A Talent For Murder Part 21

Then she stopped in the middle of the room and turned toward Sandy. "Look, I don't have to die. I can help you. I've wasted the best years of my life working for this drama queen, so I don't care what you do with her. But I'm not ready to go. I have a full life ahead."

The expression on Polly's face turned from fear to injured surprise. "Placenta! We're best friends."

"Not if I can escape from this mess that you you got us into," Placenta said. Then she turned to Sergeant Sandy again. "You're not going to get away with this crime unless you either hire a very expensive lawyer, or escape to a country without extradition treaties with the United States, both of which will cost a fortune. I have access to all of Polly's money. Plus, we have plenty of very wealthy friends abroad." got us into," Placenta said. Then she turned to Sergeant Sandy again. "You're not going to get away with this crime unless you either hire a very expensive lawyer, or escape to a country without extradition treaties with the United States, both of which will cost a fortune. I have access to all of Polly's money. Plus, we have plenty of very wealthy friends abroad."

For a moment, it seemed that Sergeant Sandy was considering Placenta's offer. "How much money?" Sandy asked.

"Lots!"

"Nah, Socorro's win tonight will land us not only that 'get out of jail free' card, but a movie deal and endors.e.m.e.nts, too."

"Not when the police begin thinking about how far the lovely and talented Socorro went to win the big prize, and how many real-life bodies you and she scattered around Hollywood," Polly said. "It won't take any time at all before they come to the conclusion that a certain mother/ daughter team is responsible for all the killings. And I don't mean the Judds."

"Ah, but that's not true! We had nothing to do with anyone's death-except yours! Thane and Danny aren't our problem!"

"Unless they first discover that you were the mastermind behind my death, and Placenta's and Tim's. Then the police will accuse you of killing Thane and Danny," Polly said.

Sandy looked as though she hadn't considered that scenario. "Don't forget the grand prize, the 'get out of jail free' card!" Sandy stuttered.

"One card. One crime. No felonies," Placenta said. "And it's Socorro's card, not yours."

The color drained from Sandy's face. She stood frozen for a long moment, then pointed her gun directly at Placenta's chest. "Stop it! I'm tired of you and the so-called legendary Polly Pepper getting in the way of things! Plug in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned hair dryer. Now!"

Shaken, she plugged it in and stood motionless.

In a softer voice, Sandy said, "Turn the switch on."

Placenta looked helplessly at Polly. "I wasn't serious a moment ago when I said that I'd wasted the best years of my life with you. I was born into a horrible life, just like you, and I actually got to escape my destiny all because you liked me. I'll thank you again when I see you in heaven. I know that St. Peter will let you in."

"And you, too, Placenta," Polly said with tears in her eyes. "You were a sa.s.sy ol' thing, but we were a terrific team. At least we won't be seeing the likes of this b.i.t.c.h inside the Pearly Gates. I'll be sure to tell St. Peter all about how she treated us. And Timmy will be along to join us. Hey, I'll have that immortality that every celebrity who dies young receives. I'll probably surpa.s.s Elvis for the most Polly Pepper sightings! But d.a.m.n, I always wanted a Kennedy Center honor!"

Sergeant Sandy raised her Beretta subcompact to Placenta's temple. "Do it. Now!"

Still, although Placenta's entire body was shaking, she did not move.

Placenta pushed the On b.u.t.ton and the machine began to whir and blow warm air. As she pointed the gun-shaped dryer at Polly, the force of air caused the foam in the water to part, revealing one of Polly's lovely knees. As Placenta stood helplessly on the precipice of actually killing her best friend, Sergeant Sandy let out a stream of curses and swacked the dryer out of Placenta's hand. Placenta lunged forward and tried to catch the blow dryer, but she fumbled and the unit plunged into the water.

Polly and Placenta screamed simultaneously. Polly screamed again. And again, this time softer. And then they all realized that nothing had happened.

In the split second between the hair dryer sinking into the water, and Sergeant Sandy looking incredulously at the lack of any electrical charge, Placenta grabbed the neck of the bottle of champagne and bashed it with full force onto Sandy's skull. The security guard dropped to the floor and her handgun discharged, sending a bullet into the travertine of the shower at the opposite end of the room.

