Remains to Be Scene (13 page)

Tim poured himself another glass of champagne. “What about the possibility that The Bluebird of Happiness—Missie Miller—is the evil doer?” Tim asked. “I think there’s more going on behind her brown eyes than most people notice. She’s inordinately eager to get this movie finished.”

“Of course there’s more going on with her. She’s an egghead,” Placenta reminded. “Harvard brain—which I don’t really believe. Musical prodigy—so we’re told. I didn’t see any sheet music on her piano.”

“Remember that offstage meltdown at her party?” Polly said. “She’s probably Betty White on the outside, and Sue Ann Nivens on steroids on the inside. Honestly, no one’s as sweet as she pretends to be. Except me.”

Placenta agreed. “God knows even I put on a great big smile in front of some people. Every week when you grudgingly hand over my paycheck. You don’t wanna know what I’m actually thinking.”

Polly flecked soapy water at Placenta with the back of her hand. “And I smile whenever you cook up that Tahitian dish that tastes the way I imagine pureed Purina Puppy Chow would taste.”

“It is pureed Purina Puppy Chow!” Placenta snapped.

“A recipe for salmonella poisoning, if you ask me,” Polly retorted.

Placenta ignored her and the trio settled down and resumed their languorous activity of drinking, listening to music, and playing Grand Jury, indicting everyone in Hollywood for the murder of Sedra Stone.

Streisand’s voice over the central stereo gave way to Tony Bennett singing about wanting to be around to pick up the pieces of a former lover’s broken heart. It was the sort of “I told you so” song with which every jilted lover identified. It started Polly thinking about the vindictive nature of romance gone sour. “D’ya think it’s true that Jack Wesley was having an affair with Sedra? Perhaps he dumped her. And maybe she felt used and abused and decided to be mean about it—as she was wont to be. And he decided to get rid of her before she could rat him out to the tabloids?” Polly said. “Nobody dumps Sedra Stone, etcetera.”

Tim had been on the brink of falling asleep in his chair, but his mother’s comment brought him back to full consciousness. “Hate to burst your bubble, but Sedra wasn’t exactly Jack’s type. Want me to spell it out in graphic detail?”

“Oh please!” Polly said as if to an idiot. “That’s old news, at least to everyone who isn’t Jack. We all know that it’s the worst kept secret in town. As Dorothy Parker quipped, ‘Scratch the surface of any actor, and you’ll find an actress.’ But then, Sedra always liked a challenge. And hey, sex is sex. With Jack’s looks and libido, he’s bound to spread himself around with X and Y chromosomes.”

Suddenly, in a change of subject, Polly whined, “My goddamn bubbles are disappearing. Everybody out. I’ll be down in the Great Room shortly.” As she began to break through the water and to stand up in the tub, Tim and Placenta stood and averted their eyes from the view of Polly plastered with remnants of suds. They began to leave the boudoir.

“Don’t forget the champagne and cheese,” Polly said, wrapping a large plush white towel around her torso. “Scat!” she said as they hauled away the treats. But before they closed the door, Polly added, “I’ll figure out who the killer is and explain it all to you in a few minutes.”

A short while later, when Polly joined Tim and Placenta downstairs, she was wearing silk pajamas and a monogrammed bathrobe. It was nearly bedtime for all, but she wanted to crack the case before hitting the sack. “Who’s the least likely person—besides me—to have knocked off Sedra?” Polly said. “Isn’t it always the shy ones like Duane, that namby-pamby guard? Or how about that screen-writer guy, Ben Tyler. The word from Adam Berg is that the writer was royally pissed off at Sedra because she embarrassed him in front of the entire cast and crew. Sedra said that his script wasn’t worth shredding and that she’d already tossed her pages of dialogue in the school’s pool. Or how about the wardrobe mistress?”

“What’s her motive?” Tim asked sarcastically. “Sedra doesn’t like polyester blends?”

Polly said, “I had a little
conver-say-she-oney
with Miss Threads this morning. Spilled her guts about how pooped she is of demanding celebrities, and that Sedra was among the more difficult. Didn’t have nice things to report about Dana, or Missie for that matter. Said that these days, even the stand-ins were becoming troublesome because they’re all envious that they’re not the star. Said that my stand-in, Lauren Gaul, wanted to be dressed precisely as Sedra for each scene. The way she now dresses like me. After twenty-five years of pesky actors, Stella’s ready to pack it in and become a real estate agent in Antarctica.”

