, Miss McCormack?”

She couldn’t help shuddering. “Yes.”

‘Tell me how you came to be on the set.”

“I was in the scene.”

“But you hadn’t started taping. Did you talk with Jane Dunne before the accident?”

“I said hello … but she was trying to get a point across to Jim Novac, our director.”

“You hadn’t seen her earlier this morning?”

“No. Actually, I’d tried to. I’d left my dressing room and headed for Jen’s—well, Jane’s room, since Jennifer’s on maternity leave. But she wasn’t there.”

“Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why were you going to see Miss Dunne?”

“Oh, well … she was new here, and I was going to walk on set with her and chat a bit before we started taping.”

“But Miss Dunne had left?”

“Yes. She … like I said, she wanted to talk to Jim,” Serena murmured.

Olsen sat back, watching her. “You’ve been with the show a long time—right, Miss McCormack?”

“About five years. Since it began.”

“Um, so the show is near and dear to your heart?”

Serena felt the faintest twinge of guilt. Yes, she loved the show, but she’d also just done a screen test for a disaster movie that was sure to be a summer blockbuster. She’d done the shoot for a friend, not really planning ahead. If she got the role, and took it, she would either have to leave
Valentine Valley
or arrange for a very long leave of absence. She hadn’t told anyone at the show, except for Jennifer.

“The show is near and dear to your heart?” Olsen repeated, shaggy brows furrowing.

“Very.”

“And it’s my understanding that Jennifer Connolly is one of your best friends.”

“Absolutely true.”

“Hm.”

She leaned forward. “Excuse me. What is that ‘hm’ for?”

“Oh, just that Miss Dunne was a threat to your friend.”

“A threat?” Serena stood up. “A threat? No, there was no way that any other actress would be a threat to Jennifer. Jen asked for time off to be with her baby; it’s as simple as that. The producers love her, the director loves her, the cast loves her, and what is most important, sir, the audience loves her.”

“Miss McCormack, please, please, sit!” Olsen said, apparently distressed. “There’s been a terrible accident. I have to ask these questions.”

“Fine. Let me try to answer you. Jennifer’s place here is totally secure. This is a soap, and we have lots of room for errant daughters and wild, wicked women appearing from the past. Jane was asked onto the show, and she was wanted here, and none of us was in the least worried about our jobs. I went to see her as a friendly gesture—”

“Did you see anything unusual in the dressing room when you tried to find her?”

“No. Unless …” She paused, frowning.

“Unless?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Except that Jennifer doesn’t smoke. Jane must have been more nervous about the role than she was letting on. There are no ashtrays in the room. Jane had taken a saucer to use as an ashtray. And apparently she had burned a piece of paper. There was a charred scrap of something in the saucer along with the ashes. I’m not sure what that could possibly mean, but …”

“I’m assuming you checked that out?” Olsen said.

He was talking to someone behind Serena, a man seated on the couch at the far end of the room. She hadn’t really looked at him. As the man stood up, her heart almost caught in her throat. It couldn’t be.

Liam.

Liam Murphy, with whom she’d had a passionate affair before he’d walked out her door, never to return.

But it wasn’t Liam. This man was tall, broad-shouldered, and well muscled, which had first made her think of Liam. He had thick, dark hair that made him a perfect barbarian type. She knew this detective. He had worked with Liam. He’d asked her out for coffee when she’d split up with Liam. She’d gone—admittedly, to stay close to Liam. She’d known it was wrong. But they’d had coffee one day, she’d seen a movie with him, and then they’d had dinner. That evening she’d told him the truth, that she just wasn’t ready for another relationship.

Bill Hutchens was a nice man, attractive, serious, and capable of being very charming—and understanding. She wished she could have felt something for him. The chemistry just hadn’t been there, and he’d wanted more than she had to give. Still, they had remained friends. He liked being a cop, but he liked shows, movies, and actors as well. She had gotten him a walk-on in a Viking movie once, and he had helped her with a parking ticket.

“Bill!”

“Hi, Serena.”

“Well, I see you two know each other,” Olsen said.

“Old friends,” Bill told him.

“Well, good. Bill is going to be in charge of the investigation here, Miss McCormack. So you call on him if you need to.”

“Terrific,” Serena said. Maybe it would be. Bill would understand that there wasn’t a cast member on the soap who had felt even remotely threatened by Jane Dunne.

“Did you find the saucer and the charred paper?” Olsen asked.

Bill shook his head, watching Serena worriedly. “No.”