by Lee Goldberg
"There's a vast, alien conspiracy to replace the Endeavor crew with evil doubles," The Captain said. "I've got their leader in the trunk. He says he's your husband."
"Uh-huh," She didn't want to say anything more substantial than a grunt until she figured out what was going on.
Shari heard the stories about Goddard, of course. That he was some kind of recluse, that on the few occasions he appeared in public, he only did so "in character." She figured it was a gimmick, and she played along with it for laughs when she last saw him, at a mall opening in El Cerrito.
Now, as he led her to the car, she gave some serious thought to the probability that Guy Goddard was insane. And if he was, how best to use this situation to her benefit.
Obviously, the conspiracy he was talking about was the revival of Beyond the Beyond with a new cast, and the alien leader he'd captured must be Eddie.
"What happens to him if he's not my husband?" she asked. She wanted to know what all her options were.
"I'll steer the ship into a black hole and shove him out an airlock."
So, Guy Goddard would kill him. That raised some interesting possibilities.
The Captain took out his key and opened the trunk, releasing a foul stench that almost made Shari vomit. She saw Eddie stuffed inside, soaked in sweat, piss and shit, wincing against the harsh sunlight.
"Thank God you're home," Eddie said. "Tell him it's me."
Shari covered her nose and mouth, and gave it some thought.
Don't worry, baby, Eddie's going to take care of you. You can be the voice of the ship's computer.
"Sweetie-pie?" Eddie urged, his voice shaky. "What are you waiting for? For God's sake, tell him who I am."
"I've never seen this man before in my life," she said.
Eddie bolted up in the trunk. "Shari, he's going to kill—"
The Captain slammed the trunk closed on Eddie's head, abruptly silencing the executive producer .
"That's what I thought," Captain Pierce said to Shari.
She nodded and backed away from the car. The Captain took a couple steps towards her.
"There is one thing that troubles me, doctor."
"What is that, sir?"
He held up a slip of paper. "Why was your address on his vehicle registration?"
Shari felt her heart pounding in her chest. You're Dr. Kelvin. What would she say?
"Captain, if he can replicate the crew of the Endeavor, how hard could it be to counterfeit a registration slip?"
"Why would he do that?" the Captain asked.
Oh shit, I don't know.
"For just this eventuality. Don't underestimate the intelligence of your adversary, Captain," she said. "You don't want to make the same mistake here that you made with the gelatin worms of Kunzel-4."
He stared at her and, for a moment, Shari was worried. Guy Goddard wasn't just insane, he was homicidal. If he thought she was part of whatever paranoid conspiracy he blamed Eddie for, then she was dead, too.
"I've missed your wisdom and sound counsel, doctor," the Captain said at last, smiling. "It's good to know that your computers are still in top shape."
Shari gave him the traditional, Snorkie salute and the parting words: "Be prosperous and multiply, Captain."
He crumpled the registration, dropped it on the ground, and got into the car.
She watched him drive off, then hurried back in the house, closing the door behind her and turning the dead-bolt.
Shari couldn't believe her incredible lucky streak. Who could have predicted that Guy Goddard would emerge from oblivion and save her the cost of a messy divorce? Now she would get everything that belonged to Eddie, free and clear. And she didn't have to do a thing for it.
With her dual inheritances, she was set for life. She was considering a quick trip to Las Vegas to see if her luck would hold, when there was a knock at the door.
Peering through the peephole, she saw her second Confederation Captain of the day.
Fans.
Her first instinct was to walk away, then her common sense got the better of her. Someone who'd go to the trouble of dressing up like that and finding out where she lived was a diehard fan. Odds were his pockets were full of wadded-up cash he was eager to spend on personalized memorabilia.
As rich as she was going to be, she was short on cash right now.
So, she put on her best smile and opened the door, noticing for the first time that the fan had a friend, a fashion nightmare in a checked jacket, yellow shirt, and gray slacks. At least they both had clear skin.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Shari Covina?" Lou asked.
