Faith knocked at the door and heard Evelyn's slightly husky, very sexy voice: "Entrez." Balancing the tray on one arm, Faith turned the knob and went in. It was not typical Winnebago decor: no shag carpeting and not a single La-Z-Boy recliner. Neither was there a dressing table or mirror surrounded by lights. The only thing that distinguished it as the abode of a Hollywood legend was Evelyn's Academy Award, standing shrine-like on a shelf on the wall. Otherwise, the room looked like one in an East Side town house decorated by Sister Parish—needlepoint carpet, exquisite chintz, and a well-chosen assortment of bibelots to give just the right finishing touch. Despite the tiny windows, the entire effect was of sunshine and light.
Much to Faith's surprise, Evelyn, ensconced in a comfortable-looking armchair, was giving Cordelia a bottle. Faith knew Evelyn had given birth to this exquisite little creature, but she had generally assumed all maternal responsibilities had ended with that colossal endeavor. Thereafter, the parental role was no doubt fulfilled by making appropriate comments when the nanny brought the suitably clad baby for occasional inspection. Evelyn's words made her preference clear.
“The damn nanny insisted on leaving the baby here. It's supposed to be our bonding time. Max read something about it and now the nanny brings Cordelia every day. Mary Poppins went to find some vitamins or whatever she left in the car and didn't want `baby' to go out in the cold. Of course, the moment she left, Cordelia started screaming, so I gave her this, which seems to be working."
“I'll put the tray over here on the table. She's a beautiful baby. Is she sleeping through the night yet?”
Evelyn gave Faith a look of total uncomprehension. "You mean they don't? Anyway, I have no idea. The nanny takes care of that. And if she's not back soon, she's going to be an out-of-work nanny.”
Despite her lack of familiarity with the role, Evelyn looked like an old hand—or rather like a Botticelli Madonna with child.
“I'll come back for the tray in an hour. Will that be enough time?”
Evelyn looked at the food with marked uninterest. "Sure, you come back in an hour.”
Faith had started to leave, when Evelyn began to talk again. Her voice and entire demeanor assumed a somewhat vague tenor, as if she'd gone off somewhere.
“Babies, children, kids. Cornelia says you have a kid."
“I have two—a boy who will be four in May and a girl who's six months old.”
Evelyn nodded. "A baby”
It didn't seem to require an answer, but Faith said, "Yes," just to keep the conversational ball rolling. "Did you breast-feed it?”
Perhaps she had missed the word girl. "Yes, I did. Both children."
“I didn't. Wouldn't. Oh, Maxie would have liked it. Would have liked a sip himself now and then, but it would have ruined my shape." She shifted the baby away from her chest and pulled up the jersey she was wearing. She was naked underneath and nothing had impaired her "shape." Not even the suggestion of a sag—her bosom was perfect.
Compelling as Ms. O'Clair's mammaries might be, what caught Faith's attention was the large A sketchily drawn in red pen on her right breast. It looked self-inflicted. Evelyn followed Faith's gaze and slowly pulled her shirt down. The baby was still hungrily working away at the bottle.
“Max is such a stickler for authenticity," she said coyly.
There didn't seem to be anything to say after that, and Faith left, wondering whether the star was on something or simply a little loopy by nature. She hoped the nanny would get back soon.
An hour later, Faith decided to go back for the tray herself. Cornelia was nowhere to be found and it was time to pack up and go home. Lunch was over and the staff was busy cleaning up—even more efficiently than usual, since it was Saturday and everyone was looking forward to a break. Faith told Niki and Pix to leave with the rest of the crew as soon as they were finished.
They'd both put in a hard week. Faith would drive the canteen truck back, making sure the craft services table in the barn was stocked for the rest of the afternoon. She was glad she had refused any other bookings until the movie was finished. The idea of someone's wedding reception or other festive occasion tonight was overwhelming.
Setting out for the trailer at last, Faith ran into Cornelia, who was coming from the house. They'd been filming a scene with Dimmesdale and Chillingworth all day, she told Faith, and it looked like they wouldn't get to the section with Evelyn. She was on her way to tell Ms. O'Clair now.
