Remains to Be Scene (18 page)

Tim reached out and picked up one of the awards. He read the engraved plate. “Second season,” he said as he handed the statuette to Duane.

Cradling the treasure in the crook of his arm, as if he’d just been handed the last offspring of an otherwise extinct species of animal, Duane began caressing the statuette. He stood in a trance, not wanting the dream-come-true to end. “Polly Pepper’s Emmy Award,” he sighed. “I memorized each of your mother’s acceptance speeches,” he said, which made Tim cringe. Duane continued, “She had tears in her eyes by the time she reached the podium. Then she screamed out, ‘Mama! I won!”

Duane fell into a trance as he recited Polly Pepper’s acceptance speech. “‘When I was eighteen, my lovely and talented mother said that I needed to learn to face rejection…as if I didn’t get enough of it at home. Mama pushed me out of the house to an audition, expecting me to come home crying. I got the role and it took me to Broadway. I never had to look back.’”

Tim interrupted what he could tell was going to be a verbatim recitation of Polly’s speech. “Let’s continue the tour,” Tim suggested and carefully pried Duane’s fingers from around the torso of the golden woman with lightning bolt wings who held the world her hands. He gently reclaimed the statuette and placed it back onto the bookshelf. Then he cocked his head for Duane to follow him out of the room. “No one ever gets to go up stairs, but come on, I’ll show you Polly’s bedroom.”

Duane’s eyes grew wide with gleeful anticipation. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked not wanting to do anything that might displease Polly.

“Of course. You’re with me,” Tim said, making his guest feel as though they were buddies. As they entered the foyer and began to ascend to the second floor Tim said, “This is what we euphemistically call ‘The Scarlett O’Hara…’”

“Memorial Staircase,” Duane interrupted. “I know. Isn’t it great? It’s sorta modeled after the one in
Gone With the Wind
. When Polly was a little girl she dreamed of living at Tara. So when she got rich and famous she had one built to her specifications.”

“Between you and me, I think she built the staircase just to make a grand entrance when company arrives,” Tim said with a conspiratorial wink of his eye.

In the upstairs corridor, Duane stopped at every painting and photograph. When they came to an autographed picture from Mel Torme, Duane said, “He was on ‘The Polly Pepper Playhouse’ eighteen times. The most of any guest. Way past Phyllis Diller. She was only on nine times.”

Tim truly marveled at Duane’s encyclopedic knowledge of his mother’s career. “I can tell that Mom is flattered by your interest in her,” Tim said. “She definitely appreciates her fans, and I’ll bet that you’d do just about anything for her.”

“Darned tootin’, I would,” Duane pledged. “I’m very loyal when it comes to my devotion to Polly Pepper. She could ask me to do anything, and I wouldn’t question her. Anything at all. Is there something?”

Tim waited a few silent moments before softly saying, “As a matter of fact there is something. But Polly doesn’t have the nerve to ask you herself.”

Duane looked surprised. “She shouldn’t feel that way at all,” he declared. “Her wish is my command.”

Tim put a hand on Duane’s thick shoulder and said, “Mom doesn’t want to get you into any trouble, that’s why she feels she can’t talk to you as one dear friend to another about something this important.”

“What could possibly get me in trouble?” Duane said.

Tim hesitated for a moment. He felt that he had to straddle a very fine line between asking a direct question about Sedra’s death and getting Duane to volunteer information on his own. As if drawing Duane further into his confidence, he said, “Polly feels sure that you’re a man with a great deal of dignity and integrity…and that you of all people would probably have some very wise thoughts about the current situation on
Detention Rules!
Like when the cast might return to work. Or whom she should talk to about keeping one of her costumes for her museum. Or, um, who really murdered Sedra Stone…”

Duane stared at Tim for a moment. His silence gave the impression that he was either trying to think of what gossip to repeat, or that he was insulted by an obvious attempt at manipulation. When Duane came out of his daze, he looked around as if to search for eavesdroppers. He stepped closer to Tim, and in hushed tones said, “I’m just the man to help answer all of those questions. And, I can even get her marijuana if she needs a score.”

Tim smiled, relieved. “That won’t be necessary. We’ve got plenty. It’s just that Polly hasn’t worked on a film location in such a long time, and it seems that protocol is different in features than in television, especially when it’s her own show. She really could use your guidance.”

“Never fear,” Duane said. “As for the person who wacked ol’ Sedra? It’s not who everybody thinks. Although I did hear every word of the fight between Dana Pointer and Sedra Stone that last night. They were downright nasty to one another.”

