Killer Ratings: A Susan Kaplan Mystery

by Lisa Seidman

  “What a mess,” she said. “Do you think Sandy killed Rebecca?”

  “No,” I said sharply.

  “Neither do I,” she agreed. “I know she was angry with Vampire Woman, but I don’t think she had it in her to kill her.”

  “So why do you think she lied?”

  “She must be covering for someone,” Jennifer said.

  I nodded. “I think she might have overheard the murder,” I said. “I think she knows who did it and is afraid to say something.”

  “But who would she cover up for? No one here is worth it.”

  “Ray?” I spoke tentatively, still not sure what protecting him would gain her. Unless she thought a new showrunner would bring his or her own assistant. Would Sandy really let a murderer go free to hold on to her job?

  “And why is Michael Keller calling you?” Jennifer asked. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  I took a deep breath. Of course I was. And I needed Jennifer’s help to do it.

  “He’s coming here tonight,” I said, and told her about my luring him here with my lie about having a check for him. “I’m going to try and get some answers from him. Zack thought he was important, but he didn’t think he was the murderer. I want to find out what he knows.”

  “Susan, let the police deal with it. Who do you think you are—Nancy Drew?”

  Maybe. She had been one of the heroines of my youth. But I avoided directly responding to Jennifer’s question.

  “The police think Sherman killed Zack. Which means they probably think he also killed Rebecca. I need to get to Keller before the police find Sherman and decide Keller isn’t important anymore.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “You’re absolutely nuts. Why don’t you call that hunky detective Wagner and tell him Keller is paying you a visit? Let him handle it from there.”

  “No. Wagner would just yell at me for interfering in police business. And you better not call him behind my back,” I warned.

  “I wasn’t thinking any such thing,” she responded indignantly. “But I don’t like the idea of you here alone with Keller.”

  Which gave me the opening I needed. “I won’t be if you stick around with me. Romulus hasn’t hired a new night watchman to replace Sherman. I don’t want to be here alone.”

  Jennifer paused, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Then, surprisingly, she smiled. “You devious little bitch,” she said but there was no venom in her voice. “That’s what you wanted all along.”

  “Will you stay?” I asked. “Please?”

  “Why should I? It would serve you right if he was the murderer and killed you, too.”

  “Then you’d be the only one answering the phones.” That got her.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked in resignation.

  “Just hide out in Sandy’s office. If things start to get ugly, call the police.”

  Jennifer agreed, although we both knew—but did not say—that if things got ugly the police might not arrive in time. It was certainly not a foolproof plan, but deep down I felt I was in no danger. Which only goes to show you how stupid I could be.

  8.

  At six-thirty, Peggy and Charles exited stiffly from Ray’s office, both looking pale and drawn. Peggy’s hair was in disarray, gray predominating over brown. Ray looked equally grim when he left the office, Sandy following shortly after, still not talking to me. When the office was quiet again Jennifer and I looked at one another from across our desks.

  “You still want to go through with this?” she asked.

  I nodded more confidently than I felt. Actually, I was having major second thoughts, but kept quiet as she disappeared around the corner and into Sandy’s office.

  Michael Keller arrived at seven-fifteen. I heard the front door open and close and I started to itch with nerves as I waited for him to walk around the corner. I pretended to look busy when he appeared in the bullpen.

  “Susan Kaplan?” he said, and I looked up. His photograph didn’t do him justice. His thick black hair was slightly curly and longer than in the snapshot. His eyes were an even more intense blue in person, and the lines of age and sun around his eyes and mouth only served to enhance his sex appeal. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from an ex-husband of Rebecca’s.

  I stood awkwardly, leaning against my desk for support, not sure whether I should shake hands with him. “Yes,” I said. “You’re Michael Keller?”

  He nodded as he did a quick survey of my body, although there wasn’t anything remotely sexy about my blue trousers and white and blue over-sized blouse from the Gap. I instinctively folded my arms across my chest.

  Keller smiled slightly. I had a funny feeling he knew I was embarrassed by his quick physical judgment of me and was amused.

  “You have a check for me?” he asked. I nodded clumsily, my head feeling heavy and unbalanced on my neck. This was the tricky part.

  “In her office,” I said and started to lead the way. Keller fell into step next to me; he smelled of soap, a pleasant, clean smell that reminded me of Zack’s aftershave. My stomach briefly knotted, and to distract myself I said the first thing that came to mind. “What did you think of the Scoop article about Rebecca and Gail Neely?” Not the most delicate of opening conversational gambits but it was too late to take the words back. Fortunately, Keller seemed more amused than angry.

  “I thought it was very funny,” he said. “Obviously those people never met Rebecca.”

  We paused at Rebecca’s door, and I looked up at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Rebecca was a lot of things, but a lesbian she wasn’t.”

  He stared at the police tape dubiously. “The check’s in here?”

  I nodded. “I found it stuck inside one of her desk drawers. I guess the police missed it.”

  I removed the tape and stepped inside the office. After a moment’s hesitation, Keller followed me in.

  “How do you know she wasn’t a lesbian?” I asked.

