Behind the Seams (9 page)

CeeCee put her work down with a heavy sigh. “Did you see the news this morning? The news people couldn’t stop talking about it. Murder backstage at a talk show, what could make a better story? Thank heavens they didn’t give Nell’s name. They just called her
a production assistant
.”

Adele left the kids’ department and joined us. Her tendency to see herself in the center of everything came through when she started talking about the news report. “Well, at least they finally got it right. The stuff they said yesterday was just ridiculous. I mean, calling a crochet hook a weapon and me a madwoman.” She looked toward us expectantly. When neither of us nodded or did anything to show our agreement, she harrumphed and took out her work-in-progress. She was making fingerless gloves for the donation box. “It won’t stay warm forever,” she said as she picked up the yarn.

CeeCee began to rub her temples. “I tried to get Nell to come with me, but she wouldn’t. She appreciated the relaxation she got from the crochet last night, but she kept saying why start something she knew she’d never finish. She’s just so impatient. I suppose that’s the way it is when you’re twenty-one.” CeeCee gave up on the massage and searched her purse for some aspirin. She pulled out a bottle of water from her bag and took the two tablets. I said some coffee might help her headache. “If I have any more coffee, I’m going to jump out of my skin. Nell made a big pot this morning. She made a whole production out of it. She even grinds the beans.”

Suddenly CeeCee stopped and it seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything more. Then she sighed to herself. “They called Nell and told her that, under the circumstances, they thought she should take a leave of absence until everything is settled. Whoever she talked to assured her they believed she was innocent, but still . . .” CeeCee’s voice trailed off as she rolled the hook between her fingers. “She’s going in to pick up her things. I’m afraid she might make a scene.”

CeeCee turned to me. “Molly, I’m worried. I don’t think she should go alone. I’d go with her, but it would probably get picked up by some paparazzi. So far the news people don’t seem to know the connection between us. If they knew Nell and I were related, it would just bring more of a spotlight to this whole business.”

It was hard to figure out who she was really concerned about. Was she worried her name was going to bring attention to Nell? Or was she worried that having a niece suspected in a murder was going to bring the wrong kind of attention to her?

“I’m available to go with,” Adele said a little too quickly. CeeCee’s eyes flew skyward.

“You caused enough trouble the last time. I want someone to guide my niece, not make a ruckus.”

“I wouldn’t make a ruckus,” Adele protested. “Maybe a hook and some yarn would fall out of my pocket. And maybe I’d mention to whoever that it would really turn around Barbara’s life if she learned how to crochet.”

“That is exactly what I’m afraid of,” CeeCee said. “Dear, you’re going to have to wave your hook on your own time; this trip is strictly about my niece.” She turned to me. “Molly, would you go with her? You’re a mother; you must be used to doing things like this.”

The idea seemed to be that since I had experience dealing with uncomfortable situations, it was easy for me. I agreed to go with her but made sure CeeCee understood it wasn’t going to be piece of cake for me, either.

“And while you’re there, maybe you do a little investigating,” CeeCee said. “You’re so good at getting at the truth,” she added in a hopeful voice.

Though CeeCee seemed relieved I was going with Nell, she still seemed less than her usual cheery self. “This isn’t what I bargained for,” she said finally. “I thought having Nell stay with me would be like having a daughter. But without all the baggage like arguing about clothes and curfews. I thought we’d be like friends.” She turned to me. “Were you ever upset with your sons?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Of course, do you want examples?”

She seemed slightly relieved by my answer. “She’s just so difficult.” CeeCee went back to crocheting while she talked. “Why couldn’t she have gotten along with the woman who died? I didn’t know what to tell her or what to do to help. When I was a struggling actress, if a director yelled at me, I just smiled back. I knew there was a whole line behind me anxious to take my place.” Then the truth came out. “I should be basking in the glow of my Oscar buzz instead of worrying about Nell.”

She must have felt guilty about what she said because she got defensive and tried to explain just what Oscar buzz meant. “My agent is already getting more movie offers. Nothing I’d do so far, but it wasn’t like this before. This is my moment.” She sagged again. “What am I going to tell my brother? His daughter stays with me, and after just a few months, she’s an interesting person to the police.”

