Remains to Be Scene

by R. T. Jordan

  Adam waved away Polly’s suggestion that their time working together was over. “We’ll soon be back on location,” he said. “So much depends on the D.A. Thank God we’re in Los Angeles, where stars in stripes are as common as girls who’ve serviced Charlie Sheen.”

  “Bail’s been denied for Dana so she can’t finish the film,” Judith said. “We only had six more pages of script to shoot, for cryin’ out loud! Hell, even Robert Downey, Jr., gets to work between trials!”

  Judith patted Adam’s leg soothingly then said to Polly, “Of course, you’ll have to include a flock of naughty nuggets in your tell-all. Something shocking that nobody would ever have guessed about you and your amazing life. Quote a lot of dead stars saying things that can’t be corroborated. The way that Sedra did. The dead can’t sue for libel,” she chuckled.

  Tim contributed his own analysis. “I’ve known Sedra for as far back as I can remember,” he said. “Yeah, she was a mediocre actress all right. But she didn’t think so. Sedra Stone believed that Hollywood was damn lucky to have her working in the industry. I’ll bet her story would have been huge fun, as well as a box office hit, simply because it probably would have been filled with her own revisionist history on all the gossip we’ve heard about her over the years.”

  “God, I hope so,” Adam replied. Tim and Placenta shot each other a quick, pointed glance.

  “But we may never know,” Polly said, holding out her flute expecting it to be refilled by whoever was nearest the bottle.

  “Because it doesn’t exist except in myth, is that it?” Adam said.

  Polly sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “Not at all. The screenplay definitely does exist,” she said. “That darling security guard Duane says that he actually saw it. But the computer on which the script was being written has gone missing. Can you imagine? No one can find it. He said that studio security teams have searched high and low.”

  Judith interrupted. “Duane? He can’t be trusted with anything more important than checking off names on a set visitor’s list. And he gets that wrong. You believe him? I wouldn’t,” she said. “He’s a star struck wimp who bawled his head off the day that Sedra jumped down his throat for not knowing who she was, and for trying to make her wait for a silly security clearance pass.”

  Polly reached for a puff pastry ball hors d’euvre and played devil’s advocate. “Duane’s a sympathetic and harmless young man,” she said. “He’s been blinded by pixie dust. He only has eyes for one star—me. I know how he feels. I still have the hots for Tom Selleck. Never missed an episode of ‘Magnum, P.I.’ Duane is a by-the-book guy who didn’t know to allow Sedra Stone on the location set because she registers in his mind with about as much clarity as John Vivyan does for all of you.”

  “Who?” everyone in the room asked at once.

  “My point, precisely,” Polly said. “John Vivyan. Look him up in IMDb. You can’t expect anyone to know every celebrity who ever had their picture plastered on the cover of a fan magazine. Duane’s no different. Stars come and go so quickly in this town. And if he says that he saw a script in which I’m featured, I trust him.”

  Adam spoke up. “Actually, just between us, I heard that he’s being let go from the studio. They have a three strikes policy and he just racked up his third demerit. I don’t know all the details,” Adam said in a solemn tone. “Something about bothering too many stars for autographs, and not punching his time card at the end of his shift. Stupid stuff, I’m sure. But I’m told he’s getting the boot on Friday. Tomorrow.”

  Tim was dumbfounded. “That’s really too bad. Sure he was a fan, but he wasn’t a nuisance or anything.”

  “Duane swears that he saw Sedra’s script in a desktop folder on a computer that she borrowed from the studio,” Placenta said, defending the guard. “If Sterling’s security force, an entity that picked up where the Gestapo left off when it comes to spying on their employees, can’t keep track of a laptop, then maybe it was taken by someone who didn’t like what Sedra was writing. Any idea who else knew that Sedra was cooking up a pot boiler?” Placenta thought for a moment then turned and said, “Judith?”

  Judith was slightly startled. “Yeah, sure,” Judith responded dryly. “Inside job. Betcha ten to one that as the studio’s security representative on location, Duane snooped around, found Sedra’s screenplay, then sold the story to The Peeper. And that’s why he’s being fired.”

