Final Curtain (9 page)

“T
immy, sweetie, step on it,” Polly pleaded. “And hand me the phone.”

Tim passed the cell phone to his mother in the backseat.

Polly handed it to Placenta. “Call José and tell him I have a serious case of something.”

“The usual?”

“
Infectiouschronicosis
. It always works. Just ladle it on extra thick. Make sure he gets the picture that the symptoms make for a not-so-pretty sight. Combine bird flu with hemorrhoids, a fever, and everything running all at once. Rather than José and my roots, we need to visit Jamie before rehearsals. Timmy, darling, can’t you please make this chariot fly any faster?”

As Polly’s car eased onto Woodlawn Terrace in Sherman Oaks, it slowed to a crawl as Tim and his passengers searched for Karen’s house number. “Twenty-five forty-one. There it is,” Polly said, pointing toward a one-story ranch-style house on a street of gardener-manicured lawns. “And look who’s having a party,” she said, heaving a thumb toward the open garage. Jamie was inside and appeared to be entertaining someone. As Tim pulled the Rolls into the driveway and parked behind a silver BMW, he said, “The widower has excellent taste.”

“Let’s see what these two cohorts have to say for themselves,” Polly said as she opened the car door.

The sight of a Rolls-Royce occupying the space behind his car made Jamie and his friend walk out of the garage to see who was visiting so early in the morning. When he saw Polly Pepper, Jamie smiled broadly and swiftly walked to her side.

Polly opened her arms. “Darling boy, I would have come sooner, but I’d heard that you were in seclusion. I wanted to respect your privacy. You’ve been through the most god-awful trauma. Is there anything at all that I can do for you?”

Jamie held on to Polly for a long moment before they released each other.

Polly looked up at the other young man who had come to stand beside Jamie. “How do you do?” she said, holding out her hand and smiling up into the green eyes of a six-foot-four-inch soap-star-handsome man. “I’m Polly Pepper.”

“Of course you are,” he said as he shook Polly’s hand. His army camouflage shorts revealed muscular legs with a dusting of blond hairs. A tight T-shirt advertised a packed chest, and biceps that, should Polly try, she would not be able to put both of her hands around. “I’m Steve.”

Polly turned to her mascots to introduce them. She was perturbed to see that Tim’s and Placenta’s jaws had dropped at the sight of Steve. “This is my family, as embarrassing as it is to admit,” she said, giving Tim a nudge with her elbow to his ribs. “My son, Tim, and our maid and dear friend, Placenta.” She looked at Jamie. “What are you boys up to and can we be of any help?”

Without asking, Polly made a beeline for the garage before anyone could stop her. She wanted to see if Jamie and Steve were perhaps destroying important documents that would implicate one of them in the murder of Karen Richards.

“Cleaning out my former life,” Jamie said, as he and Steve followed Polly, who was now peeking into boxes and opening cabinet doors. “I’ve been instructed by Karen’s mother’s attorney that I have three days to vacate the premises. My home! Karen’s home. I keep forgetting.” Jamie sighed. “In two weeks, after the show opened, we were planning to find a house of our own together. Steve here is with the estate. He’s to watch my every move to make sure that I don’t take anything that isn’t encrypted with my DNA.” He looked at Steve. “He’s actually been very supportive. Considering.”

Polly was peeved. “Considering what? Considering that you’ve just lost the most important person in your life? Considering that with the blink of an eye your entire future was irrevocably changed? That some harridan of a mother wants to deprive you of what little you have and that your inalienable civil rights aren’t recognized? That’s some lousy consideration!” She reminded herself of why she had come to visit Jamie in the first place. “Honey, can we talk? Privately?” She looked at Steve. “I promise not to purloin so much as a Kleenex.” She then turned to Tim and Placenta. “Keep Atlas amused for a few ticks.”

Jamie nodded toward the house. “Come on in. Coffee’s on.” Polly followed behind him up a flagstone path to the front door.

“Charming home,” Polly said when she entered the house and had an opportunity to admire the décor. As they moved from the foyer through a hallway that divided a large sitting room to the left and a formal dining room to the right and then opened into a combination great room and kitchen, Polly could sense that the house was once filled with joy. Now it was as dull and dead as Karen. Even the morning sunshine filtering in from the French doors that led to the backyard swimming pool failed to brighten the rooms.

