by R. T. Jordan
“I thought you were going to Miranda Richardson’s,” Michael said.
Polly looked confused.
Placenta stepped in. “Rescheduled.”
Ped-Xing looked at Michael with suspicion.
“They took me to the Polo Lounge this afternoon.”
“And what a lovely time we had, too,” Polly chirped. “We just stopped by Lisa’s apartment to retrieve a few ladies’ things for her.” Polly displayed her armload of garments for Ped-Xing and Michael. “What are you two doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in rehearsals?”
Ped-Xing hesitated. “Lisa asked me to pick up …”
“Makeup?” Polly offered. “I’ll bet the dear wanted her blushes and eye shadow and lipstick. And how lovely of you to stop by the jail to support our friend in need. When did you see our lost lamb?”
“Um, after rehearsals yesterday. Last night,” Ped-Xing corrected. “Yeah, she looks like hell. You would too, if you were a maniacal killer and were stuck in a hellhole like the Beverly Hills jail. Can’t be easy to know you’re on your way to the chair!”
“Imagine all those volts of electricity crackling along your nerve endings and baking your insides like a potato in the microwave?” Polly shivered. “Shall we wait for you to collect the stuff for which you broke into the apartment, and then we all leave together?”
Ped-Xing and Michael looked at each other. “We didn’t break in,” Michael said. “The door was unlocked.”
“We may take a while,” Ped-Xing said. “Then we’ve got to get right back to the studio. We’ll see you at rehearsal on Friday.”
Polly looked at Michael. “You certainly work fast, dear. One minute you’re bossless, and the next—literally—you’re working again. For Ped-Xing! Bravo!”
A surreptitious look exchanged between Ped-Xing and Michael was not lost on Polly or Tim and Placenta. “On that lovely note, we must be shoving off,” Polly nounced. “I promised Lisa that she’d have her panties ready by orifice inspection time tonight.” She made kissy-kissy sounds at Ped-Xing and Michael. “See you on set!” she called back as she stepped out of the apartment. “You little weasel,” she muttered, just loud enough for Tim and Placenta to hear.
Chapter 9
“Picking up Lisa’s makeup? Give me a break!” Polly spat as she dumped the load of clothes into Placenta’s arms, then walked out of the building. “I may be dumb about a lot of things kids do today, but I’m not entirely stupid. I clearly heard him say, ‘She’s the only one who could have them.’ Them what? Blush? Bronzer? Lip-gloss? Not!”
“He lied about seeing Lisa last night,” Tim added. “Visitors aren’t allowed. Nor is makeup.”
“We need to find out what they were really doing in Lisa’s apartment,” Polly said.
“Same thing we were doing, no doubt,” Placenta said as she clutched the clothes and gingerly stepped along the uneven sidewalk. “They were looking for something. Something obviously important.”
“And now they probably think that we were after the same thing,” Tim said.
“We don’t even know what it is,” Placenta added.
“Something incriminating, of course,” Polly said. “Or something to cover someone’s hiney. Whatever it is, it’s valuable. Otherwise a contestant wouldn’t risk his shot at fame by breaking into an apartment that was sealed by the police.”
“Not so fast,” Tim said. “Don’t forget, the show is called ‘I’ll Do Anything to Become Famous.’ And the grand prize is a ‘get out of jail free’ card if they win. Breaking and entering is further proof of Ped-Xing’s determination to win. Maybe they weren’t really looking for anything. Maybe they just wanted to get caught for the appearance that Mr. Ped-Xing would go to greater lengths than his competition.”
The trio arrived at their car, and Placenta tossed Lisa’s underclothes into the trunk. She withdrew a bottle of Veuve from the built-in refrigerator and they all settled into the plush leather seats of the vehicle and made their way back to Sunset Boulevard and the drive to Bel Air.
“And what’s up with the little dork playing his sidekick?” Polly asked about Michael.
“I’d say he’s helping the thug prove that he’s the most nefarious, and thus entitled to be the show’s winner,” Placenta said. “After working for Thane, he probably has plenty of inside information.”
