A Talent for Murder (32 page)

Steven asked if Brian would be the first to pose a question to Ped-Xing.

Brian smiled and said, “Man, I shouldn’t say this, but I think you’ve already nailed it. You said you’d do a lot of stuff that I’d be too much of a sissy to try. But when you said you’d even work with Vince Vaughn in order to succeed, I figured for that misery you deserved to win. But for tonight, I’ll just ask, ‘What have you done over the past few weeks that you never in a million years thought you’d do in order to win this game and be on your way to becoming famous?’“

Ped-Xing thought for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I’m not a ‘what goes around comes around’ kinda guy. Morals and ethics are for tree huggers and dudes who believe in karma and divine retribution, and stuff. I don’t care about saving the planet or the spotted white owl. I’m into saving me! So I’m not afraid of going to hell for doing what I had to do to stay in the running to win this contest. I took out an obstacle that would have given Taco Bell the edge.”

The audience started to chant, “Ped-X-Ing! Ped-X-Ing! Ped-X-Ing!”

“I mean, the dude was going to reveal something pretty shocking. We’re just keeping him quiet until I win the game,” Ped-Xing said.

Brian continued his questioning. “So what did you do to this person? Is he or she still breathing?”

“I’m not a killer, like some people around here,” he said, looking into Brian’s eyes.

Brian evil-stared back at Ped-Xing. “What did this
person have that threatened you and your own dishonesty and illegal activities?”

Ped-Xing shrugged. “I could have won this idiotic contest without kidnapping, but I didn’t want to take the chance. Plus, holding someone against their will is a pretty good way to keep racking up the points, too,” he said. “The dude is cool about it.”

The audience chanted his name.

Steven Benjamin lifted his microphone to his lips and said, “Way to go! I’m sure the audience will give you a ton of credits for abduction! Wow! Who would have thought?” And then he looked at Richard Dartmouth. “Mr. D.! It’s your turn to make ‘em squirm. Go for the gold, man!”

Ped-Xing adjusted his stance as if to withstand a blast from Hurricane Richard.

Richard leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re a wily one, aren’t you? Every week you come before this tribunal and tell us tales of the things you’d do to win fame. I don’t believe half of the things you say. Now you’ve added kidnapping to your improbable résumé of felonies. I’d like to take a wild guess as to who that someone is with the ability to reduce your chance to win.”

Ped-Xing shrugged.

“We’ve been missing an assistant for the past few days. Michael. That kid who used to work for Thane. He hasn’t shown up for work since Wednesday. I’ll wager that he’s the victim of your crime.”

Again, Ped-Xing shrugged.

“What were you were afraid he was going to reveal? Could it have been …” Richard Dartmouth stopped for a moment and let Ped-Xing sweat about what he feared Michael had planned to say, and the possibility
that Richard already knew and was going to do the job himself.

“Michael and Socorro were plotting against me,” Ped-Xing said with a defiant sneer.

Socorro shouted, “No! Michael has to be here!”

“Your mama’s not coming to your rescue either,” Ped-Xing said. “Just be glad that I have a heart. He’s safely watching the show.” He looked to the camera. “Yo! Dude! You’ll be free after tonight. We’ll grab a beer, okay? No hard feelings.”

Richard leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “You’re not going to tell us why you kidnapped the kid?”

“Specifically?”

“What else.”

“Nope.” Ped-Xing stared at Richard, knowing that the producer-turned-judge had to be fully aware of the drama that would have unfolded had Ped-Xing not taken measures to remove Michael from the equation, and daring him to make any accusations.

“I know why he kidnapped Michael,” Socorro yelled. “Because Michael has a ton of evidence showing how far
I’ve
personally gone to eliminate the losers on this show, and prove what I’ve done to become the winner!”

Richard shook his head. “Curiously, when I developed this show, I wanted to prove that some people would literally do anything, and I mean anything, to get a few minutes of face time on the tube. You’re both exactly what I’d hoped for. You’re deceitful, crafty, scheming, untrustworthy, dishonest, and unscrupulous. You’re my poster kids for Machiavellian behavior in Hollywood.”

“A man after your own heart?” Ped-Xing said. “Hollywood
corrupts. Maybe it’s true that you can’t get to where you’re going in this town without killing off a few rivals along the way. I have my own means to the end.”

