Celebrity Sudoku (2 page)

“I always liked that Wish Dudek,” Mrs. H. said, pointing at a smiling publicity photo of the show’s host.

“He is a nice guy,” Liza said. “I must have told you he gave me a lift in his plane.”

“Is he married these days?” Mrs. Halvorsen asked in a suspiciously indifferent tone.

Liza rolled her eyes. Her neighbor was ever ready, willing, and able to try and fix people up. “Definitely married, with a daughter in college.” Liza stopped at another page. “Here are the celebrity guests.”

“You call these stars?” Mrs. H. sniffed. “Most of them I wouldn’t cross the street to see. “Claudio Day, I see him sometimes on the TV.”

Liza nodded. “He’s a football player. And Chard Switzer is in that sitcom ...”

Mrs. H. made a face. “I don’t watch that.” She pointed at another publicity shot. “Forty Oz.—isn’t he the one who shouts awful words in his songs?”

“He has a certain reputation,” Liza admitted. “And they’re not stars; they’re celebrities.”

“Well, I think Lolly Popovic is a star—she’s been on shows since she was a kid,” Mrs. H. argued. “And this latest one—
Newport Riche
—she’s the only reason to watch.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Liza said. “Would you like an autograph?”

“She’d be about the only one,” Mrs. Halvorsen said. “Who is this Samantha Pang?”

Liza had to consult the book for the answer. “She’s this year’s winner for the Leland Prize in Mathematics. I wonder if that will give her any advantage with sudoku.”

“She looks like a nice girl from her picture.” Mrs. H. nodded approvingly, then frowned. “Not like that awful Ritz Tarleton.”

“What?” Liza’s gaze shot down the page to where a little dirt dribbled off Mrs. Halvorsen’s gardening glove onto a picture of Ritz Tarleton. Apparently she’d changed from redhead to blond, but her portrait still showed her usual inch of grown-out roots—and the usual smug smile on her sharp, faintly foxy features.

What the hell is she doing on the show?
The words nearly burst from her lips, but Liza clamped them shut. Even so, something of her response must have shown.

“I remember you had some trouble with that girl’s father last winter.” That was more than Mrs. H. usually said about the murder of her art thief brother and the wild search for a missing Mondrian.

“Ritz was one of the model prisoners in my sudoku class at Seacoast Correctional,” Liza said a little grimly. Poor little rich girl Ritz hadn’t impressed her with either her sudoku-solving ability or the predatory way Ritz went after Kevin Shepard, Liza’s friend and maybe more.

She may be a B-list celebrity, but that put her on my S-list,
Liza thought.
Ritz wasn’t one of the people the production staff mentioned. How did she push herself onto
D-Kodas
?

 

 

Liza was still puzzling over this unwelcome addition to the celebrity lineup three days later as she flew down to Los Angeles. The show’s production people had been downright evasive, but she didn’t want to ask her business partner, Michelle Markson, to get some answers. Availing herself of the power of Hollywood’s female warlord of publicity would be like killing a fly with a sledgehammer.

Leaning back in her seat, Liza closed her eyes. Frankly, she was too tired to think about it anymore. After getting up before the sun rose, driving to Portland, and jumping through all the security hoops, she decided to devote the next two hours to sleeping.

The sound of the pilot’s voice announcing their final approach woke Liza up. She blearily looked out the window to take in the smoggy vista of beautiful Los Angeles.

When the plane finally taxied to the Jetway, Liza got up and retrieved her carry-on bag. Too many journeys for the Markson Associates agency had taught Liza to keep her stuff nearby—and to travel light. This time the bag was fuller than usual for a two-day stay. But then, Liza had to mix and match outfits for the fictional “Celebrity Week” tomorrow’s taping was supposed to cover.

Hooking the bag’s strap over her shoulder, Liza deplaned and headed for the main concourse, looking for a driver with the usual little sign bearing her name.

Instead . . .

“Hey, Liza!” She turned to find Michael Langley waving at her through the crowd—her kinda-sorta-almost-ex-husband, if they ever got around to signing the divorce papers. A year ago, she’d have scribbled her name and been done with it. But as it came closer to reality, neither she nor Michael seemed particularly eager—or willing—to pick up the pen.

