Another Thing to Fall (15 page)

“Strictly Ballroom,”
Tess admitted. “When the music goes out, and the father starts to clap, and they show they can do the
paso doble
without any music at all….”

Her eyes started to mist, making her seem truthful, but she was still thinking of that carrot-haired man, dying on the cold cement of a parking lot, leaving her to fight for her own life — and avenge his.

“You haven’t shot down my central point.
Anything
sounds ludicrous when boiled down to the pitch. But it’s all in the execution. Why do you think Hollywood produces so much crap?”

“Because there’s seldom any economic penalty?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean,
no
. People’s careers do suffer from doing critically disdained work—”

“If it’s also commercially inert.”

“The point,” Flip said irritably, as if unused to being interrupted, and he probably was. “The
point
is that the writing, the performances, the visuals — those will combine to make this show something really special. That’s why we’re starting small, on a C-list cable network with only eight episodes. People forget, but there was a time when getting a series on HBO was considered second-rate.
The Sopranos
was pitched to the networks first, and they all passed. By the way, has anyone ever proposed adapting your life story?”

Food arrived — a house salad for Flip, a much heartier steak salad for Tess — and she was spared answering right away. “Last year — I was involved in a case of some notoriety, and some producers circled for a while.”

“You make them sound like vultures.”

Tess forked up a mouthful of steak and greens that required much judicious chewing.

“They were just doing their job,” he persisted. “Look, you go to the movies. You read newspapers and magazines, right? Well, the material has to come from somewhere.”

“A friend of mine was killed in front of me. I killed a man. I never thought of it as
material
. A woman you know was killed in your office last night. Are you going to make a miniseries about that?”

Flip blushed, and she warmed to him. She knew he was pure Hollywood, bred and buttered, as the old Baltimore saying went. Flip’s father was the one who had the claim to Charm City normalcy, a claim he had pretty much squandered years ago. But Flip did seem relatively down-to-earth.

“How—”

“Shot him.”
Over and over again, until the clip was empty. Shot him, but only after gaining advantage by almost gouging his eye out with scissors
. She withheld these details as a courtesy.

“That must have been awful.”

“It was. That’s why I feel for Lottie, walking in on Greer.”

“I can’t imagine — this is going to sound heartless—”

“Go ahead.”

“I can’t imagine Greer engendering that kind of
passion
in anyone. She was a little machine. We used to joke about it, Ben and I, call her Small Wonder, after that sitcom.” He glanced at Tess to see if the cultural reference connected for her. “The one about the robot? Voice Input Child Identicant, Vicki for short?” Tess couldn’t even fake knowing what he was talking about now. “Well, anyway, she was just extremely competent, her feathers never ruffled.”

“Still, they like the fiancé for it. Ex-fiancé, maybe. There seems to be some confusion about whether they were on or off.”

“Never met him. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I would have believed he even existed if it weren’t for the ring on her hand. Certainly, she wasn’t spending any time with him, once we got into production.”

“How did you find Greer, anyway?”

“She found us, poor thing. Called my father’s production company. My dad has a policy. If you have an area code beginning with four-one-zero, you get treated with respect and deference by his office. Maybe that was my problem. I had the wrong area code, so my dad never had time for me.”

Oh, poor little rich boy
. “So how does that connect you to Greer?”

“Her dad was a teamster, worked on one of my father’s early films. She called my dad’s assistant, and I told Lottie to interview her with an open mind. She started off as an unpaid intern in the writers’ office, basically an assistant to my assistant. Then my assistant left, and Ben came to me, said I should give the job to Greer, that she was actually fantastically competent. And, for once, Ben was right.”

“For once?”

“He’s not the best judge of other people. Especially women. Although Greer isn’t exactly Ben’s, um, type.”

“You mean — he sleeps with women, then tries to find them jobs?”

