Remains to Be Scene

by R. T. Jordan

  Tim pressed on. “What was so startling to Judith?”

  Duane waited a beat. “Probably the part where Sedra admits that she gave her baby up for adoption.”

  Tim didn’t remember that Sedra was ever pregnant. “That happens every day. Why the fuss?”

  “It was your father’s.”

  At that moment, Tim froze. His mind reeled. With great effort he said, “Oh! My! God! I have a half sister somewhere?”

  Duane stalled. He looked around to confirm that there were no eavesdroppers. “Um, somewhere closer than you think. Sedra’s script was titled DNA. I figured that’s an anagram for…”

  Tim slowly came to a realization: “Dana.”

  “A John and Mary Pointer adopted her. You do the math.”

  Tim cupped a hand over his mouth. When the information finally settled in he said, “Dana? Sedra? Love child? Dana Pointer is my…”

  “Blood kin!”

  “The tabloids will have a field day with this,” Tim said. “What did Judith say when she read that news?”

  “She looked just the way you do right now. Utter shock,” Duane said.

  “So why hasn’t this appeared in the gossip papers yet?” Tim asked, suddenly wanting all the lurid information that only The Peeper would sink so low to provide.

  Duane grinned with satisfaction. “Because. I’m not as stupid as I pretend to be.” Duane leaned back in his chair, and stretched. “I immediately had one of the production assistants page Judith to the set. I watched and waited until she left the trailer. As soon as she was out of sight I got back in and removed the floppy disk from the computer.”

  “It wasn’t on the hard drive?” Tim said, amazed.

  Duane froze. “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Sedra wasn’t that stupid,” Tim said. “No way was she going to download her screenplay onto a borrowed laptop.”

  “I’ve stashed the disk someplace where no one will ever find it. Polly’s secrets are safe with me.”

  “You’re such a good friend to my mother,” Tim said. “She’ll be so relieved to know that her indiscretions—however mild—won’t end up in a screenplay. But Polly’s such a pessimist sometimes. Even though she completely trusts you, I know that she’s going to grill me until I can prove to her that the story of her bitch fight with Elton John all those years ago isn’t going to be rekindled.” He faked an uncomfortable laugh.

  “I mean for crying out loud, The Peeper is on to this story, I’m sure of it,” Tim continued. “A reporter called Polly yesterday. Those gossipmongers definitely have a nose for news. I’ll bet they smell blood at Polly’s door.”

  Duane gave a look of consternation. “What did the reporter say?” he asked, putting down his half-eaten second slice of pizza. “I’m the only one on the planet who knows the full extent of what Sedra was writing. I think.”

  “You think?” Tim tried to act as calm as possible. “At least you have the disk. But it’s too bad that Judith had to read what was probably the most shocking part of the story.” He tried to recall what Polly had said was the nature of the reporter’s interview. “The Peeper people were interested in the relationship between Dana and Sedra,” Tim said. “Polly thought they were trying to get a story about an affair between the two. Now it all makes sense. They want to surprise Polly, or at least get a statement from her acknowledging that she knows the truth of Dana’s lineage. Hell, readers will think this is why she and Sedra have been enemies all these years.”

  Tim noticed a pained expression on Duane’s face. “What?” he asked.

  “Do you think that Sedra may have had a production deal in place? If so, then her agent would probably have a copy of the script, or at the very least, an outline. Every old star thinks they should write a memoir and most of ’em write terrible books. This time, one of ’em wrote a good screenplay…”

  Tim interrupted Duane and, reading his thoughts said, “A ghost. What if there’s a ghostwriter who knows all about this screenplay? Jeeze, maybe you don’t have the only copy? Maybe the leak to The Peeper didn’t come from Judith but rather a ghost or an assistant at a studio.”

  Duane suddenly looked ready to cry. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. Then as if seeing a silver lining he said, “If another copy exists, then it should be evidence that Dana is innocent. She wouldn’t kill her own mother.”