  Polly made a sound that indicated she found the theory intriguing. “If one is writing a tell-all, they certainly wouldn’t leave the material out for wandering eyes. Wouldn’t want anyone getting wind that they may be in for the full Kitty Kelley treatment. Especially if, as you say, she had to throw in a lot of stuff about her friends—the dead ones as well as the living. No doubt I made the soiled pages.”

  “I wonder if she mentioned the affair with Lawrence Welk?” Tim asked. “That was while she was still married to Dad! And we all love Nancy Sinatra, but you know how nasty Sedra was to her over the years. Hated everything but her boots. D’ya think she opened up about Kaye Ballard and their special relationship?”

  “She certainly had a ‘special relationship’ with enough of my husbands!” Polly grumped.

  “Join the club,” Judith said, then immediately regretted her declaration. All eyes turned to her.

  “You’re not going to bring that up again, are you?” Adam asked petulantly.

  “Oh, do!” Placenta said.

  “Forget it,” Judith said. “I’m starved. When do we eat?”

  It was nearly midnight by the time Adam and Judith practically stumbled out of the house and down the steps to their Jaguar. Giggling and fumbling for the car door lock with his key, Adam called back, “You guys are amazing! Thanks again for a swell evening. I’ll replace the tureen first thing tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Polly said. “It wasn’t Ming! Are sure you’re able to drive?”

  “And if Placenta can’t get the bisque out of the table cloth, please let me know,” Adam said, ignoring the query about his suitability for driving. “Love you all. Bye.” Then they slipped into their respective car seats, and swiftly drove down the lane and out through the open gates.

  Polly, Tim and Placenta stepped back into the house and closed the door. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Polly snapped. “Thank God that’s over with.”

  Tim set the gate alarm and Polly kicked off her shoes as she unclasped her earrings. She went to the antique hutch and dropped them into the pewter bowl. “Oh, by the way,” she called, “has anyone seen my Joan Crawford Oscar? I swear I put it here a couple of weeks ago.”

  Both Tim and Placenta responded nonverbally with as much apathy as if Polly had asked, “Whatever happened to Peggy Lipton?”

  Tim began helping Placenta in the dining room, carrying coffee cups and desert plates into the kitchen. He bundled up the hand-crocheted lace tablecloth.

  Polly looked at the once-ecru colored heirloom and sighed. “It really is your fault,” she said to Tim.

  Tim shrugged his shoulders and gave in to Polly’s accusation. “I thought we were all having fun and getting along so well. I didn’t think that bringing up Dana’s jailhouse suggestion that Adam had had an affair with Sedra would cause such a reaction,” he said.

  Polly said, “Oh, sweetie, it’s nothing. I probably would have done the same thing. But the next time you decided to regurgitate scuttlebutt don’t do it in front of the cuckolded girlfriend, especially while she’s passing a tureen of tomato bisque. Oh, this is simply a mess!” she added and walked into the kitchen.

  “Placenta, dear,” Polly said. “What did you think of Judith’s cryptic comment about Sedra’s script? Remember she said that I should write a book, but to put in a lot of dirt ‘like Sedra.’” How would she know what Sedra had written about?”

  Placenta continued stacking the dishwasher as she contemplated the question. As she carefully placed the silverware in the utensils basket, and with her back to Polly, she said, “Maybe
the folks at our table this evening know more about Sedra’s life—and death and a missing screenplay—than the police do.”

  With a guttural sound, Polly clearly agreed that Placenta had a valid point. “Tim,” Polly called from the kitchen to the laundry room where he had taken the tablecloth. “We’ve got to go back and visit Dana before my dinner with Detective Archer tomorrow night. Take me first thing, will you, please?”

  Tim came into the kitchen and leaned against the center island. He folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t want to say anything at dinner, but I saw Dana again today.”

  Polly and Placenta both stopped what they were doing and looked at Tim. “She didn’t confess, did she?” Polly asked, hopefully.

  “Of course not. And it’s your fault that she’s in the slammer in the first place. Sure, we can pay Dana another visit tomorrow, but you’d better be prepared to tell your dinner date that you and he have made a horrible mistake. Dana may have had motive and opportunity and no alibi, but she’s innocent.”

  Polly growled. “Okay, smarty pants,” she said pouring the dregs of the last bottle into a flute, “if you had to take a wild guess about who killed Sedra Stone, who would you point your finger at?”