“Inside information,” Polly repeated. Snapping her fingers and knocking back what was left of the champagne in her glass, she sat up straight. “Of course! As Thane’s shadow, he would know as much about the behind-the-scenes aspect of the program as Lisa did working for Richard Dartmouth. In fact, they probably knew where all the bodies were buried, so to speak! Me thinks that Michael is helping Ped-Xing to win. He may be a clever little rat with a lot more going on upstairs than he lets on. I wonder how much of his bumbling twit persona was a stunt to keep Thane from thinking he had a brain? Thane wouldn’t have kept him around if he was a total bonehead.”
“Assistants often know more than their bosses,” Placenta agreed. “We collect a lot of bits of material, all of which could easily add up to lucrative feature stories in the National Peeper, or tell-all books.”
Polly raised an eyebrow. “You know this from personal experience? I do keep some secrets.”
Placenta grinned and stared Polly down.
Polly flinched. “Lisa and Michael both worked for the two most powerful men involved with the show. No doubt they had knowledge of things that were top secret. I suspect that Michael thinks that Lisa killed Thane for something that could potentially make a winner out of whoever knows the secret. I’ll bet my star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!”
Tim spoke up. “Michael said something at the Polo Lounge that just came back to me. Remember when he quoted Thane in his dressing room as saying that Lisa was trouble?”
Polly and Placenta exchanged looks.
“Maybe, as you say, Thane’s death was more than just revenge from a spurned lover,” Tim continued. “Maybe he knew something that someone else didn’t want him to know. Something incriminating or illegal and the only way to protect their secret was to keep him silent forever.”
“What could be so terrible that one would commit murder?” Polly said. “Unless Thane was trying to get that annoying actress who played Monica on Friends into another TV series.”
Placenta held up her hands. “You’re the one who’s always saying that nothing in Hollywood is ever as it appears to be. But what if this is just obvious: a case of Lisa being dumped by Thane, and getting even with him for her battered pride?”
“No doubt Thane had plenty of experience with women who ended up hating him,” Polly offered. “The jilted or rejected can do the most odious things in the name of retribution. When I discovered that your daddy had a crush on Florence Henderson, I sent all of his tuxedos to the cleaners and had the left pants legs altered three inches shorter. Men don’t seem to check their formal wear until the night of a big event. Goodness, dear Flo was surprised the night he escorted her to the People’s Choice Awards! Ha! That was one of my proudest moments!”
“So that’s why Miss Henderson can’t keep a straight face whenever we run into her,” Placenta said.
“And you thought I didn’t have any secrets!” Polly said.
“If Thane had any concerns about what Lisa might do for vengeance, I doubt that he’d invite her over to his house,” Tim said.
“We only have her word that she and Thane were together that night,” Placenta said. “She very easily could have waited until he was asleep, entered the house, then wedged that knife between his shoulder blades while he was dreaming about Taco Bell and what mean and nasty things he would say to make her cry on the next show.”
“But that’s precisely what the police are saying,” Polly said. “I may have been persuaded to go along with that, even after our visit with Miss Marrs. However, now that we know that Ped-Xing seems, for some reason, to be interested in the crime, I’m not so sure the girl is lying. What if P
ed is the nut job who pulled the trigger? Or, rather, pushed the blade?”
As Tim signaled to turn right and drive through the arched entrance to the Bel Air east gate, Placenta said, “I recall the rules of the show stating that judges were forbidden to initiate interaction with any contestant outside of the parameters of the program. But the rules didn’t say that the contestants couldn’t see the judges.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” Tim said as he drove the car up Stone Canyon Road. “Judges and contestants together, contestants and judges. A great big no-no!”
“Technically,” Polly said. “I’ll check the manual. But for instance, if Danny came to me and wanted advice about his performance, it would be unethical for me to help, but it wouldn’t exactly be against the rules.”
“So here’s an idea,” Tim said to his mother’s reflection in the mirror. “Hypothetically speaking, Ped-Xing schemes to coax his way into a judge’s life. He wants to get to the most important judge, so he befriends someone behind-the-scenes. In this case, Thane’s assistant, Michael.”
“Are you implying that I’m not the most important judge?” Polly said with wide-eyed annoyance.