  “How’s that?” Tim asked. “Maybe she was so angry with Sedra that she actually did knock her off. I’d be pretty upset if I found out that Polly wasn’t my real mother. If I were Dana, I’d probably be doubly pissed off because she could have saved a ton of time and rejection breaking into the business if she knew she had a famous mother who could open doors for her. On the other hand, she should be proud that she achieved her minor stardom all on her own. I’m beginning to be more impressed with her. My sister. Do you see a resemblance?”

  Duane ignored Tim and thought back to the night of Sedra’s death. “Dana was upset alright. And so was Sedra. They fought so hard I thought they’d destroy Sedra’s trailer. But at the time I didn’t think it was about the mother–daughter connection. I do remember for sure that when Dana left Sedra’s trailer, she went straight to her car and drove away. I watched her leave. And Sedra was still yelling. So Dana didn’t kill her.”

  “Doesn’t mean she didn’t come back,” Tim said.

  Duane nodded. “I hung out for another ten minutes before I punched my time card. Sedra was still yelling—maybe at someone else—when I passed by her trailer. I got to my car and could still hear her bitching all the way from the parking lot.”

  Tim’s curiosity was aroused. “Who else was still on the location when you left?”

  Duane thought for a moment. “Um, Missie’s car was still there. So was Adam’s. Judith came to the set with him, so she was probably still there, too. It was late. I had the feeling that Adam and Judith were probably making out in his trailer. And Missie was more than likely going over her lines with the screenwriter. Missie’s mother had him suckered into helping her in exchange for a promise to put in a good word with the studio so he’d get his next script read. A couple of the other cars probably belonged to extras and the stand-ins. I think everybody else was gone.”

  Tim made a mental note that most of the principals from the cast were still at the location well after Dana left. The exception was Jack. Tim asked about the film’s hunky co-star.

  “Jack walked with the others to their respective trailers the moment Adam called ‘cut!’ and wrapped up production for the day,” Duane recalled. “He was eager to leave. Jack’s got a double life. The studio knows where he’s going and whom he’s dating. But as long as he keeps a low profile, they won’t bother him.”

  Tim was intrigued. “Can you give me a hint who he’s seeing?”

  Duane took another long pull from his cup and smiled. “Let’s just say that his box office ranking would probably plummet if teen girls and their mothers ever knew what their heartthrob’s extracurricular activities included. Others would be crowing, “I knew it! I told you so!” Duane sniggered and Tim joined in knowingly. “I know you still hate Dana, but if she’s innocent we’ve gotta do something to get her out of jail. After all, she’s my sister!”

  “There isn’t enough proof to keep her locked up,” Duane said. “She should sue Sterling for every penny in their bank.”

  Chapter 22

  Tim’s mind was reeling as he drove off the studio lot and headed toward Mulholland Drive for the trek home. He was terrified of how he’d break the news to his mother that Dana was his half sister. This new wrench in the grinding gears of life was far too disturbing. But, he had to talk to someone about the situation. Tim picked up his cell phone and dialed Placenta’s number. They agreed to meet in the parking lot of the Hollywood Bowl overlook.

  It was an unusually clear afternoon. Santa Ana winds had swept away the smog. As Tim sat in his car staring out at the spectacular view of the city below, his thoughts tumbled in summersaults. “I have a
sister,” he said aloud. “Dana Pointer. She’s famous. And we almost made out at a party!” His thoughts quickly jumped to seeing Dana on the set of Detention Rules! and then flashed on her wearing an orange uniform in her jail cell. “I can’t let her spend another night behind bars!” He was startled back to full consciousness by knuckles rapping on the passenger side window. Placenta had arrived. Tim pushed the button to unlock the door and Placenta slipped into the bucket seat beside him.

  After a half-hour of conveying his conversation with Duane, Tim pounded the steering wheel. “Polly’s gotten herself into deep doo-doo again, and we’re in the middle of the mess as usual,” he said.

  Placenta sat in silence for a few moments. Then she sighed and said, “First of all, don’t mention these developments to your mother just yet. She’s nervous enough about her date with Detective Archer tonight. All day long she’s been rehearsing how she’s going to weasel classified information from him.”