“Did you see Dana leave the set?” Tim asked.

“Not exactly. When the fight ended my shift was over. Don’t tell anyone at Sterling, ‘cause we’re supposed to punch the time clock right at eleven o’clock, but I hung out just long enough to see Sedra throw Dana out of her trailer. I didn’t see the murder, but I know Dana’s not the killer. Too many other people were around.”

“If you weren’t there yourself, how can you be so certain,” Tim asked as casually as possible, as if he were simply shooting the breeze. He was surprised by Duane’s response and wanted to make sure he had his facts straight. “Why do you think Dana’s innocent?” he said.

Duane scoffed. “Don’t get me wrong. Dana’s got a killer’s instinct, just like every actor. And maybe she really did the deed. That’s what makes this crime almost perfect. There was tons of competition to see who could knock Sedra off first.”

“Motives?” Tim asked, knowing full well that there were as many reasons for wanting Sedra eliminated from the planet as there were people on Earth.

“See, it’s like this,” Duane said, as if explaining quantum physics to a three-year-old. “Connect the dots. Up-and-Coming Star—Dana—helps Has Been—Sedra Stone—get a job. When Has Been gets famous again, she thanks Up-and-Coming by dragging out an old autobiographical screenplay she’s been working on for half a century. She serves up a heaping plate of stinking garbage about her own past sins, as well as those of everyone in Hollywood, especially the new generation of stars. Up-and-Coming gets hold of a copy of said screenplay and when she finds that she’s the centerpiece, she goes berserk and puts a quick end to the possibility that Has Been is going to make a big chunk of taxable change off her sorry ass.”

Tim was intrigued. “A memoir?” he mumbled, trusting that no producer would think the public might be interested in the life story of Sedra Stone. “My God,” he said, “is there really a screenplay? Does it contain anything that’s shocking and slanderous? If it’s truly a vengeful story there must be plenty of other people besides Dana who would have reason to silence Sedra. And how do you know about the script?”

“Everybody in town has one, don’t they? A script, I mean. Plus, I’m in security,” Duane said, matter-of-factly. “Sterling Studios is pretty notorious for being a Peeping Tom when it comes to knowing everything about everybody who works for them. One of my jobs is to find out in advance if any of the talent is breaking the morals clause in their contracts—like surfing the net for porn on company time and property—so the studio publicity department can do damage control before anything gets out to the press.”

“Big Brother is watching, eh?” Tim said, taken aback. “So how did you find out about the script?” he asked again.

“Simple,” Duane shrugged. “I read parts of it on her laptop while she was filming scenes. It worked out great that Missie and Dana are such lame actresses that they had to shoot those scenes over and over, so I didn’t have to rush.”

Tim took a deep and dramatic inhale of breath. “Why were you reading her personal information in the first place?” he asked.

“Like I said, looking for stuff that Sterling might need to know about,” Duane smiled. “It’s part of my job. We check employees’ computers all the time.”

“But that’s private,” Tim said, trying his best not to sound judgmental.

“No,” Duane insisted, “not at all because the laptop belonged to Sterling. It was just a loaner. So everything she had in there actually belonged to the studio.”

“Splitting hairs,” Tim said. “Who has the computer and all of Sedra’s files now?”

“The killer, I guess,” Duane said. “Boy did I get in a ton of trouble. After they found the body, my boss wanted me to retrieve the computer. But, um, it wasn’t in Sedra’s trailer. And it wasn’t in her rented limo. Sterling sent someone to her house, but they couldn’t find it there, either.”

“Oh, Christ,” Tim said. “This sounds like something out of a Tom Clancy novel! What if you’re in danger? Aren’t you afraid that you might be the man who knows too much?”

Duane stopped, dumbfounded. “You’re the only one I’ve told,” he said.

“Why trust me?” Tim asked.

“Because you’re Polly Pepper’s flesh and blood. And I’m your friend.”

Just as Tim was about to suggest that others might know about the screenplay, such as Sedra’s agent, Placenta called out from the bottom of the staircase. “Mister Tim! Mister Duane! Polly’s hypoglycemia’s kicking in. She’s starved. You guys finish your tour and beat it on down to the patio. Hurry up!”

Duane looked at Tim and looked down the few feet of corridor before Polly’s bedroom door. “Darn. I won’t see where Polly Pepper sleeps.” Then he smiled. “No biggie,” he said. “I can see it the next time I come over. Let’s not keep the great Polly Pepper waiting. I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

Tim was far from ready to end his conversation about Sedra’s bio pic, but conceded that they’d better hustle down to lunch. “Just tell me one more thing,” he said. “What did Sedra say in her screenplay about Polly?”

