A Real Angel

by Cassie Miles

  "I hate to rash you," Kate prodded, "but the actors and technicians are already on set. And that director? Alex? He's had some sort of brainstorm and wants to see you right away."

  "Give me a minute," Jenna said. She needed to quell the fears, to transform last night's confusion into a plan of action. "Let me wake up."

  "I'll get some coffee from the catering table." Kate Denardo straightened to her full height of five feet, three inches. She tucked a tendril of her short, honey-blond hair behind her ear and regarded her daughter with an expression of concern. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  "And did you talk to Hugh last night?"

  Jenna forced herself to smile. "He likes you a lot. And he agreed to pay double our usual fee for the duration of this job."

  "I hope you didn't take advantage of him," her mother chided. "It wouldn't be fair to use our old friendship."

  "He offered. I accepted."

  "Very well." Kate regarded her with a critical eye. "My advice to you, young lady, is to clean yourself up and put on some makeup. It's a brand new day, and time's a-wastin'."

  When her mother left, Jenna closed her eyes and tried to understand what had happened last night. She'd seen a man, a stranger, watching her. But it couldn't have been a stranger or else her animals would have reacted. He'd drugged her with something like chloroform. But he couldn't have! She would have experienced some sort of physical reaction, and she truly felt fine. She must have been dreaming last night. And yet, under the comforter, she wore only her bra and panties. She knew she hadn't undressed before going to bed. Oh, God, what was going on?

  She hurried through her shower and pulled her hair back in a thick ponytail. By the time Kate returned with her coffee, Jenna was dressed in Levi's and a gray sweatshirt that reflected her mood—a cloudy gray, hazy and confused.

  Though it would take more than a quick dose of caffeine for Jenna to be fully prepared to face another day, fraught with potential disaster, she slipped into her shoes and headed toward the soundstage. Her only consolation was that today couldn't possibly be worse than yesterday or the day before. "Okay, Mom. Let's see what Alex wants."

  They didn't have to look far to find the wiry director in his typical black outfit. Jenna and her mother could have located Alex by decibel level alone. He was standing between the two stars, Dinah Aaron and Jason Kendall. Alex's modulated British tones trembled at the edge of a screech. "You are Adam and Eve. Symbolically. Don't you understand?"

  Dinah glanced up from a bored study of her fingernails, tightened the sash on her terry cloth robe and nodded. "I get it, Alex. Gawd!"

  Behind her, a hairdresser fussed with an astoundingly realistic wig of shining, chestnut hair that cascaded almost to the back of Dinah's knees.

  Alex turned to the male star, who was frowning thoughtfully. "And you, Jason? Do you understand?"

  "I just don't know why we always have to relate to the traditional Judeo-Christian thing. I mean, why can't we be Isis and Osiris? Or something Zen?"

  "The image," Alex said, "is innocence. It matters very little to me whether you imagine yourselves as Bonnie and Clyde as long as you perform as I direct."

  "Okay," Jason said. "I can do innocent. But why no dialogue? I thought this was supposed to be an action movie. I don't like this whole Eden thing."

  Alex clapped his hand over his mouth, obviously holding back a torrent of explanation. When he dropped his hand, a stiff smile curled inside his goatee. "Because I don't want you to speak. Now, do you both remember your directions?"

  "I do," Dinah said. Without hesitation, she untied the sash of her robe and slipped out of it. "First, we get naked."

  Though she was wearing a body stocking and a thick layer of flesh-tone paint, she appeared to be as nude as Venus rising from the sea. The effect was stunning. Every man within fifty feet gaped, slack-jawed.

  Except for one, Jenna noticed. Rafe totally ignored the nearly naked movie goddess as he came toward Jenna with a cup of coffee in his hand. Glowing again, he seemed to walk in a spotlight.

  In spite of everything that had happened between them, Jenna was relieved to see him. He was on her side.

  His lips didn't seem to move as he gently inquired, "Are you all right?"

  A dozen explanations jammed in her throat. She wanted to tell him about last night, about the silhouette of the man and the drug that made her sleep, and her deeper terror that none of it had really happened and she was going crazy.

