He looked up as Rachel walked toward him. Her appearance was freaking him out, like Lenore back from the grave. Why would she dye her hair like that? How would the audience react? And did it matter? This was a freak show, his freak show, and welcome to it.
‘How was I?’ she asked.
‘Perfect,’ he admitted.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good, and you got everything and everyone we asked for?’
‘I did, thank you.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Hey, we’re in this together. You’ve produced a show before; I haven’t. If we need something you have to let me know. We’re partners, Barry. If something’s not going right, you need to let me know.’
He blinked. Yes, she looked like Lenore, but that’s as far as the comparison went. Yesterday afternoon, when it became clear that the shoot could actually move forward, Barry had been thrown. Still in the middle of casting, they’d not scripted the episode. It was fly by the seat of your pants taken to new heights. That was followed by the realization that his small crew and creative team weren’t equipped to handle a set of the magnitude of Lenore’s estate. It was Rachel who’d bluntly asked, ‘What do you need, Barry?’ Not since his one hit show, Model Behavior, and maybe the early days with Lenore, could he remember feeling valued. It was a rush, and he didn’t want to think about it for fear it might vanish. You’re back, he thought. You’re going to be on top. ‘Thanks Rachel, it’s going to be a really long day. You let me know if you need breaks.’
‘I’m too wired,’ she said. ‘This is amazing. I always felt jealous of the film crews and how everyone knew what they were doing. And then when the show would go on the air and I’d see how perfect everything looked … that’s what’s going to happen here, isn’t it?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, the miracle of editing. We’ll film a couple hundred hours and then hack it down to forty-one minutes.’
‘It’s got to be exciting,’ she said. ‘I mean I know it’s about selling dead people’s stuff, but this has got to be a hit.’
‘Rachel,’ he said, ‘your doing this pretty much guarantees that.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks, and we both know that people will think I’m the biggest “C” in the world.’
Barry looked at her. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said. ‘Call it editing, call it producing, but you’ll come off however you want me to have you come off.’
‘I want to come off like her,’ she said without hesitation.
‘Lenore.’
‘Yeah. Think of all the things she did. She televised herself getting knocked up, and did it like … like shooting a cover for Town and Country.’
He considered his words. Prior to the last two days, he’d had no real contact with Rachel Parks. But people talked, and Rachel was one of the darling train wrecks of the tabloids, not to mention fodder for office gossip. Now it appeared she was his new work partner. ‘Is that why you dyed your hair?’
‘Do you think it’s too much?’
‘It looks good, but it does make you look like a younger and prettier Lenore. It’ll be a shock for some … but in reality TV that’s a good thing.’
‘I thought so. This whole thing … Oh look, there’s Ada. You’re the one who picked her, aren’t you? She looks awesome.’
‘Yes,’ remembering how only two days ago she’d thought his choice of hostess was too old.
‘I’m going to say hello, and Barry, remember: if you need anything, let me know. I intend to pull my weight. You’ll be the one who knows what to do. I’ll be the one to make sure it happens.’
‘Good deal,’ he said and, weirdly enough, he meant it. He watched as Rachel greeted Ada. The young woman threw her arms around the elder, whom they’d again dressed in Chanel; the make-up apron was still around her neck. He turned away. The next scene to be shot was critical. In it, Ada would briefly explain to Rachel − as she would to the heirs of each week’s episode − what the show entailed.
Melanie came up to him. ‘This next scene makes or breaks the show,’ she commented, as though reading his thoughts.
‘Yeah, you read Daryl’s script.’
‘Yeah, and made a few changes.’ She glanced at Ada and Rachel. ‘I bet we don’t need it.’
‘I hope you’re right, but make sure she can see the teleprompter anyway.’
Barry turned at the sound of the front door opening. His anger surged. People needed to respect the ‘Do Not Disturb, Filming in Progress’ signs. Just as quickly as his temper flared, it came down. ‘Jeanine, Ashley, what are you guys doing here?’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Jeanine said. ‘We’ve been out all day. I’m in love. This town … the farms, the houses …’
Barry, even a decade into their relationship, got lost in her emerald eyes. He sensed her excitement. ‘Something’s up; what is it?’
‘This place, Barry. I don’t know how to describe it.’
‘Horsies, Daddy,’ said Ashley. ‘And ponies, and we saw moo cows, and they let me pet the baby chicks. They were so soft.’
‘We stopped at a farm that has a petting zoo,’ Jeanine explained. ‘It’s owned by a husband and wife who raise exotic animals, ostriches, zebras. They even have kangaroos. This whole town …’
He marveled at how the light through the front windows created halos in her fiery hair. He often wondered why she’d abandoned her modeling career. Yes, Hollywood and New York were filled with gorgeous women. But with Jeanine it went beyond the surface, and she also had the rare ability to show her inner grace on film. If he’d had his way she’d have been the winner and not first runner up on Model Behavior. To be fair, in a totally uncharacteristic way, Jeanine had choked in the final competition. It was an underwater photo shoot with the two remaining contestants in mermaid drag. Jeanine, who’d proven herself a strong swimmer and diver in prior episodes, seemed unable to stay down long enough to get the necessary shots. She’d then further damaged her chances by sobbing on screen, like all of the other silly girls who’d gone home, wailing that the task was too hard.
