16 Millimeters

by Larissa Reinhart

  I could relate. Maybe my symptoms weren't heartburn. "Listen, we now know Orlando Feelzen didn't kill the filmographer or the body double. I did learn that my pie was poisoned. Cambria took a big bite. Whoever killed Orlando and the rest was more interested in killing me than killing Cambria. That's good, right?"

  Leonard made a choking sound.

  "I spoke with Big Jim of Big Jim's Catering. He put the pie out himself. I trust him. I believe our perp saw my name on the pie plate as an opportunity to stop my investigation. Probably took it to the bathroom, used the window cleaner and brought it back. With all the comings and goings in the craft service room, nobody would have noticed."

  "Our craft service dining room?" he moaned. "Can it get worse?"

  "Well, Cambria could have died — or me for that matter — so there's a silver lining." I didn't wait for Leonard to respond. "By the way, does Ed Farmer have plans to do a Double Indemnity remake with Dahlia?"

  "Not that I know of. What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Maybe nothing." Probably better to ask Ed Farmer than panic Leonard any more. "Nash is guarding Cambria. Your star is safe. See, we're fulfilling all your expectations. I'm going to check on Cam-Cam at the hospital now. We need her to talk, Mr. Shackleton."

  "The doctor believes sedation will allow her throat to heal faster. She shouldn't try to talk at all."

  "Some would believe you want the doctor to sedate her so she can't explain what happened. Because it would incriminate your star." This I stated in my head. Julia Pinkerton would have asserted it aloud. I still needed to get paid for this job.

  To Leonard, I said, "We could give Cambria a whiteboard or paper and a pen. She doesn't have to literally talk."

  "I'm firm on this."

  Leonard, you're moving up on my suspect list. "I'll talk to you later."

  "I want to meet in person. Later. Tonight. At your office. I'm busy with meetings and now, the police. But we need to convo about all this, Maizie. In person."

  My stomach did another flip. I pounded my chest and forced out a choked response. "I sort of have this party tonight?" Oh, my God. Why did I say that? "You know, I'm just super busy with this investigation. I wouldn't go to the party, except I promised. A quick appearance—"

  "Party? The Theodore Malthus event?"

  "You know Theodore?" I took a calming breath. "Of course, you do." Shizzles, Theodore. You are too good at concealing your cards.

  "I'd forgotten about the party. It's exclusive, so should be safe."

  "Okay then—"

  "Only a few photographers were invited from the media. Not local. Atlanta, I believe. The AP and entertainment news could pick something up. Our PR team and camera crew will be there, too, of course. I hadn't planned on going, but was sending the actors and Ed."

  "Right, publicity for the movie." I bounced on the bike seat, eager to get through my list so I'd have time to focus on panicking. "So talk to you later?"

  "We should carry on. For appearances, at the very least. We're not down yet, Maizie. If the news is bad, it'll be big. But big news is still big news." He paused. "I'll pick you up at eight."

  "Wait. What? You mean the party? But I planned to bring my girlfriends."

  "No girlfriends, Maizie. You're still working, remember? We'll go together and use it as an opportunity."

  "Opportunity for what?"

  "Observing potential suspects? I don't know. You're the expert on investigations. I'll pick you up at home?"

  "The office," I said quickly. And hoped my fake office was still there.

  * * *

  At the hospital, my heart warmed to see Nash. Until I spotted the rise in his upper lip upon seeing me.

  "How is this better than carrying a weapon?" he whispered. "You look like Halloween. All orange and black and brown. Even your eyes."

  "But I don't look like Maizie Albright."

  "That's true." He scowled. "What'd Robin say?"

  "Not much. She went to the studio to finagle more money for the resort by offering convalescence for Cambria. Which she called 'paying her respects.' And then told me I didn't have any respect…" I rolled my eyes. "Haters be hating. Anyway, I found out the real reason I was kicked off the set. Vicki's filming All is Albright there and didn't want me to know."

  This time Nash rolled his eyes. "You hear from Vicki or Giulio?"

  I shook my head.

  He patted my shoulder.

  "Did you know the police rescued Orlando from the kitchen garbage?"

  He nodded. "Talked to Mowry."

  "Whoever is doing this must be strong."

