And it did. But that night was unfortunately tonight.
Essie gripped Everett Cale’s hand and received all the strength she could from her. At the same time, trying to impart some back to this beautiful young woman with the lovely green eyes whose life was just as worthy as her own and just as in danger as her own. She squeezed Everett’s hand. Everett turned and looked at her. Essie told her with her eyes, “We will get through this.”
Everett nodded. Just like any great actress, she could read her scene partner almost telepathically. As though they were in a scene. Which really they were. The scene was just life.
Or death.
Sally read the outside of the envelope.
“And the nominees for best actress are – Everett Cale for Calendar Days, Glynn Fielding for Tulsa, Patricia Highland Smythe for Queen Elizabeth’s Sister and Essie Wyath for Miss Jenkins Says.”
Sally tore open the envelope with palsy-like shaking hands and pulled out the card within. The answer. There it was.
Sally stared at the card in front of her. It was like she was in shock. She looked over at Richard, and as she did, she slowly lowered the hand holding the card. Like she couldn’t do it. Like gravity would take this moment away.
Richard stared into her eyes and shook his head.
“Don’t you fucking dare not read that…” he said quietly.
Sally blinked away a couple of brimming tears. She glanced at Glynn Fielding. Sally’s heart started pounding faster and faster as though it were running towards a finish line.
The name on the card was Everett Cale. Not Glynn Fielding. Reading it aloud would be like shooting Glynn in the head herself. Glynn’s life was over as soon as Sally said the name Everett Cale instead of Glynn Fielding.
And who would the billion people watching blame? Would they blame the madman? Or would they blame the woman who read the death sentence. Sally had already been blamed for things over which she felt blameless – like low ratings on sweeps week when she got an asymmetrical bob; her son Aiden’s ADD. And her daughter’s pregnancy at 15. If she read Everett Cale’s name out right now, she was as dead as Glynn Fielding was.
But more than that, she couldn’t be the reason someone died. She couldn’t.
Then Sally got an idea. There would be no killing if there was no answer.
Sally took the card and tore the edges off so that all was left was a name.
She looked over at Richard, her eyes shining with defiance.
“No…” She said quietly.
With that, Sally stuck the piece of paper in her mouth. Chewed it and swallowed it.
All was silent for a moment when that name went down. Sally looked both terrified and resigned as she stood in the resulting silence. Whatever happened and whoever he chose to kill it would not have been her fault. She didn’t let that happen. She would not be responsible for the murder of this beautiful British actress with the dusky dark blue eyes and the sweet smile. This woman was someone’s daughter. She was the love of someone’s life. She was someone’s mother - Sally knew Glynn Fielding had a four-year-old special needs son.
She would not do it. She would not. And she wouldn’t be blamed for it. Tonight was going to be a success for her. In some way or another. The whole world just saw her be a hero. That’s a start. She suddenly saw it all – the People Magazine Cover, the Diane Sawyer Interview, the book deal. Then she stopped. Suddenly, there was something in Sally, something deeper and human that had the feeling that she did it for a deeper reason than her career. A person. Love. Something. Something real and weirdly human. That made all the rest of the trappings of this go away.
She looked over at Glynn Fielding, they made eye contact.
Sally glanced back toward the camera just in time to see the man in charge take two steps towards her, a glaring look in his eye.
Suddenly Sally felt wonderful. And for the first time in 20 years she wasn’t hungry anymore.
50
The gun blast was so loud it made everyone scream. Richard had walked on camera, put his gun right up to Sally’s face and blasted her. Her body flying backwards and landing on a table of free Arctic Cruises.
Richard looked at the celebrities menacingly and then into the camera.
“I’m not playing games here.”
Then he turned to where Everett Cale, Glynn Fielding and Essie Wyman were standing. “Glynn Fielding, you’re next.”
He waved his gun at two of the security men. “Get her to backstage.”
Richard turned to the camera again. He paused a moment as if to contain his anger. Then spoke quietly.
“I told you. A billion dollars.” Then he added, “Fuck with me and they’re all dead.”
51
In the makeup room, Devin gasped audibly at what she had just seen. Her heart started racing. She had to stop this. Where the fuck was the stage from here?
She stepped out of the makeup room into the hallway, gun ready, and started walking fast. She looked around for clues. Then spotted a sign up ahead that said “Stage” with an arrow. Perfect. She’d just follow the arrows.
She rounded a corner just as two burly security guards stepped into her sightline ahead from another corridor. They yanked Glynn Fielding along with them, Devin could hear her crying quietly as she was led along.
Devin ducked back out of sight, looking around for a place to hide before they looked down the hall and spotted her.
She tried a door, it was locked.
“Shit…” Devin whispered.
She spotted another large black door with a small window across the way and made a dash for it. There was a sign on it that said “Director’s Booth.” Meanwhile in her earpiece she finally heard someone talking. It was a man’s voice.
“Okay, they’re taking her to the stage.”
And then something surprised her. She heard a response. It was a woman.
“10-4,” the woman said.
Devin furrowed her brow. Who the fuck was that?