“Yeah, we both loved the place. Her mother never bothered to visit. She didn’t approve of her daughter working in the theater. But she knows exactly how much money she can get for the place. And a team of appraisers from Sotheby’s has already started tagging the furniture and art. I’d say she’s been keeping an eye on the booming L.A. real estate market just in case her daughter happened to die intestate, which she did.” Jamie sighed. “I don’t blame her. At least she’ll have something from Karen. Even if it’s just a couple of million dollars.”

“And what do you get from Karen’s death, besides heartache?”

Jamie picked up the carafe from a Braun coffeemaker and poured into two mugs. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

When Jamie placed the mugs on the table and motioned for Polly to be seated he said, “I get the most valuable asset that Karen had.”

Polly took a sip from her coffee mug and focused her eyes on Jamie.

“I get the legacy of all that she taught me about life and about the theater. Intangible things can’t be lost or stolen or ordered by a court to be returned to an estate. No one can take away my memories of Karen.”

Polly almost choked on a sip of coffee. She wanted to roll her eyes and beg for an encore so that Tim and Placenta could enjoy a laugh. Instead, Polly reached across the table and placed a hand on Jamie’s. “Why did you lie to the police?”

Jamie flinched and Polly did too. They simultaneously withdrew their hands from each other’s. “Um, er, what do you mean? I never lied to the police, or to anyone. Why would you say that?”

Polly offered a wan smile. “I had a lovely conversation with Sharon Fletcher. She tells me that you were present with Karen when that no-neck monster Gerold fired her. An argument between Karen and Gerold ensued and you were there to witness the whole ordeal. But you claim you were at Starbucks at the time. It simply doesn’t add up…the timeline, I mean. One moment you’re in the same room as Sharon and Karen and Gerold, and then poof, you’ve gone to collect coffee for the cast. I don’t think so, dear.”

Jamie sat back in his chair and looked defeated. “I wasn’t there when Karen died. I swear it. When things heated up between Sharon and Gerold, Karen tried to protect me by sending Mag and me up to the office for her bottle of Xanax. By the time we got back Sharon was gone and so were Karen and Gerold. When you discovered her body backstage, that was the first time I’d seen her since about eight fifteen.”

Polly touched Jamie’s hand again. “You were as in love with Karen as she was with you?”

Jamie nodded.

“Then why would you leave her alone if there was even a hint of trouble that might place her in an unsafe situation?”

“I trusted Karen. If she wanted me to leave, it was so that I wouldn’t see the tough business side of her personality. I never for a moment thought that anything bad could possibly happen to her, especially not in the theater. Not in the place she loved best. How was I to know? But of course I feel guilty now. If only I’d hung around a few minutes longer…” Jamie began to weep.

Polly stood up and looked around. She saw a box of Kleenex on the granite bar countertop and brought it over to the table. “Forget my promise to that inordinately unattractive space alien outside.”

Jamie chuckled as he wiped his eyes and dabbed at his running nose. “Did you really think that I could have anything to do with the death of such a beautiful and talented woman as Karen Richards?”

Beautiful
? Polly thought to herself.

“I’m not a perfect person, and I’ve made some bad judgments in my life, but I’d found the woman of my dreams and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

Polly sat down again and leaned forward on the table. She looked deep into Jamie’s eyes. “Do you think Sharon killed Karen?”

Jamie shrugged. “I don’t want to believe it, but Sharon’s Emmy Award was the murder weapon, and Gerold and I and Mag were there when she was fired. She was naturally angry, so she has a motive. If she didn’t do it, I don’t know who else would have. Gerold? His girlfriend? Charlotte or Hiroaki? Maybe.”

Polly sighed. “But ol’ Gerold and his little tart claim that they didn’t see anyone else before Karen’s death.”

“There was Charlotte and Hiroaki.”

“Together? When did you see them?” Polly asked.

“Eight-oh-five.”

“It’s all so complicated,” Polly whined.

“Some things are more obvious than others. Do you want a cup of coffee—to go?”

“I’ve had my fill, thanks.” Polly rose from her chair at the table. “By the by, now that you’re being evicted from your home, where are you going to live?”

“I’ve got a roommate thing in West Hollywood,” Jamie said. “I always land in clover.”

“A handsome boy like you always does,” Polly said and gave Jamie another hug. “Please come to dinner at the Plantation one night this week. I know that you and Tim would get along well, and I want to know more about Karen. She had such a great reputation for creativity. Check your schedule and we’ll call you later,” Polly added as she followed Jamie back through the house and out the front doorway.

