Remains to Be Scene

by R. T. Jordan

  Elizabeth was now nearly maniacal. “As a Christian woman, such sinful body decorations naturally made me rebuke that unsaved creature.”

  “Mick, or Dana?” Polly asked. “Or Jim?”

  Elizabeth had to think for a moment. “She’s certainly being punished now, in the constant company of Satan,” Elizabeth said, making clear that it was Dana Pointer about whom she was speaking.

  With a large and completely forced smile and an exaggerated lilt in her voice, Polly said, “What I adore about organized religions is that they’re all so perfect and tolerant and forgiving! Every last one of them. And which practice do you follow? Catholicism? Protestantism? Nepotism? Have another ball,” she said removing a Kofta from her plate and passing it over to Elizabeth.

  “I was born again the day Missie’s father died and finally left us alone,” Elizabeth said.

  As Tim sniggered softly at his mother’s own intolerance for the intolerant, Missie diplomatically agreed with both Elizabeth and Polly. She added, “Mom has had a difficult time, but she definitely knows what’s best for me. Thank you, Mommy dearest,” she said, reaching across the table to take Elizabeth’s hand in a show of support and affection. She held her mother’s four fingers for a moment while slowly giving them a bone-crushing viselike squeeze, which brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

  Tim chased a bite of Kofta ball with another sip of champagne before musing, “Indeed, Dana is certainly being punished. In a Beverly Hills gulag, no less! I wonder if they let her have video privileges?” He waited a beat then turned to Missie. “We’re completely out of the loop,” he lied, dabbing his lips on his linen napkin. “We haven’t a clue about what’s going on with this case and it’s driving us nuts. All we know is what Anderson Cooper is saying about the crime, not much more. What have you heard? Have you talked to Dana, or anyone else on the crew? Are they saying anything about this?”

  Missie, now comfortably filled with champagne and camaraderie, nodded her head. “Of course, it’s all anyone’s talking about,” she said of the other cast members and the film crew. “They’re all furious. Poor Ben the screenwriter is trying to figure out a way to rework the ending without Dana and me.”

  Polly, attempting to sound optimistic said, “I’m sure they’ll figure something out and we’ll all be back on set in a few days.”

  “I rather hope not,” said Missie, sending a sudden wave of distraction through the room. “I’m too busy now.”

  Elizabeth smiled with satisfaction. “Missie’s going into a new film, starting on Monday.”

  A stream of guarded “Congratulations,” and “Marvelouses,” and “Awesomes,” filled the room as Missie lowered her head in false embarrassed appreciation. “Oh, it’s a tailor-made role,” she said. “But we were stuck in Detention and we thought I’d miss the start date. And if the studio makes us go back to work…”

  “I’ll be damned if I let that happen,” Elizabeth said with a serrated edge to her voice.

  Polly sat silently for a moment, thinking about the possibility that if Missie and Dana were both out of the film, production could be held up for months—if not permanently. Where would that leave her and the rest of the cast and crew, she wondered. “But we’ve got a job to finish,” Polly said. “Can’t your director hold off until you’re out of Detention?”

  “Not a chance,” Missie said. “The start date is firm. Anyway, I don’t care if I never go back to that crummy teen movie. I have another role and it’s everything an actress could want. Comedy, tragedy, music, dance…”

  “I have a role, too,” Polly said, trying to make sense of the fact that one way or another, even if by some Hollywood miracle the production got back underway again, she was screwed out of a job because all of her scenes were with either Dana or Missie. “Perhaps they can shoot without you two. If Adam positions the camera just right, I can play to the stand-ins.”

  Missie didn’t give more than a moment’s thought to Polly’s idea. “Fine with me,” she said. “You’d be playing right into Lauren Whatshername’s hand,” she said. “You know Lauren. She’s that crazy stand-in who’s always hanging around the star. If Dana hadn’t killed Sedra, I would have suspected Lauren.”

  Then Missie went on about her own new film assignment. “We’ve got John Cusack! I’ve been in love with him ever since I was a little girl. Is he married? Haven’t heard that he’s gay or anything. Doesn’t matter. He’s totally cuddly, don’t you think so, Tim?” Missie’s mouth was running like a radio commercial announcer stating the rules of a free checking account and that certain restrictions may apply. “I’ve kissed him so many times in my dreams, I know exactly what he tastes like.”