  "Jenna?"

  "Rafe Santini, I'd like you to meet my mother, Kate."

  As they shook hands, Kate wasted no time in making her opinion known. "Dorothy tells me that you and my daughter are dating, Rafe. Now, I try not to be an interfering mother, but I'll say one thing: Jenna can't cook worth beans, but she's a good person and a hard worker."

  Jenna groaned. "Gosh, Mom. Aren't you going to tell him that I have good teeth, too?"

  Indulgently, Kate grinned at Rafe. "Only four cavities in her whole life."

  As the discussion between the director and his two stars heated up, Taylor Wannamaker came toward them. Accompanying him was Danny Vincenzo, who stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dinah in the almost nude.

  Alex shouted, "Jenna! Rafe! Please, help me out!"

  She and Rafe formed a huddle with the others.

  "All right," Alex said. "In the simplest possible terms, here is my vision. There will be no dialogue in the Garden scene. The camera will catch the man and woman, unawares. Their nudity is utterly selfless. Their attitude is childlike. Adam's state of innocence allows him to soothe the savage beast, as it were."

  "Excuse me," Jason said. "Could you be a little more specific?"

  "I want you to walk, naked, with the tiger. Think of the huge cat as your companion."

  Jason was shaking his head. "No way. I've got a rep for doing my own stunts, but we're talking about motorcycles, car crashes and kung fu fighting. That big cat looks mean."

  Alex turned to Jenna. "Is it possible to guarantee Jason's safety?"

  "We'll need to block out the action carefully, but we can manage to create the illusion that he and the tiger are buddies."

  "What about me?" Dinah whined.

  "You," said Alex, "will be wearing the python."

  "Unless you're talking about snakeskin pumps and a matching belt, forget it." Dinah fluffed her wig. "I have a medical reason for not handling the snake."

  Jenna could hardly wait to hear this feeble excuse. "And what is that?"

  "My shrink says I have an illness. I have severe herpetophobia. That's fear of reptiles." Triumphantly, she glared at Alex. "You'll have to get a double for me in the python scenes."

  "I'm with her," Jason said. "I thought we were supposed to be fighting aliens, not playing tiger bait."

  "You both want doubles?"

  The two stars nodded.

  For a moment, Jenna almost felt sorry for Alex. The leading man and leading lady, for whatever reason, were pulling a power play. They banded together, acting within the terms of their contracts, which surely called for doubles and stuntpersons when requested. Alex was losing control of the production. His effectiveness as a director was being compromised.

  Surprisingly, he said, "Very well."

  Jason cleared his throat and asked, "Does this mean we're going to scratch the Eden sequence?"

  "It means that Rafe will double for you in the scene." He looked to Jenna, "And I would very much appreciate if you would be Eve with python."

  "I can't," she said quickly. "I'm not an actress."

  "There's no dialogue. Surely, you've appeared on screen before with your animals."

  "Briefly," she conceded. With a nod toward the semi-nude Dinah, she added, "But I was always fully dressed."

  Jenna would not even consider the possibility of parading around wearing nothing but a wig and an almost nonexistent body stocking. The very idea was absurd. She couldn't double for Dinah. She wouldn't.

  Further discussion
was cut short by the arrival of Hugh Montclair and Nick. As soon as he was recognized, excitement buzzed through the soundstage. In a business that thrived on gossip, the reclusive movie producer had attained legendary status. He was wealthy, volatile and eccentric. In Hollywood, Hugh Montclair was royalty.

  He ignored all others and approached Kate Denardo. Gallantly, he shook her hand. Gently, he kissed her cheek.

  As he turned toward Alex, Hugh's expression transformed to sheer dominance. "Why aren't we filming?"

  "Excellent question," Alex said. "Perhaps we could adjourn to more private quarters and discuss our small dilemma."

  Following in the wake of Hugh Montclair were two men who were far less imposing. Both wore suits, white shirts and unremarkable neckties. Compared to the colorful, flamboyant movie crowd, they were as dull as field mice.

  The taller of the two stepped forward. "Who's in charge here?"