  “You tell me, Miss Marple. If we rule out Dana Pointer, who’s left?”

  “Everybody,” Placenta answered the question for Polly, as she reached for a bag of coffee filters. She set the clock on the Mr. Coffee machine to begin brewing at seven o’clock in the morning.

  “Sure, everybody had a death wish for Sedra, but who’s the most logical in terms of actually carrying out the crime?” Polly said. “After tonight, I’m ready to vote for Adam Berg.”

  “Not Judith?” Tim asked. “She alluded to thinking that Adam slept with Sedra.”

  Placenta crossed her arms over her bosom. “When did they have the time to screw? Sedra was only on location for a day, and during that time, she was being a pain in the neck to everyone, including Adam.”

  “Could have been a charade, to throw everybody off,” Polly thought aloud. “It’s practically common knowledge that Sedra always ‘auditioned’ directors for her television series.”

  “But that’s when she was young,” Tim said. “She wasn’t in any position to help Adam. In fact, it was the other way around. No, I’d vote for Judith before Adam. But I’m not saying I’m sold on her as the killer either. There are too many other possibilities. The thing you’ve gotta remember about your date tomorrow night, is to shake the detective down for whatever he knows about the case. Flirt with the man until he can’t stand it anymore and gives you anything you want.”

  Polly looked at Tim with trepidation in her eyes. “I’d better bring along the deluxe collector’s edition of ‘The Polly Pepper Playhouse’ DVD. That’ll get any fan’s juices flowing.”

  Chapter 21

  Friday morning. Nine o’clock. To Tim’s way of thinking this was still considered predawn. But he was awake and from his still-warm and comfortable bed making a telephone call to Duane.

  With pre-Java lethargy, Tim dialed the Sterling Studio’s main switchboard. Speaking in a voice that belied his sleepiness he asked for Duane Dunham, and nearly fell asleep again listening to the classic songs from the Studio’s film score catalogue while waiting to be connected. The fact that Duane was still on the studio’s payroll was a good sign that perhaps Adam Berg had been wrong, Tim thought. Then it occurred to him that most employers, especially the notorious Sterling Studios, generally wait until late Friday afternoon, after they’d gotten another full week of work from their soon-to-be-axed employee, before hauling them into the human resources office and giving them the heave-ho.

  When Duane finally and gleefully picked up the line he said he had exactly one hour for lunch but that he’d be thrilled to see Tim at precisely noon. And thus, Tim was set to plow full-steam ahead—without his mother’s interference—and fleece Duane of every scrap of information he had about Sedra Stone’s murder.

  It was eleven forty-five when Tim drove up to the guard kiosk at the studio’s main gate.

  Soon, Tim was walking past ancient soundstages garnished with plaques that gave a thumbnail history of the structures’ famous pasts, listing the most noteworthy movies that had been filmed on each stage. Bronze stars, with the names of legends from Hollywood’s Golden Era were embedded in the stucco walls. Greta Garbo had worked here. As had Lana Turner, Greer Garson, Audrey Hepburn, John Wayne, Peter Lorre, and Julie Andrews. Tim silently admitted that it still gave him a thrill to be on a movie studio lot. He continued smiling as he approached the main avenue. Then he caught sight of Duane in the distance, taking up much of the space on the patio steps. Duane instantly recognized Tim and waved both arms over his head as if to signal an S.O.S.

  Tim waved back, and when they were finally together, they shook hands and Duane ushered his guest into the restaurant. They picked up lunch trays and while Tim went to the salad bar, Duane headed to the pizza station. They reconnected at the soft drinks dispenser where Tim filled a large Styrofoam cup with water. Duane filled a larger-sized cup with a Coca-Cola.

  “By the way, it’s my treat,” Tim declared as they moved on toward a bank of cashiers. “I insist,” he fought Duane’s weak objection. “I invited myself to lunch,” Tim said and handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill. All the while he was thinking, “You’d better save your dough, boy. You won’t be working here much longer.”