  Tim shrugged his shoulders and said, “Frankly, I never thought about him one way or another. Sure, I guess John Cusack’s ‘cuddly,’ but he’s not hot like Jack Wesley. Wouldn’t you prefer to be working with an up-and-coming sex symbol? You two looked perfect together.”

  “I hate window shopping,” Missie said, almost petulantly. “If I can’t have something, I don’t even want to look at it. And I can’t have Jack.”

  “A lovely girl like you can have practically any man she wants,” Placenta suggested.

  “Right now Missie’s too busy to think about boys. She’s got a thriving career. After this new film project, she’s booked as the voice of the cute mutant virus Sal Monella in the Disney animated musical comedy feature, Guess Who’s Coming With Dinner? And there are tons of other offers on the table.”

  “John Cusack’s a good actor,” Tim backtracked, siding with Missie.

  “He’s a star,” Elizabeth shot back. “He can make Missie a bigger star! I’ve already had my talk with that Jack Wesley loser. His fifteen minutes are just about up. Ding! There goes the timer on his career.”

  “Mother, you said the same thing about Matthew McConaughey,” Missie politely reminded. “He seems to be doing just fine.”

  “And what’s the film about?” Polly asked.

  Missie smiled apologetically. “I’ve been asked not to discuss it with anyone. You understand.”

  Although neither Polly, Tim, nor Placenta did understand they agreed it was nobody’s business.

  As Placenta finished her dinner she poured another round of drinks for all. “From what I’ve heard, Jack dumped Dana,” she said baiting Missie. “In fact, rumor has it that Jack and Sedra were fooling around.”

  Missie laughed. “No way!” she said, trying to stifle her amusement. “He spreads himself around,” Missie declared. “I doubt that he has long-term plans for anyone except…”

  “But he was about to elope with Dana,” Polly lied, interrupting to plant a kernel of doubt in Missie’s mind. “I have it on the best authority.”

  “Must have been Sedra who told you that,” Missie said. “She spread tons of rumors. Made herself believe that she was young enough to attract him, if she simply removed all other obstacles.

  “Sedra was the big obstacle, if you ask me,” Elizabeth said. “She was especially difficult on the set and holding up production just to wreck Missie’s chances to start this new film. But of course I was desperate for it to be over because Missie had this other gig.”

  “Then Sedra died. Lucky me,” Missie said. “Oh, I didn’t mean to sound…”

  Polly, Tim, and Placenta were simultaneously aghast.

  “So I’m baffled,” Polly said. “What motive would Dana have to knock off Sedra, if you were the one who wanted out of the movie?”

  Missie shrugged her shoulders. “Still, if you want my opinion, Dana is guilty. I heard their fight the night of Sedra’s death.”

  “I suspect that she’ll be released for lack of evidence,” Tim said. “From what I’ve heard, that overzealous police detective moved too quickly. He apparently believed a lot of baloney from someone on the set.”

  Polly made a loud involuntary intake of breath. “I can’t believe that the BHPD would make a mistake when it comes to a high profile celebrity murder case. I swear, this e
ntire town should have learned their lesson with Simpson and Blake and Jackson, and the list goes on!”

  Elizabeth, having consumed more champagne than she was used to, began pontificating about why she felt that Dana was guilty and should rot in jail. “She doesn’t have a legitimate alibi. And everyone overheard Dana threaten Sedra. But trust me, all the police have to do is interrogate that stand-in who Missie mentioned, Whatshername, Lauren Somebody. She’s a wacko. But she knew what was going on around the set. A stand-in’s got to be the same height and hair color as the person she’s standing in for, and this weirdo insisted that the costume and makeup department make her look exactly like Sedra. She was constantly mistaken for Sedra, which I’m sure is just what she wanted. She’s clearly a frustrated actor. They’re not supposed to let fans be stand-ins. This one slipped through the psycho testing phase, I suppose. She has motives, like getting Sedra’s role, simply because they were at the end of production and she figured that no one else could have stepped in.”

