Murder Take Two (4 page)

Parkhurst, as far as Susan could see, didn't respond with so much as a flicker of an eyelid, but what little color there was behind the makeup on Laura's face drained away. Susan was afraid she'd drop over in a dead faint. Parkhurst apparently thought so too. Before Susan could move, he had Laura's head down around her knees.

Seconds passed, then she started making muffled mewling noises and he released her. The heavy smeared makeup was still the only color in her face. Susan retrieved a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen area, filled it from the tap, and handed it to Parkhurst.

He did a surveillance of Laura's face as he placed the glass in her hand.

“It should have been me,” she whispered.

“Why do you say that?”

“I was supposed to be up there—on the railing—when—”

“Why weren't you?” Parkhurst asked, but he'd lost her; her attention was caught on something in her mind. Probably the fall. Her skin got a little green; her eyes went unfocused.

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he said quietly, “Talk to me, Laura. Concentrate. That's right. Now, where were you when you were supposed to be in the loft?”

“Somebody killed her? Why?”

“We need to find out the answer to both those questions. Who would want to kill her?”

Laura simply looked at him, then shook her head. “Accidents happen, you know. Even when everyone's being very careful. They just do. They—”

“Laura—”

“Deliberate?”

“Maybe. How long have you known Kay Bender?”

“I don't know. Two years. Maybe longer. What does it matter?”

“Did she have any conflict with anybody, anybody dislike her?”

“I don't know. I don't think so.” Laura's head swiveled around to look at Susan.

Parkhurst turned her back, held his hands on both sides of her face like blinders. “Never mind her, Laura. You're bright enough to know that if Kay wasn't the target, you were. You in any trouble?”

“What kind of trouble?”

“You tell me. If someone tried to kill you, or hurt you, there must be a reason.”

“No. I don't know. Something is wrong on this film.”

“What do you mean wrong?”

“I don't know. It's not anything I can point to. It's a feeling. Something going on underneath the surface.”

Under whose surface? Susan wondered cynically.

“Always, or just since you came here?”

Laura hesitated. “I'm not sure. But it's certainly been stronger since we got here.”

“Have you made anybody angry? The director?”

“Fifer would never try to harm me. That'd mean his movie wouldn't get finished. You've no idea how much money would be lost.”

But there would be insurance, Susan thought. A possibility? Director kills, or seriously injures, star to collect? She made a note to check into the financial situation of this movie.

“Your co-star?” Parkhurst asked.

“Nick? Why would he try to hurt me?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out. Maybe you eat garlic right before the love scenes and he's tired of it. Maybe a lover's spat, true love not running smooth.”

“Okay, so we have our moments. We're both professionals. It doesn't affect our work.”

He stared at her. She lowered her head, shiny gold hair obscured her face. Her breathing got quick and shallow. Parkhurst was getting to her, Susan thought, but damned if she knew what was going on here.

“All right, Laurie,” he said. “You're smart, even observant when you want to be.”

She raised her head, tried to look him in the eye, but her gaze slid away and her face flushed a soft pink.

“You're not being straight with me, Laurie. You're holding back. That's of great concern.”

“Damn you, Ben. I'm not holding anything back.”

Susan heard the almost imperceptible catch in her throat.

“You care about finding out what happened to this girl?”

“Of course I do. I honestly don't know anything that could help.”

Parkhurst let a couple beats tick past while he pinned her with his eyes. This time she held up to it without flinching. “I don't know anything. Honestly, I don't. Don't you think I'd tell you if I did?”

“Laura, something doesn't feel right here. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. I've told you. Nothing. Jesus, you haven't changed a bit. Get your teeth into something and you shake it to death. For God's sake, why would I hide something?”

“I don't know. That's what I'm trying to get to. Where were you when she fell?”

“What?” He'd jumped too fast and left Laura a step behind.

“You were supposed to be on the railing when it broke. Why weren't you?”