Duane turned and faced his host. He looked deep into Tim’s eyes and said, “I did a global search for the name Polly and/or Pepper and they came up five hundred and seventy-seven times. But I only read as far as the beginning of a story that started off with the time Sedra and Polly were dating Burt Reynolds…”

“Are you two coming down?” the voice of Placenta rang out again. “I know that Polly is eager to chat with Duane.”

“We’re coming,” Duane responded. Then to Tim he said, “I’ll tell you the rest later.”

“Tell me now,” Tim said, eager for news. “Am I mentioned?”

“You only had three entries,” Duane said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tim said. “Dana’s probably going to fry in the electric chair, or get a massive dose of some lethal injection, or hang from a gallows, ’cause I’ll bet they find the computer in her house, even if she’s not really guilty. I mean who really cares about a movie star anyway, right?” He gave a lascivious wink to Tim.

“It’s not at Dana’s house,” Duane said as Placenta came to fetch them.

To Tim’s surprise, Duane stopped at the top of the stairs and said, “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that nothing is ever as it appears to be. God knows people in high places usually get off scot-free. It’s the people below them who end up taking the blame. I think that some people are born to get away with murder all their lives. If they’re pretty or rich or both, people fall all over themselves to protect those who project a little star shine. Maybe Dana will walk.”

As the two men descended the stairs, Tim asked sotto voce, “Was Sedra surfing for porn?”

L
unch with Duane was not the Tower of Terror that Polly had anticipated. Tim and Placenta guided her to reveal dozens of inside show business anecdotes—which she exaggerated out of all proportion—giving Duane the lowdown on her meteoric rise to fame and fortune. Although she covered well-known territory about how poor and deprived she’d been as a child, and that she had to clean the tarantula cages at the L.A. County Zoo to earn extra money to feed her bipolar, alcoholic single mother, she mesmerized Duane by offering a few details that she’d kept from all but her earliest interviews. When three o’clock arrived, Duane was sated and willing to leave without too much of a fuss.

As Polly, Tim, and Placenta escorted Duane to the front door, and all exchanged expressions of appreciation for the other’s hospitality or generosity, it was Placenta who finally asked the question that Polly seemed to have forgotten during an afternoon of self-involved pontification. “Such a sweet boy,” she said to Duane. “I don’t suppose you personally had anything to do with Sedra’s death?”

“Talk about a marksman’s point-blank, between the eyes, direct hit,” Polly said, apologizing for Placenta’s blunt remark.

Duane’s smile had turned to a look of horror.

“Don’t look so startled,” Placenta said. “Hell, I’ll tell you a little secret. Years ago, I thought about having Polly bumped off. Yeah, I actually got on the phone with The Queen Mum, and she gave me a schedule of fees for taking out princesses and former nannies with tell-all books. The rates for hitting a Hollywood TV icon weren’t all that bad, considering. But in the end I decided she wasn’t worth it. Was Sedra worth it to you?”

“My Placenta’s not a well person,” Polly said, putting her arm around her maid’s waist. “She has a condition of the tongue. Something like Tourette’s.”

Duane collected himself and said, “As I was explaining to Tim earlier, it wasn’t Dana Pointer who did the deed to Sedra Stone. I’m almost positive.”

“Almost?” Polly said.

Duane shrugged his thick shoulders. “Even though they were in Sedra’s trailer, fighting like Krystle and Alexis.”

“But you didn’t actually
see
Dana and Sedra together?” Placenta said.

“Sterling’s notorious when it comes to not allowing overtime,” Duane said. “I had to clock out precisely at eleven when my shift was over. So no, I didn’t actually see Dana push Sedra off the diving platform, if that’s what you mean. As far as my involvement, the fact that my mother is still alive proves I’m pretty harmless.”

The others offered uncomfortable laughs, as Duane quickly changed the subject and tried to make plans for another lunch or dinner at Pepper Plantation.

He was subtly thwarted by Polly who saw no further need at the moment for his services. “I’ll check my schedule and let you pick a date that’s mutually convenient,” Polly said as she ushered him out the door. “We’ll definitely make it soon, dear! And thank you again for the posies and the
TV Guide
. I’ll cherish them as I do your adoration of me.” Then she waved good-bye in tandem with Tim and Placenta.

As she closed the door, Polly pouted. “That was a waste of my time. The little pisher didn’t give us any new material to work with.”