  Polly pondered the theory for a moment then said, “Did Sedra do something to this Lauren woman to make her vengeful? I can’t make sense of your hypothesis.”

  Missie placed her fork on her plate and in an almost condescending voice said, “She wanted to take Sedra’s place, as Mother suggested. These stand-ins are wannabe actors. She saw herself as taking over for the star, since she looked enough like Sedra, at least from a distance. It makes perfect sense that she would have wanted Sedra dead.”

  Although Elizabeth and Missie’s idea sounded farfetched, Polly, Tim, and Placenta each made mental notes of this new potential suspect.

  “Be sure to ask Duane about it when he comes by tomorrow,” Elizabeth spoke up.

  “Duane?” Polly asked, feigning bewilderment, and pretending to try and recall who that might be.

  Elizabeth said, “Sterling Studios? Security? You’ve invited him to lunch. He’s so excited he’s calling everybody to tell them that you’re his new best friend.”

  “That Duane! Of course!” Polly smiled while thinking, “Damn! The Hollywood grapevine is getting shorter every day.”

  Chapter 18

  “You better believe you’re cleaning up,” Placentastated as they retreated into the house after waving good-bye to their guests and watching the automatic gates close.

  “Elizabeth needs an enema, if you ask me,” Polly said. “And she’s not exactly blind when it comes to a vision for her daughter’s career. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that Mrs. Piety was seducing a Weinstein.”

  Placenta heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve had enough of Hollywood scandal for one night,” she said. “If I hurry I can catch Jon Stewart.”

  As Tim and Polly moved to the kitchen they busied themselves with the tasks of scraping food from plates, throwing lipstick smeared napkins into the laundry chute, and wrapping leftovers in plastic food storage containers. In the midst of putting away unused stemware, Polly stopped long enough to retrieve a split of champagne from the stainless steel refrigerated wine cooler. She filled two flutes, as she and Tim began verbally replaying the events of the evening. They came to the same conclusion, that Missie had a motive for making sure that production shut down.

  When the last Fitz & Floyd plate had been stacked in he dishwasher, and the soap tray filled with Rinse n’ Shine, and the machine dial turned to the Stubborn Crud selection, Polly heaved a heavy sigh. “How could you have come to the conclusion that Dana Pointer was a killer? She was too obvious.”

  Tim was nonplussed. “I’ve maintained all along that she probably didn’t do it, Mother,” he said. “You’re the one…”

  “I, on the other hand, have always been on Dana’s side, never for an instant have I wavered from my conviction that she was incapable of killing Sedra, or anyone for that matter.”

  Bordering on being drunk, Tim was exhausted and didn’t want to argue with Polly, which was a lost cause even when he was completely sober. “Check this space after lunch with Duane tomorrow.” He placed a wet dishtowel on the rack and spilled the remains of his champagne into the sink. “If he agrees with you about Dana’s innocence, we’ll consider alternative suspects.” As Tim began heading out of the kitchen he said, “We’ll see what security thinks of the situation.” Then he turned around and gave Polly a peck on the cheek good-night.

  “Pleasant dreams, Sweetums,” Polly called as she dropped three empty champagne bottles into the trashcan. “This stuff was totally wasted on that Elizabeth creature,” she added. “If I had served André, she wouldn’t have known the difference.”

  “You would never let André pass your lips,” Tim said. “Johnson & Johnson household cleaning products aren’t nearly as lethal!”

  Polly looked at her wristwatch. “I’m on my way, too,” she decided, considering the dire fact that Duane was coming for an early lunch, and she had to look her celebrity best.

  With only the swooshing sound from the dishwasher to invade the tranquility of the house, Polly left the kitchen, turned off lamps and wobbled down the corridor and into the living room. There, she checked to see that the security alarm system was activated, then began turning off the lights. She made her way toward the Scarlet O’Hara Memorial Staircase, and ascended to her suite.