  We simultaneously glanced at Ed. Sitting next to Cambria's bed, he sketched in his small notebook. He was wiry, not paunchy like some directors I knew. And fairly young for an established director. Still, he was no Dwayne Johnson. He wasn't even a Nash. Could Ed bash people's heads in and haul them around to later fling in lakes, bathtubs, and dumpsters?

  "Mr. Farmer," I called. "Do you work out?"

  Startled, he looked up. "Of course."

  I glanced at Nash. He waved a hand for me to continue. I strolled to Cambria's bed and stood across from Ed's chair. A gentle beep emitted from the equipment. Cam-Cam appeared peaceful. Her generous lips relaxed into a serene smile. Like Snow White waiting for Prince Charming. Or was that Sleeping Beauty? I guess it depended on which fairy tale Ed preferred.

  "Someone did her hair and makeup?" I said. "And dressed her?"

  "I did," said Ed, gazing at Cambria. "Actually the nurse did. I just supplied the necessary items."

  "Yeah, that's…" I wanted to say nice, but I just couldn't do it. My nerves were frazzled. "Really weird, Mr. Farmer. And considering all that's happened, you're giving off a Hitchcock vibe. Hitchcock movie, not the director."

  Nash had moved to the opposite corner of the room. He remained silent, but I could feel his mental note taking.

  "I suppose it looks that way to you."

  "Yep."

  "It's all about perspective," said Ed. "That's the key. You just see this from the wrong viewpoint."

  "How about from Cambria's perspective, when she wakes up and finds herself dressed in a white nightgown with you reading scene notes to her?"

  "She'll know I care about her."

  "Cam-Cam might see that a little differently," I muttered. "So you're setting a scene. The director concerned for his ingénue. Or the director concerned that his investment might flake on his project? I know about the bond you paid for Cambria's insurance policy. And the amount you'll owe if she's fired."

  Behind us, Nash stirred.

  "That's not what this is about. Thinking about insurance when Cambria's lying here is tactless." Running a hand through his thick hair, he peered up at me from over the frame of his glasses. "You're the one who neglected your job. Not Cambria."

  "This is about failing Cambria?" I took a deep breath. "I know what she ate. And I know it was not meant for her. We stepped away for a minute…"

  "Spare me your excuses. You didn't do your job from the beginning."

  "Cambria's also not innocent in this situation," I said. "She could have told us what happened in her villa, but she refused to talk."

  "None of us are innocent." Ed pulled off his glasses and rested his forehead in his hand.

  "Were you punishing me for interfering? With poisoned pie?" I said. "Is that another role you're playing? Judge and executioner?"

  "I don't play roles, I create them," he said.

  "What are you guilty of?" growled Nash.

  Ed's head rocked against his hand. "Nothing that has to do with this."

  I looked at Nash. He fluttered his fingers to me to continue, but I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. I pulled the clipboard from my backpack. "What about Dahlia Pearson? Is she innocent?"

  He shoved his glasses back on. "I'm sorry?"

  "Dahlia the actress is different from the real Dahlia, isn't she?" I held out his sketch. "Phyllis Dietrichson? Is this how you think of her? Is
that why you didn't want her in the lead of Pine Hollow?"

  "Where did you find that?"

  "Do you think Dahlia's like Phyllis? Scheming? Capable of planning a murder?"

  "Of course not." He slid back in his chair and folded his arms. "You're talking about my supporting actress. I would never think that about her."

  "Oh my God, Mr. Farmer, please tell me the truth." I'd kept calm, but I felt the panic rise. "I left my mother with Dahlia."

  "Your mother?"

  "Vicki Albright." I felt Nash behind me. He didn't touch me, didn't make a sound, but his presence bolstered me. "I can't get in contact with Vicki. I can't find her."

  Ed shook his head.

  "Mr. Farmer, you're acting suspiciously. Don't you get that? Two people connected to Cambria have been found dead. Another is missing, and that's not counting Giulio Belloni and Vicki Albright. You want to tell me or do you want to tell the police?"

  "Tell the police what?"

  "What you know about Cambria's misdeeds? And about Dahlia's? Do you think she's Phyllis Dietrichson or not?"

  Ed stared at Cambria. His shoulders trembled, and he turned to face the wall. "She is. But not in that way."

  "In what way?" Nash moved to stand beside me. "Be clear."

