A Talent For Murder Part 8

"Are you implying that I'm not the most important judge?" Polly said with wide-eyed annoyance.

"Michael, wanting to move up the Hollywood food chain, determines that Ped-Xing has the biggest cojones of any of the other contestants and guesses that the guy has what it takes to win the game and go on to a s...o...b..z career. He agrees to help Ped-Xing get in tight with Thane in exchange for Ped-Xing taking him along on the next rung of the success ladder when he's the world-famous winner of I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous."

Tim pushed the remote control to open the gates to Pepper Plantation and entered the estate grounds. As he drove down the cobbled drive, Placenta chimed in. "Ped-Xing had everything to lose if he was stupid enough to seek out Thane for anything. After all, it would only take one word from Thane to Richard Dart-"

"Oh my G.o.d!" Polly erupted. "That's why Thane's dead! Ped-Xing played his own corrupt hand and lost. He got to Thane and offered something in exchange for winning the show. Remember, Michael overheard Thane talking to someone on his cell phone and saying that he better have a good explanation for something. It must have been Ped-Xing, and Thane didn't go along with him. In fact Thane may have threatened to tell Richard Dartmouth about the scheme, so Ped-Xing killed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d to keep him quiet."

Tim parked the car under the front portico. "And Michael's an accessory, 'cause he probably arranged for the alarm system at Thane's house to be off when his cohort arrived to do in the evil boss."

"I love being the one to hatch a conspiracy theory," Polly trumpeted. She turned to Placenta. "I'll have my champagne in the tub, please," she said as she stepped out of the car and headed for the front steps. "I'll work out this absurd scenario while I'm soaking." Tim pushed the numbers on the alarm system's keypad. "The darn thing's not working again!" he complained as he opened the front door and stepped into the house.

In an instant, Tim grabbed his mother by the arm and pulled her out of the house where a familiar body lay on the floor in the foyer. Tim nearly knocked Placenta off the steps as he retreated. "Get back into the car! Now!"

Detective Archer made it to the estate before the SOS, Security of the Stars patrol service, arrived on scene. He found Polly, Tim, and Placenta just outside the Pepper Plantation gates, locked in the safety of the Rolls-Royce. He tapped on the window and when Tim unlocked the door, Archer slid onto the front pa.s.senger seat. He instantly reached into the backseat to hold Polly's hand. "My guys'll search the place; then you can go back inside."

Polly squeezed Randy's hand. "The alarm system has been on the fritz. And speaking of system failures, we haven't had a sleepover in three nights!"

Detective Archer looked sheepish. "I've been in h.e.l.l trying to find the perv who makes heavy breathing calls to Liza Minnelli. She's going nuts."

"Going?" Placenta said.

Polly looked at her detective boyfriend. "Before you start asking a lot of boring police questions, I'll tell you right off that yes, Tim set the alarm before we left the house. Yes, the security cameras were working the last time Placenta dusted the lenses. Yes, the gates were closed when we returned. If it hadn't been for Tim's quick thinking, I might be another 'Access Hollywood' real-life tragic ending!"

Detective Archer's cell phone rang. He answered and listened for a moment, then disconnected the call. He looked at Polly and Placenta, then turned to Tim. "How well did you know Danny Castillo?"

Tim shrugged. "He's weird, but cute. I mean, semi-talented."

Polly reached forward and playfully slapped the back of Tim's head. "Timmy's got a teensy crush on the little pasty-faced twit."

"Not!" Tim looked at Detective Archer. "You said, 'How well "did" we know Danny'?"

Archer hesitated. With a somber tone that none of the trio had ever heard in his voice, he said, "They found him in your house."

Polly was incensed. "That little weasel. He's not getting a good score from me this week, even if he sings like an angel! I'll break his neck before I see him advance to the final two!" She moved to get out of the car.

Archer reached out his arm to stop her. "An angel.

Maybe. You won't have to reprimand him because he won't be performing."

"Darn right, he won't be! I'll press charges. Breaking and entering. Maybe killing that body in my foyer. Oh G.o.d, are we going to have ghosts haunting this place again?"

"Danny didn't kill anyone," Archer said.