Then the telephone rang and the trio abruptly stopped their banter. The answering machine engaged and a voice came through the speaker. “Um. Er. Adam Berg here,” the director began to ramble. “Sorry to be the guy to tell you this, and over a mechanical device no less, but…um, er…the Channel 2 news just reported that um, Sedra Stone’s death was, um…murder. Geez. They’ve charged Dana Pointer. Damn. I was only four days away from wrap. This sucks. We’re outta work—again. That little pisher is ruining my career. All our careers. That arrogant Detective Archer couldn’t have waited four more freakin’ days! As I said, this sucks.”

In the background the trio at Pepper Plantation could hear the voice of Dana Pointer over a television news program pleading, “I’m innocent! I’m innocent! I swear it! For Christ sake! L’me go, you moron!”

T
im quickly grabbed the television remote control and turned on the monitor. He found a local news broadcast that was recapping their top story. “Screen teen Dana Pointer, star of the box office hit
Bummer
, among other films, has been charged at her home in Benedict Canyon for allegedly murdering TV legend Sedra Stone.”

With the surliest visual image of Dana that the station could find to accompany the story, the news anchor continued reading from a teleprompter. “As well-known for her offscreen temper tantrums as her onscreen bad girl roles, Dana Pointer was taken into custody this evening shortly after returning home from the location shoot of her new film,
Detention Rules!
According to her publicist, Pointer is innocent of the charge and will sue the quote ‘Lyin’ bastards of the LAPD for false arrest.”

The anchor made an involuntary and ever-so-slight smirk. “Moving on to sports, we turn now to Buck Jones,” he said. “How about those Lakers! Wouldn’t you love to murder their coach?”

Tim muted the sound of the television and simply stared at his mother. After a long silence, he said, “I’m stunned. I really thought that Dana was too obvious to be the killer. Frankly, I thought they’d come to the conclusion that Sedra’s death was an accident.”

“An accident waiting to happen!” Placenta said. “The only thing about this mess that surprises me is that Sedra didn’t meet her end years ago.”

Polly stood up and moved to the champagne bucket. The bottle was empty and upside down in the icy meltwater, like something drowned face down in a pond. For the first time in ages, Polly didn’t ask that someone else fetch another bottle. Instead, she lifted out the empty one, which dripped melt water all over the coffee table, and walked to the door leading out of the Great Room. She left Tim and Placenta staring at the door after her departure.

Now alone in the vast room, with only the silent images on the plasma television screen to intrude on their thoughts, the two looked at each other for a long moment. Tim shrugged. Placenta shook her head in agreement and said, “The one I feel most sorry for is Polly. I mean, Sedra’s dead and there’s nothing we can do about that. But your mama’s an innocent party. They’ll shut down production and her career is back in the crapper. It’s not fair.”

Tim nodded like a bobblehead toy. “She can’t catch a break. It’s easier to become a star than to remain a working actor. When this all sinks in she’s going to be totally devastated.”

At that moment, Polly appeared. She stood motionless for a moment, between Tim and Placenta, trying to find the right thoughts to express her feelings.

When it was obvious that words were failing Polly, Tim stood up and raised his glass. “I think I know what you’d like to say, Mom,” he said softly. “We all knew Sedra Stone, and although she wasn’t exactly a friend, we respected her talents. Well, not her talents necessarily because let’s face it, she was more like Ally Sheedy than Meryl Streep. But, she was unique. Sure she was vulgar, and at times—most times—nasty and hateful, and a lot of people didn’t understand her. But she carved a niche for herself in pop culture, and that’s certainly to be commended. There are a lot of fans who’ll miss her. And they’ll be very pissed off at Dana Pointer for prematurely ending an icon’s career. We send Sedra’s soul our best thoughts and prayers.”

Tim lowered his glass to his lips and took a sip of the cold golden potion. Placenta and Polly followed his lead and savored their drinks as if it was the first of the evening.