“She's going to have a fit, but I don't take any nonsense from her, and everyone knows it. That's why Max sent me.”
That, and because it was the PA's job to do everything nobody else wanted to do, like confront a hotheaded leading lady, Faith thought.
“I'm on my way to pick up her lunch tray and I'd offer to tell her for you, except I have a family who needs me:' Evelyn's temper was as famous as Max's.
“It's not necessary. I won't have any trouble with her. The first time she blew up at me, I politely and firmly told her that was not the way professionals treated one another and I didn't intend to stand for it."
“Did it work?"
“Well," admitted Cornelia grudgingly, "she still gets mad, but I don't pay any attention.”
Faith remembered the discovery of the A when Evelyn had literally bared her breast.
“I would have thought Max would have used something that looked a bit less homemade for her tattoo."
“What are you talking about?" Cornelia asked impatiently.
“The A on Evelyn's right breast."
“Evelyn doesn't have an A on her breast."
“Yes she does. She showed it to me:' Faith related her odd conversation.
Cornelia was seriously annoyed. "What is that woman playing at now? She's not supposed to have anything there. It will show through the costume and Max will be upset.”
They were at the door to the trailer and it was plain Cornelia planned to open with this new discovery. She was seething. "Probably used permanent ink and I'm going to have to find some way to get it off!”
Faith hoped she could grab the tray and run, but no such luck.
Evelyn was lying down on a chaise. She wasn't in her Hester costume; instead, she was wearing the jersey, tight black jeans, and snakeskin western boots she'd had on earlier during the mother number. The baby and nurse were gone. Bonding time was over.
“The tray's in there." She waved in the direction of a small door. It led to a bedroom, somewhat like a stateroom on a ship, with everything, including the requisite dressing table and well-lighted mirror built in. The tray was on the dressing table. The bud vase, empty glass, and some cutlery were in place, but no plate. Another door led into the bathroom, and the plate and a fork were in there. Evidently, Evelyn was up to her old tricks and had taken the food in with her to save time.
Faith could hear raised voices from the main room. She started to pick up the plate, then was distracted by the sight of the medicine chest above the sink. It was more temptation than she could ever resist and she opened the door to take a peek at what kind of toothpaste Ms. O'Clair used—and what she might be on. It was Pandora all over again. Vials, bottles, tubes, and boxes spilled out into the sink. She grabbed for a giant glass bottle of mouthwash just in time. Serves you right, Miss Snoopy Nose, she chided herself, thankful for the din from the next room that masked her misdeed. She tried to catch what they were screaming about but could only make out an occasional bitch and the frequent repetition of Max's name. She hastily began to stuff everything back in the cabinet, when she realized that a box of cotton balls seemed surprisingly heavy. A hiding place for Evelyn's jewels? She dug around in the soft contents. It wasn't diamonds.
There was a box of slides at the bottom.
The coincidence was too great. They had to be the slides missing from the storeroom, which meant .. .
Faith ran into the next room. The scene she encountered momentarily stopped her where she stood.
Evelyn was on her feet, cheeks enflamed, waving her Oscar
threateningly in Cornelia's face.
“You could never get one of these. You couldn't even come close! Telling me what to do! You piece of shit! You fucking little PA whore. Oh yes, I know all about you and our sainted director. You've been in my husband's pants for years!”
Cornelia gasped and looked as though she might faint, whether at the news that Max and Evelyn were married or at the accusation she could only wish was true.
She rallied. "f I was, I'd be a *hole lot better than you! You don't understand him. You'll never understand him. You think only of yourself, you—"
“What do you know about me? Or my husband! Keep your fucking nose out of other people's business!”
Before Faith could stop her, the star brought the shiny golden statuette down on Corny's head with murderous intent. Cornelia dropped to the floor and Faith jumped between the two women to prevent Evelyn from landing another blow.