Polly laughed with satisfaction as she stepped out of the tub. With suds dripping from her body, she accepted a plush bath towel from Placenta.

"We showed her!" Placenta said, pulling the hair dryer cord out of the wall socket, and reeling in the device from the water. "Contrary to Sergeant Sandy's high opinion of her intellect, she's as dumb as they come. She picked the wrong bathroom grooming tool to use for execution."

"She should read Consumer Reports Consumer Reports," Polly agreed.

"Since 1991, hair dryers have ground circuit interrupters, which prevent electrocution whether on or off," Placenta recited.

As Polly stood looking at the body of Sergeant Sandy, and listening to Placenta quote an article they'd both read about the special features on the top ten hair dryers, Tim bounded into the room without his s.h.i.+rt on.

He looked at his mother, wrapped in a white towel, and Placenta using long strands of dental floss to bind Sergeant Sandy's hands behind her inert body. "I heard a gunshot! What happened?" he said, his eyes wide with fear.

Polly looked at her handsome son's well-developed upper body. "I'm shocked that you could hear anything above the noise you were making out in the cottage," she said with a loving smirk.

Chapter 25.

The EMT unit sopped up the blood on the floor from the crack in Sergeant Sandy's skull. The crime scene investigators photographed every vein of travertine and marble in the master suite bathroom. They tweezed and bagged the last strands of hair in every drain. Detective Archer made his official preliminary report and chastised Polly for not checking the references of the people she hired. And field news reporters from channels 4, 5, 7, and 11, and Access Hollywood Hollywood, finally left the estate to embellish out of all proportion the story of Polly Pepper's too-close-for-comfort brush with a psychotic security patrol a.s.sa.s.sin. Now it was time for the star to zip her hiney into her new D & G dress and play Beat the Clock Beat the Clock to get to the live broadcast of to get to the live broadcast of I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous.

Dressed to impress a platoon of paparazzi along a celebrity-clogged red carpet, Polly followed Tim and Placenta and hustled to the Rolls-Royce. "Step on it, sweetie," she called from the backseat. The car cruised off the estate and sped down Stone Canyon Road and onto Sunset Boulevard.

Finally gliding up to Sterling Studios' legendary lightning-bolt-logo wrought-iron gates, Tim stopped at the guard kiosk and pushed the control to roll down his and Polly's windows. Polly's favorite security guard, Jack, was on duty and waiting for her with his clipboard in hand. "One for Miss P.," he said, handing a computergenerated self-adhesive drive-on pa.s.s with her name printed in large bold type. "One for Tim. One for Placenta. Better make it snappy, Miss Pepper," Jack said as he raised the arm of the black-and-white-striped barrier. "Your show starts in thirty minutes. I'll call ahead so they'll know that you're here!"

Polly called out, "You're in my will, sweetums!"

Tim drove down narrow streets between the soundstages, searching for a parking s.p.a.ce close to Studio B stage door. "There!" Polly shouted, pointing toward a block-long empty s.p.a.ce that ran the length of Stage 37.

"Fire zone," Tim said as he continued on.

"Don't be a sissy," Polly protested. "Studios don't burn down. If you don't count Universal. Still, if anyone makes a noise, you can move the car then. In the meantime, I have my own emergency. I've got to get into makeup!"

Tim was used to following his mother's instructions, regardless of the potentially dire consequences. He parked parallel to the enormous soundstage and rushed Polly and Placenta into the studio. Just inside, a production a.s.sistant was waiting to usher Polly to the makeup room. Another PA escorted Tim and Placenta to their seats in the VIP section of the audience.

As Polly followed the PA, she joked, "I would have arrived earlier, but a deranged killer attacked me!" The production a.s.sistant, who like all the other unpaid production a.s.sistants on the show was a freshly minted actor from the Hollywood Academy of Stage and Screen The pians (the s had been missing from the sign on the dilapidated building that housed the so-called academy for as long as anyone could remember), politely, if disinterestedly listened to the old star.