"But Tim saw the body!" Polly insisted. In the silence that followed, she caught on.

Chapter 10.

Polly, Tim, and Placenta were escorted back to the mansion with Detective Archer leading the way. They pa.s.sed armed officers standing as sentries at the front entrance, and others milling about the grand foyer, taking pictures and dusting for fingerprints. Polly tried to ignore two officers with nothing better to do than dis her famous house. "If I had this palace I'd definitely upgrade the floor covering," one said to another. "She lives like she's in a time capsule. Shred the s.h.a.g carpet, dearie!"

Polly rolled her eyes at Tim. "Other than Officer Betty, are there any butch cops in Beverly Hills?" When they arrived at the great room she asked, "What's that?" and pointed to an oversize garment bag lying on the floor, next to her floor-to-ceiling lighted gla.s.s shelves of Emmy Awards, People's Choice Awards, and every other imaginable citation for excellence as a star.

Tim put his arms around his mother. "I think it's a bag of Danny Castillo." He looked at Detective Archer, who nodded.

"Where are the EMTs? Who moved the body? What was he doing in my house in the first place?" Polly demanded. "Did he take anything? Was he alone? How did he die? Has this stupid show suddenly become one big scavenger hunt, where contestants freely walk into other people's private s.p.a.ces to collect G.o.d-knows-what?"

"Maybe one of the contestants thinks one of the others killed Thane, so they decided to prove they could go one better by murdering you!" Placenta said.

Archer called another detective over to explain all that he knew about the incident. "We don't have a lot to go on, ma'am," said Detective Spencer. "You can see that your place wasn't ransacked. Either the intruder knew exactly what he wanted, or he was killed before he had an opportunity to make a mess. It's too early to tell."

"I wonder if he got his hands on the prize; then someone else came along, whacked him, and stole whatever the deceased had," Placenta added.

"And what might that prize have been?" Polly asked as she counted her Emmy statuettes. "Unless they wanted one of my preautographed photos, it doesn't appear that there's anything of value missing. And what would a contestant from I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous possibly want from Pepper Plantation?" possibly want from Pepper Plantation?"

"DNA for a voodoo doll is about the only thing of value around here," Placenta said to Detective Archer. "We don't keep a ton of money or jewels in the safe. A kid like Danny wouldn't be interested in Polly's autographed picture collection. Heck, he wouldn't even know many of the stars. They're mostly all from old TV shows anyway."

Polly stepped a little closer to Archer. "This may be silly and unimportant, but when we were going through Lisa's apartment, that boy Ped-Xing and his new chum, Michael Somebody, popped in. When they saw us-"

"You were at Lisa's apartment?" Archer said with an edge to his voice. "We had an agreement."

"What would you expect me to do after our visit to her cell and ... um. Uh-oh."

"Of course you visited the suspect, too," Archer said, his words dripping with sarcastic displeasure.

Polly looked sheepish. "Let's not allow all the fun and excitement of having breaking news occur in my very own home spoiled just because curiosity got the better of me. Anyway, it was practically Placenta's fault!"

Placenta looked at Polly with the expression of a loyal friend being sold down the river.

"It's perfectly okay, dear," Polly said to Randy. "Tim met that adorable copper and just had to pay a visit to the jail where he worked." She looked at Tim. "Naturally, as the mother of the potential groom-to-be, I had to tag along as a chaperone. It was a total coincidence that Lisa Marrs was being held in the very same jail. When she came out for her exercise period we accidentally b.u.mped into her. You couldn't expect me to give up a completely serendipitous opportunity like that to pay my respects and ask how the little angel is holding up in the Big House!"

Detective Archer took a deep exasperated breath. "You're a great actress. Tell me what you were doing at Lisa Marrs's apartment."

Polly looked at her wrist.w.a.tch. "My goodness! It's way past Lush Hour! Who wants to be the first to pour Polly a drinky?"

Placenta hustled to the wine cooler, withdrew a bottle of Veuve, and filled four flutes. Even Polly was impressed by the speed with which her maid accomplished her most important duty. "Practice makes perfect. Cheers!"

