Murder, She Wrote (22 page)

Four Months Later

T
he film crew completed filming and left town, which allowed Mort Metzger to stop taking antacids by the fistful and get back to his regular policing duties. I'm invited to the premiere of the film when it's released, scheduled to be in eight months. I haven't decided yet whether I'll go. I may wait for the DVD version to come out and watch it with my friends in the comfort of my own home.

To my surprise, Eric Barry sent me a disc on which the entire episode in the hangar, filmed by the cameraman, was captured. I watched it once and never told anyone about it. It's stashed in a box filled with miscellaneous CDs and DVDs, and I have no intention of ever watching it again.

Naturally, the aftermath of that day on the set inside the hangar was consumed by legal goings-on. The district attorney, Joe Scott, reopened the Ruth Harris case, on the basis of Tiffany Parker's potential testimony. Corday was held on suspicion of premeditated murder; his trial is slated to begin three months hence. Jacob Borden was scheduled to preside over the trial but recused himself because he'd been involved with me in developing Tiffany Parker as a witness. He did, however, preside over preliminary legal proceedings involving Zee Zalagarda's arraignment. Zee's court-appointed attorney made a motion for a change of venue, and Judge Borden granted it. His trial, also scheduled to begin in three months, will be held in Portland, Maine's largest city, where the attorney felt his client would benefit from the larger, more diverse population of potential jurors. Corday also asked for a venue change, claiming that his poor reputation in Cabot Cove would taint the jury pool. His request was denied.

While the justice system's wheels slowly turned, everyday life resumed in the town I love so much. Eve Simpson adopted Cecil and was seen everywhere with the Chihuahua nestled in her oversized handbag as she showed houses to prospective buyers. “This little dog belonged to the great actress Vera Stockdale,” she would say. “I was supposed to be in the film with her but tragedy struck and—well, you know how she was murdered in cold blood. You'll love the house I'm about to show you.”

Loretta Spiegel was thrilled with the way her salon looked when the film company was finished with it. After numerous people had complimented her taste, she'd decided to keep the black-and-white decorating scheme. “Everyone and her sister is doing seafoam these days,” she said. “It's already old hat.” At the grand reopening she hosted, Loretta confided in me that all her customers want to be seen in the same beauty parlor that will be featured in the upcoming movie. Business was booming.

Evelyn Phillips had a field day reporting in the
Gazette
on everything that had occurred. I gave her one long interview but refused her repeated requests for more. I'd done a fairly good job of relegating Vera Stockdale's murder, and Neil Corday's arrest, to a secure mental lockbox of events in my life that I preferred to forget.

The impact the entire episode had on me became evident one day while I was in my home office making notes about the next novel I was under contract to write. My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Jessica Fletcher?”

“Yes.”

“This is Waylan Geist. I'm a producer in Hollywood. I'm calling because I've just finished reading one of your older murder mysteries,
The Clamshell Murders
. I love it! Absolutely love it! I want to obtain an option for the screen rights. It would make a terrific movie, especially if it was shot right where you set it, in that quaint little town of yours, Cabot Cove.”

“Oh,” I said, “I'm so sorry, but the film rights for that book have already been bought.”

“What a shame. Who owns the film rights?”

“You wouldn't know that person. It's an old friend of mine who lives in Maine. Thank you for your call and your interest.”

The call ended and I suffered a moment of guilt for having stretched the truth.
The Clamshell Murders
had never been optioned or bought for a motion picture. I was the “old friend” who ow
ned the film rights, and as far as I was concerned, the book would never be made into a film—especially if it meant Cabot Cove would have to become a movie set again.