  "Now what?" Alex demanded.

  "I'm Detective Metz from the LAPD." He held out a badge for inspection. "Homicide division. We're investigating the murder of Eddy Benson."

  "Murder?" Alex questioned. "He died of a stroke."

  "He was poisoned," Jenna blurted out, remembering her conversation with Rafe.

  As soon as she spoke, she knew she'd made a mistake. All eyes focused upon her. She felt Rafe move closer to her, and she was glad of his protection. Otherwise, she was very much on her own.

  Detective Metz asked, "What's your name, Miss?"

  "Jenna Denardo."

  There must be something she could do to deflect this unwanted attention, but Jenna didn't feel capable of a glib wisecrack. Her empty stomach wrenched. She was frightened.

  The detective said, "You discovered the body. Correct?"

  "Not exactly. Eddy wasn't dead. I called the ambulance."

  From a distance, she heard the monkeys chattering in their cages. Jenna wished she could be with them, tending to them. She longed for her familiar backstage safety.

  "And why do you think Eddy Benson was poisoned?"

  Helplessly, she looked toward Rafe. He'd told her. And Rafe never lied.

  "Miss Denardo, did Eddy say anything to you before he died?"

  "Yes." Jenna nodded. "He said—"

  "Don't tell me yet," the detective said. He turned to Alex. "I'll need a room for questioning, and I want to start with Miss Denardo."

  As she gazed from face to face, Jenna saw hostility on every countenance. Why had she spoken? She'd made a dreadful mistake. If Eddy Benson had been killed, it was a distinct possibility that someone in this circle was a murderer.

  Chapter Five

  After a brief conference with Alex and Hugh, the detectives commandeered an office at the rear of the sound-stage. Metz ushered Jenna into the room, closed the door behind her and arranged himself behind a functional metal desk. "Please sit down, Miss Denardo."

  She perched at the edge of the straight-backed wooden chair on the applicant's side of the desk. This interview wouldn't be simple. Jenna liked to think of herself as a woman who had nothing to hide. But how much could she tell these two clean-cut representatives of the law?

  If she said she was drugged last night by a mysterious stranger who used some bizarre sedative with no aftereffect, would they think she was imagining things? Of course they would! Jenna hardly believed it herself. And she definitely didn't want to start explaining about how she thought her pig had been stolen.

  Metz got right to the point. "Miss Denardo, why do you think Eddy Benson was poisoned?"

  Jenna hesitated. She'd heard it from Rafe, and he couldn't lie. Common sense warned her: Don't take that road. Metz would probably call for a straitjacket.

  "Poison is a logical answer," she said, carefully avoiding an actual deception.

  "How so?"

  "It's like this, Detective. I was with Eddy when he died, and I didn't see any evidence of bludgeoning, beating, shooting or stabbing. He didn't drown, and he wasn't pushed off the top of a tall building." As she spoke, her natural defenses fell into place. Her spine straightened. In a calm voice, she concluded, "Therefore, the murder weapon had to be poison."

  "Very logical." Unsmiling, Metz studied her. "I hope you're taking this situation seriously, Miss Denardo."

  "Yes, sir. I am. I liked Eddy, and I want to see his murderer brought to justice."

  "Good. Now, tell me—in detail—what happened on the night Eddy Benson died."

  Jenna complied, running through the description she'd repeated many times before. "And then the paramedics came."

  "You said that he'd spoken to you."

  "He said one word: Francis."

  "Are you sure? Maybe he said branches. Or cancers."

  "It was Francis. I heard him very clearly. Unfortunately, I have no idea what it means. I don't know anybody named Francis, except for Francis the Talking Mule, and it really doesn't seem like—"

  "Let's go back to your comment about poison. What kind of poison killed Eddy Benson?"

  "I don't know."

  "Think carefully. In your work as an animal handler, do you deal with unusual substances that might be harmful to humans?"

  "Occasionally," Jenna admitted. "Some of the antibiotics we use in treating infections might have a negative effect on humans. And, of course, some people are allergic."

  "What exactly are these substances?"