  Tim vehemently disagreed. “She needs a huge kick in the pants! And, I think she should have as much information as possible. The more she knows, the better prepared she’ll be to ask Detective Archer the right questions.”

  Placenta relented with a deep sigh of resignation. “Do me one favor? Don’t mention that Dana is Sedra’s and your daddy’s kid. That’s too much information to take in.”

  “Why, ’cause she’s always wanted a daughter?”

  Placenta snorted. “You come close enough for that. Kidding of course. Sort of.”

  Polly sat in The Great Room tinkering at the keyboard of the Yamaha grand piano and was seriously thinking about calling her accompanist to discuss putting her old nightclub act together again. She hummed a little then started singing, “Leading lady, a leading lady, I’ve always wanted to be a Broadway leading lady…” It was a song that she had ripped off from an old Diana Ross television special and used in the “Showstoppers” medley in her own act. Polly thought about the last time she performed in a live venue. She saw herself dressed in black, with a choker of pearls. In this reverie, she was leaning against a shiny grand piano, and telling jokes in between her musical numbers. “I was so excited about seeing you all tonight that I nearly broke my leg as I rushed to the club,” she remembered her between-songs patter. “Yeah, they would’ve had to rename the show, ‘Saturday Night Femur!’” Burump-bump!

  “Ach!” she now moaned. “That joke didn’t go over the first time I used it and it still sinks like a bag of puppies down a well.”

  As Polly was about to launch into her old arrangement of “Edelweiss,” Tim knocked on the door. “Got a sec?” he asked, walking into the room with Placenta trailing behind.

  “Just barely,” Polly said, closing the lid on the keyboard. “I’ve gotta get gussied up for the big night. Not that this is an actual real-life man meets woman, woman gets kissed, kind of date. Or is it? Placenta, would you be a dear and add those new lilac crystals to my bath? And take the tags off my new Chetta B. I’ll look sensational in that red ruffled top with the black velvet pants. A little showy, but I want this to be a night the ol’ Sarge will remember.”

  “He’s a detective,” Tim said and held out his hand to guide Polly to the sofa.

  Polly was suddenly aware that this was a summit meeting, not just idle chitchat. She pushed away her son’s outstretched hand and stood with her arms folded across her chest. “No more bad news, please!” she insisted. “Every time we’re in this room together one of my nearest and dearest drops dead on a movie set. I don’t want to hear about any crummy role that I may be up for by default. Those days are over. From here on out I’m only accepting roles that come to me, for me! No more cast offs.” She thought for a moment. “No pun intended.”

  Tim looked into his mother’s eyes and said, “I don’t mean to say I told you so, but Dana Pointer is not Sedra Stone’s killer. I’m sure of it. And you’ve got to let go of your false idea about Dana’s guilt.”

  “Give me a break,” Polly said. “You know that I lost interest in Dana as a suspect ages ago. In fact, I’m going to spring the poor egomaniac from the slammer over dinner tonight.”

  Tim’s look of disbelief encouraged Polly to explain her change of mind. “Early on my arm may have been slightly twisted by you two.”

  “We never…” Placenta protested.

  “For the sake of family peace I may have gone along with the suggestion that Dana was a possible suspect,” Polly continued. “Hell everyone who ever crossed Sedra’s path represents a possible suspect with motive. But if you’ve been paying attention as I have to the latest developments, then you’d completely drop your obsession with finding that pathetic soon-to-be has-been guilty of such an odious crime.”

  Placenta made an “Mmm, mmm” sound. Polly accepted this to mean that her maid agreed that it was totally lame to keep Dana on the list of suspects.

  “Actually, I’m betting on Duane or Missie or Judith or Adam as the perp,” Polly continued. “After tonight with Detective Archer, I’ll have a better idea of course.” With a self-satisfied tone she smiled and said, “I’m getting rather good at this sleuthing thing, don’t you think so too? It seems to come naturally to me. Like singing. The vibes are kicking in and I’m single-handedly paring down the list of whackos to a mere half-dozen dubious characters.”

