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Authors: Susan Kandel

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Lael popped up and ruffled his hair. “Yup. But Bridget said it’ll wash right out.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” said Connor, whipping around to look at me.

Jilly’s eyes bugged at least an inch out of her head.

Ellroy, I kid you not, passed out. It was a warm day, admittedly.

Terence grabbed a juice box from the floor, pierced it with the tiny straw, and squeezed so that a stream of organic apple juice came squirting out all over Ellroy’s face. Ellroy sputtered a little, then sat up.

Bridget walked right up to Lael with a bottle of Pellegrino in her hand. “If you wait too long, it’ll set.” She poured some on a napkin, then started dabbing at the ketchup on Lael’s chest.

“Stop that,” said Lael, wriggling away. “I can do it myself.”

Bridget trapped her at the door. “That jumpsuit is listed on eBay for eighteen hundred dollars. I’ll do it, if you don’t mind!”

At that point, Jilly started to laugh. Her laughter accelerated and was quickly accompanied by thigh-slapping, head-rolling, and other unseemly behaviors.

Connor stared at her, openmouthed. When he caught her eye, he chuckled once, purely experimentally.

“That’s right,” said Jilly. “Laugh away! This is utterly fantastic!!”

Connor chuckled again.

“Utterly fantastic!” echoed Terence, giving a little snort of glee.

Even Ellroy joined in, a company man to the bitter end.

“We’re going to make history!” Jilly crowed. “This is the absolute best! We’re all going to be famous! Reality TV will never be the same after Cece Caruso!” Jilly handed me her clipboard. “This is the release. Just go ahead and sign it, and then we can celebrate for real.”

“Nah,” I said.

Jilly’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, nah?”

I took the release form out of her hands and tore it up.

Annie and Vincent gave each other a high five.

“The thing is,” I explained, “reality can be extremely dull.”

Jilly’s skin had reverted to its characteristic mottled pink. “Excuse me?”

I smiled as I saw Gambino come into the room. “Hitch said that. I guess you must’ve missed it in all your research. That’s why we turn to art.”

“What are you saying, Cece?” Jilly asked.

“That I don’t sell myself cheap.”

“Oh, we weren’t going to pay you,” said Connor. “I mean, we could probably work something out in terms of reimbursing you for your expenses.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” interrupted Jilly. “Of course we’ll pay you. Industry standard, still to be determined.” She smiled a lipless lizard smile.

Bridget poked me in the ribs. “Don’t be hasty, Cece. Once you’re famous, you could get a hosting gig, or endorsements. Or even do a clothing line.”

“I know people at Mervyn’s,” said Jilly.

“Tempting. But the fact of the matter is, I’m a writer.” I looked directly into the camera hidden in the oversized, cellophane-wrapped lollipops, so nobody would miss it. “And if anybody’s going to tell my story, it’s going to be me.”

Who said another scrupulously researched biography would really get at the truth of Hitchcock?

Reality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

That’s why we escape into fantasy, as Hitch understood so well.

And what could be more fantastic than a story of an accidentally sexy forty-something everywoman caught in the throes of an obsession with the greatest maestro of obsession who ever lived?

I already had my first line.

They write books about women like me, who cancel weddings and then go on the honeymoons by themselves.

I glanced over at Gambino, tossing baby Radha in the air.

The last line, it appeared, was still up for grabs.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to acknowledge my former editor Carolyn Marino, whose sage counsel I will miss; and to thank my editor, Katherine Nintzel, for her enthusiasm and quick eye. As always, I am grateful to my agent, Sandra Dijkstra, who is tireless in her support. Thanks also to Taryn Fagerness, and Elise Capron in her office.

The Hitchcock literature is fascinating and endless. As I worked my way through it, Donald Spoto’s
The Dark Side of Genius,
though somewhat dyspeptic, was extremely valuable. I turned to Patrick McGilligan’s
Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light
whenever I needed answers to specific questions, and to Jean-Pierre Dufreigne’s
Hitchcock Style
whenever I needed inspiration. Peter Conrad’s brilliant
Hitchcock Murders
deserves special mention, as does Francois Truffaut’s revealing book-length interview with the ordinarily tight-lipped director.

I’m sure I traumatized my daughters by letting them watch
The Birds
too early in life, but they have always been a big part of my work. I wanted to thank Maud in particular for the meta
phor on page 139; and Kyra for catching a contradiction in the final chapter. As for my husband, Peter, he introduced me to the concept of the Macguffin back when we were in grad school and it stuck, proving once again that he brings good things to my life.

About the Author

Susan Kandel
is a former art critic for the
Los Angeles Times.
She has taught at New York University and UCLA, and served as editor of the international journal
artext.
She lives in West Hollywood, California, with her husband, two daughters, and dog.

www.susankandel.com

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Praise
for Susan Kandel and the Cece Caruso Mysteries

“The delightful Cece Caruso is back…These saucy, well-crafted mysteries are a lot of fun.”

—Boston Globe

“Entertaining…witty…readers should give Cece a warm welcome to the legion of perky female sleuths.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Susan Kandel is guilty of penning an utterly original, artful and nicely noir novel of murder and intrigue—all dressed up in fabulous vintage Hollywood fashions. Yum!”

—Mary Kay Andrews, author of
Little Bitty Lies

“As sparkling as a spilled packet of Sweet ’N Low.”

—Washington Post Book World

“Fizzy fun.”

—Los Angeles Times

“Cece once again thwarts evil while looking smashing and providing dry commentary…. a satisfying whodunit…Cece’s got charm and moxie to spare.”

—Oregonian
(Portland)

“A well-spun plot and clever writing.”

—Entertainment Weekly

“Cece Caruso, the protagonist of Susan Kandel’s breezy mysteries, has her quirks…but while Cece’s vintage clothing fetish gives her a certain loony charm, it doesn’t get in the way of her genuine talents as a sometime sleuth.”

—
New York Times Book Review

“Kandel offers up a race against time, a nail-biting chase and some unexpected twists and turns.”

—
Denver Rocky Mountain News

“Fun and frothy.”

—Orlando Sentinel

“Thumbs up to newcomer Kandel’s series for its snappy dialogue and carefully worked-out plots.”

—Kirkus Reviews
(starred review)

A
LSO BY
S
USAN
K
ANDEL

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Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DIAL H FOR HITCHCOCK
. Copyright © 2009 by Susan Kandel. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Adobe Digital Edition September 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-195938-7

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