“Sometimes. It’s not as crass as you make it sound. Ben really is a fool for love. He falls for a girl — or thinks he does — courts her, builds her up big-time, then sleeps with her, and bam, all interest gone. It’s like sex is the third act for him, and the only thing he knows to do afterward is to go to the credits. Over the years, he’s doled out a few jobs to soothe their hurt feelings. Actors, usually.”

“Guys?” She hadn’t figured Ben for being that inclusive in his sexual appetites.

Flip looked at her as if she were insane. “Women. Oh — we call them actors, Tess, not actresses.
Actress
is considered derogatory.”

Whereas
actor
is shot through with dignity
. “Are you sure that Ben didn’t sleep with Greer?”

“Let’s just say I’d be shocked. So not his type. Why, you think the fiancé killed her in a jealous rage?”

Tess shook her head. “I won’t second-guess Tull, or get in his way. He’s good police.”

“People really say that?”

“Say what?”

“‘Good police.’ I’ve heard it on television, but I thought it was pure affectation.”

“It’s what cops in Baltimore call themselves. Police, a police, a murder police. Where do you think the television shows got it?”

“Thought they made it up, like Ben and I do. You can be over-reliant on reality, you know.”

Tess was unsure if Flip was explaining his rules for writing or his worldview.

“Let’s leave the homicide investigation to Tull. I’m far more curious why you were so quick to blame Selene for what happened to me last night. You sold me on the idea that she was this poor little fragile actress —
actor
— at risk from her own bad behavior and, possibly, unwanted fan attention.”

Flip glanced around the restaurant, almost empty this late in the lunchtime hours. “Okay, I wasn’t entirely forthcoming when I hired you. But wouldn’t it have been irresponsible of me to tell you that I suspected Selene of the various problems on set? I didn’t want to prejudice you against her. In fact, I was hoping the two of you might bond, and she would end up confiding in you.”

“We were getting along famously until she drugged my drink. So why do you think Selene is the source of your problems?”

“Selene is signed to a five-year contract. That’s standard. When she signed it, she probably thought the show had no shot of going five years, but then, when she signed it, she was thrilled to have any steady gig. Plus, she didn’t know we planned to leave her in the nineteenth century.”

So Derek had been right: The producers demand commitment, but it’s not mutual.

“Then
Baby Jane
was finally released, and Selene’s success heightened the profile of our show. The network demanded we keep the Betsy character if we wanted any chance of getting a pickup for second season. They also ordered a lot of rewrites to beef up her part. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t change the name before it’s over, which will freak Johnny Tampa out — and he’s already plenty freaked. This was supposed to be his comeback. Instead, it’s Selene’s buildup.”

“So, you think Selene might be the source of the fires, the leaks to the newspaper, the community malcontents, even the Nair in Johnny Tampa’s cold cream?”

“Maybe.”

“When you first hired me, you said all these things happened subsequent to the suicide of a man who might be Selene’s stalker.”

Flip at least had the good manners to look embarrassed about lying. “There were photos of Selene in his home, three or four. I was truthful about that. They appeared to be shot early on, when we were on location for the pilot last spring. There was some other stuff, too, the cops told us. Homemade movies of kids. Not porn, but kind of creepy. Selene looks fourteen, so maybe she was his type. The weird part was — he had a photocopy of the pilot script, the minipub.”

“The what?”

“The minipub is the first version of the script, which means it has the most limited distribution. In our office, each copy has a name and number. This was a photocopy, with the number blocked out, so it couldn’t be traced back to the source. The dead man also had the show bible, which outlines the first season. Lottie thought my previous assistant, Alicia, did it, and insisted she be fired. Alicia said she was innocent but agreed to be fired for the unemployment insurance, which makes me think she wasn’t so innocent. After all, innocent people have nothing to fear.”

Tess didn’t bother to contradict Flip on that score, although she knew from personal experience that innocent people are often the most vulnerable in a criminal investigation.

“And this is—?”

“Midsummer, right after we returned to shoot. Things escalated
after
that. And that’s when I began to think Selene was involved.”

“Why would Selene give some stranger the script?”