Once outside, she was not surprised to see Tim and Placenta both engaged in conversation with muscle-bound Steve. Tim was especially flagrant as he flattered Steve with admiring questions about his tattoos, and asked for pointers on what vitamin supplements he should take after working out at the gym. Sotto voce to Jamie, Polly said, “Ignore Tim. He’s been a virgin for nearly a month.”

Jamie sniggered. “Steve’s a stunner all right. He could make a man forget his grief.”

“T
hat was quite a show back there,” Polly said once her car was out of sight of Karen’s house.

“A-men!” Placenta agreed. “When God decides He wants to punish His children, He makes a specimen like Steve so we all hate ourselves.”

Polly snorted, “I’m talking about Jamie! He’s either the most sentimental young fool, or he’s a hell of an actor. By the way, I’m utterly mortified by the way you both behaved around that U.S. Marine Corp poster boy.” Polly mimicked Tim panting like a dog. “‘Show me your tattoos.’” Then she imitated Placenta demurely asking, “‘How do you keep your teeth so white?’ You both had better find boyfriends ASAP.”

“What do you think we were trying to do?” Placenta said.

“As I was saying,” Polly continued, “the performance that Jamie put on for me was a doozy.” Now she mimicked Jamie exalting the merits of Karen. “However, he still won’t admit that he lied about being present at his girlfriend’s last gasp.”

Tim divided his attention between the road and watching his mother in the rearview mirror. “I take it that he didn’t come right out and say he was a Menendez brother,” Tim said.

“Not in so many words. But his alibi and sorry story about being at Starbucks at the time of the crime has as many holes in it as Bonnie and Clyde. But I’ve got a plan.”

Placenta and Tim were listening intently as Polly reached into her suit jacket and withdrew an eight-by-ten black-and-white head shot of Jamie that she had carefully hidden under her arm. “When our boy was weeping over the loss of his great love—or the loss of his house—I snatched this, which was lying beside a box of Kleenex.” She held up the picture for all to see.

“So Jamie’s an actor, eh?” Placenta said as she took the glossy from Polly’s hands. She turned the picture over and began to read his credits listed on the reverse side. “
Les Miz
. Of course.
A Chorus Line
. Natch.
Annie
,
Fiddler
,
Rent
. Not bad,” she said, sounding slightly impressed. “Get this—seven productions of
Mame
! In every production he had the role of adult Patrick.”

Polly pondered the situation for a moment. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“It’s at least five years old?” Placenta said.

“Not the eight-by-ten!” Polly snapped. “The
big
picture. Here’s an actor, living with the director of a show that he’s done a gazillion times. Why isn’t he in this production?”

“Probably burned out from doing the same part over and over,” Tim suggested. “I mean, how many times can a guy sing ‘My Best Girl’ to his old lady aunt?”

Polly took back the picture and studied the head shot. She read his other theater credits. “Perhaps the director found him hot in bed, but too limp onstage. That could be a motive for murder.”

“People have killed for less,” Placenta said.

“Sharon said they couldn’t cast that role for the longest time,” Polly said. “Perhaps Jamie was expecting that they’d eventually see that the right actor for the part was in their midst. When Karen ultimately said no, Jamie went ballistic and bashed her head in. Just a thought.”

“So, what’s this plan you said you have?” Placenta asked.

“It’s brilliant. I was trying to think of a way to refute Jamie’s story about being at Starbucks. The best way to get to the truth would be to ask the baristas who were on duty. When I saw his head shot it instantly occurred to me that armed with my charm and celebrity and his photo, it would be easy to get someone to swear that Jamie was in the store on Tuesday morning. Or not. Aren’t I the most clever star in Hollywood?” Polly beamed.

“Not so clever, if you’re late for rehearsals,” Tim said. “We don’t have time to run around showing mug shots today.”

Polly heaved a sigh. She leaned forward toward the driver’s seat. “Hand me the phone,” she said and once again forced it into Placenta’s hands. “Gerold. You know the drill.
Infectiouschronicosis
. But tell him I’ll drag myself onto the stage ASAP, ethical star that I am. That should buy us a couple of hours. Hell, I know the show backward and forward anyway.”

Placenta shook her head as she speed-dialed Gerold. “Mr. Goss?” she said when he answered his cell phone. “This is Placenta calling for Miss Polly Pepper. It’s not pretty….”

The long line at the counter inside the Starbucks store on Brand Avenue across the street from the Galaxy Theatre was crowded with office workers desperate for their first infusion of caffeine of the day. Tables scattered about the room were filled with wannabe writers at their notebook computers and unemployed or self-employed people killing time. When Polly and her crew walked into the shop they were in line for only a moment before she was recognized.