“Michael, wanting to move up the Hollywood food chain, determines that Ped-Xing has the biggest cojones of any of the other contestants and guesses that the guy has what it takes to win the game and go on to a showbiz career. He agrees to help Ped-Xing get in tight with Thane in exchange for Ped-Xing taking him along on the next rung of the success ladder when he’s the world-famous winner of I’ll Do Anything to Become Famous.”
Tim pushed the remote control to open the gates to Pepper Plantation and entered the estate grounds. As he drove down the cobbled drive, Placenta chimed in. “Ped-Xing had everything to lose if he was stupid enough to seek out Thane for anything. After all, it would only take one word from Thane to Richard Dart—”
“Oh my God!” Polly erupted. “That’s why Thane’s dead! Ped-Xing played his own corrupt hand and lost. He got to Thane and offered something in exchange for winning the show. Remember, Michael overheard Thane talking to someone on his cell phone and saying that he better have a good explanation for something. It must have been Ped-Xing, and Thane didn’t go along with him. In fact Thane may have threatened to tell Richard Dartmouth about the scheme, so Ped-Xing killed the bastard to keep him quiet.”
Tim parked the car under the front portico. “And Michael’s an accessory, ‘cause he probably arranged for the alarm system at Thane’s house to be off when his cohort arrived to do in the evil boss.”
“I love being the one to hatch a conspiracy theory,” Polly trumpeted. She turned to Placenta. “I’ll have my champagne in the tub, please,” she said as she stepped out of the car and headed for the front steps. “I’ll work out this absurd scenario while I’m soaking.” Tim pushed the numbers on the alarm system’s keypad. “The darn thing’s not working again!” he complained as he opened the front door and stepped into the house.
In an instant, Tim grabbed his mother by the arm and pulled her out of the house where a familiar body lay on the floor in the foyer. Tim nearly knocked Placenta off the steps as he retreated. “Get back into the car! Now!”
Detective Archer made it to the estate before the SOS, Security of the Stars patrol service, arrived on scene. He found Polly, Tim, and Placenta just outside the Pepper Plantation gates, locked in the safety of the Rolls-Royce. He tapped on the window and when Tim unlocked the door, Archer slid onto the front passenger seat. He instantly reached into the backseat to hold Polly’s hand. “My guys’ll search the place; then you can go back inside.”
Polly squeezed Randy’s hand. “The alarm system has been on the fritz. And speaking of system failures, we haven’t had a sleepover in three nights!”
Detective Archer looked sheepish. “I’ve been in hell trying to find the perv who makes heavy breathing calls to Liza Minnelli. She’s going nuts.”
“Going?” Placenta said.
Polly looked at her detective boyfriend. “Before you start asking a lot of boring police questions, I’ll tell you right off that yes, Tim set the alarm before we left the house. Yes, the security cameras were working the last time Placenta dusted the lenses. Yes, the gates were closed when we returned. If it hadn’t been for Tim’s quick thinking, I might be another ‘Access Hollywood’ real-life tragic ending!”
Detective Archer’s cell phone rang. He answered and listened for a moment, then disconnected the call. He looked at Polly and Placenta, then turned to Tim. “How well did you know Danny Castillo?”
Tim shrugged. “He’s weird, but cute. I mean, semi-talented.”
Polly reached forward and playfully slapped the back of Tim’s head. “Timmy’s got a teensy crush on the little pasty-faced twit.”
“Not!” Tim looked at Detective Archer. “You said, ‘How well “did” we know Danny’?”
Archer hesitated. With a somber tone that none of the trio had ever heard in his voice, he said, “They found him in your house.”
Polly was incensed. “That little weasel. He’s not getting a good score from me this week, even if he sings like an angel! I’ll break his neck before I see him advance to the final two!” She moved to get out of the car.
Archer reached out his arm to stop her. “An angel.
Maybe. You won’t have to reprimand him because he won’t be performing.”
“Darn right, he won’t be! I’ll press charges. Breaking and entering. Maybe killing that body in my foyer. Oh God, are we going to have ghosts haunting this place again?”
“Danny didn’t kill anyone,” Archer said.