Michael made his way through the early-morning travelers and took Liza’s bag. His unruly dark curls seemed even more tousled than usual, his heavy-lidded eyes about as red as Liza’s felt.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You look as if you were up all night with your poker buddies.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been working on an indie film that’s shooting at Atotori Studios. You know, they rent out the facilities to whoever can pay—like the folks producing
D-Kodas
.” Michael grinned. “And when they were discussing getting a car for you, I just happened to be around and volunteered my services.” The grin faded a little. “What I didn’t count on was a major rewrite session that lasted until about six o’clock.”

Liza put out her hand. “In that case, I’m driving. Give me the keys.”

Their first stop was the hotel where Liza was supposed to stay. It was actually an airport hotel, but Liza didn’t much mind that, considering how close it was to the studio. After checking in and leaving her bag, they headed for the front gate of Atotori Studios. In the old days, the Mammoth Studios gate had been a landmark. It looked a little funny with the Japanese name on top.

Liza actually found herself at the end of a short line. As she waited, she heard a voice call out, “Yo! Betty!”

When she turned to look, Liza found herself staring into the business end of a video camera.

“What the—” she began as the cameraman scampered away from studio security. Liza turned to Michael. “What the hell was that?”

He only shrugged. “I forget you haven’t been down here lately.”

“I thought La-La Land was bad enough for guns. Now we have to worry about video cameras as well?”

“Video paparazzi,” Michael corrected. “Haven’t you been watching the hit of the summer—
The Lowdown with Don Lowe
?”

“What I saw was pretty low-down. They not only get embarrassing videos of people, but then make snide cracks about them.” Liza rolled her eyes. “And the biggest mouth belongs to Don Lowe. From the way he hogs the camera, it looks as if he wants it both ways, making fun of celebrities while becoming one.”

She edged Michael’s Honda toward the guard shack while craning her neck to find the jackass with the camera. “Does that mean they wanted a shot of me?”

Michael shrugged again. “Their offices aren’t that far away.”

“Great,” Liza growled as she opened her window to give some ID to the guard, who checked his list for her name. Michael already had a pass. “I’ll end up on TV, which adds at least twenty pounds to a person, on a morning when I got up before four o’clock.”

“Which adds about twenty years—” Michael broke off as Liza rammed an elbow into his side. “Well, maybe they won’t use it. You’re not falling out of your clothes, reeling from an overdose, or punching people out.” He rubbed his ribs. “At least they didn’t catch you attacking me.”

The guard directed Liza to a parking lot near the soundstage where
D-Kodas
was filming. She pulled into an empty space and then headed for a building that looked like an aircraft hangar. No sooner than Liza announced herself at the heavy door, a production assistant came rushing over to greet her. “Fran Evans,” the young woman identified herself. “Great to meet you, Ms. Kelly—and thanks for delivering her, Mr. Langley,” Fran added, brushing over-long bangs out of her eyes.

“Glad to do it,” Michael replied. “Do you mind if I tag along for the grand tour?”

“I don’t suppose it’s all that different from any of the film shoots you’ve worked on,” Fran said. “In fact, you’ll see less, since there’s nothing going on today.”

“I’m hoping for a chance to walk on the same stage where Darrie Brunswick sets up the puzzles.” Michael put his hand to his heart, doing his best to look like a stage-struck fan.

Fran giggled. “Don’t let her hear you talking like that,” she warned in a whisper. “She’ll believe you.”

The PA reverted to more businesslike form. “The rest of our early visitors are enjoying a light collation in the script room.”

Translated, coffee and bagels,
Liza thought. Not the greatest breakfast, except that her stomach gave off a loud growl at the thought of it.

“Just this way,” Fran said, leading them behind the game show’s set, down a hallway, and into a crowded room.

Well, more people came in to get oriented than I expected,
Liza thought.
Maybe the producers are offering something better than bagels.

Actually, they had croissants. Liza snagged one, grabbed a cup of tea, and turned to scan the room. She quickly spotted Will Singleton, even though he was shorter than almost everyone else in the room. America’s most famous sudoku exponent was chatting with Wanda Penny, the syndicated acrostics columnist. Will brought his head back and laughed, showing off a beard that was more white than salt-and-pepper.