  Tim said, “The list hasn’t changed, Mother. You’ve just listed the usual suspects.”

  “Didn’t I add the screenwriter?” Polly said, dismissing Tim’s observation. “Maybe this Ben Tyler hack couldn’t bear to have his perfectly awful script made more odorous by the way Sedra delivered his lines, so he done her in. It happened to Jennifer Tilly in ‘Bullet’s Over Broadway’.”

  Placenta weighed in. “Mister Tim had a power lunch with your biggest fan today. Seems that Sedra Stone’s screenplay has a character that more than resembles you,” Placenta said. “Even her name…it’s Molly Schlepper!”

  “We went through this with Adam last night,” Polly said waving away the very idea of Sedra having written a screenplay. “He said that the script was only a rumor. Anyway, it’s impossible because Sedra was practically illiterate.”

  “Have you been to a movie lately?” Placenta said. “When has literacy been a prerequisite for screenwriting?”

  “Seems Adam was lying,” Tim said, “Duane found the text on Sedra’s computer. And Adam knew the screenplay existed because his little gold-digging gopher Judith saw it, too.”

  “I didn’t think that Sedra had the brains to work a computer,” Polly sniped. “But why would Adam be untruthful with me? Why would he care if Sedra wrote a movie? What’s the big deal? By the way, how am I treated in the screenplay?” Polly perked up. “That’s it! Adam was trying to spare me some horrible heartache, which is why he lied. What did Duane say?”

  Tim and Placenta exchanged looks. “Picture an over-wrought, attention grabbing, media whore. She has an overactive sex life, which is why the lead character, who is so thinly disguised as Sedra herself, easily plucked your husbands out of Pepper Plantation in the dead of night.”

  Polly turned to stone. She was catatonic with disbelief.

  “Here’s an idea,” Placenta said. “What if Adam read the script and thought it had potential as a vehicle for him to direct? He may be a lousy director, but he’s no dummy. Perhaps he sensed that it was a hot property. Citizen Kane meets Mommie Dearest, and he wanted to direct it. It’s just a guess, but from what I hear scripts aren’t exactly flying over his backyard fence. He needs a new project to follow up Detention Rules!”

  Polly threw up her hands. “Whatever happened to the Hollywood code of moral principles?” she said. “Stealing someone else’s script. Indeed!”

  Tim looked at his mother and said, “More interesting than what’s in the screenplay, is who was left on the film location the night of Sedra’s death. According to Duane, the major players were all there: Missie, Elizabeth, Adam, Judith, etcetera. Only Dana and Jack were missing. So Dana couldn’t have done the deed.”
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  “Tonight, you’ve gotta get more details about the crime from your boyfriend,” Placenta said.

  Polly smiled. “He’s not my boyfriend, silly.”

  “You’d better make him think he’s your boyfriend,” Placenta demanded. “You’re an actor. Or so you’ve seduced the world into believing. Get out there and prove you deserve your reputation.”

  Polly put her fingertips to her forehead and whined, “Too much pressure! You’re all giving me a headache. How about a little more credit for my intelligence and ability to manipulate fans? I’ll handle Detective Archer. By the time he’s spoon feeding me crème brule, I’ll know more about the murder of Sedra Stone than Michael Jackson did about the consequences of combining sleepovers with Jesus Juice.

  “Now, don’t you all have things to do?” Polly concluded the meeting. “Placenta? My bath, please. Tim, call up Duane. He was blubbering all over the machine. Sterling canned his tushie today. Adam was right about that.”

  As Polly rose from her seat on the sofa and swept out of the room she ascended the stairs to her bedroom suite. Placenta harrumphed but dutifully followed behind to prep her mistress for a night on the town.

  In the meantime, Tim reached for the cordless phone and pressed the menu button. He scrolled down to Duane’s name and selected his home number then pressed the telephone icon to make the connection. “Guess I can delete the office number,” he said as he heard the ring tone on the other end of the line. Duane picked up.

  “Heya, buddy,” Tim said somberly. “What’s this I hear about Sterling letting you go? Jerks.”