The audience had given the win to an insipid redneck teen with a back story involving a mother so obese she had to be craned out of her bedroom and a father who got his own short-lived reality show about backwoods hunting, entitled Coon Hunt, which was hastily cancelled when it was discovered he was an active member of the KKK. When the final results had been tallied, Barry had seriously considered giving the win to Jeanine anyway. But one thing he knew − you can fake anything in TV, just don’t mess with the FCC rules concerning game shows. And while Model Behavior was a reality show it was still a contest, with a six-figure cash prize and a year’s contract with a top agency. He looked at little Ashley, who was gazing wide-eyed at all the activity in the grand foyer. ‘You’re having a good time,’ he said.
‘Barry, do you know what houses go for here? What we paid for’ − she picked her words carefully, not wanting Ashley’s impressionable ears to pick up anything they shouldn’t – ‘our little apartment … We could have something wonderful here. And did you know that Grenville has one of the top-rated public school systems in the country?’
‘I didn’t. So what are you saying? You want to move?’
‘Do you know how many Hollywood A-listers have homes out here? It wouldn’t hurt your career. Imagine Ashley growing up here, with space, and kids who aren’t afraid to leave their homes. There are real neighborhoods. We were driving around, and …’ She shook her head. ‘I know you like New York and all, but …’
‘If this show takes off …’ He looked back at Melanie, who was shepherding Rachel and Ada into the paneled library for the critical next scene. ‘You’d really consider leaving New York?’
‘Barry, if it was what you wanted, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Think about it; this is a real place. We could raise our family here. Maybe another baby, maybe two.’
He looked at Ashley. ‘You like it here, sweetheart?’
‘They had a baby kangaroo,’ the little g
irl answered. ‘His name was Poppy.’
Barry laughed, knowing a three-year-old’s ‘yes’ when he heard it. ‘Jeanine, you’re serious.’
‘Yeah. The clothes, the Birkin bags, none of that matters.’
‘Don’t say that,’ he said, wondering what he ever did to deserve her.
‘I never cared about that stuff. You know that and, yes, I understand that we have to look a certain way, and I want to. But think about it. Even from that side of things, Grenville is hot. Half of the west coast have houses here so their kids can grow up outside of Hollywood. Think about it – you, me, Ashley … maybe a Baby Barry.’
He snorted. ‘I will not saddle a child with the name Barry.’
‘You know what I’m saying. Flowers in the spring, a fire in the fireplace, actually knowing our neighbors. Our kids getting on a yellow school bus in the morning.’
‘I do.’ The dream she painted was one that he could sign up for. He looked at the beehive of activity around them. His eye caught on a piece of crime scene tape. It hadn’t been left by the police, but rolls had been strewn by one of the interns to make the reality of a murder scene more real. There was every indication this show would be a hit. ‘It’s a hell of a gamble, Jeanine. We could buy something here and find out the show wasn’t going to get picked up. Or that no one wants to watch it. It might be better to rent something. Do a month to month lease.’
‘We could,’ she said. She glanced at their daughter and gently shook her head. Her voice soft and just for his ears. ‘I don’t think a lot of moves are good for her, but if you think it best.’
She was right. ‘How’s this … you meet with a realtor in the morning and get a better feel. If you see something you think is perfect, call me and we’ll figure this out.’
‘I love you so much,’ and her hands were on his face, her lips on his. She pulled back. ‘So much.’
‘I love you too.’
Not to be left out, Ashley chimed, ‘Love you, Daddy.’
‘Come on, Ashley,’ Jeanine said, her fingers entwined with Barry’s. ‘Let’s go look at houses while Daddy works.’ She brushed his cheek with a final kiss and whispered, ‘I will follow you to the ends of the earth, but for now let’s stop in Connecticut.’
He watched them leave, feeling the loss of her touch. He caught a final scent of her citrusy perfume and turned back to the show he’d not fully realized was in chaos.
Melanie, in one of her standard shooting outfits – camo pants with lots of pockets, a silk T-shirt and a khaki vest with more pockets – was coming toward him across the foyer.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, I mean nothing this second. They’re setting up.’ She glanced back. ‘Barry, I’m freaking out. We have no storyboard.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘and—’
‘You don’t have to say it. We’re working through the night … again.’
‘We have to,’ he said with a smile. To all the world − or at least to the couple hundred LPP employees who’d descended on Grenville and Shiloh − he was a TV producer in his element, smoothly handling the reins of what they all hoped would be their salvation, a long-running hit show. ‘Just because we don’t have a clue on Friday afternoon doesn’t mean we won’t have one by sun-up Saturday.’
‘I can handle that,’ she said, standing by his side. ‘The premise is basic: three experts give their opinion and offer quotes to Rachel. We’ll need to throw in a couple twists. Ethan thought about maybe holding an estate sale. Set up tents, put the stuff on the driveway. Or one of the dealers was talking about an on-site auction. Can you imagine?’