“Maybe if I hadn’t talked so much,” Placenta shot back.

As the trio made their way back to the patio to collect their drinks, Placenta roiled. “If you hadn’t gone on about how much you hated working with Vickie Lawrence when she was a guest on the show, or how Steve McQueen was a bully, and Jimmy Stewart wrote lousy poetry, maybe we could have grilled him. Lady, he was ripe for pumping.”

“I did the pumping for you,” Tim said with a smug smile.

“Oh, my poor Timmy,” Polly said, genuinely sympathetic. “You could do so much better than Duane!”

Tim stopped and folded his arms over his chest. “Mother, you’re a freakin’ nut job. I pumped Duane’s brain for information about Sedra’s death.”

“Don’t mind your mama,” Placenta said. “She’s on the right track, but taking the wrong train.”

Tim continued. “He’s a big ol’ vending machine. Drop in the right amount of coins, or in this case, let him fondle one of Polly Pepper’s Emmys, and the treats come sliding down the chute. Barbara Walters could learn a thing or two from me!”

As they reclaimed their seats at the patio table Tim continued to entertain his mother and their maid. “I couldn’t very well talk about it while he was still here, but as I was showing him around the house he said that Dana didn’t kill Sedra, even though she’s pretty much a main feature in Sedra’s tell-all autobiographical screenplay.”

“Screenplay?” Placenta remarked.

“She was writing a movie?” Polly said, startled.

Tim continued, “Sedra apparently has some big secrets to reveal. So I think that someone killed the messenger. So-to-speak. At least according to Duane.”

Polly thought about the idea of Sedra writing a script about her life. “Everybody says that I should write a book,” she said. “I would set the record straight and refute all those horrid tabloid stories. The tales that I could tell would make Sedra turn over in her grave! That is, if her bones weren’t all broken and she could move ’n stuff.” She considered Sedra and her screenplay for another moment. “You don’t suppose she had anything interesting to say about me, do you? She wreaked so much hell in my life, I’ll have to devote more than a chapter to her in my own bio,” Polly said, already outlining her tome.

Tim said nothing of the number of entries that Duane claimed to have found for Polly. Instead he focused on whether or not Duane was telling the truth about the script. “He can’t even be sure that the screenplay exists anymore. It was on Sedra’s computer, which has gone missing.”

“Missing evidence!” Placenta said. “Listen, if Duane had come across anything in which Polly’s name was mentioned he would have downloaded the files. I’m sure of it.”

“As if anybody would be interested in anything written by Sedra Stone,” Polly said. “Hell, she was a national joke even when she was famous. Who would spend more than a nickel to see a movie about a washed-up star?”

Tim defended the idea. “Hell, it’s a classic story. Especially when the lead character climbs back on top again. As Sedra was starting to do.”

“You’ve answered your own question about whether or not you should write your own story,” Placenta said to Polly. Then she gave the idea of Sedra’s screenplay more consideration and suggested that if such a thing existed and was on the verge of being produced, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find out. “Wouldn’t J. J. have represented her in a film sale?” she asked. “I think he’s someone to add to our list of people to invite to dinner.”

Polly made a face. “Ach!” she said. “Let’s first see how it goes with Adam and his main squeeze this evening. I’m getting tired of riff-raff coming in and out of this house. It used to be so quiet here. Perhaps after tonight there won’t be a need to investigate any further.”

“Until we can prove that you didn’t get Dana Pointer locked up by mistake, then we’re on this case,” Tim said. “A few dinner parties with people you dislike is the price you have to pay for wanting to sleep with a police detective who was dumb enough to take your word that Dana was a killer.”

Polly stood up from the patio table. “Perhaps I made a teensy mistake. Who’s to say? Matlock was thrown off the trail now and then. I need a nap if I’m going to put on a performance tonight for Adam and Judith.” She began to wander into the house. “Wake me by five, please,” she called out and then spotted their gardener, Hector, in all his shirtless glory. “I think I’ve changed my mind. About the menu for dinner, I mean. Instead of the surf n’ turf, let’s do a Mexican theme. I could use a burrito. And a pitcher of sangria.
Por favor
.”

While Polly was comfortably snuggled under her comforter, dreaming of Hector turning the garden hose on his perspiration-soaked torso, Tim decided to pay another visit to Dana. At the Beverly Hills jail, he again met Sergeant Walker who complained about Tim’s obvious lack of interest in dating a cop. “Guess I’ll have to write you a citation to get your attention,” he pouted. Tim promised Walker that as soon he got to the truth about Dana’s guilt or innocence, he’d take him up on his invitation for a night out of twirling on the dance floor.