Will was very proud of his facial foliage, but Liza thought it made him look like Papa Smurf—except that Will had apparently been vacationing in the sun—his face was bright red instead of blue. Wanda Penny was laughing with him, her cloud of frizzy hair bobbing in time with Will’s beard. With her diminutive stature, big eyes, and chipmunk cheeks, she looked like a cartoon character, too.

Another familiar face came across Liza’s field of vision, but this wasn’t someone she knew personally. It was just that she’d seen Lolly Popovic growing up on various TV series. Now she was an adult and becoming a real star on
Newport Riche
.

Liza glanced over at Michael and realized his gaze was following the young woman as well. “Hey,” she muttered. “Keep that up, and you’ll get an elbow somewhere else you won’t like.”

“Hey, Liza,” a cheeky voice greeted her.

Liza turned to encounter a face she didn’t want to see. Ritz Tarleton came sauntering up, clicking her cell phone shut, a smirk on her too-sharp, foxy features. “You bring along your hunky blond boyfriend?”

Kevin Shepard, Liza’s old hometown flame, was indeed blond and hunky. And he’d been around a lot since she had come back to Maiden’s Bay—even accompanying Liza for the sudoku classes at the minimum-security prison where she’d met Ritz.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do with Liza’s husband.” Michael didn’t manage to carry that off as lightly as he’d probably hoped. But then, any mention of his romantic rival tended to make him grit his teeth.

“Oh. Oopsy.” The young woman’s pale blue eyes moved up and down Michael’s lanky frame in a frank once-over. “You’re pretty hunky, too. What do you do?”

“I’m in the Business.” Southern California might have millions of businesses, but only one that got a capital letter—moviemaking. “I did the script for an indie film—”

The slightly predatory gaze Ritz had been giving Michael turned off as abruptly as if a switch had been flipped. She might be little more than a glorified hanger-on in the Hollywood scene, but even she knew that writers were at the bottom of the moviemaking food chain.

Ritz aimed a smirk at Liza as Lolly Popovic walked past again. “That’s the one you’ll have to worry about. I hear her mom was the original Polish actress who slept with all the writers.”

Could she be more insulting?
Liza wondered.
Ritz managed to hit the trifecta—Michael, Lolly, and me.

Lolly must have heard the comment, too. She turned, sweetly saying, “Of course, my mom married an Oscar-winning writer-director—my dad, Lukas Popovic.”

“I worked with your mother on a project a few years ago,” Michael told the young actress. “She’s a real pro.”

Ritz aimed a
“What did I tell you?”
look at Liza as she slunk off, pulling out her phone again.

Lolly smiled at Michael. “Really? Mom is around here somewhere.” She stuck out her hand.

“Michael Langley,” Michael introduced himself as they shook. “And this is my wife, Liza Kelly.”

“The puzzle person!” Lolly had apparently studied her briefing materials. “I hope you’re not going to make us look like idiots.”

“We were told to make the puzzles tough but fair,” Liza assured Lolly with a smile.

Lolly brought her voice down. “Could I ask a favor?” she asked, glancing off to the side. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you—she’s kind of the wallflower at this party.”

The actress stepped away and quickly returned with a young Asian woman in the sort of suit Liza would expect to see at the front of a classroom.

Lolly did the introductions. “Sam Pang, this is Liza Kelly and her husband, Michael. Michael is a movie scripter, and Liza—”

“Sudoku. Yes. Of course.” The young academic finally found her voice. She shook her head, getting a bounce out of the ponytail she’d pulled her glossy black hair into. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks going pink. “I guess I’m a little too ordinary for all this—this—”

“Might as well get used to it,” Michael advised. “Go with the flow. Appearing on a TV show is sort of like being shot from a cannon. Accept that they’re going to move you around, and just concentrate on keeping cool.”

“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Lolly’s infectious grin managed to get at least a slight smile from Samantha Pang.

“Well, I think I’ve brushed away all my crumbs,” came a practiced announcer’s voice from near the coffee urn. Liza looked over to see a face familiar both from the tube and from real life. Wish Dudek, the host of
D-Kodas
, aimed a genial smile at the group. “As the official ambassadors for the show, Darrie and I would like to welcome you.”