The Postman Always Purls Twice (21 page)

“Look at that table. I could tweeze my eyebrows in the reflection,” Suzanne murmured.

“Not that I'd want to . . . but it does seem possible,” Lucy agreed.

Maggie didn't stop to consider the question. Her gaze darted around at the abstract paintings, sculptures, and other interesting touches as she and her friends wandered over to a table filled with food and drink.

The offerings were simple but expensive, just what she expected—a platter of cold seafood on shaved ice, crab claws and lobster chunks, raw clams and oysters, and huge shrimp. A tray of sushi and one of fancy cheeses and fresh fruit, artfully arranged.

Everything looked very tasty . . . but hardly a bite had been touched. Everyone was wary of falling to the same fate as poor Nick Pullman.

There was plenty of wine, imported beer, and sparkling water.

The screw tops on all the bottles were somewhat reassuring. Though reportedly, Nick Pullman's bottle had been sealed. Still, the bar was very popular and it took a few minutes to get a drink.

“This place does belong in a movie,” Phoebe said under her breath as she daringly chomped on a cracker.

“If I had a house like this, I'd never rent it to a movie crew. They could have wrecked it,” Lucy whispered back.

“But they didn't. Lucky for me,” Suzanne said quickly. “I think Regina and Sam are going to say a few words, and then we can rub more shoulders with the stars again before they go. Like Heath. I love his shoulders. They're perfect.” She gazed around, looking for her idol. “I haven't seen him yet, have you?”

Maggie hadn't spotted Heath O'Hara yet, either. She did see other familiar faces—Theo and Alicia talking by the window, Trina and Sam standing by a staircase on the other side of the room. And a few acquaintances from town—a guy who ran a car rental agency, and a friend of hers who owned a bakery. Helping her feel less of an interloper.

“Does everyone have a drink?” Sam called out in his booming, deep voice. He walked up a step or two, about to start his speech. “Regina and I want to take a moment to thank you all for pulling together to keep this production on track. No matter what was thrown at you.” He shook his head in awe. “We can't thank you enough for the professionalism, focus, and going that extra mile, despite Nick's unfortunate health crisis. He's a greatly admired colleague and good friend,” he added solemnly. “I know Regina shares my admiration and gratitude tenfold.”

Was Sam Drummond actually Nick's good friend? News to Maggie, but it could be true. She did think the young director could easily jump in front of the camera. He was quite an actor and was putting this speech over in fine style.

He smiled and turned to Regina, who wore the same shapeless, but expensive-looking, black blazer and pants Maggie had seen her in since she'd arrived. The fabric did look as if it traveled well.

Her bobbed hairdo seemed particularly choppy tonight, going in a thousand directions at once. As if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. Or maybe it was all the pressure she was under.

“But before she tells you that herself,” Sam continued, “Jen, Trina, and Heath would like to say a few words.”

He glanced around the room for the movie stars. Trina, who was never hard to find when a spotlight was shining, stood beside Regina. Maggie had not seen Jennifer in the crowd but noticed her now, standing by an arched entrance that opened to the foyer. Alicia stood next to her.

Theo wandered in from a doorway that led to the kitchen, a beer bottle dangling from one hand. He looked a bit windblown, his clothes damp, as if he'd been outside. A bit sullen and distracted, too. His usual demeanor—a moody writer thing.

Sam turned to Jen. “Would you like to start, Jen?”

Jen stepped forward, looking exhausted, Maggie thought.

“I don't have much to add. Except a heartfelt thank you for—”

Her speech was interrupted by a voice on the balcony. All heads looked up.

“Help, somebody! Call 911 . . . It's Heath . . . he's really sick . . . he's having a convulsion or something . . .”

Sam, still on the staircase, was the first one to rush up, followed by Regina and Trina, and finally Jennifer, who ran from across the room. Maggie pulled out her phone, but others had beat her to it, already calling for an ambulance.