Richard Dartmouth gave a self-confident smile. “As I always say, one does what one has to do.”

“Right on, bro,” Ped-Xing said.

“Me, too!” Socorro cried out.

In the studio’s sound booth, the director spoke into the cameramen’s headphones. “Camera number one to Steven Benjamin. Camera number two, wide angle on the judges’ table. Number three, stay with Ped.”

When Steven received the director’s signal, he smiled and ad-libbed for a minute about the fate of Michael and how a kidnapping charge was pretty much proof that indeed Ped-Xing was the challenger most likely to win the competition. Then he cut to the next bank of commercials.

Brian Smith leaned over to Polly and asked, “What the hell’s Ped talking about? What’s his ‘means to the end’?”

Polly smiled and shook her head. “You’ll see. It’s coming up after the break.” She then reached into her purse and speed-dialed Tim’s cell phone number.

Tim’s phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He surreptitiously removed it and, seeing Polly’s name on the readout, flipped open the phone. “Yeah?” He listened for a moment, then closed the phone. Tim turned to Placenta and winked. “I need to leave for a moment.”

Placenta gave him a knowing look. “She’s sure?” she asked.

Tim nodded his head and excused himself as he squeezed past Lyndie and Tiara and the others in his aisle.

In a moment, the show was back live. Steven Benjamin looked at Polly. “Miss Pepper, would you pose a question to Ped-Xing, or graciously pass? We’re running out of time, so if you’ll allow us to move on, you’ll definitely interview Socorro first.”

“I’m fine,” she said into her microphone. “I just want to wish Ped-Xing good luck!”

Steven was visibly delighted. He called Socorro back to the stage. “You look a little rattled.”

“All my plans!” Socorro grimaced. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, but the rules were changed without me knowing.” Then she looked at Polly and said, “Hit me with your best shot, star lady.”

Polly took her microphone out of the table stand, stood up, and faced the stage. “And I wish you all the luck in the world, too, Socorro. I know you’ve worked hard at being dastardly throughout the course of the competition. In fact, I’ve seen the evidence in so many unexpected ways. You may be happy to know that even without your mama or Michael to help you out tonight, I’m the next best thing.”

Socorro forced a smile. “I figured you might be smarter than people give you credit for being. Hell, kidnapping is small potatoes compared to what I had up my sleeve.”

Steven Benjamin said, “Tick, tick, tick.”

“Very sorry,” Polly said. “It’s just that since this is the last night of the competition, there’s so much I want to say. I know that I don’t have all the time in the world, so let me just pose one teensy question.

“Excuse me for one moment, dear,” she said to Socorro. “I do have a question, but I must direct it to … Steven Benjamin.”

Steven gave Polly a warm smile. “Reruns of
Mary Tyler Moore
start in twenty minutes,” he said in his
charming voice. “Can’t let the nation’s fans be deprived of Mary and Ted and Valerie and Ed and the Happy Homemaker.”

“This’ll just take a sec, dear.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Steven, hon, why did you kill Thane Cornwall and Danny Castillo?”

The audience roared with laughter. But when Polly didn’t laugh with them, they started to murmur among themselves. Steven’s smile, however, grew wider. “No wonder you’re famous, you’re a very funny lady.”

Polly grinned. “I try. Sometimes I make people wet their pants.” Then she looked up to the control booth. “Mr. director, dearest, would you please run the DVD that my darling son, Tim, brought to you a few minutes ago? You’re a doll. You’re in my will!”

Then the lights above the stage were dimmed, as were the lights in the audience. A large screen rolled down automatically from the ceiling and hung in front of the stage. The DVD marked
Anything Goes—2 of 6
began to play.

The audience began to laugh; then they sniggered and began a series of noisy wolf calls. As they oohed and aahed, the orchestra conductor picked up his baton and led his musicians in an unrehearsed rendition of Ravel’s “Bolero.” Soon there were whoops and whistles from the audience. And when the DVD played itself out and the lights on the stage were once again illuminated, Steven stood looking shell-shocked.

Again Polly asked, “Why did you, Steven Benjamin, kill Thane Cornwall?”

Steve shot back, “I had nothing to do with Thane’s death! And what has some doctored DVD showing people engaged in lewd activities got to do with Thane or me? It was his assistant, Lisa Marrs, who killed him. She’s in jail for it!”