“Oh. I was on my way back here after talking with that very nice officer.”

“Why were you talking with him?”

“I wanted to ask him if he would do something for me.”

“I'm sure, Laurie,” Parkhurst said tightly, “if you asked him and it was remotely within his power, he certainly would. Now, stop playing coy and tell me what you wanted from him. I assume it wasn't simply his hard, lean body.”

“Don't be crude, Ben.” Her blue eyes lost the glazed look and flashed anger. “I wanted him to ask you to come see me.”

“Why?”

An impish smile played around her mouth. “You can't think of any reason? None at all?”

“Can it.”

Laura's eyes teared again. “It's hard to explain. It's like smoke, when I try to catch hold of it, there's nothing there.”

“What's like smoke?”

“Something brooding and ugly. It worried me.”

“Threatening? Directed at you?”

Susan didn't know what to make of this under-the-surface ugliness story. There was way too much emotion here. Too damn much drama. She'd been a cop a long time; her ears were tuned to pick up false notes, and there was something false here.

“What did you want from me?” Parkhurst asked.

“I wanted to ask you to help. I knew you'd want to do all you could for your wife.”

4

“I wanna know!”

Exactly, Susan thought, but while the words were hers, the voice wasn't. It was male, loud, and came from outside.

Parkhurst at her elbow, his eyes guarded, she opened the trailer door to see what was going on. A tall young man, red hair, both fists clenched at his sides, was demanding to see the cop in charge.

Fiery eyes shifted to her. “Who are you?”

“This is Robin McCormack.” Yancy put a restraining hand on the young man's arm, a hand that looked casual but was firm enough to make McCormack wince.

“It's okay,” she said to Yancy. “I'll talk to him. And would you get Ellis over here?”

Feet planted, hands loose by his side, Parkhurst stood ready for any aggressive moves from McCormack.

Cast and crew were all staying at the Sunflower Hotel. They were transported back and forth to base camp or set by vans. Superstars like Laura Edwards had their own personal town cars with drivers, muscular guys who could respond as bodyguards if needed.

Susan told Officer Ellis, another big muscular guy, a weight lifter and boxer, to stick on Ms. Edwards's tail like a burr. Anything happened to her and his ass was on the line. When the actress was tucked in and rolling away with Ellis in a squad car on the bumper, Susan asked Yancy to find Nick Logan and bring him around, then turned her attention to Robin McCormack.

He thrust out his jaw. A rangy young man in cutoff jeans and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out, he looked sullen and every inch belligerent, from his longish hair, closely trimmed red beard, and turquoise earring right on down to once-white Nikes now coming apart at the seams.

She invited him inside the trailer. Parkhurst stayed on his heels, avoiding her glance.

McCormack shot her a confused look and demanded of Parkhurst, “What the hell happened?” His fists were still clenched at his sides and he seemed to bounce on tight springs.

“Have a seat, please.” Parkhurst aimed an index finger at the couch.

After a moment of internal struggle—which she thought he would lose and end up taking a swing at Parkhurst—McCormack did sit. Barely. Feet planted, ready to leap up, fists on his knees.

“What's your job?” she asked quietly. She'd do the questioning on this one. With this kid's attitude, Parkhurst's manner would strike sparks. The matter of a marriage they'd go into later.

“Your job?” she repeated to get his attention.

He looked at her. “Props. I want to know what happened to Kay.”

“How long have you known Ms. Bender?”

“Two years, a little more.” Short words, clipped.

“You were friends?”

“Yeah, friends. Now will you tell me?”

“Close friends? Lovers?”

“So what?”

“We're trying to find out what happened, Mr. McCormack. It seems to have been an accident.”

“The hell it was! Kay was an athlete. Physically fit. She didn't have
accidents.
She was careful. She always checked everything. Always.”

She undoubtedly did, Susan thought, but stunt people got injured, it went with the job, and Kay wasn't expecting to go through a railing, or to hit a pitchfork when she landed. “Have there been problems in making this movie, Mr. McCormack?”

