Long, Lean, and Lethal

by Heather Graham

  “A dead prima donna,” Andy said.

  Joe sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. “Hell, Andy, I’m not going to let anything change my plans. I think they’re good plans. We’ve thought it over for a long time.”

  “What if we put the scene off?” Andy suggested. “It’s not even written yet.”

  Joe poured more coffee. “I don’t know.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Must be Jim,” Joe said. “I’ll get it.”

  “I’ve got to go to the can,” Andy said.

  “Not my room. Use the hallway bath.”

  “Of course,” Andy said, frowning. When the hell had he ever gone into Joe’s bedroom to use the bathroom? Sometimes, Joe did a screening in his elaborate room because of the immense state-of-the-art entertainment system in his bedroom, but …

  Weird. Like the guy was hiding something. How the hell long had he known him?

  He walked down the length of the hallway, watching Joe until he disappeared around the corner to get to the door.

  Then, suddenly tempted, he found himself striding quickly down the length of the hall to reach Joe’s bedroom. He pushed open the door.

  The drapes were drawn, the room lay in shadow. There was a body on Joe’s bed, completely enwrapped in the covers. She didn’t stir. He closed the door quickly, wondering what the hell was the matter with him that he should decide to spy on Joe’s choice of a bed mate. He walked quickly to the hall bath and pushed open the door, listening as Joe greeted Jim Novac.

  He closed the door, walked to the john, picked up the seat, and froze.

  Blood, or something red, was spattered in the white basin of the sink. He shriveled, forgetting the urge to urinate. He turned to the sink and touched the spots. Blood, yes, rinsed down the sink, but a few little spots remained …

  He turned to the shower and drew back the curtain, expecting to see …

  Spatters, pools of blood. A corpse, a …

  “Hey!” he heard Joe call. “What the hell are you doing in there? Playing with your thing? Come on, Andy, get out here, we’ve got work to do.”

  There was nothing in the shower. Blood in the sink. Joe must have cut himself shaving. He let the shower curtain fall, feeling like a fool. He turned to leave. , Before he could put his hand around the doorknob, he noticed the wicker laundry hamper.

  “Hey, Andy! Quit admiring that piece of equipment,” Jim Novac called. “I’ve got things to do, places to go.”

  Andy lifted the little wicker top. Something lay in the basket. A flowered dress maybe, with a white collar. An old-fashioned, prim dress. And it was drenched in red.

  Blood.

  “Andy!”

  He slammed the top back on the basket, his heart pounding.

  He didn’t know what to think. There was a banging on the bathroom door.

  “Hey, man—!”

  “Hell, I’m coming!”

  “Not on my time,” Jim growled. “Get out here.”

  He swung the door open. Jim had banged on the door; Joe stood just behind Jim.

  Joe was staring at him. Coldly, he thought. Panic seized him.

  What if his old friend was a murderer?

  “Man, I’m … sick,” he groaned, leaning heavily on the door as he exited the bathroom. Maybe he did have a green pallor to his face. But then again, he was a pretty good actor, not just another pretty face. “I think I ate something … ,” he apologized. “I gotta get outta here,” he said, leaning on the wall of the hallway, edging along it.

  “You can’t go,” Joe said incredulously. “We have to talk this out, make a decision. We have to meet with Doug Henson, to tell him what to write for Friday, to give him the step-by-step sequence for the rest of the week.”

  “We can’t get rid of Jennifer,” Andy said.

  “We were never getting ‘rid of’ Jennifer,” Joe said, eyes narrowed.

  Andy lumbered down the hall, wanting to get out. Joe and Jim were following right along with him, staring at him.

  “Come on, I’ll get you an antacid,” Joe said, shaking his head. “Andy, damn it, this is our show—”

  “Gotta go,” Andy said.

  “And we’ve got to have a script tomorrow,” Joe said.

  He waved a hand in the air. “You make the decisions.”