“Miss O'Clair, please!" Faith had heard it said that people would kill for one of these on their mantel, but kill with was an entirely different matter. "I know there's nothing going on between Cornelia and your husband. She's an old friend of mine. She just admires his work, and yours! Let's calm down, before someone gets hurt."
“Calm down," Evelyn screeched, "you're as bad as she is. Who the hell do you think you are telling Evelyn O'Clair what to do? The whole world thinks it can tell me what to do! Well, I fucking do what I want!”
She pushed Faith and seemed about to repeat her earlier action, but Faith grabbed her raised arm at the wrist and forced her to drop the Oscar. The prize hit the carpet with a muted thud.
Evelyn made a sort of feral cry and lunged for Faith, who quickly stepped to one side, hoping to grab the woman from behind as she fell forward, but Evelyn did not lose her balance. She was almost foaming at the mouth now and screaming obscenities even Faith had never heard.
There was a phone on a table by the chair Evelyn had been sitting in earlier. Faith had to get some help. She obviously couldn't leave Cornelia, who was out cold, yet fortunately visibly breathing, in the room with this maniac. But would said maniac let Faith call 911? Not in the condition she was in at the moment. The situation was becoming more and more bizarre. f she didn't do something soon, Faith realized, she'd be locked in hand-to-hand combat with one of America's biggest box-office draws. She could probably take Evelyn, but she'd just as soon not try. f only Cornelia would come to and give Faith a hand, even if it were to find something with which to tie the woman up.
Evelyn had backed off for a moment, panting heavily, her hair covering most of her face. Through the tangled blond strands, her eyes glittered dangerously.
“Why don't we call over to the house and ask Mr. Reed to come and straighten all this out? I'm sure he'll be very upset. He can tell you himself that he has nothing but a work relationship with Cornelia." Faith employed the same tone as the one she used when Ben and a friend both wanted to play with the same toy. It seldom worked then and it certainly didn't work now.
As Faith spoke, Evelyn ripped the phone from the wall with such force that the multicolored wires sprayed out from the plastic casing. The woman was strong. It might not be so easy to subdue her as Faith thought.
“You're not calling Max!”
She regarded Cornelia and Faith appraisingly for a moment, then grabbed a bulky sweater and Gucci purse the size of a steamer trunk from a shelf and started for the door. Hand on the knob, she delivered her last line in completely controlled tones: "You ladies have been forgetting who I am”
It was an accusation. It was hurt pride. It was a wrap.
Faith moved, but not in time. M she got to the door,
Ms. O'Clair was already on the other side and doing a
very thorough job of locking them in. Faith reached for the knob and turned, but it was too late. She pulled frantically at the door. It was a solid one and shut tight. Seconds later, the car started. Faith listened despairingly as Evelyn left them in her dust.
Dumb! Dumb! Why had she let Evelyn get close to the door!
Faith would be replaying this scene and scolding herself for months to come, but first things first. She had to take care of Corny and then she had to get a look at the slides, which she'd slipped into her pocket.
Cornelia was moaning slightly. When Faith bent over her, calling her name, she opened her eyes and responded predictably. "Where am I?" What with Evelyn's exit line and Cornelia's entrance one, life was fast assuming all the characteristics of a B movie.
“We're in Evelyn's RV. She hit you on the head, but I don't think it's serious. Don't move. I'm going to get a blanket." And a towel. Evelyn had not managed to sell Corny the farm, yet Ms. O'Clair had made a mess of her victim's hairdo. Blood was streaming out of a large gash in Corny's left temple.
“Faith, Faith! I'm bleeding!" She had discovered her injury and was panicking. Faith rushed back with the snowy white quilt from Evelyn's bed and one of her monogrammed towels. Irony, at any rate, was alive and well.
She managed to staunch the flow of blood. Corny was going to have a lump the size of the Matterhorn and a headache for a week, but other than that, she should be lording it over everyone as usual before too long. Her good health, and all the milk she'd drunk as a child, had resulted in fortuitously dense bone mass.