  "I can give you a list of everything I have in my first-aid kit, but I really don't think it'll do any good."

  "I'll be the judge of that, miss." He laced his fingers together, not taking any notes at all, and asked, "Why did he come here?"

  "I don't know." She recalled her sense that there had been someone else on Soundstage 7. "Maybe he was running from someone."

  Metz said nothing.

  "Or else," Jenna said, "he might have been looking for someone. Or something."

  "Uh-huh. Tell me again about that night. Don't leave anything out."

  She repeated her story. Then repeated it again, with a rising sense of frustration. It almost seemed like Detective Metz suspected her.

  Finally he was ready to move on. "When did your mother arrive on set?"

  "Leave my mother out of this," she said. Today marked Kate Denardo's first venture into real life after three years of seclusion. She didn't need to be hassled by the LAPD. "She got here only an hour ago."

  "Why?"

  "I needed her help."

  "Miss Denardo, it sounds like you're protecting your mother. Why?"

  Her cheeks felt hot. Her rear molars ground together.

  Metz probed like a dentist poking at a painful abscess. "What are you protecting her from?"

  Accusations. For the past three years, family and friends kept telling Jenna that her mother was depressed, seriously depressed, clinically depressed. Kate's mourning had gone on too long. Many people suggested mood-altering drugs.

  And Jenna had tried to get her to a counselor or a psychiatrist. Kate refused. Her healing, she claimed, would take time. And she'd been right. She was a hundred times better now than she'd been three years ago.

  Metz wouldn't back off. "What's wrong with your mom?"

  "Why are you asking?"

  "Hugh Montclair said I shouldn't talk to her. I wondered why. I mean, she doesn't seem to have anything physically wrong with her."

  "What are you saying? That she's crazy?"

  "I didn't say it." He spread his hands wide. "You did."

  "This is absurd. My mother was back home at the ranch when Eddy was murdered. You have no reason to pester her."

  His gaze was level and cool. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, Miss Denardo?"

  "Nothing," she said. Any thought of confiding in the police or asking for their protection vanished.

  Metz escorted her back to the soundstage and signaled to Alex that he was ready for the next witness. Then, the detective turned to Jenna and placed a business card in her hand. "Don't leave town without notifying my office."

  She felt
like shredding his card and throwing the pieces in the air. His suspicions outraged her. As she stalked toward the menagerie room, Jenna felt like steam must be blasting out of her ears.

  Rafe materialized beside her. "Are you all right?"

  "It's okay. I'll be fine."

  "How much did he tell you about Eddy's death?"

  "I did all the talking."

  Under his breath, Rafe said, "Metz should have said something. He should have told you."

  "About what?"

  "Come with me, Jenna. I've already informed your mother that you have a few errands."

  "But I can't leave her alone. One of these people might be a murderer."

  "I don't want to alarm you, Jenna, but there is an urgency. I need to talk with you. Immediately."

  Jenna looked toward the catering table, where Kate Denardo was engaged in a conversation with Dorothy, Alex's assistant. Her mother seemed fine. She waved to Jenna, shooing her out the door.

  Conflicting emotions tore at Jenna's heart. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life watching over Kate, but her mother needed her. Didn't she?

  Rafe leaned close to her ear. "She'll be okay. Her guardian angel is with her."

  "Really? How can you tell?"

  "I can see her. Your mother's guardian is strong and courageous."

  "And mine? Do I have a guardian with me?"

  "Not right now," he said. "I dismissed him."

  Jenna couldn't believe she was having this conversation. "How can you do that?"

  "I pulled rank." He gestured toward the exit. "Let's go."

  Outside, it was a sunny day for September. A few high clouds scooted across the eggshell-blue skies, but the temperature was balmy. At midmorning, the R.I.P. movie lot was crowded with an assortment of business-people, technicians and actors in costumes ranging from high fashion to alien makeup. Just another ordinary day in the City of Angels—blessed with beautiful weather and populated by odd people. "All right, Rafe. What is it that Metz should have told me?"

  "This will take some explanation." He circled a sleek, black convertible and held open the passenger door for her.