  Thank God, the door. He inhaled air like a drowning man hitting the surface. Somehow, he made it to his car. Opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat. He gunned his motor; winced.

  Then he shot out of Joe’s driveway.

  He drove and drove. Finally he pulled in to park by a few of the hotels on Sunset. He leaned his head against the steering wheel. His stomach turned, then settled. He leaned back. The police. He should call the police.

  Then his common sense kicked in. Joe Penny was a producer; he hired makeup men and women, costumers, and special effects people all the time. He often had people at his house. The dress might have been left over from a demonstration …

  Might have, oh, come on!

  What could he do? Pull it out of the hamper, let Joe know he’d been digging around in his bathroom.

  A creepy feeling settled over Andy.

  What about the covered lump in Joe’s bed? He hadn’t seen the woman’s face, or her hair. Was there really a woman in his bed at all?

  Or was the covered lump a corpse?

  “And we’re on in five … four … three …”

  Jennifer, dressed to the nines as Natalie Valentine and poring through documents at the heavy oak table in the family dining room, looked up. Kelly, playing slightly older sister Maria, danced in, a smile on her face a mile wide. She started off humming, then began singing about being happy and in love.

  Jennifer stared at her, just as they had rehearsed. That was the business of soaps. Quick scripts, rapid line memorization, and, if humanly possible, just one take before the camera. They worked hard, they knew their business, and they seldom made mistakes.

  “Maria? What’s up?”

  Kelly spun around then, as if just seeing her and realizing that she wasn’t alone. She quickly sobered and came up to stand by Jennifer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. And it’s such a bad time for you. Dad said you spent the morning with lawyers. I know that you’ve just decided that your marriage is …”

  “Over,” Jennifer supplied. “Yes, it’s over,” she said tightly.

  “It’s so sad, and I am so sorry.”

  “He … he cheated.”

  Kelly was quiet a moment. “So did you,” she whispered.

  Jennifer brought large stage tears to her eyes. “He cheated on me. With Verona! And then he … he …” She let her voice trail off. They would insert footage of the fight the two had engaged in after he had caught her in the midst of her screen affair.

  “I’m sure Verona never meant—”

  “Oh, I think she meant it. She did it to destroy my marriage. She’s miserable herself, and so she sets out to destroy everyone else. Well, she won’t destroy me.”

  “But you were with—”

  “No. We never really did anything. We wanted to get back at them.” She set the papers aside on the table and rose, walking to a wine decanter at the dining room buffet. She poured out a glass of wine and sipped it. “Hey, sis. I’m sorry. You came in here happy as a little lark, and I’ve gone and thrown all my own misery on you. What’s up?”

  Kelly gave her a dazzling smile. “I’m in love.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s come back.”

  Jennifer frowned. “Who has come back?”

  “You can’t say anything. You have to swear you won’t say anything to anyone. If you don’t promise me right now—”

  “I promise. Who has come back?”

  “Our neighbor. The most gorgeous man in the entire world.”

  “Our neighbor. The most gorgeous man … ?”

  “DeVille, the heir to the DeVille vineyards. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how wonderful it was: He walk
ed into the room and I felt like melting.” She clutched her hands to her heart. “Our eyes met, and the way that he looked at me …”

  “David DeVille?” Jennifer whispered.

  Kelly nodded, still mesmerized. “David DeVille.” She walked dreamily around the table, stretching out an arm in memory. “He kissed my hand. He said that I was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He was so distressed to discover that I was a Valentine … because there is such bad blood between the families.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jennifer murmured.

  Kelly swung around, hugging her. “Talia, am I beautiful?”

  “Of course you are.”

  “Could he really think so?”

  “Of … of course.”

  “I’m supposed to meet him. Slip into the old horse master’s quarters at the DeVille estate tomorrow at midnight. I’m so afraid that it can’t be real.”

  “You are beautiful, you’re bright, you’re everything wonderful, but … Maria, should you trust him? He went to France, you know.”

  “He’s back.”

  “Yes, but they’ve always wanted to take over our vineyards.”