  Morning arrived way too quickly for Polly Pepper. And after Placenta spent an hour and a half trying to summon her mistress awake with everything from an a cappella rendition of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” to a Bloody Mary on a tray, there was just enough time for Polly to comb out her hair, and put on her sunglasses before Duane arrived. “You’re the one who wanted to have the geek over for an early tête à tête,” Placenta said as Polly whined about wishing she’d died in her sleep. Placenta poured two Advil and a Xanax tablet out of a prescription medicine bottle and pressed them into Polly’s hand. “These’ll work while you’re splashing water on your puffy eyes. And for God’s sake—moisturize!” she said, then turned to leave the room.

  At the doorway Placenta added, “Gotta be especially nice to this one. The fan, I mean,” she said. “They’re scary when they’re as devoted as he seems to be. Any adult who still takes his official Polly Pepper lunch box to work—one of the early ones that were recalled because all those school kids got lead poisoning—is a wacko in my book. Give these celebrity seekers the smallest reason to think you’re not who they want you to be, and they go nuts. They can shred you to pieces on their Internet blogs and chat sites and message boards. So be as nice as Mary Tyler Moore. By the way, I’ve laid out an outfit from one of your old shows. He’ll wet his pants when he sees you wearing it.”

  Polly moaned and slowly untangled herself from the sheets. She pushed away the covers and sat unsteadily on the side of her bed with her eyes closed. “I’m not drinking as much tonight,” she vowed to herself before stepping onto the carpeted floor and stumbling to the bathroom. She looked in the vanity mirror and said, “My God. I’m turning into Bruce Jenner.”

  By the time Polly completed her ablutions and lethargically dressed herself in the clothes that Placenta had selected, she was almost sober and ready to start the day. But as she made her way down the staircase en route to the kitchen for coffee and another Bloody Mary she heard the security chimes from the front gate. Polly looked at her watch. “Damn, he’s a half hour early,” she wailed loudly enough for the rest of the household to hear her.

  Tim met his mother at the bottom of the staircase. “You’d better greet Duane yourself,” he said. “You’ll score major points if he sees you as the down to earth star that everybody thinks you are. Answer the intercom before he gets all flustered and thinks it’s the wrong day or worse, that you’ve forgotten about him.”

  “This sucks!” Polly lamented as she walked through the living room to the intercom station. At the security system keypad and intercom on the wall beside the front door she jabbed the talk button. She summoned what little energy she had and in her famous singsong voice called out, “Is that you, dear?”

  The response cam
e quickly and enthusiastically. “Yes, Miss Pepper. I got an early start because I didn’t want to be late and keep you waiting.”

  Polly rolled her eyes then pushed the talk button again. “How refreshing to find the virtue of punctuality in one so young,” she trilled, and then ground her thumb onto the button that automatically opened the gates. She turned to Tim. “I’ve gotta put on my interview smile and pretend to be interested in his life. You’d better not leave my side for one moment, mister. We’re all in this together.”

  Tim stood before his mother and brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead. He then reached out and adjusted the collar on her blouse before assessing her entire look. “A little out of date, isn’t it?” he asked, not disapproving, but curious. “Oh, I get it,” he quickly guessed. “A freeze-frame from ‘The Polly Pepper Playhouse.’ Good thinking. I’ll give him thirty-seconds to tell you on which show you wore this freakish thing, as well as who your guests were, the titles of the songs you sang, and the Procter and Gamble products that aired during the station breaks.”

  Polly gave her son a wearied look that said he was probably right. “Just make sure he’s out by three,” she said. “We’ve got more fish to fry tonight.” Then there was a knock on the door.

  “Catch you later, Mother,” Tim said then disappeared down the hall corridor leaving Polly alone and flustered.

  Polly took a deep breath and plastered a wide smile on her face. She opened the door and was nearly blinded by the daylight. She adjusted as quickly as possible and took in the sight of Duane dressed in jeans and a white shirt and striped tie. “How nice of you to pay a little visit to Pepper Plantation,” she chirped. “Welcome!”

  The moment Duane stepped into the foyer he pushed a dozen yellow roses and baby’s breath wrapped in cellophane into Polly’s hands.

  “Oh you sweet man,” she said. “You certainly shouldn’t have gone to the expense just for moi!” She put her nose to the petals and inhaled deeply. “Ahh,” she sighed, pretending there was a discernable scent to hot house flowers. She looked at Duane and sighed. She looked at another proffered gift. “And what’s this?”