“What happened to that first-aid person they had on the set?” Maggie asked Suzanne. “I don't see her here.”

“I heard she left when the filming finished,” Suzanne said. “Her assignment was over and she didn't want to stay for the party.” She sounded scared.

“That's too bad. But help will come soon,” Maggie said hopefully.

The waterfront community was far from the village and the fire station. It was even far from the fire department annex, built a few years ago so calls in the outer areas of Plum Harbor could be covered faster.

But help would come soon. Heath would be all right, she told herself. There was no reason to panic. Even though Nick Pullman's near-fatal poisoning shadowed everyone's thoughts.

“What do you think happened? What should we do?” Phoebe looked frightened as she turned to her friends.

“I don't know . . . Oh geez . . . I hope he's okay.” Suzanne looked sincerely worried.

“Does anyone know if he has some chronic condition, like diabetes or epilepsy? It could be something related to that, a mistake with medication,” Dana suggested.

“Or that stupid diet he went on. I hope it's that simple. But I've never heard he was sick,” Suzanne replied.

“It wouldn't be widely known. Let's hope it's that simple.” Maggie touched her hand.

The party had turned into a scene of confusion and panic. Lyle Boyd stood on the steps with his hand stretched out.

“Please stay downstairs. We have enough people up here now,” he said grimly. “Everything's under control.”

Despite his assurances, Maggie had a bad feeling, a queasy knot in her stomach. It didn't sound like things were under control. Not one bit.

She looked over at her friends, huddled together, not saying a word.

Finally, she heard a siren. The front door opened and two police officers rushed in. One ran upstairs while the other stood on the steps, asking Lyle questions.

Maggie tried to overhear their conversation. She couldn't help it.

Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air.

Everyone stopped, then stood motionless and silent. The sound had come from the second floor, followed by heartbreaking sobs.

Maggie thought she recognized Jennifer's voice, choked with sobs as she spoke. “Oh my God, no! . . . Heath! . . . Oh God. Please . . . not Heath . . .”

Her voice was suddenly muffled. Maggie stood in shock as the sound level in the room rose instantly.

“What did she say?”

“Is he dead?”

“Is Heath really dead? That isn't possible . . .”

“I didn't hear her say
that
 . . .”

Everyone was talking at once, asking the same question.

Including her friends.

“He can't be dead.” Suzanne looked dumbstruck. So did Phoebe. “There must be some mistake,” she insisted.

“I don't even want to know. It's too sad.” Phoebe covered her face with her hands.

Dana and Lucy both looked pale and shaken, but were holding up a little better. They glanced at her. Then Dana put her arm around Phoebe.

“We have to wait and see what's going on. We don't know yet if it's true. Though it doesn't sound good,” Dana admitted.

Lucy stepped over to Suzanne and did the same, but she didn't say anything. Suzanne looked very upset, her dark head bowed.

Two more officers had entered the house and another ran upstairs. Maggie heard an ambulance siren and EMS technicians rushed through the open front door. A police officer stationed there directed them to the second floor and the crowd parted to let them pass.

Maggie released a long breath. The wait had been agonizing, though it had only been a few minutes.

Moments later, a police officer stood at the balcony. He spoke with grave authority and a thick Boston accent. “I'm sorry to announce that there's been a fatality on the premises. I have to ask everyone to remain here until an officer takes down your name and contact information. We'll be asking you all a few questions. We hope to get through this difficult situation as quickly as possible, with your cooperation.”

“A ‘fatality'? That means Heath is dead!” Suzanne was shocked to her core. “Poor Heath . . . That beautiful man. He's really gone. I can't believe it . . .”

She covered her mouth with her hand and stared into space with blank, glassy eyes.

Maggie didn't know what to say. She was completely shocked, too. And completely confused.

“Do you think the ambulance will take him away now?” Phoebe asked quietly. She was weeping. “I don't want to see that.”

“It might be a while before they move him.” Dana glanced around at her friends. “Considering what happened to Nick Pullman, I'd say the police are going to handle this carefully.”