  Kelly drew away. “But … it’s me he wants! I know it!”

  “Of course, of course …”

  Jennifer drew Kelly into her arms.

  “Cut!” Jim called. Striding onto the set, he hugged them both. “I have the best people in the entire world. One take every damn time.”

  Thorne McKay stepped forward to put powder on Jennifer’s nose. “Are we moving right into the bed scene?”

  “Ten minutes,” Jim said. “Jennifer, that’s you. Kelly, you’re done for the day.”

  “Cool,” Kelly said. She grinned at Jennifer. “Thank God. An early day. Except, sorry, not for you.”

  “One more scene. Then I’m out of here, too. We’re out of here—both Conar and I. We’ve an appointment with my mom this afternoon.”

  “Best wishes with it,” Kelly said sincerely. “You know that if there’s anything I can do, anything at all …”

  “I know that, Kelly. Thanks. Kelly … have you talked to Andy today?”

  Kelly shook her head. “Andy wasn’t on call today.”

  “Andy is a producer.”

  Kelly grinned. “Right. So when he isn’t on call as an actor, he’s a big shot and doesn’t have to show up if he doesn’t feel like it. And I’m going to get out of here before someone feels they need to give me rewrites or put me on a diet or dye my hair a new color or something else!” She gave Jennifer a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Jen. Hope all goes well with your mom this afternoon.”

  Jim Novac was walking across the room, from the cameras toward the set. Kelly made a face in his direction and quickly fled.

  “What’s up with your mom this afternoon?” Jim asked, approaching Jennifer.

  “Doctor’s appointment,” she said briefly. She smiled quickly at Jim. “Have to change for the flashback scene,” she said quickly. “You said ten minutes, right?”

  “Right. Have Thorne put some foundation on your shoulders—your tan line is too obvious.”

  “Yeah.”

  She hurried from the set to her dressing room. Once there, she went through her wardrobe for the flesh-colored strips of panties and pasty-like bra pieces used for their “nude” scenes. She had barely slipped her robe over her shoulders when she heard Thorne at her door.

  “Jennifer.”

  “Come on in. I’m ready.”

  She sat in front of her mirror and waited while Thorne came in, armed with his makeup case. “You’ve been in the sun too much,” he told her.

  She shrugged. “My mother likes the pool area. I spend a lot of time in the sun.”

  “Well, this isn’t easy to cover up.”

  “Well, I’m sure that Natalie Valentine goes to the beach.”

  “But she has the good sense to cover up,” Thorne told her.

  “Oh, but our Jennifer has such a lovely natural blush, don’t you think?” Doug said, pushing open her door and entering without knocking or being invited. “You all right for this scene, sweetie?” he asked her, leaning on the dressing table.

  She arched a brow, looking at him. “I seldom have problems with your scenes, Doug.”

  He grinned. “Look at her cheeks, will you, Thorne? I mean, you are a master of makeup, but don’t you think our girl has a special glow today?”

  “Yeah, yeah, she glows. Doug, you’re blocking my light,” Thorne complained.

  Doug was nonplussed. He remained there, smiling at Jennifer.

  “Did you make up with Wonder Boy?” he inquired innocently.

  “Doug!” she said, and frowned at him severely. “We’re too professional to have arguments, you know.”

  He laughed outright and bent to kiss her cheek. “I can’t wait to watch this scene,” he teased. Then he was out the door before she could say anything else.

  “What was that all about?” Thorne asked.

  “God knows.”

  Thorne inhaled sharply, spilling a pool of body makeup on her shoulder. His eyes met hers in the dressing table mirror. “Oh, my God! I’ve got it. You’re already having a thing with Conar!”

  Jennifer groaned, sinking into her chair. “Thorne, please, don’t go weird on me. I was only given ten minutes between scenes.”

  In answer to her prayer, one of Jim’s production assistants appeared at her door. “You’re late on the set, Miss Connolly.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I’m not done,” Thorne told her in dismay.