  As they searched for an empty table, Tim and Duane wended their way past costumed film extras, necktie wearing low-level executives, and denim-clad office assistants. “Let’s take that one,” Duane suggested, nodding his head toward the far corner of the dining room where they could talk in relative privacy. Finally seated, the two exhaled loudly, as if they were settling in for a leisurely, friendly lunch.

  The small talk didn’t last long before Tim got to the point. “Polly needs your help,” he said.

  Immediately Duane put down his first slice of pizza and looked as eager as a puppy who knows he’s going out for a walk. “When I said that I’d do anything for Polly, I meant it,” Duane said, nodding his head.

  “And Mom appreciates your kindness to her,” Tim said, slathering false praise on top of his preparation to interrogate Duane. “Here’s the thing. Word is starting to get out about Sedra Stone’s script, the one you said you found on her computer.”

  Duane suddenly looked nervous. His enthusiastic smile disappeared. He took a long slug of his Coke.

  Tim continued. “Of course I haven’t told a soul that you read the screenplay…”

  Duane interrupted in a whisper. “I told you that I just counted how many times Polly was mentioned.”

  Tim nodded. “Absolutely. You’re a man of principle and integrity. Those are the aspects of a person’s character that Polly values most. She recognizes that about you.”

  Duane relaxed and smiled again before consuming half a slice of pizza in one bite.

  “We had Adam Berg and his girlfriend over for dinner last night and they talked as though they knew all about the script,” Tim said.

  “Bitch,” Duane said, almost under his breath.

  “And considering the stormy relationship that always existed between Polly and Sedra, Mom’s really worried about how her rival may have depicted her. If the script gets produced it could ruin her reputation.”

  “Sedra wrote all lies,” Duane said, siding with his favorite celebrity.

  “Polly’s so insecure that she was crying all morning,” Tim lied. “She’s sick to death about the possibilities.”

  Duane picked up a second slice of pizza and considered what Tim had just said. He ate the whole piece then chased the crust with another large gulp from his drink. He was contemplating.

  “In between Polly’s tears, she kept repeating, ‘Do you think dear darling Duane can help us? He’s so smart and adorable. What would we do without Duane?’” Tim established. “I’m becoming jealous of how much she likes you.” He chuckled.
<
br />   Duane beamed. The fact that his idol had apparently come to rely on him gave him enormous satisfaction. “Judith and Adam claiming that they know of Sedra’s screenplay is true. But they’re beasts,” Duane spat. “Judith was mean to me. Mean like Sedra. Mean like Adam and Dana and Missie and Missie’s mother, and that costume lady.”

  Tim maintained a poker face, as Duane revealed himself.

  “They know about Sedra’s script because Judith sneaked into the trailer one afternoon when she didn’t know I was already there. She caught me. Using Sedra’s computer, I mean.”

  Duane motioned for Tim to lean in closer. “Truth be told, the chief of Sterling security makes all of us write detailed reports of everything we find in each trailer. We’re supposed to snoop. It’s gotta be illegal. But I need my job.”

  Tim was aghast. He whispered, “Why is Sterling interested in the private lives of the stars they hire? They can pick up The Peeper and find out almost anything they could ever want to know.” A thought occurred to Tim. “Is it possible that the tabloids get their information directly from someone in security at Sterling?”

  Duane lifted an eyebrow. Without saying a word, he assented. “But I was protecting Polly!” Duane declared. “That’s why I was reading Sedra’s script.” He stopped himself. “Um, okay, I did read the script. But only because I wouldn’t let that awful Sedra write anything negative about my Polly Pepper! But I wouldn’t go as far as to kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Tim nodded. “No, no, not for a moment. But whatever Sedra wrote about Polly could still come out because Judith read the script, too. What was she doing in the trailer in the first place?”

  Duane recounted the incident. “When she came in she pretended that Sedra had left her script in the trailer and that she’d been told to retrieve it. That was a lie. You can tell when someone’s been thrown off. She was surprised to find me in the trailer. I know that she was really looking for material. She sells gossip to ‘E! Online.’ Anyway, she saw me at the computer and insisted that I explain why I was there and what I was up to. Then she leaned over my shoulder and started reading the text. She didn’t get far before she gasped and her eyes went wild. Like in the movies when someone finds a dead body. That’s when she told me to get out of the trailer or she’d call Sedra. I ran.”