Polly summed up the blond ingenue and said, "You'll practically pee when I tell you that my intruder turned out to be that darling 'High School Musical' boy-in drag! You know the one. Hot bod, yet pretty enough to model Vera w.a.n.g."

The young escort said, "No way!"

"Not a word of truth, dear," Polly rea.s.sured the young girl. "But he's pretty enough to get away with wearing Valentino. Don'tcha think?"

Finally settled in the makeup chair, Polly was given a quick touch-up of powder and lip-gloss and a dark pencil to her eyebrows. "Am I soup yet?" she said, smiling at Katie, the makeup girl. "Ah yes! A lovely tomato bisque. You'd do wonders for any old puss. Just tell me that the Saddleback creature was a makeup artist's worst nightmare."

"Absolutely," Katie lied. "And you don't look quite as constipated as Miss Thinks-She's-the-Voice-of-American-Political-Reason."

"One rounded tablespoon of Colon Cleanse mixed with champagne twice a day. That's my regime! It would work wonders for her," Polly declared. "By the by, gossip? Gossip? Gossip?"

Katie leaned in close to Polly's ear. "You know I never dish my clients."

"Just an initial or two?" Polly smiled. "Please, please?"

Katie grinned. "Okay. But this is more informational than simply the fun of ruining someone's reputation with slander and defamation. I have it on reasonably good authority-the studio ma.s.sage therapist told one of the interns, who told Kelly, the wardrobe lady, who whispered it to me-that Lisa Marrs is not Thane Cornwall's killer!"

Polly yawned. "Oh, hon, everybody who's paid the slightest attention knows that! But can you name names?"

"Let's just say that Kelly says she heard that Thane's ex-gofer, Michael What's-his-name, plans to drop a major WMD tonight. Might breathe some excitement into this dead cow of a show. She said he'll ma.s.sacre a couple of powerful reputations."

Polly suppressed a laugh. "Anyone we love to despise?" Before Katie could say more, the PA received a text message on her BlackBerry. Showtime, Miss Pepper! Gotta get you to the judges' table right away Showtime, Miss Pepper! Gotta get you to the judges' table right away.

The color drained from Polly's face. "This is my favorite feeling. The horror of when I'm about to face a live television audience is like an o.r.g.a.s.m, only it lasts a h.e.l.l of a lot longer!" She turned to the PA. "Let's go, Peaches."

As Polly moved through the backstage area of the studio, she absorbed the vibrations from the drone of the audience in the distance. She inhaled the scents of perspiration from the hardworking grips and gaffers. With each blink of her eyes Polly captured mental pictures of the backstage tumult. When she arrived at the judges' table, she involuntarily smiled with a combination of excitement and fear. Just as her PA was leaving, another arrived with Brian Smith. "Sweetums!" Polly smiled and accepted a peck to her cheeks. "I'm thrilled to be home. What have I missed?"

"Nothing as exciting as your real real life! I just saw the news on television. And someone told me it was Zac Efron disguised as Ashley Tisdale or Vanessa Hudgens. Are you all right?" life! I just saw the news on television. And someone told me it was Zac Efron disguised as Ashley Tisdale or Vanessa Hudgens. Are you all right?"

"I should be so lucky to have those cuties in my home. No, the intruder was just a crazed fan who broke into the wrong twenty-seven-room Bel Air mansion. Apparently she was aiming for Barbara Eden. For years I've been telling Barbara to answer fan mail more promptly! Loonies are just waiting for us to disappoint them. All of the Polly Pepper fan blogs commend me on authentic autographs. The particular crazy who wandered into my boudoir wanted to bottle Barbara up as Genie again and send her back to Babylon." Polly shrugged. "Remind me who's left among the contestants on this dangerous show!"

"Where've you been, girl?" Brian said. "It's down to Ped-Xing and Taco Bell."

Polly s.h.i.+vered. "Don't let her mother hear you call her that."