Polly shook her head. “She certainly wanted to kill the son of a bitch. But she was just one of many on a long wait list. You forced your way to the head of that line. Why? You used to be friends.”

Steven gave his signature smile to the camera and said, “We’ll be back after these messages.” He continued smiling, waiting for the director to announce that they were no longer in the live feed.

“Nobody wants to cut away when the story is getting so juicy, sweetums,” Polly said. “So let’s give ‘em a really good drama, shall we? Think of the ratings!”

Steven stopped smiling. He walked over to the tall staircase on the set and sat down on the second step. With his microphone in one hand he resembled a denim-clad version of
The Thinker
. “I’m all ears.”

Polly came out from behind the judges’ table and walked up to the stage. She stood in the spotlight and for an instant she was back on the set of
The Polly Pepper Playhouse
. She could feel herself drifting back in time and almost unable to keep herself from asking if the audience wanted to see her popular sketch comedy character Bedpan Bertha, the klutzy nurse. Or Madam Zody, the fake psychic. Suddenly, Polly began singing “Send in the Clowns.” When she completed the song, the audience gave her a standing ovation.

“Comfortable up here?” Steven’s patronizing tone reeled her back to the moment.

As the audience buzzed about what they were seeing, Polly asked, “Steven. Do you remember the night that Thane was killed? Of course you do. What I should ask is, do you remember your little sparring ritual? Thane asked you why you seldom wear your wedding ring.”

Steven shot her a deadly look. “And I told him that I sometimes forget to put on my wedding band.”

“Remember his response?” Polly asked. “He said, ‘My Willy is more discerning than yours.’“

Oohs and boos erupted from the audience. Polly said, “It was a reference to you having sex backstage with each of the contestants—just as we showed a few moments ago in that priceless film clip. And that’s why he stopped being your friend. He may have been a troublemaker, but he hated your marital infidelity. You realized in that moment that his assistant, Michael, and Richard’s assistant, Lisa, had become chums and that she must have told Michael about the surveillance video. In fact, Lisa told me that Richard had brought you into his office to warn you about your conduct. He’s the first one who told you about the surveillance cameras. Lisa confided in me that her boss told you he promised to destroy the tapes.”

Polly looked toward the judges’ table. “Isn’t this true, Richard?”

Dartmouth nodded, as captivated by Polly’s analysis as the rest of the audience.

“You realized in that moment that Thane Cornwall was your blackmailer!” Polly said.

“My what?” Steven stood up. “A blackmailer? That’s nonsense. No one is blackmailing me!”

“Yes, and no,” Polly said. “After the show that night, you waited for Lisa to leave Thane’s estate. Then you entered the house. You’d been a guest there so many times, you knew your way around. I suspect that you were wearing latex gloves when you picked up a knife in the kitchen. You found Thane sleeping soundly in his bedroom.”

Steven folded his arms across his chest, daring Polly to continue.

“Very clean work, Steven,” Polly said. “Best of all, Thane probably didn’t feel a thing. Second best of all is
that Lisa Marrs’s fingerprints were on the handle of the knife. She tells me that when they argued she’d picked up the knife with the intention of killing Thane herself. But she couldn’t go through with it. However, and this is where it gets more icky, a few days after Thane’s death another blackmail note arrived, and you realized that you’d killed the wrong person.”

“Another
note?” Steven roared. “Am I supposed to have a drawer full of blackmail letters? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

Polly nodded.

“You’re as crazy as Norma Desmond,” Steven snapped. “You’d better prove something soon or Sterling Studios’ security will take you away to a place you belong, and I don’t mean Pepper Plantation.”

Polly took a deep breath. “Remember the day that I dropped by with a gift of a bottle of champagne? You were in so much pain. Tiara said it was a toothache. You said it was a virus. A double whammy. I felt awful for you. You were sweet not wanting me to catch anything so you booted me out quickly. But you weren’t sick with a cold or flu. You’d received another blackmail letter. I know, because I read it. You’d crumpled it up in anger and thrown it onto the floor. While you were in the bathroom heaving up your guts from fear and regret, I got a glimpse of what your blackmailer was after. Five hundred thousand U.S. dollars. The letter stipulated U.S. dollars. Odd, isn’t it?”