“I guess we're stuck here for a while. This house might be considered another crime scene before the night is over,” Lucy guessed.

Maggie sighed, trying to remember why she had agreed to come to the party in the first place. But, looking over at her friends, she was glad in a way to be here with them, to share even this dark, sad moment.

Of course, none of them had really known Heath O'Hara. But they'd all felt as if they did. That was the funny thing about movie stars and other celebrities. It was so easy to be touched by their personalities and charisma, even at a great distance.

Long before they'd met Heath on the movie set last week, he'd won them over. And face-to-face, his charm was practically irresistible. Even the hardest female heart was not immune to a matinee idol of his caliber. Maggie knew that they all felt as shocked and mournful as if they'd known him well.

Her friends decided to look for seats while they waited for the police interview. That wasn't too hard, even with the large crowd. The room was nearly the size of an airport lounge, with just as much seating.

Maggie had just settled in when she saw the front door open again. Charles walked in and showed his badge to the officer guarding the door. Two other men in suits followed and did the same. Maggie guessed they were detectives on his team.

At first she was happy to see him. Then she wondered if he'd be happy to see her.

He clearly didn't like to mix business with pleasure, and liked to leave his work in the squad room when they were together. He'd been trying hard to discourage her interest in this case, and here she was, a potential witness to another tragedy. This one, even more serious than Nick Pullman's poisoning.

Maybe her natural attraction to crime scenes was going to give him second thoughts about their relationship?

Golly . . . she hoped not.

“Look, there's Charles.” Lucy, who sat beside her on the couch, gave her a nudge.

“Yes, I noticed . . . and things between us were going so well,” she sighed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Let's just say he's not wild about my interest in his work,” she said simply. “First man I ever met in that category. Usually, you ask one question and they'll go on for hours.”

“He can't blame you for being here. We were all invited.”

“Yes, I know. And I don't mean to make him sound so rigid,” she said, trying to explain. “It's just a little awkward . . . or could be.”

Charles had gone straight upstairs with one of the other detectives. Meanwhile, a woman at the door in a white contamination suit showed the police officer her badge, then carried in a large black case. She had an assistant, a younger man who also showed his badge and carried in more equipment.

“The medical examiner,” Dana told them. “She'll try to determine the cause of death. If it's natural causes, this won't turn into another investigation.”

“Or dovetail into the search for the person who poisoned Nick Pullman,” Lucy said. “They haven't made much progress with that.”

“True . . . but they've got some leads,” Dana whispered back.

Maggie wondered if Dana knew anything more than she did, about the uncommon purity of the digitalis found in Nick's body. Jack was certainly more chatty at home than Charles was. Then again, he and Dana were married. She and Charles might not even be dating after tonight.

An officer who had been working his way around the room with a pad and pen reached their corner and they each spoke to him in turn, giving their name and address and contact information. And explaining how and why they were at the party.

Maggie had just finished when she spotted Charles coming down the stairs. He spotted her, too, and she stood. Their eyes met and his widened. Not a good sign, she thought as he walked straight toward her.

“Maggie . . . What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“Don't you mean,
again
?”

His head tilted to one side as he waited for a serious reply.

Maggie sighed and explained how Suzanne had been invited by the location manager and she'd persuaded him to include her friends.

Charles looked down at the couch, noticing the group, sitting like birds on a wire, huddled together as they waited for the rain to stop.

“What a terrible night. What a tragedy,” she said to Charles.

“Yes . . . it is. No question.”

“How did he die, do you know yet?” she asked quietly. Wondering if he'd tell her.

“The ME isn't sure. Even if we had any information, I couldn't say,” he reminded her.

“Yes . . . I know. Didn't mean to put you on the spot,” she said quickly. “We'll probably hear something on the news later.”

“You might,” he agreed. Charles rubbed his forehead. “Considering Nick Pullman's situation, we can't rule anything out right now.”