As Polly scanned the audience, the crowd suddenly erupted with boos; Richard Dartmouth was walking toward the judges' seating area. "Oh Lord," Polly said, nudging Brian. "I sense that I'm in for a rough night."

"Success and power have gone to his head," Brian said. "Richard is as bad as Thane Cornwall. The contestants are sullen, but I can tell they're petrified of how he'll slam their performances, and the way he'll mock their answers to the interview questions. I'm surprised that he hasn't joined Thane down in Hades."

When Richard arrived he coolly ignored Polly.

"He's ticked off because my lovely agent coaxed him into bringing me back to the program," Polly whispered to Brian.

Richard took his seat, and the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play. With a drumroll from the orchestra, the announcer called out, "Live! From Sterling Studios! Deep in the heart of the San Fernando Valley. Just over the hill from the real Hollywood. This is I'll Do Anything to Become I'll Do Anything to Become Fay-mous!" Fay-mous!"

The orchestra played the show's theme song, an eerie Metallica-flavored arrangement of "Live and Let Die," and the studio audience applauded wildly and stomped their feet. They divided their attention between the live action onstage and large television screens showing what the home viewing audiences were seeing. The announcer continued. "Ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome. Your host. Steven. Ben-ja-min!" The crowd cheered even more loudly as Steven bounced into the spotlight. His smile advertised the whitest, most perfectly arranged teeth. His eyes sparkled like glitter. His dimples dimpled. And the cleft in his chin was deep enough to require flossing after meals. He held up his hands to quiet his adoring fans.

"Here we are!" Steven said as the applause died down. "The final night of our compet.i.tion! To celebrate, let's welcome back that very special legend from the last century, the still lovely and ambulatory Polly Pepper!"

Blowing kisses, Polly stood up to accept the ovation. "I'm not quite ready for the Neptune Society." Then she added, "I have the lovely and talented Richard Dartmouth to thank for inviting me to return for this auspicious final installment of the program." Polly applauded Richard and was accompanied by a halfhearted response from the crowd. They weren't as eager to salute the man they loved to hate. Instead, they wanted to hear Ped-Xing and Socorro sing, and to find out who would be voted the most likely to make an easy meal out of their family and friends in order to reach the top rung on the ladder of success. Richard Dartmouth studiously inspected his cuticles.

Before Polly could take her seat, the camera returned to Steven Benjamin. "Let's set history in motion!" he said, rubbing his hands. "Please welcome our two remaining contestants. Ped-Xing! And ... Socorro Sanchez!"

The two walked across the stage. Their lack of camaraderie was evident. Neither did they hold hands, nor did they smile at each other, or at Steven. In fact, they stood on opposite sides of the host looking as bored as prost.i.tutes working Main Street, Disneyland.

However, gracious master of ceremonies that he was, Steven pretended not to notice the lack of congeniality between the contestants. "As you remember from last week, darling Miranda and sweet Amy said goodbye to our shrinking family here at I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous. Shall we take a look at some of their more memorable parting shots?"

Projected on the large screens throughout the studio soundstage was a montage of film clips showing Amy's three weeks on the show. Her singing was flat, and what appeared to be mean-spirited jibes from Thane and Richard were mostly spot-on. Then came the moment from last week when Steven Benjamin had to open a sealed envelope and read, "You'll never never be famous," which were the dreaded words telling the contestants that they were being ditched from the show. be famous," which were the dreaded words telling the contestants that they were being ditched from the show.

The screen revealed Amy in shocked skepticism. Then the smug faces of the remaining members of the contest were shown. A handheld camera followed Amy as she stomped off the stage to return to her dressing room. In the cinder block corridor, she looked into the camera and said, "I was promised! I swear, when I write my book, I'll let the freakin' cat outta the bag!"

The camera returned to Steven. "Such a good sport. Not! And of course, Miranda departed last week, too. I'm biting my nails all over again. Let's take a look at that auspicious occasion." The large screens showed the tense moments as Steven opened the envelope and spoke Miranda's name. The eliminated contestant put her hands on her hips, curling her lips. Then she slapped Socorro. "You know what that's for!" And she slapped Steven while sputtering, "Liar! Cheater!"