‘Lenore would shit bricks.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s in awful taste.’
‘Yeah, it’s perfect. The logistics, though; we need to shoot this fast.’
Melanie’s expression slipped and her worry showed. ‘What’s with Rachel’s dye job? It’s freaking me out.’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But, unlike what her brother felt, she wants this to move forward.’
Melanie’s voice lowered further. ‘I think she did it. I don’t know why or how the cops let her out. But look at her. It’s like fucking All about Eve. She kills Lenore and then … turns into her. Which maybe I can handle. But here’s what’s got me shitting bricks.’ Her smile stayed fixed as a crew member approached.
‘Ms Taft, they told me to let you know they’re ready to start.’
‘Too fabulous. I’ll be right there.’ As soon as he was out of earshot she whispered, ‘What has me really scared …’
‘That someone else will get shot?’ he offered.
‘No. Strange, I’d not even thought about that. Mostly because I figured she did it and, as long as she gets her way, things should run smooth. But that’s the kicker. What little I’ve seen of Rachel Parks has shown me she’s unpredictable. Yesterday she’s Rachel, today she’s Lenore. When she wakes up tomorrow, who’s she gonna be? And how the fuck are we going to deal with it?’
Ada was waiting with Rachel in the library for the next take; she was exhausted. She’d been at this since six a.m. It was nearly seven p.m. and all she wanted was a hot bath, something to eat that wasn’t from the food service truck, and Lil. They’d been told this was the last scene of the day; that was five thirty, but a series of delays − mostly problems with the lighting – had left them frozen in their spots.
‘How are you holding up?’ Ada asked, long past the shock of Rachel’s dye job and jarring resemblance to Lenore.
‘Tired,’ she admitted, ‘… and sad.’
‘You’re thinking about Richard?’
‘Yeah, I’m starting to rethink this whole thing. But then I look around …’
The make-up woman reappeared, as she’d done at thirty-minute intervals throughout the day. She hovered first around Rachel, patting down the shiny spots on her nose and brow, and then did the same with Ada. She whispered, ‘I heard them say we’ll be out of here in an hour, if you can get this done in one or two takes.’
Ada chuckled, amused at how people took her for a professional actress, or whatever a TV hostess was. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘And not just Richard,’ Rachel said. ‘I never realized what all this meant. I just assumed Lenore was the world’s biggest narcissist and needed this, like some kind of mirror to see how important she was. I still think that’s true … to a point.’
‘What’s changed?’ Ada asked, wanting to know what made Rachel tick. She knew the girl was mentally ill, but for the life of her she couldn’t put a name to her array of symptoms. Possibly bipolar, with all the hot and cold, but incredibly raw, with moods that could be tripped by the careless word of a crew member. She’d flare hot, scream viciously at the object of her displeasure, and after a while come back to earth, unperturbed and unapologetic. The net result was that everyone treated her like a ticking bomb. The question behind all of it was, when she did explode could it … would it … did it … include murder?
‘It’s who she was.’ Rachel sounded weary. ‘Mom needed this to exist. Richard understood that and I think, in his Richard way, had made peace with it. He knew we were accessories to Lenore. I never understood that, or maybe I did. I just wouldn’t accept it. But you want to know something?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Just wanting something to be true doesn’t make it so.’
‘Correct,’ Ada said.
Rachel looked through the library’s open door to where Melanie and Barry were having a discussion. ‘They don’t have this planned out,’ she said.
‘How can you tell?’
‘They’re going too fast. A single episode of Lenore Says could take months to prepare. By the time they got to filming everything was set. And yes, I know with reality TV the premise is you’re watching real life, but that’s not how it works.’
Ada chuckled. ‘Yes, I got that memo.’
‘I wonder if he’s up to this?’ she said.
‘Barry?�
��
‘Yeah. He does have a track record or I would never have hired him.’
‘You hired Barry?’
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I meant Lenore. And I know what she’d be doing right about now.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Ada shifted in her chair to watch as Rachel strode out to have words with Barry and Melanie. She saw Barry’s eyes widen and his expression go from anxious, through a hastily concealed flash of anger, to panic. He was flushed and red-faced as Rachel turned back to Ada. She smiled, and in a clear voice called out, ‘OK, people, we’re shooting in five. Let’s get this in the can.’ She looked at Ada and, with Lenore’s head bob and wink, said, ‘Let’s do this in one take, so we can all go home and get some rest.’
TWENTY-TWO
From their vantage on the edge of the fountain, Detectives Jamie Plank and Mattie Perez surveyed the mansion’s brightly illuminated drive as the fleet of LPP personnel packed and dispersed to area hotels and B and Bs. It was ten p.m.
Parked among the vehicles were six of Grenville’s twelve cruisers, most of the officers on overtime. They were augmented by six state vehicles and twelve troopers.
‘For one spoiled celebrity I have no trouble getting the manpower to babysit,’ Mattie mused. ‘But when the locals were getting targeted, nada.’
‘Hey,’ Jamie said, her tone deadpan as she mimicked the tag line from a mandatory sensitivity seminar they’d endured. ‘It’s the people that make the case … You think she’s in danger?’
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