“That’s a person of interest,” Rhoda corrected as she joined us.

Elise was with her. “Your niece is a suspect?”

“Wow, wait till that hits the newsstand,” Rhoda said in her nasally voice. “Oscar buzz and your niece being investigated by the cops.”

“It’s not going to hit any newsstand. And she’s not being investigated by the cops. She was there and they asked her some questions, that’s all. And nobody is going to connect me with any of it.”

The rest of the group drifted in, and by the end, CeeCee was telling everyone I was going with Nell, was investigating the murder, and had everything under control.

If only that was true.

NELL PICKED ME UP THE NEXT MORNING, AND WE headed across the Valley to the Wolf Brothers Studio and the
Barbara Olive Overton
production offices. I think she was glad I came along, thought it was hard to tell for sure. The first thing she’d said when I got in the car was, “You don’t need to come. I’m not a baby.”

She was dressed in what seemed like a uniform for production assistants—worn jeans, a burgundy red tee shirt with a long-sleeved black flannel shirt layered over it. She had sneakers on her feet and a black-and-white bandana tied over her long brown hair, along with no makeup. As she drove, Nell kept telling me everyone was overreacting. “I’m not a person of interest or a suspect. How could I be? I had nothing to do with it.” I didn’t want to tell her that what she was saying was pretty much what most suspects said. Not that I believed she’d poisoned the sweetener, but I knew if she gave the “I had nothing to do with it” argument to the cops, it was likely to fall on deaf ears.

I took the opportunity to ask her a few questions about the sweetener. Where was it kept? Who knew it was there? How did Robyn get along with other people on the production staff? Nell fumed at first, but I explained I was on her side and she finally opened up.

“Robyn seemed to really have it in for me, but she was hard on all the production assistants. I think she figured she’d gone through it when she was a PA and now it was her turn to dish it out,” Nell said as we neared the studio entrance. “I just grabbed a packet out of her desk drawer. They’re shaped kind of weird, kind of like a pyramid. Robyn made such a big deal about only using Nature’s Sweetie. I think it was because it came from some plant grown in the Amazon and you can’t just buy it at any grocery store.” Nell shrugged. “The one I grabbed looked like all the others.”

Nell pulled into the driveway that led to the guard house and entrance. This felt more familiar to me. When I’d gone to any tapings with Charlie, we’d always parked inside the gated area and gone in through the backstage entrance. Nell slowed long enough to let the guard see her parking emblem hanging from the mirror and prepared to glide through, but he held his hand up for her to stop.

She did as requested and opened her window. “Hi, Hank,” she said to the uniformed guard. “What’s up?”

He muttered, “Sorry, miss,” as he reached in through the open window and took the dangling parking emblem. “Here’s a temporary one for today,” he said, writing the date on a card and handing it to her. “Hang it on your mirror.”

Nell started to protest, but he just put up his hands in a helpless gesture and said again that he was sorry. “It’s probably just standard policy, like if you go on vacation or something, that they take back your parking pass,” Nell said to me.

I just nodded in agreement. Of course, I knew it wasn’t true at all, but why make her feel worse.
BOO
productions had their own building within the Wolf Studio grounds. She parked close to the warehouselike building, and I followed her as she walked to a door on the side. She swiped a card and the door opened. Inside, there was a uniformed security woman sitting at a desk reading a book.

“She’s with me,” Nell said, jerking her thumb in my direction as we walked past. The woman set down the book and came from behind the desk, stopping our progress.

“Just hold on a moment,” she said in a friendly voice tinged with authority. She made a call on her walkie-talkie. Nell was ready to protest, but I gave her a discreet shake of my head to discourage her. Of course they weren’t going to let her wander around unescorted. A few moments later, a tall woman with short, dark hair approached us. She was only a few years older than Nell, but there was light-years of difference in their expressions and their clothes. Nell looked like she was dressed to go out and play. The woman’s clothes were what I’d call business casual. She wore black jeans, a white collared shirt not tucked in and topped with a jacket. Several layers of necklaces adorned her neck and a stack of silver bangles jangled on her wrist. I recognized Talia Canon immediately from the entertainment news show the night before, though I didn’t let on.