  “Yes you are.”

  “You’re not blended, Miss Connolly.”

  “I’ll have to stay that way.”

  “Just give me one minute.”

  She was up, but he followed, spreading her body makeup as she reached for her robe.

  “Hold still,” he commanded.

  “I don’t have any more time.”

  “Give me thirty seconds!”

  She bit her lower lip and stood still.

  Thorne was good, and true to his word—within two minutes she was on the set. It was hastily—and cheaply—designed. It wasn’t a standing set, such as the Valentine dining room, but designed for this one flashback scene only. The lighting kept most of the room in shadow, and the double bed with flowered sheets—supposedly French—was the focal point of the room. Naturally, there was an ice bucket, champagne glasses, and all the other paraphernalia of a little love nest.

  As Jennifer walked through the cameras and crew and toward the set, Jim suddenly accosted her again, standing in front of her. “Are you going to be all right with this, Jennifer?”

  She frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Everyone knows how you feel about Conar. Are you going to be all right with this?”

  Apparently, everyone didn’t know exactly how she felt about Conar. Yet.

  She smiled. “Fine, Jim. Just fine. You know, we’re all professionals here.”

  “Yes, of course, good. I just wanted to make sure. Think we can get this scene in with just one take?” he called out cheerfully. “We’ll rehearse first, of course.”

  “We don’t need a rehearsal,” Jennifer said.

  “Well, Jen I don’t just expect you to be able to do this.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We can really rehearse.”

  “We don’t need to rehearse,” she insisted.

  Jennifer kept walking toward the set, toward the bed, center stage.

  Conar was already in it. Shoulders bare and bronzed. He was naked to the waist, and the flowery sheets covered his body below his upper torso.

  “Conar, I suggest a rehearsal.”

  “We don’t need a rehearsal.”

  “The two of you are pigheaded. All right, one take with the camera rolling. Now, remember, both of you. This has been a totally passionate affair. Jennifer, you’re going to find out who he is. The burning question here is—has he or hasn’t he been after you, seducing you, for the purpose of tak
ing over the vineyard?”

  The “burning” question …

  “Jennifer, remember, passion, honey, please, lots of passion, no matter how hard …”

  Smiling, Jennifer approached the bed, shedding the robe. She could see his smile, his amusement, and the encouragement in his silver-gray eyes. Jeez, but he was great-looking. She crawled atop the bed, slipped beneath the covers.

  “Jen, remember, you’re in love here, show some real emotion.”

  She crawled on top of him, kissed him. His body was rock hard, warm, and his arms quickly encompassed her. God, he could kiss. Lips formed over hers with confidence, purpose, determination. Mouth passionate, wet, forceful. Tongue between her lips, the smell of him, the taste of him, the movement, the feel of his hands on her …

  “And we’re on in five, four, three …”

  Jennifer broke the kiss. This was, after all, a scene on a daytime soap.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  “My … my father is due in tonight.”

  She pulled away from him. Found the robe at the foot of the bed, subtly slipped into it, trusting the cameras to do the work of covering for her.

  He sat up, watching her as she rose. “And you jump every time your father says you should?”

  “No! But he’s just arrived in Paris.”

  “And you’re afraid to tell him that you’ve met a man, that you’ve become involved.”

  She shook her head, her back to him. “It’s just that I don’t know anything about you at all. This was all so sudden. We met at the cocktail party. Then I started talking to you about California, my home, the vineyards … and all I know is that you’ve been a student in Paris.”

  “I have been a student in Paris. While you’ve been running away.”

  “I wasn’t running away. I needed time. From my family.”

  “But now Daddy is here.”

  “Yes, and I love my family. They can just be so intense. And I don’t have to tell you anything else. I know nothing about you.”

  He reached out for her, caught her hands, drew her back to him with passionate force. “You know me, you know what it is to be with me, and God help me, you want to be with me.”

  He kissed her again.

  Lord.

  What a kiss.