Polly raised the gla.s.s to her lips and took one long swallow. Placenta stood at her side refilling Polly's gla.s.s.

Polly looked at the body bag. "Doesn't that thing belong in a refrigerator? I feel vaguely uncomfortable enjoying the fruits of the vine with Mr. Death's latest acquisition cluttering the room."

Detective Archer motioned for one of the police officers to remove Danny Castillo's body, then returned his attention to Polly.

"This is really all your fault." She pointed her manicured finger at Archer. "You haven't been around lately. I'm not responsible for what I do when you're not here! And don't come up with some lame excuse about Will Smith this or Vanessa Hudgens that."

Archer placed his flute of champagne down on the gla.s.s coffee table without having imbibed so much as a sip. "We were talking about Lisa Marrs. Specifically, you were about to explain what you were doing in her apartment. But why am I even bothering to ask you about it, since I suspect you'll do it again, despite inconvenient police signs forbidding access?"

"I swear, we didn't touch a thing," Polly said.

"Except Lisa's underwear," Tim said.

"That's novel," Archer said.

"We needed a ruse for being there when Ped-Xing broke in," Placenta said.

"Obviously, I can't vouch for what those two hoodlums did after we left, which was right away," Polly said. "But I suppose we sort of give Ped-Xing and Michael an alibi. They were with us, in a manner of speaking. There's absolutely no way that they could have beat us back to the plantation, dismantled the security system, murdered Danny Castillo, and made their getaway before we came home."

Archer looked at his watch. "Unless they came here first. Next on my list is a visit to those two young men. We'll see if your stories match."

"They aren't 'stories,'" Polly said, emboldened by two gla.s.ses of bubbly. "You'll find that if they speak the truth, everything I've told you will be the same. But don't expect miscreants to be honest."

Randy Archer looked at Polly. "I'm not the bad guy. I'm just doing my job."

Polly returned her lover's look of regret. "Get your cute buns and badge out of here and do what you do best. Er, second best!" Then she whispered, "Make time for me soon."

Archer smiled and left the room.

"Is it my imagination, or did the handsome detective treat me like a naughty schoolgirl?" Polly asked Tim and Placenta, her annoyance rising. "So we slipped into a jailbird's apartment while she was away. Big whoop. It's not as though she was coming back any time soon. And we weren't thieves ... or killers! We even had a key!"

"Speaking of killers," Placenta said, "who do you suppose knocked off Danny Castillo? I'm shocked and confused and more than a little unnerved. What on earth did he ... and the killer ... want at Pepper Plantation?"

"Not her color scheme, that's for sure," one of the policemen who was supposed to be collecting evidence sn.i.g.g.e.red to another. Polly rolled her eyes, then made a face as an idea pa.s.sed through her thoughts. She stared into the distance. "Color scheme," she said. "Scheme," she repeated. She looked at Tim and Placenta. "Okay. I know this is far-fetched. But what is the common denominator between Thane Cornwall, Lisa Marrs, and me?"

"The obvious answer is that you were all involved with the reality show I'll Do Anything to Become Famous," I'll Do Anything to Become Famous," Tim said. Tim said.

"What about fame?" Placenta said. "You're a big name. Thane was making one for himself. And Lisa has notoriety."

Polly considered Placenta's words. "Some are born icons ... me, of course. Some achieve iconic status ... Thane ... sorta. Others are treated like icons-in-the-making if they work for a celebrity or do something stupid like becoming a prime suspect in a murder investigation of a sort of icon ... Lisa."

Tim looked at his mother with an expression of confusion. "I don't see any real thread there. Lisa doesn't belong in any category in which you or Thane would be listed for your achievements. The only thing she pulled off is scandal. Killing an audience, as you do, is one thing. Killing contestants' self-value, as Thane did, is another. But outright killing another person for real is ... well, it isn't anything to warrant praise or fame."

"I hate to play what-if," Placenta said. "But someone breaks into Thane's house and he gets whacked. Maybe by Lisa, maybe not. Then someone breaks into our home and doesn't steal anything, but may have been looking for a larger score, like taking out a biggername judge. You. Maybe it's a copycat killer. Maybe it's the same one. All I know is I no longer feel safe at Pepper Plantation."