“You’re that lady on the banners!” said a man who was wearing the uniform of a gas station mechanic. In a louder voice he said, “I seen youse on the tay-vay.”

Suddenly everyone in the store was staring at Polly. Even those who were too young to remember her career understood that someone famous was in the café. Once she had been pointed out, the older customers instantly recognized Polly and began telling her about particular episodes of her old show that they remembered most fondly. Polly was delighted for an opportunity to play the humble legend, and she did so with ease and mastery. “Stars are people too,” she giggled. “We have to have our java just the same as any ordinary garden variety mortal.”

Suddenly a voice called from the front of the line, “Miss Pepper, I’ll help you over here.” A tall woman behind the counter waved her over.

“No, these lovely people were here first,” she said, and was immediately accosted by the entire line insisting that she go before anyone else. Polly forced a blush. “I’ll wager that La Streisand isn’t treated this well! You really don’t mind? I am rather in a hurry to get to a rehearsal. Oh, I’m starring in
Mame
at the Galaxy. Please do come and see me! I guarantee I’ll be fabulous in the show! I’ve done the role dozens of times, so I won’t disappoint you. As if I could.

“You’re a doll,” Polly said when she reached the barista who was wearing a green smock and holding a paper cup and a black Sharpie in her hands. “So many options! I’m an old-fashioned plain black coffee girl, and I don’t want to tie up the line, so I’ll make it simple. A grande toffee nut latte ristrato. Extra whipped cream and heavy on the crunchy caramel sprinkles. Better make
three
of the same. Oh, and have you ever seen this man?” She held up a copy of Jamie’s eight-by-ten.

The line only got longer and a bit of complaining began among the growing crowd as Polly monopolized the four baristas who were trying to simultaneously fill her complicated coffee order and answer her questions about the man in the picture. After five minutes of grilling the workers and getting only blank stares when she asked them to think back to Tuesday morning and to identify Jamie from the hundreds of customers they had served, Polly gave up in frustration.

Tim handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill and picked up the coffee order. As they left the now restless line of patrons and headed for the exit door, Polly called out, “Don’t forget to come and see me at the Galaxy. We open on the fifteenth!” By now, the novelty of seeing Polly in person had worn off, and the crowd merely mumbled words that she couldn’t understand.

“That was a complete waste,” Tim said when they were once again settled in the car. “We got nothing! Not even freebee coffees!”

Polly took a sip from her cup. “On the contrary, we got what I hoped for.”

“You’re happy with nothing?” Placenta said. “Talk about the benefits of low expectations.”

“Don’t you see? This proves that Jamie wasn’t at Starbucks when he said he was!”

“It only proves that no one remembers seeing him,” Tim interrupted. “For heaven’s sake, look at the picture. It’s been retouched to the nth degree! And it’s possible that the baristas we talked to weren’t even on duty when Jamie was there.”

“Oh, damn!” Placenta said. “Look.” Polly and Tim followed the direction where Placenta pointed. “There’s another Starbucks over there! And over there! And there! Holy moly, they’ve taken over the planet. Maybe Jamie didn’t go to the Starbucks we visited. We’ll have to go to every one in order to refute his story. My bladder can’t take it!”

Polly was crestfallen. “This could take days! We need an answer now! Get a move on. We’ll start with the one across the street.”

At ten minutes to four Polly and her pose arrived at the theater and walked through the artists’ entrance. Tim signed in for the trio and then caught up with his mother and Placenta just as they entered the stage wings. While Polly walked straight onto the stage, Tim and Placenta veered to the right and walked down several steps that led from the stage to the auditorium. They sat in seats several rows back and watched as Gerold excoriated Polly for what he called her unprofessional conduct.

“Miss Pepper has deigned to grace us with her internationally renowned presence. Shall we all give her a warm round of applause? I think not! That would simply encourage her inappropriate behavior.”

Polly pursed her lips and looked bored. “Dear Gerold, don’t be monotonous,” she said and sat down at the reading table.

Stilted sniggers of approval from several of the other cast members made Gerold turn beet red with simmering rage. “I’ll see you in my office after the rehearsal.”

“Alone? With you? We should be chaperoned.” The others at the table giggled with pride. “Really, dear, I’d love to have a tête-à-tête with you, but I have another engagement this evening. Call my agent, J.J. He’ll relay your message. If he thinks it merits my attention.” She opened up her play script. “Now, which scene are we rehearsing?”