"Yes," she replied, looking at Charlie. "But you can call me Doctor if you like."
"I'm Charlie Willis, a security consultant for Pinnacle Pictures."
"Interesting uniform," she said. "Does your jurisdiction extend into the galaxy as well?"
"I'm Sgt. Lou LeDoux, LAPD," Lou flashed his badge with one hand, and held out a piece of paper with the other. "We have a warrant to see your boobs."
She slammed the door, but Charlie already had his space boot in the way. He pushed the door open and saw her bolt down the entry hall.
Charlie chased after her, taking her down in a flying tackle before she reached the kitchen. She landed face-down on the hardwood floor and immediately began kicking, squirming and screaming. He straddled her waist, pulled her arms behind her back, and reached for his cuffs, but couldn't find them.
"Looking for these?" Lou leaned down and slipped the handcuffs around her wrists, effectively subduing her.
Although it had been years since Charlie was either a real or fictional police officer, old habits were hard to break. Charlie got up, embarrassed, and lifted Shari to her feet.
That's when Charlie saw the wedding photograph on the wall.
The bride in white with the plunging neckline was Shari. The groom in the powder blue tuxedo and lecherous grin was Eddie Planet.
Chapter Twenty Five
Melvah Blenis did what she was born to do. She ruled the universe. She created planets, moved stars, and determined the fates of entire civilizations. With a few taps on the computer keyboard, she could move through time or dim a distant sun. She could give life, take it away, or evolve it into an entirely new being.
She was omniscient, omnipotent, and omnivorous. She was an executive producer.
At least for the moment.
When Brougham returned, after searching the entire lot for Eddie, Melvah was already at Eddie Planet's desk, rewriting his inept pilot script.
She told Brougham that Eddie had left her in charge and to inform the set that a revised draft would be published tomorrow morning. Then Melvah got to work, pitting Captain Pierce and the Endeavor against the shadows.
The scenes just flew out, the story tumbling out of her faster than her fingers could type it. Every word and action was a surprise, written without thought at all. Her subconscious mind was doing all the work. The story was emerging perfectly plotted, every line of dialogue exactly right. It was as if she'd been waiting to tell this story, to do this job, her entire life. She didn't dare stop, didn't dare rest, for fear of ruining the flow.
The phone rang. Melvah ignored it and let Brougham answer the call. Melvah's priorities were in another galaxy. But while her subconscious mind was writing, her conscious mind heard Brougham say:
"How do you spell Zita?"
"I'll take it," Melvah yelled, snatching the phone up before Brougham could argue. "Hello, Zita."
"Melvah?"
"I'm back," she said in a sing-song voice, swiveling in the chair so her back was the Brougham.
"What happened to Eddie?" Zita said.
"I don't know, you'll have to ask Guy Goddard." Melvah replied. "The good news is, I'm in charge. The universe has been saved."
Zita tried to keep her voice level and firm. "Melvah, we talked about this."
"This is the first time in sci-fi history that fanfic has become the foundation fic from whi
ch the future fanfic will be written," she said. "You realize we're witnessing the birth of an entirely new form of literature? It transcends fanfic as we know it."
"You can't be executive producer of Beyond the Beyond, the business doesn't work that way. Didn't you listen to a word I said?"
"I did, but Capt. Pierce wasn't there, was he?" Melvah said. "He's acting on his own."
"It's the last acting he will ever do."
Melvah felt her entire body tense up. "This is what we've been fighting for, Zita. We both have what we want now."
"I told you how it would be," Zita said coldly.
"So what?" Melvah said. "The universe is what matters."
"The Company is the universe," Zita said. "And Guy Goddard is going to learn that."
Zita hung up.
Melvah set the receiver down and turned back to the computer. Her fingers were poised over the keys, but her hands were trembling. The words wouldn't come.
Of course they wouldn't.
Melvah had made a horrible mistake, Zita made that very clear. The Confederation of Aligned Planets, countless worlds and galaxies not yet explored, were still at risk.