Polly looked lovingly at her maid and best girlfriend. "Nothing will happen to me, or to either of you. I guarantee it. Now open another bottle and we'll toast to something like ..." In a louder voice she said, "We'll toast to Beverly Hills' men in blue, who obviously watch too much Home and Garden Television's Divine Design Divine Design."

Two officers looked at Polly, then looked at each other and rolled their their eyes. eyes.

Polly accepted a flute of champagne from Placenta and raised her gla.s.s to the two men. "Have you discovered anything interesting? Other than the fact that I have out-of-date track lighting on a cottage cheese ceiling?"

The more catty of the two lifted a plastic bag containing evidence. "As a matter of fact, Ms. Pepper, although this is police business, I'll offer you a little dish."

"Goody. What's that?" Polly asked, seeing little more than dust bunnies and strands of hair in the clear plastic sandwich bag.

With a pair of tweezers, the policeman pointed to what looked like a grain of white rice.

"We order in a lot," Polly explained. "Mr. Chow's is one my faves."

The policeman rolled his eyes. "Has anyone in the house broken a tooth in the past few hours?"

Polly used her tongue to feel around her mouth. "What about you two?" she said, turning to Tim and Placenta. "Anyone need to see el dentista el dentista?"

When the response was in the negative, Polly looked at the policeman again. "So you're saying that the killer has poor dental hygiene?"

The policeman shrugged. "We'll be looking to interrogate someone with a chipped or broken tooth, that's for sure."

"Perhaps it belonged to Danny," Polly speculated. "He could have chipped it when he fell on my gorgeous sandstone tile."

"I'd say that was pretty unlikely," the policeman said. "We found what appears to be a portion of a tooth by your television." He pointed a few feet away to the entertainment center.

"Find the rest of the tooth, and I'll wager we find Danny's killer," Polly said.

The policeman looked at his wrist.w.a.tch. "Oh, fudge!" he shouted.

"Late for another investigation?" Placenta asked. "I'm missing Oprah Oprah!"

Chapter 11.

The Wednesday morning edition of the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times featured a front-page story about the break-in at Pepper Plantation and death of reality show contestant Danny Castillo. The question on every radio talk show host's tongue was, why in the first place would an aspiring contender for a prize on a television reality game show break into the home of one of the judges? And in the second place, why did the contestant die in the famous mansion? featured a front-page story about the break-in at Pepper Plantation and death of reality show contestant Danny Castillo. The question on every radio talk show host's tongue was, why in the first place would an aspiring contender for a prize on a television reality game show break into the home of one of the judges? And in the second place, why did the contestant die in the famous mansion?

It wasn't enough that the media accurately pointed out that Polly Pepper wasn't in her home at the time of the young man's demise, and that she was in no way a suspect in his death. But the wags had to have their field day speculating about a possible relations.h.i.+p between older Polly and younger Danny.

Polly generally only made outgoing calls, so it fell to Tim and Placenta to field the media and their calling the house phone. "Miss Pepper's agent will be happy to answer all inquires," was their standard response to the parade of nosy newshounds who tried to get a statement from the television legend.

"Was Polly in love with the boy?"

"Did Polly give the young man a key to her house?"

"How does Miss Pepper feel about May/December romances?"

"Is it true that Polly is engaged to Daniel Radcliffe?"

When Polly was thrown off-guard by Mary Hart, who somehow got hold of her cell phone number, she bellowed. "I'm not into boys! I mean, I want a man!" She paused. "You're confusing me. I meant to say that I date age-appropriate gentlemen. h.e.l.l, that boy Danny didn't even have any hair on his chest! No, I'm just guessing, for crying out loud. He was too young for me. Oh, go torture Teri Hatcher!"

Polly finally accepted one call, when Placenta handed her a flute of Veuve and the cordless phone, and said, "Little d.i.c.kie Dartmouth."

Polly exhaled loudly, took a long swallow from her gla.s.s, and answered with a fake cry of elation. However, in a short moment, Polly was seated on the sofa, the color draining from her face, and a loud moan issuing past her lips.

"It's not fair," Polly said.