“But Tim saw the body!” Polly insisted. In the silence that followed, she caught on.
Chapter 10
Polly, Tim, and Placenta were escorted back to the mansion with Detective Archer leading the way. They passed armed officers standing as sentries at the front entrance, and others milling about the grand foyer, taking pictures and dusting for fingerprints. Polly tried to ignore two officers with nothing better to do than dis her famous house. “If I had this palace I’d definitely upgrade the floor covering,” one said to another. “She lives like she’s in a time capsule. Shred the shag carpet, dearie!”
Polly rolled her eyes at Tim. “Other than Officer Betty, are there any butch cops in Beverly Hills?” When they arrived at the great room she asked, “What’s that?” and pointed to an oversize garment bag lying on the floor, next to her floor-to-ceiling lighted glass shelves of Emmy Awards, People’s Choice Awards, and every other imaginable citation for excellence as a star.
Tim put his arms around his mother. “I think it’s a bag of Danny Castillo.” He looked at Detective Archer, who nodded.
“Where are the EMTs? Who moved the body? What was he doing in my house in the first place?” Polly demanded. “Did he take anything? Was he alone? How did he die? Has this stupid show suddenly become one big scavenger hunt, where contestants freely walk into other people’s private spaces to collect God-knows-what?”
“Maybe one of the contestants thinks one of the others killed Thane, so they decided to prove they could go one better by murdering you!” Placenta said.
Archer called another detective over to explain all that he knew about the incident. “We don’t have a lot to go on, ma’am,” said Detective Spencer. “You can see that your place wasn’t ransacked. Either the intruder knew exactly what he wanted, or he was killed before he had an opportunity to make a mess. It’s too early to tell.”
“I wonder if he got his hands on the prize; then someone else came along, whacked him, and stole whatever the deceased had,” Placenta added.
“And what might that prize have been?” Polly asked as she counted her Emmy statuettes. “Unless they wanted one of my preautographed photos, it doesn’t appear that there’s anything of value missing. And what would a contestant from I’ll Do Anything to Become Famous possibly want from Pepper Plantation?”
“DNA for a voodoo doll is about the only thing of value aroun
d here,” Placenta said to Detective Archer. “We don’t keep a ton of money or jewels in the safe. A kid like Danny wouldn’t be interested in Polly’s autographed picture collection. Heck, he wouldn’t even know many of the stars. They’re mostly all from old TV shows anyway.”
Polly stepped a little closer to Archer. “This may be silly and unimportant, but when we were going through Lisa’s apartment, that boy Ped-Xing and his new chum, Michael Somebody, popped in. When they saw us—”
“You were at Lisa’s apartment?” Archer said with an edge to his voice. “We had an agreement.”
“What would you expect me to do after our visit to her cell and … um. Uh-oh.”
“Of course you visited the suspect, too,” Archer said, his words dripping with sarcastic displeasure.
Polly looked sheepish. “Let’s not allow all the fun and excitement of having breaking news occur in my very own home spoiled just because curiosity got the better of me. Anyway, it was practically Placenta’s fault!”
Placenta looked at Polly with the expression of a loyal friend being sold down the river.
“It’s perfectly okay, dear,” Polly said to Randy. “Tim met that adorable copper and just had to pay a visit to the jail where he worked.” She looked at Tim. “Naturally, as the mother of the potential groom-to-be, I had to tag along as a chaperone. It was a total coincidence that Lisa Marrs was being held in the very same jail. When she came out for her exercise period we accidentally bumped into her. You couldn’t expect me to give up a completely serendipitous opportunity like that to pay my respects and ask how the little angel is holding up in the Big House!”
Detective Archer took a deep exasperated breath. “You’re a great actress. Tell me what you were doing at Lisa Marrs’s apartment.”
Polly looked at her wristwatch. “My goodness! It’s way past Lush Hour! Who wants to be the first to pour Polly a drinky?”
Placenta hustled to the wine cooler, withdrew a bottle of Veuve, and filled four flutes. Even Polly was impressed by the speed with which her maid accomplished her most important duty. “Practice makes perfect. Cheers!”