Backstage, she said, "Some so-called big people are gonna become very small, very soon." Then she slapped the camera out of the videographer's hands, breaking the thirty-five-thousand-dollar piece of equipment.

When camera number one again focused on Steven, he smiled and said, "Owww! That still hurts!" He good-naturedly rubbed the side of his face where he'd been slapped the week before. "Let's get on with this final show. But first, take a minute to watch these great commercials from our amazing sponsors!"

When the stage lights dimmed, and the lights in the audience were turned up, Polly nudged Brian. "Where's your beautiful Lyndie on this special night?"

Brian pointed into the audience. "She and Tiara are together. Isn't that your son with them?"

Polly looked in the direction that Brian was pointing. "That's my Timmy. And Placenta, too."

Brian suddenly looked startled. "Oh, d.a.m.n! I forgot to give this to you." He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved an envelope. "It's from Tiara."

Polly smiled and slipped a finger under the sealed flap of the envelope. She withdrew a sheet of expensive notepaper and began to read silently. When she finished, she smiled and looked up at Brian. "She's a darling. I'm invited to their anniversary party celebration. Ten September."

Brian nodded. "Guess we'll see you there."

"Anniversary," Polly said in a cynical tone.

"Something wrong?" Brian asked.

Polly shook her head. "I'm such a ninny. I couldn't keep two husbands, so I suppose I'm a bit suspect of others pretending domestic bliss."

"Are you suggesting that Steven and Tiara aren't as happy as they appear to be?"

Polly smiled sheepishly. "No relations.h.i.+p is perfect."

Brian looked across the audience to Lyndie. "Steven and Tiara are both nice people, but..."

"But?" Polly said.

Brian looked at Polly, trusting that she was a clam. "I don't like to spread rumors, but..."

"Spread 'em!" Polly pleaded. Just then, the lights in the studio dimmed and the stage shone brighter. Polly whispered to Brian, "What rumors?"

"I'll tell you during the next commercial break," Brian said, and turned his attention toward the stage.

Polly huffed, but plastered on a wide smile for the camera.

"And we're back!" Steven said with his boyish enthusiasm. "Ped-Xing and Socorro flipped a coin backstage, to determine who would be the first to perform this evening. Oh, and to make the compet.i.tion just a little bit more exciting, Ped and Socorro each chose the other's song. So, please welcome to the stage, Ped-Xing, singing 'Muskrat Love'!"

Wild applause ensued as Ped-Xing ambled onto the stage, showing obvious disdain for the song he was about to sing. When his performance was over, he didn't bother to bow. He simply walked forward and, with his arms defiantly folded across his chest, placed himself in line for a direct hit from the judges.

Steven put his arm around Ped-Xing's shoulders. "To celebrate the return of our very own living legend, let's allow Miss Polly Pepper to be the first to a.s.sess your performance.

"Whatever ..." Ped-Xing said.

As cameras focused on Polly she smiled and waved to the audience. "Darling, Ped-Xing! I love that song! I loved it a hundred years ago when The Captain and Tennille made it a hit. You weren't even a guppy in your father's glands, but trust me, they were the cutest couple. Not the glands. The singers. You'd have to have been there to appreciate 'em. We had corny acts then. Husbands and wives. Brothers and sisters. Entire families. Black ones and white ones and Christian ones and Mormon ones. La, what a lovely musical period. Of course, they all appeared on my show at one time or another. Purchase the new collector's edition boxed DVD set from the first five seasons of The Polly Pepper Playhouse The Polly Pepper Playhouse. You'll see what I mean."

"And the clock keeps ticking," Steven Benjamin said.

"Anyway," Polly continued, "you did a marvelous job, Mr. Ped-Xing. I could tell that you really felt those lyrics. '... and now he's ticklin' her fancy, rubbin' her nose ...' So deep and yet you brought a genuine sense of what those two s.e.xy muskrats were up to. I say, bravo!"

"What the h.e.l.l's a muskrat, anyway?" Ped-Xing said. "And does 'ticklin' her fancy' mean what I think it does?"