  Keller glanced around the office, not paying much attention to my question. “Because she wasn’t. And neither is Gail.”

  I walked behind Rebecca’s desk as if planning to open a drawer and take out the check. Keller obviously didn’t like being in the office: I only hoped it wasn’t because he had killed Rebecca in it.

  “How do you know Gail isn’t a lesbian?” I persisted. I tried to make my voice as casual as possible, although my palms had started to sweat, and I resisted the urge to scratch my neck. “Do you know her?”

  “You sure like to gossip, don’t you?” he asked. But he smiled at me to show he wasn’t upset. I shrugged noncommittally in return.

  “When you work with people you wonder about them,” I replied lamely.

  Keller looked at the cheap wood paneled walls. “This is where she died, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” My voice cracked and I nervously cleared it. I tried to muster up a smile as I said lightly, “Any idea who did it?”

  “Ray Goldfarb.”

  I almost started to smile until I realized he wasn’t joking. “You’re serious.”

  Keller lazily slid down onto Rebecca’s white nubbly couch. He put his hands behind his head and crossed his foot at the knee. He looked at me through half-closed eyelids.

  “You like to gossip, there’s the gossip.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought Keller might’ve been flirting with me. In Rebecca’s office where she had been brutally killed, no less. I thought of every true-life crime novel I had read and suddenly remembered that all the killers were male, intelligent, good-looking, and sociopathic. He killed her. He killed her. My mouth went dry and I sank into Rebecca’s desk chair.

  “Why do you think Ray killed her?” I asked, fully convinced I wasn’t going to believe a word he said.

  Keller smiled, as if he knew a good secret that made him superior to me. “Because Ray was having an affair with Gail Neely. Still is, I imagine.”

  I stared at him in shock, my fe
ar momentarily forgotten.

  “How do you know that?”

  Keller’s smile broadened. He knew he had me hooked.

  “Rebecca told me. She caught them going at it in Gail’s trailer one night after work. I myself prefer fragile-looking brunettes.”

  I thought at first he was referring to Tabitha Wentworth, but the way he smiled at me made me realize he was talking about me. Without thinking, I touched my reddish-brown hair, then blushed and self-consciously returned my hand to my lap. No wonder Rebecca had married him and Lily Wainess had had an affair with him. This man hadn’t just kissed the Blarney Stone, he had swallowed it whole.

  Well, I was not going to buy into it. I sternly reminded myself he might be Rebecca’s drug dealer, and possibly even her murderer. It was time to get back to the subject at hand.

  “Why would Ray kill Rebecca over that?”

  “The price he paid for her silence,” Keller said, still grinning at me. No matter what his past relationship with Rebecca, he didn’t seem broken up about her death. Did I dare point that out to him? He seemed harmless enough, sitting on the couch like he had all the time in the world, grinning that infuriating smile. But who knew what went on in the mind of a sociopath? Any simple question could set him off, and I knew I was not going to be able to defend myself against him.

  So instead I asked as innocuously as possible, “Why didn’t you go to the police with this?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  Like maybe you have no proof and the police would be more interested in you, I thought.

  “So how about my check?” he asked, and I took a second or two to remember that was the real reason for his visit. I licked my lips nervously, tempted to write him a check from my own account just to be done with him. But I couldn’t think of an adequate explanation to cover that so I opted for the truth instead and hoped for the best.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I did a really awful thing to you.”

  Keller raised his eyebrows but remained silent. I plowed on.

  “There is no check. I used it as an excuse to talk to you.”

  “No check?” Keller said, almost in the same way a little boy would respond to being told he wasn’t going to get ice cream for dessert. “I don’t understand.”

  I prayed Jennifer had her finger poised above the telephone. “I know you’re Rebecca’s ex-husband. But I also know you didn’t kill her,” I added hastily. “But it’s just that a friend of mine is in trouble, and I hoped you could tell me something about Rebecca’s murder.”

  “You did, did you?” Keller still looked at ease, but his violet eyes narrowed as he stared across the room at me. I shifted my gaze away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, uselessly.

  “Who appointed you deputy?”

  I shook my head; I didn’t know what else to say. Keller slowly uncoiled from the couch, and I stared at him, mesmerized, as he took three steps to where I sat.

  “You didn’t happen to notify the cops that I was coming, did you?”

  Again, I shook my head, too frightened to do anything else. Keller continued to stare down at me, his face void of expression. I don’t know what he would’ve done next, but just then Jennifer appeared at the door.

  “Susan, you’re still here,” she said in an artificially surprised voice. She glanced at Keller. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  Keller smiled crookedly at her, and I saw him do the same quick appraisal of her body as he had with mine. Jennifer just stood there and smiled at him before glancing back at me.

  “Steve’s arrived and we’re going out to dinner. Want to come?” She said it so convincingly I actually, briefly, believed her.

  “That’ll be great,” I said, relieved. But I remained seated in Rebecca’s chair, not willing to make any sudden move. Keller still stood too close for comfort.

  “Well, uh, thanks for coming,” I told him.

  Keller looked down at me.