Nell greeted her and she responded with what seemed like forced friendliness. She looked at me, and I started to introduce myself, but she interrupted. “Are you a lawyer?”

“No, she’s not a lawyer,” Nell said vehemently. “Why would I have a lawyer? I didn’t do anything. Her name’s Molly Pink and she’s a friend of my—” She had an awkward moment and instead of adding
aunt
, slid the
my
into
mine
.

Talia gave me a dismissive nod in recognition. In person, Talia’s features were even sharper and more foxlike and there was a hardness to the set of her mouth.

As we began walking down the utilitarian corridor, Nell explained that Talia was an assistant producer, but Talia cleared her throat, and with a sideways glance, corrected her. “I was an assistant producer, but now I’m taking over for Robyn.” She must have realized she sounded a little too pleased about it and dropped her voice with a serious expression. “At least for now. Robyn was in the middle of working on several shows and they asked me to step in and take over for those.”

We passed a series of dressing rooms. Names had been written on placards and slid into holders on the doors. At the end of the corridor, we passed through a door and came out into a reception area. There was a door to the parking lot and a counter with a man and woman close to Nell’s age and experience behind it. The glass door to the outside opened and a man came in with a shopping bag and some boxes. “Who are these for?” the woman asked, picking up a clipboard. The delivery guy had already started to leave but came back and picked up each of the packages and read off the names on them.

“I might as well deliver them,” Nell said, reaching for the shopping bag. The couple behind the counter and Talia all froze and traded glances.

“No, they have it covered.” Talia took the handle of the bag out of Nell’s grasp and set it down before giving us an impatient wave to follow her as she crossed the lobby. A door on the other side led to the production offices. The corridor was identical to the one on the other side, but instead of dressing rooms, there were small offices on either side. Talia stopped in an open doorway. My eye went right to the remnant of yellow crime scene tape stuck to the door handle. The door had a name holder just the way the dressing room side had, but it appeared more permanent. The “Robyn Freed” sign had been made by some kind of machine instead of scribbled in marker. Above it, a cardboard strip had been taped with “Talia Canon” written in. It was pretty clear that the show went on no matter what.

“When they say
leave of absence
,” Nell said, “how long do you think they mean? Like maybe a few days but not more than a couple of weeks, right?” Talia didn’t respond but had us step into her office. I took the opportunity to look around, knowing this was probably going to be my only chance. Though between whatever the cops had taken and the fact that Talia seemed to have settled right in, I doubted there would be much to see. I noticed a brown cardboard box full of stuff in the corner. I wasn’t sure if the contents were on the way in or the way out.

The Average Joe’s Guide to Criminal Investigation
said that investigating was really about talking to people. Though Talia was acting distant and cold, I figured she had a softer side somewhere. I’d found the best way to get through to even the toughest person was by being sympathetic.

“This must be hard for you,” I said to her in a friendly voice. “You must have mixed feelings. Happy for the promotion, but sad how it came about. Is that the dead woman’s stuff?” I vaguely pointed in the direction of the box.

Talia regarded me with interest as her expression opened a crack. “You’ve got that right,” she said. “I’ve been afraid to seem at all excited about my new position for fear people would take it wrong.” She was just talking to me now and seemed grateful to be able to express her feelings, though her version of soft was closer to hard than I’d hoped. “I mean, this is my big chance. I’ve had to step right in, but you have no idea how Robyn left things. There are just cryptic notes for the two shows she was working on. She kept everything under wraps.”

“It sounds like she was trying to protect her job,” I said, and Talia threw me a shrug, as if to say
whatever
. I wondered if Talia realized that she sounded more annoyed with Robyn than upset that she was dead. She gestured toward the box and finally acknowledged my question. “Yes, that’s Robyn’s stuff. I barely had time to clear her things out of my desk.”