Placenta said, “That was lovely, Tim. I know that’s what your Mama would have said had she not been so choked up.” Placenta looked over a Polly who had still not uttered a word since returning to the room. She reached out for Polly’s hand. “Sit down, hon. It’s okay to express your emotions and to say what’s on your mind. You’re among family.” Placenta had a great gift for comforting others during a time of grief. She had nursed Tim through more than a few broken hearts, and now her protective and mothering traits came into full force again. “Tell us what you’re feeling, sweetheart,” she said, patting Polly’s forearm.

Polly looked into Placenta’s kind eyes. She turned to Tim and forced a tight smile. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “There might be a slight problem.”

Tim took hold of Polly’s hand and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll get another job. This isn’t the end of the world. For Dana, maybe. And Sedra for sure. But not for you. Plus, your name’ll be in all the papers. I’ll bet this triggers a ton of publicity.”

Polly heaved a cryptic sigh.

Placenta took a closer examination of Polly’s face. “I’ve seen this look on you before,” she said, her compassion waning. “Like the time you taped that mean-spirited comedy sketch parodying Mary Higgins Clark, and the day before it aired
Redbook
came on the stands with an article she’d written about how she considered you a national treasure as well as her favorite star. Remember how you freaked and made the network destroy that bit of film, then splice in a replacement segment from a portion of an old program with Steve and Eydie—and that was in black and white! So what’s up this time?”

Polly looked away, avoiding eye contact. She looked at the ceiling. Then she looked at her Emmy Awards on the bookshelf. She glanced at the grandfather clock.

“Mother,” Tim said, “this question may sound like a nonsequiter, but I’d like you to tell us again how much you like Detective Archer. You think he’s pretty nifty, don’t you. ‘Cute’ you said. So how much did you try to impress him? How helpful were you to his investigation? You’re hardly one to keep your opinions to yourself, so what did the rich and famous celebrity tell the impressionable fan about her theories regarding a certain person of interest in the case?”

Tim and Placenta leaned in close to Polly. With four eyes boring into her soul, Polly made a loud swallowing sound. She stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and touched one of her People’s Choice awards. Finally she turned and said, “I might have…probably not, but I
might
…somewhere along the line…have repeated stuff that’s common knowledge.”

“Common knowledge?” Tim repeated.

“Only that Sedra had tons of enemies,” Polly said.

“Such as Duane the security guard,” Placenta encouraged.

“Right,” Polly agreed.

“And…” Tim pursued the line of questioning.

“Um, Stella the costumer,” Polly added. “Oh, and Adam’s assistant Judith.”

“And the screenwriter, Ben Whatshisname,” Tim said.

“What about Lauren the stand-in?” Placenta said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Tim prompted his mother again.

“And…oh, I don’t know, I think maybe I alluded to something about Missie and Jack and…Detective Archer may have jumped to the conclusion that Dana Pointer was capable of not only stepping over bodies, but creating the bodies in the first place. That’s all,” Polly said. “Nothing terribly tragic.”

Placenta said, “If the detective jumped to conclusions, you pushed him. What did you say to make him leap? Pretend you’re under oath, ’cause baby, something tells me you’re going to be a star again.”

Polly’s dour expression turned to a wan smile.

“A star witness in a murder trial, is what I mean,” Placenta said sternly.

“I don’t remember, what I said. Not exactly, anyway.” Polly clammed up.

“Mother, if you used your influence as Hollywood royalty to get Dana arrested…What if she’s innocent?”

“So, a jury’ll decide,” Polly said. “Like getting signatures for a ballot measure. Then you let the public vote.”

Tim was practically apoplectic. “Juries aren’t always fair, Mother! They don’t necessarily care what the verdict is. They just wanted to go home. That’s what juries are like!”

“But Dana’s a celebrity,” Polly debated. “You can’t compare some boring federal income tax evasion trial with a juicy Hollywood murder mystery, can you?”

“A jury actually acquitted O.J.,” Tim reminded, to which Polly grimaced.

Placenta took center stage. “Polly,” she began, “Tim and I have pulled you out of enough scrapes to make us honorary caped crusaders. But if you influenced the detective into casting Dana in the role of killer, and she’s not, I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of this mess.”

“I’m going to bed now, ’cause I’ve had way too much champagne, and way too much bad news for one day,” Polly said.

Placenta demanded, “First thing tomorrow we have got to find out if Dana is really guilty, or if you’ve just ruined a young girl’s career.”

“Her career would have been over after this movie anyway,” Polly sniped.