  “You bitch,” he hissed through clenched teeth, so softly, I almost didn’t hear him. It was so unexpected I started to smile, as if he had wished me a pleasant good night. But after two seconds, the words caught up with my brain, and the muscles in my face froze.

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wanted to turn to Jennifer for help, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his. Keller’s nostrils flared slightly, and I realized his body was trembling in anger.

  “We’re all sorry,” he said. “That was a fucking stupid thing to do.” He took another step toward me, fists clenched at his sides, and I cowered back in Rebecca’s chair, tensing my body in preparation for the blow I was sure I was about to receive.

  “Steve,” Jennifer suddenly called, her voice unnaturally high and shrill. “We’ll be right there.”

  Keller looked at Jennifer in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was there. I watched as he deliberately relaxed his body, unclenching his fists in order to run his hands through his hair. He still stood rooted to the carpet, however, and I wasn’t sure what his next move would be. But then he took another quick look at Jennifer and smiled grimly.

  “It’s not a good idea to play with matches, ladies,” was all he said before exiting the office, deliberately brushing past Jennifer so that his arm touched her breasts. We waited until we heard the front door close before relaxing.

  “Creep,” Jennifer said.

  “He could have killed Rebecca,” I replied, feeling drained of blood and adrenalin. Jennifer took a quick look around Rebecca’s office, shuddered and moved away. I followed her back to the bullpen.

  “Did he admit it?” she asked.

  “No, but you saw him. He was going to kill me.”

  “I would, too, if you pulled a stunt like that on me.”

  I didn’t respond, half-heartedly agreeing with her, but also vividly remembering his angry face, and his tightly-coiled body looking ready to attack. If Jennifer hadn’t stopped him, would he have punched his fist through my face? Would he have beaten me until I was dead, my brains splattered against the wall like Rebecca’s? I had no answer, though every trembling nerve in my body was saying, Yes. Yes. Yes.

  We sat behind our desks in silence, both of us needing to catch our breath, calm ourselves down. When I was finally able to look Jennifer in the eye, after spending what felt like an eternity staring at the worn and stained pukey green carpet, I found Jennifer studying me.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Did he tell you anything interesting?”

  I must have looked at her in shock because she added, “Well, c’mon, Suze, I practically saved your life. Didn’t he have any dirt to pass on?”

  I had to think for a second and gather my thoughts. I had been so scared by Keller’s threatening posture at the end of the meeting I had almost forgotten what he said at the beginning.

  “Gail and Ray are having an affair. And Rebecca knew.”

  Jennifer stared at me wide-eyed. “No shit,” she breathed.

  I nodded, feeling stronger for being able to talk about something other than Keller’s menacing presence. “Which probably explains why Rebecca was so upset with you and Sandy at the Christmas party. Everyone thought she was the other woman when it was Gail all along.” I wondered if that also explained why Ray looked so smug after the hour and a half he spent with Gail “calming her down” over the Scoop article.

  “Do you think Sandy knew?” I asked.

  “If she did, I can’t imagine why she didn’t tell us,” Jennifer said.

  “I think it’s time I paid her another visit. Maybe now she’ll talk to me.”

  “I’m going with you,” Jennifer said. “Maybe the two of us can bully her into the truth.”

  I followed Jennifer to Sandy’s apartment, although the way she drove, recklessly weaving in and out of lanes, tailgating slower drivers, giving the finger to anyone who dared to cut in front of her, made me wonder whether she would make it in one piece. She also got the only remaining parking space
left within four blocks of Sandy’s building; I ended up parking on Sunset Boulevard, my Honda barely tucked in next to the parking lot entrance to the Chateau Marmont, the ultimate in celebrity hang-outs.

  While waiting to cross Sunset, I craned my neck to stare at the hotel, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous. Daniel Craig would be nice. Or even one of the two Ryans: Gosling and Reynolds. I wondered if I would ever rate an invitation to dine there among the rich and famous.

  I was surprised when Sandy buzzed us through the door, since she still seemed so angry with me when she had left the office earlier in the day.

  She stood by her opened door and watched as Jennifer and I exited the elevator and crossed down the hall to her.

  “My, my, a delegation,” she said as she stepped aside to allow us to enter.

  “Susan told me everything,” Jennifer began without preliminaries. “And I think it sucks you would freeze her out when she’s been nothing but a good friend to you.”

  Sandy’s mouth tightened in defensive anger, and I caught my own breath in surprise. This was not how I planned on handling things at all.

  “Jennifer,” I warned.

  “No, I’m sick of this.” She cut me off with an impatient wave of her hand and turned back to Sandy. “Who are you protecting?”

  “What is this, good cop, bad cop?” Sandy reached for the door handle. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  She tried to yank the door open to throw us out but had forgotten she had reset the deadbolt once we were all inside. The door didn’t budge, and the look on Sandy’s face—utter, childlike surprise—inexplicably made me laugh.

  Jennifer and Sandy looked at me like I was from outer space, which made me laugh all the harder. Then Jennifer started to smile, then guffaw, then out and out crack up, and it must’ve been contagious because suddenly the three of us were doubled up in laughter, tears in our eyes, holding on to each other for support.