The universe was on the precipice of an evolutionary change, one that wouldn't come without one, last painful sacrifice.
Melvah got up and left, nearly colliding with Alison Sweeney as she ran out the door.
Alison watched her go, then turned to Brougham.
"What was she doing in Eddie's office?"
"She said Mr. Planet left her in charge," Brougham replied.
"Where's Eddie? I need to see him right away."
Kimberly Woodrell, Jackson Burley, and Milo Kinoy were very concerned about how news about more deaths involving Charlie Willis would impact the show. They wanted to meet with Eddie as soon as possible and discuss counter-publicity strategy.
"I don't know," Brougham said. "Last time I saw him, he was on the set with Guy Goddard."
What was Eddie doing with Guy Goddard? If it was for publicity, no one told her about it. "Did he have an appointment with Eddie?"
"No," Brougham said. "We saw him on our way back from the Terrace Room. That was hours ago, and Mr. Planet still hasn't come back. His car isn't in his spot. I've tried reaching him on his cell phone, but there's no answer."
"Who gave Guy Goddard a drive on pass?" Alison asked.
Brougham typed a command on her computer and looked at the screen. "Nobody."
It wasn't the first time that someone got into the studio without a pass, yet she couldn't help feeling that something was very wrong.
* * * * * *
The success of a TV series can be measured by the goodies handed out to the crew.
If a series survives until Christmas, the studio gives everyone a t-shirt or a baseball cap with the show's logo on it. If the series manages to survive the season, sweatshirts, tote-bags or script binders are passed out. After the first 13 episodes of the second season, the crew is rewarded with a show jacket, either in satin or leather. And so it goes.
After a couple seasons on the air, it's possible to arrive at work totally decked out in show clothes and merchandise.
Victor Ratliff never worked on a television series, but most of his celebrity clients did. Although the attorney had the money to adorn himself with designer names, he preferred TV Guide chic.
He showed up at the precinct in a Murder One satin jacket over Armani slacks and shirt, a DreamWorks SKG cap on his head, his notes in a Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman leather binder.
"My client has nothing to say to you," Ratliff said, sitting beside Shari Planet at the interrogation room table. Charlie and Lou sat across from them.
"She doesn't have to," Lou said, "her tits say it all."
Charlie wasn't surprised Shari hired Ratliff. When Charlie was in a similar position, he called Ratliff, too. The attorney had a remarkable record of getting celebrities off, which wasn't particularly hard in LA.
"I'll have that warrant over-turned faster than a hamburger patty at McDonalds," Ratliff said. "It was a blatant violation of my client's fifth amendment rights."
Charlie studied her, trying to put the pieces of the plot together. She was Eddie Planet's wife. It figured. Everything always came back to Eddie,
Eddie Planet probably had her kill Stipe so he could get the show.
It sounded good, and Charlie wanted to believe it was true, but it raised a nagging question: even if that was the reason they killed Stipe, what did they have to gain by murdering the new cast?
Nothing.
So Clive Odett did it.
That didn't work, either. Odett may have had a motive to kill Chad Shaw, but Leigh Dickson and Spring Dano were his clients and, as far as Charlie knew, they weren't making any moves to switch agencies.
No, there was a something missing here. And Shari knew what it was, Charlie was certain of it.
Shari stared back at Charlie defiantly. He could almost hear her mind working.
"We got her cold," Lou said. "I can see her bruised boob from here."
"Whatever bruising is evident on my client is a direct result of your excessive use of force when you two barged into her home without a warrant."
While Lou and Ratliff parried, Charlie and Shari watched each other, engaged in a silent battle. He was trying to put the plot together before she found a way out.
"Let's drop the bullshit, okay? We're gonna match the nipple in Stipe's mouth to her," Lou said. "Then we're gonna match his teeth to her wounds. It's as good as a confession. All that's up for discussion now is how long she's going to spend in prison."
Charlie saw something change in Shari's eyes. Actually, he felt it more than saw it. In that instant, he knew she found her escape and that he'd lost.