Parkhurst, once he decided the kid was going to keep his fists to himself, drifted to the kitchen area and slid onto the padded bench at the table.

McCormack made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “There are always problems. Actors get moods. Weather doesn't cooperate. Directors have fits. Things break. Props get lost. Doors don't open.”

“Was Kay blamed for any of these things?”

“No.”

“Who didn't like her?”

Robin glared with such fury she could see Parkhurst set himself to intervene. “Nobody. Kay was a stunt double. They can't afford anybody not liking them. They don't have tantrums. No matter how bad it gets, they just do the job.”

“Other boyfriends? Someone she rejected?”

“Who left a pitchfork lying around? No!”

“It wasn't lying around, it was below the railing hidden under straw.”

He winced.

“Where did it come from?”

“The prop cart.” That probably played over and over in his mind.

“It was yours.” Accusation in her voice.

“It was a prop, yeah. Used in a scene this morning. When we broke for lunch, I left it on the cart for a scene coming up this afternoon.”

“Did you notice it missing after lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn't you look for it?”

“I did.” He rubbed a hand, hard, over his face. “Fifer told me to stay out of the way and shut up, he was filming.” He pressed thumb and forefinger against his eyes. “She wasn't supposed to fall.”

“If Kay wouldn't have an accident and nobody would want to hurt her, what do you think happened here?”

He took in air to prevent an explosion. “Laura Edwards.”

“What about her?”

“She was supposed to be there, wasn't she?”

“You're suggesting someone wanted to harm Laura Edwards?”

“I'm not suggesting anything. She was supposed to be there. Kay wasn't. Laura's important. Kay isn't.”

“Who would want to hurt Laura?”

“How the hell should I know.”

“Was she mean? Nasty? Selfish? Did she trample on somebody?”

With a thumbnail, he scratched at a cut on his forefinger. “You better ask Nick.”

“What did she do to Nick Logan?”

Robin looked at Susan as though she were two beats slower than the rhythm. “Huh. They're this great Hollywood success story. Great romance. Making a great movie.”

She dearly wanted to glance at Parkhurst and get his reaction to this, but she kept her eyes fixed on Robin McCormack. With Parkhurst's ability at concealment, he probably wasn't reacting anyway. “Not true?”

“No,” Robin said, but his eyes looked through her.

She'd lost him again; he'd tuned back into the tape playing through his mind. The one that was edited so the ending turned out differently. “Which part isn't true?” she said. “The love story? Or the great movie?”

His clenched fists tightened until the knuckles stood out white. There was much anger in this young man. He might react in violence if told by Kay she didn't want to see him anymore. “What's wrong with the movie?”

“Nothing,” he said definitely. “It's coming good. The dailies—” He glanced at her to see if she knew what dailies were. She nodded.

“They're good. Fifer gets all lit up after seeing them. We're running over budget and we're running out of time. He'd be all silent and tight like he'd set himself for the chop going in and then he'd come out with a face like there was gold in the mining pan.”

“So he was pleased with Laura's performance? Was he ever angry at her?”

“Never. Not her. He only sometimes got quiet and cold. Scary. He yells at everybody else, especially Clem…”

Clem? Oh, yes, Fifer's assistant.

“… but not at Nick and never at Laura. With the dailies so great I think he didn't want to risk an upset of a good thing.”

“Laura's a good actress?”

“Yeah,” he said as though anyone with half a brain would know that.

“So if there is nothing wrong with the movie, then it must be the great romance that's in trouble.”

“You might say that.”

“Have Laura and Nick been fighting?”

Robin looked undecided, then said, “Yeah.”

“Screaming at each other? Throwing things? Hitting each other? What?”

“Some of that.” He shrugged. “The screaming part. Mostly just charged-up attitudes. Never being in the same place. Not seeing each other if they were.”