Didn’t matter. She had to just take cover and fast. She opened the door to the Director’s booth, and slipped inside silently.
Inside the suddenly quiet room, she heard the hum of a bunch of television monitors. Then she got the shock of her life. Sitting at the board looking at the monitors was a very much not dead Sis Warren.
What is going on? Devin thought. She had watched Sis Warren killed live on television just like everyone else.
Sis turned toward Devin at that moment and, as she did, Devin quickly hid her gun behind her back.
Sis Warren appeared as shocked to see her as Devin was to see the supposed to be dead Sis Warren.
Suddenly a micro expression of recognition passed across Sis’s face as she looked at Devin. It was a brief moment, but Devin noticed. Devin knew they’d met. But wasn’t sure Sis would remember her. It was a long time ago.
Sis eyed her. “Who are you?”
Devin’s mind was racing. Sis Warren is supposed to be dead. What the fuck is happening?
Devin tried to appear like a normal awards goer. “I… I didn’t get out of the theater… I need to get out.”
Maybe Sis could help her. Maybe this could work out.
But Sis Warren looked at her with an expression as cold as Devin had ever seen.
“Do you…”
Suddenly Devin knew that Sis Warren would not help her.
An intuition echoed by Sis Warren’s next chilling words - she pressed a button on the console and spoke into a mic on the board. Devin heard the words doubly clear, as they rang through the receiver in her ear.
“Richard, I’ve got a straggler here… Come and get her.”
Without missing a beat, Devin grabbed the handle of the door got the hell out of there and took off down the hall.
As she ran down the hall full speed, she heard Sis Warren in the distance calling behind her. She was laughing.
“You can’t escape, sweetheart!” Sis was chucking, “Don’t even try!”
Devin’s mind was racing. When d
id Sis Warren become such a nutcase? What the hell was she doing? Was she in on this? And why?
There was no time for these questions to be answered. Devin ducked into a narrow corridor and found a stairway exit. She clanged down the metal steps double time, down one flight, under the stage.
Devin pulled the door open at the bottom and found herself in another narrow corridor with a low ceiling. She crouched down and walked quickly along, searching for a way to get behind the stage, some way she could stop this before that actress got killed on International television. Just then she spotted on her right the orchestra pit entrance.
She slipped through the doorway and into the orchestra pit, which was dark and unlit, except for a smattering of music stand lights. Some musicians had left their instruments, obviously their escape was as hasty as everyone else’s.
Devin crouched down low and weaved through the rows to the conductor’s perch at the front. In her earpiece she heard a man’s voice, “Okay, arriving backstage. Camera is ready.”
Devin peered up to the off stage area from behind the conductor’s podium. The stage was lit but the orchestra pit wasn’t, making it hard for her to be seen. This gave her the perfect vantage point, the orchestra pit was situated between the stage and the audience. She could see what was happening, and aim for a target without being seen.
She pulled her gun out of her waistband in the back and flicked off the safety.
Her eyes trained on the sliver of light just off the stage, she saw Glynn Fielding being marched to a mark in front of a camera. The two burly security guys were now almost carrying her, as the actress’s legs didn’t seem to want to comply. Devin saw another guy, casually slip a TV camera on his shoulder and stand in front of them.
She heard a man’s voice in her earpiece. “Okay. Do it.”
This was Devin’s only chance. She gripped her gun with two hands squinted down the sight at her target - the security guard who was standing in front of Glynn Fielding, he clearly planned to shoot her execution style from three feet away.
Devin saw him lift his arm like a mechanical lever, the gun aiming straight at Glynn Fielding’s head.
“Now,” Devin thought silently.
She squeezed the trigger of her Glock. The shot rang out in the theater. The security guard went down like a ragdoll. The other security guard turned to where the sound of the shot came from. Before he could aim, Devin pulled off another shot. This one right in the heart. Then the Cameraman looked around not sure what to do, he flipped open his holster but as he turned towards the orchestra pit and pointed his gun, Devin fired first, hitting him in the head. The cameraman splayed backwards and the camera bounced across the stage.
Not missing a beat, Devin leapt up and jumped the orchestra pit railing into the front row. Her thoughts were racing - she knew she had only seconds to get Glynn Fielding out of there. But where she was going to take her she had no idea. Right now Glynn Fielding was standing in the wings offstage in shock, just looking at Devin unsure what to do.
“Come on!” Devin called, waving her over. “Let’s get you the fuck out of here!”
Glynn Fielding suddenly sprang to life. She turned to where Devin was and started to run but a second later, a shot rang out, blasting off the back of her head. She fell forward onto the ground.
Devin dove for cover back into the orchestra pit. Fuck! No! This can’t have just happened!
She saw on the conductor’s monitor - a figure, a looming figure. A scary looking hulking man with a crew cut. He walked out from wings on the other side of the stage, where he’d taken the shot. That was quite a distance to where Glynn Fielding fell. This guy was quite a shot. Devin watched the monitor, he was above her now, slinking slowly across, his gun in a two handed grip arms extended, clearly looking for whoever had fired the shots that took out these men.