Placenta continued. “Tomorrow…you…the legendary Polly Pepper…are going to come down off your high horse of celebrity and mingle with the plebes and find out if Dana is guilty or not.”

“I’m not going to interfere with the police investigation,” Polly said adamantly.

“You already have,” Tim said. “So maybe Dana is a cold-blooded killer. But maybe she’s not. We have to find out. Otherwise, your karma is screwed for the rest of eternity.”

The next morning, when Polly arrived at the patio breakfast table, she was perturbed to find that the only items on the glass top were a scattering of bougainvillea petals. There was no place setting and no ashtray, and her badly needed Bloody Mary wasn’t waiting for her. In fact, there wasn’t any sound coming from the kitchen, and it appeared that Placenta wasn’t around. Polly steadied herself with a hand on the back of a wrought-iron chair and looked around the back yard of her estate. She squinted at her wristwatch, then complained aloud, “Where’s Hector today? And most importantly, where’s my breakfast?”

Polly tottered back into the house and entered the kitchen. She noticed that coffee was brewing and the dishwasher was going through its rinse cycle. The morning edition of the
L.A. Times
was on the island in the center of the room, but appeared not to have been opened. She looked around then called out Placenta’s name. There was no response. Polly called again and moved from the kitchen down the hallway toward the Great Room. She called for Placenta again, but was greeted with silence. Then, as she passed the Scarlet O’Hara Memorial Staircase, she saw Tim and Placenta coming down the steps. Again she looked at her watch.

“It’s not even ten o’clock,” she said, addressing Tim. “You’re up and dressed rather early, aren’t you?”

When Tim and Placenta reached the foot of the staircase, they both gave Polly a look that said,
Don’t you remember what day this is
?

Tim carried a yellow legal note pad and the three-ring binder that the production assistant had given Polly, which contained contact information for the entire cast and crew of
Detention Rules!
“We’ve gotta get started,” Tim said.

Polly looked slightly confused and exasperated. “I thought the production was shut down indefinitely.”

“You’re not working on set,” Placenta said. “You’re visiting Dana in jail today.”

Polly heaved a heavy sigh of irritation. “The girl hasn’t even been arraigned. I doubt that the police would let me in to see a criminal before she’s faced the judge. Anyway, I want breakfast, and it’ll take me hours to put myself together.”

Placenta put her hands on her hips and said, “Mr. Coffee’s ready, and I’ll make toast after you’ve showered and made up. You’ve got thirty minutes. As for seeing Dana, put on your most endearing Polly Pepper persona and you can get yourself in anywhere. It’s time that you used your celebrity for something better than getting freebee theater tickets.”

Polly started to object, but Tim cut her off. “We haven’t got all day, Mother. In fact, I’m calling Detective Archer this minute and you’re going to charm him into getting you in to see Dana.” Tim flipped open his cell phone and punched in the numbers on the detective’s business card. The line rang and Detective Archer answered with a curt, “Yes?”

Tim said, “One moment for Miss Polly Pepper, please,” and tried to hand the mobile to Polly who waved it away as if she were shooing a swarm of flying termites. He pushed the device into Polly’s hands and whispered, “Your boyfriend’s on the line. Charm the man the way you did on the set!”

With a petulant look that she usually displayed after reading a bad review of her work, she accepted the phone. It took her a moment, but eventually, as if flipping a toggle that blasted a sports stadium playing field with effulgent light, Polly beamed and spoke superlatives into the mouthpiece. “Detective Archer! How are you? I’m calling to congratulate you on cracking this nasty case. You’re brilliant, simply amazing! How you deduced that Dana Pointer was your mystery killer is beyond my comprehension. You’re a sharp one! But I guess that’s why you’re assigned to protect us all from the monsters in Hollywood. Where were you when I was stuck on a dais next to Oliver Stone? Ha, ha, ha. Of course, I’m absolutely devastated to find that someone I actually knew and admired and cared for deeply, a colleague no less, is in jail for murder!”

Polly stopped and listened for a moment. “Don’t be silly. The world won’t stop revolving if you’re wrong,” she offered, hearing his misgivings about a lack of evidence. “Don’t think twice about what I said before…the rumors I heard, etcetera! You’ll find tons of proof, I’m sure of it. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling, aside from needing to hear your warm, thoughtful, intelligent voice.”