  "We're sleeping together, okay? Dahlia and I." He turned back, his face wet with tears. “I'm sorry Cambria. I just— I'm weak. I'm Walter Neff to her Phyllis. I don't feel about Dahlia the way I do Cambria, but I couldn't help myself. She's just that good."

  "Who is Walter Neff?" Nash glanced at me. "What in the hell is he talking about? I can't follow this guy. He talks in circles."

  "Walter Neff's the insurance salesman in Double Indemnity. Phyllis seduced him to help her get a big insurance policy on her husband and murder him."

  "What the hell?" Nash turned to me. "You said he had an insurance policy on Cambria. How does Dahlia benefit?"

  I shook my head. "That can't be it. It's not a life policy. The policy is backing her finishing the movie. If Cambia died, he'd lose twenty million."

  "Twenty million? What the hell,” said Nash.

  Ed had gathered Cambria's hand between his. "I'd never hurt Cambria. Her brilliance has been overlooked for too long. I wanted this movie to push her into the limelight."

  "She's been in the limelight lately, Mr. Farmer. Her tabloid fame is worse than mine."

  "Exactly. They don't know the real Cambria. Few of us do. That's why I need to adjust the public's perspective with her role in Pine Hollow. As a director, I determine how the audience understands a scene. I can control how they feel about a character or an event. Cambria knew I could do this for her."

  Nash touched my arm and jerked his head toward the door. He held the door open as we stood in the hall where we could watch Ed without him listening.

  "I don't get this guy," said Nash. "All this perspective business. Do you understand what he's talking about?"

  "I think so. He sees Cambria's potential as a serious actress, the Cam-Cam I knew as a kid. But Cambria was working against that with this whole party girl act."

  "Are you sure it's an act?"

  "You've seen her villa and trailer. The most unhealthy thing in it is fun-size Snicker bars." I licked my lips. "Which is probably why she went for my chocolate peanut butter pie. Although Big Jim's pie is more like a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup."

  "Let's stick to the point, Miss Albright." Nash tapped his watch. "What's with all this Dahlia business? He's obsessed with one and sleeping with the other? Did he incriminate Dahlia or not? I don't get your movie references."

  "I'm not sure." I tapped my lip. "Dahlia seduced him like Phyllis Dietrichson did Walter Neff. He couldn't help himself. I guess that's why Dahlia had a key to his office. Maybe for trysts? Or she swiped it so she could help herself to…film notes?"

  "Trysts seem more likely." Nash paced between the door and the opposite wall. "We still don't have a solid motive. What about the insurance angle?"

  "If Cambria can't do the movie, the loser would be Ed Farmer. He paid for her insurance bond." I folded my arms over the clipboard and paced the opposite route Nash had taken.

  Five steps, turn, five steps, turn. Surprisingly therapeutic. I glanced into the room, then at Nash as we passed.

  "Leonard and the other producers paid their own completion bond to the distributors, guaranteeing the entire movie will be done on time and within budget. Hence his super stress," I said. "If Cambria breaks Ed's bond, Leonard will break Ed's, and the investors could break Leonard's. The movie wouldn't get made unless a bigger studio took it over. Leonard would lose his share of the investment and Ed would lose all his creative control."

  "So they're all sunk if this actress does something stupid."

  "Maybe that's Dahlia's angle. Maybe she hired the filmographer, Orlando, and the double to make Cam-Cam look bad? Then seduced the director to drop his star and put her in the lead?"

  "That's not a murder motive."

  "True. Plus, Cam-Cam hinted she knew about the filmmaking." Meeting Nash between the door and the wall, I touched his arm, and he halted his steps. "I think if Ed discovered Cam-Cam's home video, he'd do anything to stop it from getting out. He'd want to protect Cambria's reputation, so Leonard doesn't fire her."

  "Or lose money on her bond. Twenty million." Nash whistled. "Anything to stop Cambria from 'shitting up' the movie."

  "Leonard wants Ed Farmer to direct. Ed wants Cambria to star. But if it comes down to it, Leonard will replace Cambria. He's the producer."

  "That's a solid motive." Nash glanced into the hospital room. "I'm calling Mowry. He needs to haul in Ed Farmer for questioning."

  "What about Dahlia?"