It wasn't exactly the time for a chat, yet Corny seemed unable to stop talking.
“She thought I was having an affair with Max! And they're married! I never knew! How could he! Oh, Faith!”
Corny had shut up for the moment and, snugly wrapped in the down comforter, had closed her eyes again. She hadn't passed out again. Faith had asked her.
It was time to look at the slides. Faith switched on a lamp next to the armchair and held the first one up. As she suspected, Alden had been photographing the forest scene and had zoomed in on Sandra, who did full justice to the high-speed Ektachrome Spaulding had employed. Faith assumed the box contained more of the same, but she held each one up to check. Near the end of the roll, Alden had happened upon another scene. It must have been before the afternoon shoot, when he'd returned to his post.
It wasn't in the script.
The slide Faith held up to the light captured Evelyn twisting a hank of Sandra's hair. Alden had caught Ms. O'Clair face on, and her expression was terrifying—full of fury, hatred, and, above all, threatening. The next four were similar, but the last one showed Sandra. It was quite a contrast. She looked defiant—and incredibly beautiful.
So Evelyn had killed her. Faith sank down onto the chair. Evelyn had seen the rushes. They were the frosting on the cake that had been presented at Max's birth- yparty.
It was unlikely that Max would have replaced his star with a complete unknown in the middle of a picture, but he, or another director, might soon have raised Sandra to stardom, a stardom lively to have eclipsed Evelyn's own career. While not waning at the moment, it wouldn't have been long, and Sandra's ascent wouldhave hastened Evelyn's descent. Good parts for women in Hollywood were scarce enough, and few actresses remained in the limelight past their thirties. Evelyn had clearly seen the wolf at the door—and Max's and the other men's obvious attraction to this sexy beast had added jealousy to fear. Alden must have gotten in touch with her and alluded to the photographs. He might have had some crazy idea that he could trade them for sex with her. The slides didn't prove that Evelyn killed Sandra, but judging from the camera angles, Alden must have heard what they'd been saying, too. After Sandra died, he must have put two and two together—and come up dead himself. Evelyn had had to kill him or risk exposure for the first murder. The second death—had it been easier for Ms. O'Clair? Had the first one been so hard? It was all becoming clearer—as was the fact that Faith had to get out of the trailer immediately and call the police. Evelyn had no idea Faith had found the slides. She wouldn't go far, but then again, she might.
And it had been Evelyn, not Marta on the phone. She had just used the same phrase while shouting at Cornelia, but without the disguise.
> The star's trailer was as secure as Hester's prison cell. The windows were too small for anyone save Ben to crawl through. But they did open. Faith went to first one, then another, systematically shouting for help.
It was no use. The trailer was too far from the other buildings. Unless someone expressly came to get Evelyn, there was no way Faith could be heard. And no one would come. Without the car, it would be assumed Evelyn had returned to the house after getting the director's message that she wasn't needed that day. What's more—no one would miss Cornelia. However much she exalted her role, it was not critical. Faith's own staff would be long gone by now and it would be hours before she was expected at home. Cornelia opened her eyes.
“Faith, I think I can get up. I'm certain I should go to a doctor and have some stitches put in. It's been dear of you to take care of me like this." But, implied Ms. Stuyvesant, let's get the show on the road.
“We can't. She's locked us in. No one is going to hear me from here, so it's pointless to shout. Plus, my crew has gone. I stayed behind to do some last-minute things. Face it—we're stuck.”
Cornelia burst into tears. Faith had seen her maddeningly happy, in a temper, miffed, but never crying. Corny turned out to be one of the noisy, gloppy kind. Soon her sobs were hiccups and her nose began to run. Faith shoved some tissues in her old chum's hand to stem the tide. It had to be over Max. But it wasn't.
“You're being so good to me and I've been so rotten to you," Cornelia gasped.
“There, there. That was all years ago. Don't even think about it," Faith assured her. She ought to see whether Evelyn had any Tylenol in the bathroom for poor Corny's head.
The Body in the Cast ff-5 Page 25