A Talent For Murder Part 6

Lisa looked at Polly. "Thane was in bed. Facedown. Naked. The sheet drawn to his waist. Blood ... every where! At first I didn't do anything except try not to throw up. I guess I was in shock. Then I heard a noise and realized that whoever stabbed Thane might still be in the house. I saw a bloodied knife on the floor, so I picked it up for self-defense. That's when Thane's maid, Ophelia, came in. She looked at me. Then she looked at Thane's body. She said, 'Miss Lisa!'Then something in Spanish. She looked really frightened and slowly backed out of the room. When she got to the door she closed it behind her. I heard her scream, 'Miss Eva! Miss Eva! Nine-one-one! Nine-one-one!' I guess that's when I fainted."

"Miss Eva? The new significant other?" Polly asked.

"Thane's stupid Persian cat."

"Did you see anything that might suggest someone else had been there after you left the night before?" Polly asked.

"Besides a dead body? A butcher's knife on the bedroom floor? b.l.o.o.d.y bedsheets? No." Lisa shook her head. "But it was d.a.m.n odd that the security chimes weren't on. It's possible that Thane might have forgotten to turn the alarm system on, but he would never have been in the house-even if he had company-without the chimes that signaled whenever any outside door opened."

Suddenly the door at the entrance slammed open. Officers Betty and Garrett marched into Lisa's cage. With her arms folded across her chest, Betty looked first at Polly, then at Tim and Placenta. Finally she looked at Officer Garrett.

"They made me!" Garrett cried.

"Yeah, they're a really scary posse," Betty snarled. "Complain to the bartender at the Abby. You'll have plenty of time to hang out there with your new friend'cause I'm pet.i.tioning to place you on administrative leave!"

Garrett looked at Tim and shrugged. Then, with his thumb and little finger against his ear, he made the international sign for "Call me."

Chapter 7.

"Policewoman Betty has better developed biceps than Stallone on steroids," Polly said as they drove out of the Beverly Hills Police Station parking lot. "Remind me to hire her the next time we need the piano moved."

Tim drove the Rolls to Sunset Boulevard and turned left heading toward the Beverly Hills Hotel.

Polly looked around. "I thought we were going to Lisa's hovel."

"I called her landlady, she won't let us in," Placenta said.

Polly rolled her eyes. "Contacting her was a mistake. The surprise of finding Polly Pepper on one's crummy apartment doorstep is what does the trick. We'll tackle her later."

"That leaves more time for lunch with Michael Mc-Grath," Placenta reminded her.

"Not another of Tim's Dancing With the Stars Dancing With the Stars studs," Polly said. "How many of those talented men have you dated this year?" studs," Polly said. "How many of those talented men have you dated this year?"

Tim sighed. "This is the kid who worked for Thane.

Remember? The guy who was ripped apart that first day? You asked Placenta to set up lunch with him."

"Drat! I need a nap," Polly complained.

Tim ascended the long driveway leading up to the hotel valet, and accepted a receipt ticket in exchange for the Rolls. A liveried attendant a.s.sisted Polly and Placenta from the backseat and made a great show of being overly solicitous because of the ritzy car in which they arrived.

As the trio entered the plush lobby of the world-famous hotel, Polly led the way to one of her favorite watering holes. Stepping into the room, she looked at the maitre d' and cried out, "Karl! Grube mein freund Grube mein freund!" Polly accepted Karl's air kiss to each cheek and stood aside as he expressed the same gesture to Tim and Placenta. "The sultan has you working on such a lovely day! Ogre!" Polly said. "Tell him to go back to Brunei!"

When Polly thought of the Polo Lounge, she thought of Karl (although she never knew his last name). A great and accommodating gentleman, he had been with the Beverly Hills Hotel as it had been bought and sold by one zillionaire after another. Now, after nearly fifty years working at what was affectionately known as "the Pink Palace," Karl continued to welcome stars, and subtly reject unaccompanied single men and women when he sensed that they were there to prey on his wealthy clientele.

"Your guest has been seated. Please follow me, Miss Pepper," Karl said as he picked up three menus and wended his way past tables of diners who all looked up and wondered if the elegantly dressed woman pa.s.sing by was anyone of note. Polly's keen ears picked up several stray comments.

"Isn't that...? You know her name ... she used to be ..."

"Don't look now, but I think s.h.i.+rley MacLaine just walked by!"

"Who's the redhead with the lousy dye job?"

As Polly tried to ignore the peasants, Karl guided her to her favorite table. The freckle-faced young man whom she had last seen crying in the television studio stood up to greet her. Sotto voce, Polly asked, "What's his name again?"

"Michael," Tim reminded her.