“With a script, and the bible, he could get some sense of what we were doing, and wreak havoc. Of course, he’d need our shooting schedule to figure out where we were filming on any given day, but he could have figured that out via our permits, for example. Or, again, through Selene. The call sheet is faxed to her apartment every night, even if she’s not needed on set the next day.”

“Do you think Selene was cultivating the dead man, using him to be her troublemaker, then moved on to someone else after the suicide?”

Flip looked at his wineglass with sudden distaste. He seized his water glass and gulped down its contents as if doing a keg-stand. “Maybe he was just one of the people Selene was working with,” he said. “I don’t know. I was counting on you to keep tabs on Selene, making it harder for her to cause mischief. Look, I’m not saying she would have Greer killed. But she’s stupid enough to hire someone stupid enough to screw up that way. Say she asked someone to break into the office last night, knowing she’s going to have this elaborate alibi. Maybe the guy didn’t expect to find Greer.”

“When the police came to talk to you about the suicide — did you tell them that you thought the script had been provided by someone in your office?”

“No. I suggested it could have been found in a Dumpster, which was a lie — we have a strict shredding policy in the office. But we had already started having problems with that crazy community activist, and I didn’t want any more bad press.”

“Is that all? Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Because, at this point, the lying has to stop. If I had known why you needed me in the first place, I would have been much more vigilant around Selene, approached the job differently.”

Flip took his time answering. “I
think
so. Look, I never meant to deceive you. I needed someone to watch Selene. It didn’t seem vital to me that you have all the background. As long as you were with her, I’d know what she was up to.”

“Only she dumped me, first chance she got, and went out on the town with Derek Nichole, someone who seems very sympathetic to Selene’s desire to get out of her contract and establish herself as a legitimate movie star.”

“You’re not suggesting—”

“No, just observing. How will Greer’s death affect
Mann of Steel,
day to day?”

“We lost today,” Flip said. “And the network types are blaming Baltimore, saying this would never have happened if we filmed in L.A. Or Vancouver. Charm City’s homicide rate is suddenly right at their fingertips, and it’s being suggested that I pushed to film here because of some Oedipal issue, akin to George W. going after Saddam to placate Daddy.”

“Locust Point isn’t exactly murder central. I won’t speak to your Oedipal issues.”

“Thanks,” Flip said. “That puts you in the minority, unfortunately. Everyone else feels very free to speculate on my ‘issues’ — Ben, Lottie, columnists for
Variety
. Anyway, I talked the network down. For now. We’ve agreed we’ll put up a reward for information leading to Greer’s killer and we’ll have a memorial service Sunday. By the way, when that rolls around, make sure Selene wears something appropriate.”

Tess hadn’t expected this. “I’m
still
on that detail? After what happened?”

“I’ve got no issue with your job performance, I just wish you could dial the sarcasm down a notch. The way I see it, I set you up by not telling you what a devious little bitch she is. I should have been straight with you, not try to play you. Besides, someone on the production was killed. Now we have even more reason to guard our precious little Selene, right?”

Tess grinned. She liked Flip’s conniving streak when it wasn’t directed toward her.

“I hate her, I wish I didn’t have to work with her, but she may be my only hope for getting a pickup. From now on, don’t eat or drink anything that she’s had access to. In fact, if she offers you an aspirin from a sealed bottle, be skeptical. She’s evil.”

“She’s
twenty
. And not exactly a criminal mastermind.”

“She’s precocious, and she’s got great instincts. Probably what makes her such a good actress.”

“Actor, I thought. We’re supposed to call them actors.”

“You’re a quick study, Monaghan.” He raised his water glass in salute, and Tess was almost flattered — until she realized that was his intention. He was still playing her. Then again, she wasn’t being completely honest when she told him she wasn’t interested in Greer’s death. Oh, she wouldn’t interfere in the homicide investigation. But, as she interpreted her role, she now had free rein to figure out what was happening on set — and whether it was a coincidence that Selene was in New York the night that Greer was killed. She would need backup, of course. But at the prices she was charging Hollywood, she could more than afford it.