As Tim waited in the interrogation room for Dana to be brought from her cell, he considered what evidence there was against her. It was all circumstantial. Missie and Duane had only
heard
Sedra fighting with Dana. The fact that strands of Dana’s hair had been found clutched in Sedra’s fist was not proof that she was present in the final moments of Sedra’s life. Tim wasn’t even certain that he accepted Duane’s story of a missing computer containing the script of a Hollywood bio potboiler in which Dana’s private life was to be publicly trashed. As he considered the lack of quality in the information, the steel door to the room opened, and Dana Pointer was ushered inside.

Tim stood up as Dana entered. He held out a metal chair for her and when they were both seated at the table, Tim broke the ice with standard innocuous questions about her health and mental attitude. “I hear that The Garden Bistro caters the meals here. True?” he asked. “Personally, I’d prefer California Pizza Kitchen,” he tried to joke, but was met with an icy stare. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t try to be humorous when you’re going through hell. Are you being treated okay?”

Dana shrugged her shoulders in resignation. “One of the hardest lessons I’m learning is that a lot of the people who I thought were my friends have abandoned me. As a matter of fact, except for my attorney, you and Polly and your maid are the only ones who’ve come to visit. I take that back. Paris was here, but she only wanted to see if perhaps there might be a reality show idea about movie stars in prison.”

Tim snorted in agreement. There was silence while Tim mustered the courage to bring up the touchy subject of Sedra’s death. He decided to simply rip the bandage off the wound. “Sedra was writing a screenplay and you were a prominent character, right?”

Dana shrugged her shoulders. “That was the rumor,” she said, shaking her head. “A stand-in told me that she’d heard from the make-up artist, who heard from that security guy Duane, who was apparently acting as an undercover operative for Sterling Studio’s parent company. They get sued so often by mommies and daddies who think their little brats are being corrupted by Hollywood that he was charged with making sure we were good boys and girls. Rumor has it that he got into Sedra’s laptop and discovered a folder stupidly labeled, ‘My Life.’ I’m supposed to be so important to Sedra and I have to find out about this biopic from a freakin’ stand-in.”

“You killed Sedra over a screenplay that may or may not really exist?”

“Oh, it exists, all right. But no!” Dana yelled and slammed the palm of her hand on the table. “I didn’t do anything to Sedra! I swear it! Sure, I wanted to kill her, but she was alive when I left the location! So alive in fact, that I could still hear her throwing a tantrum when I got to my car.”

“How did Duane access the file without a password?”

“You don’t need a password if you’re working off-line on a floppy disk,” Dana said.

Tim took a deep breath. “You never saw Sedra’s screenplay, so you don’t know if she was really writing a memoir. Even if she was on the verge of producing a movie about her own life, what were you afraid she would reveal about you? God, you’re too young to have anything so big to hide. I mean, you’re not anywhere near as famous as Tom Cruise for crying out loud! He doesn’t kill people who spread rumors, he just sues their asses off.”

“I can’t talk about it,” Dana said in an adamant tone. “We all have skeletons that are best kept locked away in the closet.”

Tim was more skeptical than when he first entered the interrogation room. “If you didn’t read the screenplay, why do you think that someone’s dark secrets were going to be exposed? More rumors?”

Dana was silent.

“You don’t want to be a fink, is that it?” Tim said. “Let’s play twenty questions. Tell me if I’m hot or cold. Sedra was involved with your boyfriend, Jack.”

Dana uttered, “Sheesh!” and rolled her eyes. “Below zero!”

“Duane took revenge on Sedra by killing her off?”

“I pity your partners at a party game,” Dana scowled and examined her fingernails.

Tim finally became exasperated. “God damn it, Dana! I’m only trying to help. Everyone claims innocence when there are necks on the chopping block. I wanted to believe you’re innocent. However, you’ve gotta help! Stand up for yourself, for crying out loud. What are you trying to prove by not talking?”

For the next few moments, there was silence in the room. Then Sergeant Walker knocked on the door and entered. “You guys finished?” he said, meaning that visiting hours were over, but giving them the courtesy of wrapping things up.

Tim looked at Dana and said, “We’re having dinner with Adam tonight. I’ll tell him you said hi.”

Before Dana got to the door she said, “Crappy director, sloppy in bed, and I’ll bet he knows a lot about Sedra’s script. Ask him.”

And with that comment, she was escorted out of the room and down the hall to her cell.