  Nash shrugged. "She was trying to climb the ladder the old fashioned way."

  I punched his arm.

  He smiled, rubbing the spot. "Nice right hook. Look, Dahlia might attempt for Cambria's role by sleeping with the director and making Cambria look bad, but it's not a strong enough motive for killing three people. Money is."

  "I still don't like it."

  "But he's the one acting like a psycho." Nash jerked a thumb at the man sketching sleeping Cambria.

  "Yep. Hitchcock."

  Twenty-Six

  #PartyLikeIts1984 #ThreeTimesTheLadies

  At LA HAIR, I slumped in a salon chair and broke the news about Ed Farmer.

  "Shocking," said Rhonda. "He's so famous."

  "Hell, they're all famous, Rhon," said Tiffany. "Doesn't keep them from being psychopaths. Fame probably gives them a leg up."

  "You think y'all were screwed up to begin with or was it the fame that did it to you?" asked Rhonda.

  I mused over my rehab stories. "I'm not qualified to answer that. And I have more bad news."

  "Lord almighty," said Rhonda. "If it's about Beyoncé, I do not want to know."

  "It's more like local news." I explained Leonard's adamant request to take me to Theodore's party unaccompanied.

  "Damn," said Tiffany.

  "So uncool," I said. "This job has been stressful enough without his ambiguous sexual harassment."

  "Sue him," said Tiffany.

  "Too ambiguous," I said. "Believe me, I've been in enough unambiguous situations to know."

  "It's okay, Maizie," said Rhonda. "We understand."

  "It's not okay," I said. "Leonard thinks this is a date. He's our client, but this is not a date. I'm still not entirely convinced Ed Farmer killed those people even with the money angle. My mother and Giulio are still missing. All my suspects are going to be at this party. I need to go. Leonard's my client, so I guess I'm going with him."

  "What about your boss?" said Rhonda.

  "Nash's overseeing Cambria's move to the resort. Robin Coxon arranged it." I rolled my eyes. "Our client is still paying us for guard duty. I think Leonard's hoping a crazy fan is going to pop out of the woodwork, try to kill Cambria, and resolve the mess."

  "Killing his star resolves the mess?"

  "Trying to kil
l her. Which Nash would prevent. And if he doesn't, Leonard will sue us. Nash is guarding Cambria while I'm stuck trying to find out who's killing off Cambria's villa party."

  "Are the police convinced Ed Farmer did it?" asked Tiffany. "Because that might be a real party pooper, you know what I'm saying? Isn't this Ed Farmer's big movie?"

  "I don't know if Leonard knows yet. Last I heard, Ed's at the station for questioning. The police are probably checking all his alibis. He's been in proximity to each murder."

  "Who would have thought?" said Tiffany. "Maybe he learned his murdering skills from his action movies."

  Rhonda shuddered. "Back to the party. What are you wearing? I was going to wear my Aunt Carmen's cruise ship dress. She'll be glad to know I can't wear it 'cause she worried about lending it to me."

  "I never decided on an ensemble." I sighed. "At this point, I don't even care."

  Tiffany cocked her head. "You don't care?"

  I shrugged.

  "Rhon, you hear that? Maizie doesn't care about what she's wearing. Since when don't she care what she's wearing?"

  Rhonda spun my chair to face her. "You told T. Malthus, Esquire, you'd look fabulous for his party."

  "I know. But he's just as bad as everyone else. Vicki. Dahlia. Leonard. Cambria. Friggin' Robin. They don't seem to give a shizzle that people have died. How can Theodore have a party when three people were murdered, and Cambria's in the hospital? How can I go to a party and look fabulous knowing this? It's in poor taste. And totally gruesome."

  "Girl." Rhonda placed her hands on my armrests and bent close to eyeball me. "You're not looking fabulous for them. You're doing it for the woman you found. You're going to the party to eyeball those suspects. And you'll look hot for the street cred. We'll do you up again."

  "You're right." I straightened. "I owe it to that woman. We still know nothing about her other than her birthmark and a resemblance to a deviant actress."

  Rhonda rubbed her hands together, dashed to the receptionist desk, and returned with a plastic crate. "What look are you going for tonight? Could you mention 'makeup by Rhonda of LA HAIR' when they ask what you're wearing?"