"Sweetheart!" Polly called out, loud enough to cause the other diners to look in her direction. Then she offered her hand for him to shake while she palmed a twenty-dollar bill off to the maitre d'. "Danka maitre d'. "Danka, Karl," she said as he pulled out a chair for her.

Polly returned her attention to her guest. "You look so much more adult without red eyes and a runny nose!" she said to Michael as she patted his forearm. "That was such a horrid day for me, having to see you suffer so! By the way, this is my son, Tim, and our maid-slash-bff Placenta." Polly looked up at a waiter who had appeared at her side. "Thank you, Lance. My usual would be lovely, dear. We'll all have the same."

As soon as the waiter departed to retrieve drinks for the table, Polly looked intently at Michael. "I guess this is a good news/bad news sort of day, isn't it? The good news, of course, is that you're having lunch with me, Polly Pepper. The bad news is that your boss, Thane Cornwall, is probably sitting in the big audition room in the sky with that Star Search Star Search guy." guy."

"Still alive," Tim whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hardly possible!" Polly said.

"Good news after bad," Michael said as he adjusted his eyegla.s.ses.

Polly nodded in agreement, just as the champagne c.o.c.ktails arrived. "I'm parched!" she said. Not waiting for the others to be served, she quickly swallowed most of the champagne in her flute. "I'd better have another toot, p.r.o.nto," she said to the waiter. Returning her attention to Michael, she said, "Did you hate Thane Cornwall enough to kill him?"

"A direct hit between the eyes," Michael said as he picked up his gla.s.s and took a long swallow. "Um, yeah."

"A confession? That was easy!" Placenta said.

"Not!" Michael said. "She asked if I hated Thane enough to kill him. Most people who knew the man would say yes. But that doesn't mean they'd actually commit the crime! Could I? Yes. Would I? No!"

Polly finished her first gla.s.s of champagne just as the second one arrived. "Better keep the bubbles coming, Lance, dear," she said.

While Polly let the second serving effervesce easily on her tongue, Tim used the moment to cross-examine Michael. "You were a.s.signed to be Thane's personal a.s.sistant. Did you ever see anything weird going on?"

Michael shrugged. "Be more specific. Everything in Thane's life was freaky. He had to have a new toothbrush every day because he was afraid of his own bacteria. He wouldn't handle money. He was terrified of where it had been. I took his car to be washed, and if there was so much as a streak on a window I'd have to take it back. I even had to clip his d.a.m.n toenails because he hated to touch feet-even his own!"

"A wee bit of OCD?" Polly said as she absently took another sip from her flute.

"I was hired by I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous, and I was only supposed to be Thane's a.s.sistant for the show," Michael continued. "But he made me his personal twenty-four-seven slave. I don't know how I made it through the week. He was constantly yelling and screaming and threatening to fire me. But Friday night rolled around, and after the show I was still there. I started to think that maybe all the threats were just a bully control issue sort of thing. I was thinking that Thane was probably beating up on lesser people as a way of compensating for whatever inadequacies he felt."

"Why'd you put up with him?" Placenta asked.

"Why does anyone do anything in this town? Money. To hang out with famous people. And I wanted to prove that I wasn't as weak as he said I was. Plus, I wanted to pitch him a screenplay."

"It always comes down to a screenplay," Polly dead-panned.

"I made my pitch," Michael continued. "He just laughed at me and said, 'Don't give up your day job, kid.'"

"I don't suppose there's a role for me," Polly said, straightening her posture.

"When did you last see Thane alive?" Tim asked.

"Friday night. After the show," Michael said.

"I left the studio at around eleven o'clock. When did you leave?" Polly said, looking into Michael's eyes.

Michael thought for a moment. "Yeah, that's about the time that Thane came to his dressing room and yelled at me for not bringing his black jeans. I did bring black jeans, but apparently they weren't the right black jeans."

"Who could tell?" Placenta said.

"Thane could," Michael said. "He called me a screwup and told me to get his girlfriend on the phone."

"Lisa Marrs," Polly said.

Michael coughed a laugh. "That's what I thought as I picked up his cell and pressed the address book key and began to search for her number. He ripped the phone from my hand and said I was lame and as thick as a brick, and that I was as dense as Lisa and that I obviously didn't care about him because I hadn't paid attention to his ill.u.s.trious personal life during the week. He said that Lisa was dangerous, and out of his life. He had someone new. Then he told me to bring his car around, and he tossed me his keys. When he came out of the studio soundstage, he was talking on his cell and didn't bother to say one word to me. I was completely invisible to him. He just got into the car and drove away. That was the last time I ever saw him alive."

"Who was his new flame?" Polly asked.