Devin knew she had to get out of there and fast.
She crouched low behind the conductor’s podium and made her way to the exit of the darkened orchestra pit, out into the under stage corridor. She knew they would be after her now. First Sis had seen her, then there was this. She wasn’t safe wandering through these hallways. She needed to get hidden and fast.
Out of the orchestra pit she ran down the hallway, looking for a place to get out of the way, lay low for awhile. She rounded the corner and came to a small utility closet, she tried the handle, it was locked.
“Fuck…”
There was no other way.
“Okay, let’s see if this works in heels.”
She kicked the door in and slipped inside, her heart pounding. She pulled out her phone and quickly scanned the blueprint PDF for an air vent. Thank God. There, apparently two feet from her, was exactly what she was looking for. She grabbed some cleaning supply boxes, climbed up, and removed the grate. She hoisted herself up and into the vent.
She began to crawl through the vent when she heard in her ear the same man’s voice as before. “Sis, we’ve got a problem. There’s a cop in the theater somehow. We’ll have to find him and take him out.”
Then she heard Sis Warren’s voice, plain as day. “Oh, Richard. Always the sexist,” She chuckled. Then her voice got icy. “Your cop isn’t a him, it’s a her. I remember her now…Your cop’s name is Devin Jones.”
52
Devin shimmied her body along the airshaft towards a light up ahead.
She pulled her phone out. Pressed Brad’s number.
He picked up after half a ring. “You okay?”
“Oh, I’m great… Talk through something with me…”
“Okay…”
“Sis Warren… She’s not dead.”
“You mean imagine if she wasn’t dead?”
“I mean she actually isn’t dead.”
“What’re you talking about? She was shot in front of the camera.”
“Faked.”
“What? Why?”
Devin kept crawling towards the light up ahead. It had to be a room of some kind.
She brought her voice down in case anyone was actually in that room. “That’s the question, Brad. Why would she fake her death?”
“Because she’s involved?”
“Oh, she’s clearly involved. Wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing is her.”
“Why would she possibly do that?”
“Hang on…” Devin crawled along to where the shaft of light was coming. She peered through the grill into a well-lit dressing room. She scanned it from wall to wall. No one. Silence.
“Brad? I’m going to put the phone down a sec.”
She tucked the phone in her waistband, gripped the vent with both hands and gave it a good shove. It wouldn’t move. She leaned back on her elbows retracted her legs and kicked it out. It went cascading into the room, landing with a huge thunk and cartwheeling along on the carpet below.
Devin gripped the sides of the opening and swung her body out of the air vent, jumping down into the room. She looked around the dressing room, getting the lay of the land. She pulled her phone back out.
“Sorry. I’m back.”
“What was all that noise? Wait… actually don’t tell me.”
She heard him pause like he didn’t want to say what he was going to say.
“I just want you to get through this”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not!”
“You are… Just don’t.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Devin looked around the room – it was a well-appointed dressing room. All designed in tones of beige and cream – beige walls, cream-colored carpet, beige furniture, cream tables and lampshades. Then she noticed something. Movie star Kyp Valentine lying on the couch.
“Holy shit…” Devin said.
“What?”
“No… Nothing bad. There’s a guy here asleep. It’s that old guy… from the movies.”
“I need more.”
“The guy… the action guy…Old man…”
“Not sure”
<
br /> “Hateful homophobe and misogynist. Gun lover.”
“Oh, THAT old fucker. Kyp Valentine.”
Devin walked over to where Kyp Valentine was lying on the couch.
“Shit… How’d he get stuck in here?” Devin was saying. “Must’ve fallen asleep and no one knew to come and get him.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.
Brad piped in. “Probably dreaming of the good old days, clam bakes and Klan Rallies.”
Devin looked at Kyp’s ashen face. “Fuck… I don’t know about this…” She placed two fingers on his neck checking for a pulse.
“Okay, then…” Devin said, “Well…If God actually is a woman. Kyp Valentine’s got a lot to answer for.”
“Meaning.”
Devin looked around the room. There was a painting askew; on a table was a cheese plate in intense disarray. A chair knocked over. She could almost follow the trajectory of what happened. And none of it looked innocent.
“Brad I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, meaning he’s dead.”
“He’s dead?”
Devin continued to scan the room with her eyes for clues.
Just then something caught her eye. Something glinted from across the carpet.
Devin went over and picked it up.
“Oh my God…”
“What?” Brad was saying. “What is it?”
Devin looked at the diamond in her hand. A tiny diamond with a small chip out of it. Like it’d fallen out of a setting. Just like the one she and Mike found earlier in the day by the body of Jorge Nunes, Helen Raymond’s gardener.
“Devin, what’s happening?”
Devin was trying to put it all together. But why? Why would Sis Warren kill Jorge Nunes?
“Brad, I need you to do me a favor. I need a phone number. Lori Plom.”
“Your date? That idiot?”
“Yeah… I need her cell number…”
Devin looked at the diamond in her hand. “If I’m going to win this, Brad. I’m going to have to fight Hollywood Hollywood style.”
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