"It was an accident," Shari said.
"Excuse me?" Lou said.
"Shari, don't say another word," Ratliff snapped.
She shot him a harsh glance. "The detective is right, why make it worse for myself? Conrad and I were having an affair. The revival of the show rekindled our old feelings for one another. We always had a very physical relationship. Once we started again, we couldn't stop. We drove each other wild."
Lou snickered. "You're telling me that you were coming so hard, you didn't notice you were smothering him?"
Charlie stifled a groan. Lou pretty much summed up her entire defense for her. And knowing Victor Ratliff, Charlie figured it would be a successful one at that.
"He liked to bury his face in my breasts," she said. "It was a turn on for him."
"You weren't aware he was struggling?" Lou asked.
She smiled coyly. "Of course I was. I liked it when he squirmed, and so did he."
"You didn't notice something was wrong when he chewed your nipple off?"
She shrugged. "I like it rough."
"You can't get rougher than murder," Lou shot back.
Ratliff cleared his throat. "This is a clear case of involuntarily manslaughter. You'll only compound this tragedy by sending this poor, aggrieved woman to prison. At least that's what I will tell the jury, and they'll agree. I think it's to the advantage of the taxpayers and my client if we work out an agreement that will keep this out of court."
Shari was going to get away with murder. No jury would believe she'd intentionally killed a man with her breast, even though Charlie was certain she did. At worst, she'd get a year in jail, a couple years probation, a book deal and an instant TV movie sale. The sordid scandal would only enhance her career.
Her career.
The back of Charlie's neck tingled. If Stipe's death wasn't an accident, Shari Planet needed a motive, and Charlie just discovered it.
It was a miracle Eddie hadn't been smothered yet himself.
"You must be one lousy actress," Charlie said.
"What do you know about acting?" Shari hissed.
Charlie shrugged. "For one thing, I'm in Beyond the Beyond and you're not. You're so bad, you couldn't get either Stipe or Eddie to cast you. And you wer
e fucking them."
"I'm a terrific actress," Shari's faced flushed with fury, "I've got the Nebula and Hugo awards to prove it."
"Then you must be a rotten lay," Charlie said. "I guess Spring Dano is better at both."
"I am Dr. Kelvin, no one else will ever be," Shari pounded the table with her fist. "The network and the studio think the audience wants a new, young cast. But they're wrong. The fans want us. You'll see."
The fans. All those people dressed up in the same ridiculous costumes as the astronaut who carjacked Odett and the Zorgog who tried to kill Charlie.
And then it hit him, everything coming together all at once.
The assassins weren't in disguise.
Charlie stood up abruptly.
"What's wrong?" Lou asked.
Charlie went back over everything that had happened since he returned from Hawaii, looking at it from an entirely different perspective. Suddenly, he saw the one, important clue he overlooked.
"We need to talk, now." Charlie left the room and waited for Lou in the hallway.
Lou came out, closing the door behind him. "I think we've got her right where we want her."
"Forget about her for a minute," Charlie said. "The night Conrad Stipe was killed, someone else was murdered on the same street. His house blew up."
"Yeah, so?"
"Can you get me the address?"
"What difference does it make?" Lou asked. "I'm in middle of an interrogation here."
"Humor me," Charlie said.
While Lou went into the squadroom, Charlie paced in the hall. Lou came back in two minutes, holding a file.
"The stiff's name was Dermot Elroy," Lou read from the file, "he lived at 190 South Ardwyn."
"What was Stipe's address?"
Lou reached into his pocket for his notebook and flipped it open. He looked up, shocked. "Holy shit. 190 North Ardwyn."
"Someone else wanted Stipe dead, only the killer got the address mixed up and murdered the wrong man," Charlie punched the wall. "Damn it, why didn't I see it before?"
Odett wasn't behind the carnage. And the botched attempt on Stipe showed that Shari Planet wasn't the only other killer out there. There was a third force at work.
Lou glanced nervously at the door to the interrogation room. "Does that mean she didn't do it?"