Michael shrugged.

"Any idea where he was headed?"

Michael shook his head. He paused and knitted his eyebrows. "Actually, before he closed the car door, I heard Thane yell at whoever he was on the phone with. He said that if they were serious about coming over, they knew the address, but that they better have a decent explanation-"

"Explanation?" Polly asked, biting her lacquered nails.

"Beats me. But the last words I heard were 'Over my dead body.' "

Polly was deep in contemplation when the waiter arrived to accept the group's luncheon orders. She pushed her chair away from the table, stood up, looked at Michael, and said, "Dearest, I know you'll forgive this ancient star. Sometimes I'm such an idiot. I just remembered that I have another engagement. Something with Miranda Richardson. She can be a keg of dynamite and the last one on the planet I want p.i.s.sed at me. You stay and have lunch with Lance."

She looked at Tim and rubbed her fingers together, her not so subtle hint for him to give Lance a healthy tip.

As Tim and Placenta rose from their chairs and gave Polly quizzical looks, she silenced them with her eyes.

"Miranda better have some munchies, 'cause I'm about to faint from starvation!" Placenta said.

When they were once again in the car and driving down Sunset Boulevard toward Bel Air, Polly said, "Talk about low self-esteem. Why would an attractive and intelligent young man such as Morris-"

"Michael."

"-accept a job working for someone as mean as Thane Cornwall?"

"You heard him," Placenta said. "Some people will do anything to work in s...o...b..z."

Polly said, "We have a saying in the theater. 'Actors are either tying to get into a hit show, or get out of one.' What if the kid was ticked off because Thane dismissed his screenplay idea and he wanted out of his job? That boy knows more than he's sharing. Take me to Lisa's place."

Chapter 8.

Tim cautiously maneuvered the Rolls down Ogden Avenue in West Hollywood. The street was narrow, and made worse by the congestion of cars parked on both sides. Polly cringed and leaned into Placenta whenever another vehicle approached and squeezed past with less than a hairbreadth of s.p.a.ce between them. "Is that Taboo you're wearing?" Polly said, making a face when her nose made contact with Placenta's breast.

Finally finding a parking place two blocks from Lisa's address, the trio set out and carefully made their way over sidewalks that were buckled from tree roots, and cracked from the thousands of imperceptible earthquakes that occurred each year. "This is it," Tim said when they arrived at the address. It was the most dilapidated apartment building on the already decrepit street.

"Naturally." Polly looked at the building. "New reality show idea: I'll Do Anything to Burn Down My Crummy Apartment I'll Do Anything to Burn Down My Crummy Apartment!"

The trio walked up to the front door. A rusted sign said NO PETS. NO SOLICITING. NO VACANCY. MANAGER #1.Polly pointed to a hand-printed piece of paper taped to the bank of mailboxes. "Office closed today."

"We'll just have to find our way into Lisa's crib by ourselves," Polly said. She looked at the labels on each mailbox. "L.M. number four," she said.

Tim backed away from the door. "Count me out," he said. "I visited a jail this morning. I will not become a permanent resident! I'm quite happy living in your mansion."

"Pooh!" Polly said. "Who's going to know, and what's the harm, if we take a teensy peek at Lisa's little ol' flat? You saw the sign. The office is closed, so the manager is probably away playing the horses at Santa Anita."

"How do you propose to gain access to the building without a key?" Placenta said.

Just then, the door opened and a young pregnant woman stepped outside. Polly caught the door before it closed. "The Lord provides," she whispered. Then, slipping into performance mode, Polly looked at Placenta and raised her voice. "Yes, I really do live here! It says so on the mailbox!"

"She's already reached the curb," Placenta said. "Get your b.u.t.t inside before anyone else comes along."

As Polly and Tim and Placenta scooted into the lobby of the building, they were all struck by how dingy the place was. The scent in the air was a combination of wet dog and gym locker. "Lisa's in a better place," Polly said, making a face as she looked around.

"Let's just get in and get out fast!" Tim demanded. "I'm hungry and I'm nervous."

"You just had lunch," Polly reminded him.

"A champagne c.o.c.ktail may be lunch to you, but-"

Just then the door to the apartment manager's office opened. "She's away, eh?" Placenta said.

"Who are you looking for?"

Polly stopped and turned around. Standing outside the apartment, a woman who appeared to be in her early sixties gave the trio a suspicious look.

"Thanks, honey, but we're absolutely wonderful." Polly smiled. "Go back and watch Oprah Oprah or or Days of Our Lives Days of Our Lives or-" or-"

"You don't look like you belong here."

"Such a lovely compliment." Polly beamed.

"How did you get in?" the woman persisted with a harsh stare.