Done to Death (23 page)

‘Which part?' Mattie asked, relieved to be back on the more comfortable topic of murder.

‘About how many people despised Lenore. Not just disliked, but actively hated or feared her.'

‘Like Barry,' Mattie said as the locked gate to Lenore's estate came into view. There were news vans parked in front of it and uniformed Grenville officers. Jamie showed her badge through the windshield and the gate opened.

‘The problem is, his alibi is good. We could probably poke a hole through the time Lenore was shot, but we've got half a dozen witnesses saying he was holed up in meetings through two a.m. the night Richard was killed. The bigger question is how many Barrys are out there?'

‘They're getting a subpoena for LPP's human resources records. It could be many.'

‘Revenge is a good motive,' Jamie said as she eased the SUV behind a CSI van. ‘And then there's the big secrets of Lenore being gay and possibly having more children.'

Mattie swallowed. ‘Yeah.'

‘New York says there were at least three girlfriends, and Clarence can probably confirm that. So there's a potential jealousy angle.'

‘Then why go after her son?' Mattie asked. ‘I think that motive can go lower on the list.'

‘Probably right. Still, I'm keeping it on mine. And then we've got our mystery surrogate. Maybe she wasn't happy with the deal, or decided she wants to keep the kids. In terms of the money trail, by killing Lenore and Richard you've bumped off two of the three natural heirs … but then why not take out Rachel? Here's a thought: with so many people hating Lenore, it's almost like they could have raised an office pool to hire a hit man.'

Mattie snorted. ‘That would be a first.'

Jamie laughed as she opened the door. ‘Think about it … but no, I keep getting hung up on the part where, yes, they hated her and were afraid of her, but she was also the one putting fat paychecks into their pockets.' She looked at the mansion and then back at Mattie. ‘You're right.'

‘About what?'

‘Ada. She's on the inside of the LPP machine; maybe she can find out what makes it tick.'

B
arry couldn't decide if he were the luckiest producer in television history or the most screwed. ‘Oh God, no,' he whispered under his breath. He plastered on a smile as Rachel Parks sauntered down the staircase of the mansion.
What has she done? She's crazy, absolutely out of her fucking mind.

At the foot of the stair two cameras captured her advance. The girl was an expert, having studied at the serpent's breast. Her expression was subtle, her eyes lovely like her mother's, with a hint of sadness, her black dress clinging to her curves without being sluttish. Her face was dewy and young, but what was freakish was she'd dyed her hair auburn − just like Lenore's, like seeing the mother brought back to life thirty years younger.

Rachel paused two steps from the bottom, one hand gracefully holding the railing. She'd wanted to start the show with an introduction. Barry was leery, but had quickly discovered that what Rachel wanted, Rachel got −
like mother like daughter
.

He glanced at his crew, most of them with him since LA and
Model Behavior
. He had managed to keep them employed and on the cusp of what might be the hottest new show in TV. That it might simultaneously bring reality TV to a new low in taste was irrelevant.

In addition to his inner circle, the mansion was crawling with over a hundred LPP employees, many of them on the verge of being laid off; this shoot was an eleventh hour reprieve from the unemployment line.

‘Thank you for coming,' Rachel said. She looked down and then straight into a camera.

Barry checked the monitor as she paused, her eyes wide. He held his breath, not knowing if the girl could deliver. If she couldn't he had lots of tricks, but if she could … He bit his lip.

‘My mother had so many beautiful things.' Another wistful pause. ‘But she's gone, and so is my brother. Things are just things and it's time for me to start anew. Welcome to my home, to where Lenore raised me and my brother Richard. We've had lots of film crews and lots of good times over the years. Some of you watched, and saw Lenore do everything here, from stuffing a turkey to hosting parties for A-list Hollywood.' She shook her head and gave a small, sad laugh. ‘I could tell you stories about those. But now, it's a new chapter and, much as I loved my mother, her taste' − she swept her hand upward as a camera followed, panning over the lavish second story landing with its gilt mirror and Louis Quatorze furnishings – ‘is not mine. So, in the spirit of my mother, who was a television innovator, I'd like to welcome you to
Final Reckoning
.

‘To get us started, I'd like to introduce my dear friend and the show's hostess, Ada Strauss.'

Barry called ‘Cut'. He looked at Rachel on the monitors. She was perfect. He stuffed back the excitement;
this is going to work. This is really going to work.
He gave Melanie instructions to get the next scene set, both of them having gone the last forty-eight hours with almost no sleep and an untold amount of coffee and energy drinks. Last night had been pure insanity once they'd realized that Rachel was serious about moving forward with the shoot, Lenore's estate and the mansion. The roadblock of it being a crime scene had evaporated with a single call to the accommodating chief of police. But once it became clear that this was a go, Barry knew he was over his head, with no storyboards, no shoot schedule, inadequate equipment and crew … and no one could ever know that. Yes, they'd worked out the broad strokes of the show, but the details and logistics, plus the lack of an approved budget … Melanie had summed it up nicely. ‘Shoot first and ask questions later.'

He looked up as Rachel walked toward him. Her appearance was freaking him out, like Lenore back from the grave.
Why would she dye her hair like that?
How would the audience react? And did it matter? This was a freak show, his freak show, and welcome to it.

‘How was I?' she asked.

‘Perfect,' he admitted.

‘Really?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Good, and you got everything and everyone we asked for?'

‘I did, thank you.'

Rachel smiled. ‘Hey, we're in this together. You've produced a show before; I haven't. If we need something you have to let me know. We're partners, Barry. If something's not going right, you need to let me know.'

He blinked. Yes, she looked like Lenore, but that's as far as the comparison went. Yesterday afternoon, when it became clear that the shoot could actually move forward, Barry had been thrown. Still in the middle of casting, they'd not scripted the episode. It was fly by the seat of your pants taken to new heights. That was followed by the realization that his small crew and creative team weren't equipped to handle a set of the magnitude of Lenore's estate. It was Rachel who'd bluntly asked, ‘What do you need, Barry?' Not since his one hit show,
Model Behavior
, and maybe the early days with Lenore, could he remember feeling valued. It was a rush, and he didn't want to think about it for fear it might vanish.
You're back
, he thought.
You're going to be on top.
‘Thanks Rachel, it's going to be a really long day. You let me know if you need breaks.'

‘I'm too wired,' she said. ‘This is amazing. I always felt jealous of the film crews and how everyone knew what they were doing. And then when the show would go on the air and I'd see how perfect everything looked … that's what's going to happen here, isn't it?'

He smiled. ‘Yes, the miracle of editing. We'll film a couple hundred hours and then hack it down to forty-one minutes.'

‘It's got to be exciting,' she said. ‘I mean I know it's about selling dead people's stuff, but this has got to be a hit.'

‘Rachel,' he said, ‘your doing this pretty much guarantees that.'

She laughed. ‘Thanks, and we both know that people will think I'm the biggest “C” in the world.'

Barry looked at her. ‘Not necessarily,' he said. ‘Call it editing, call it producing, but you'll come off however you want me to have you come off.'

‘I want to come off like her,' she said without hesitation.

‘Lenore.'

‘Yeah. Think of all the things she did. She televised herself getting knocked up, and did it like … like shooting a cover for
Town and Country
.'

He considered his words. Prior to the last two days, he'd had no real contact with Rachel Parks. But people talked, and Rachel was one of the darling train wrecks of the tabloids, not to mention fodder for office gossip. Now it appeared she was his new work partner. ‘Is that why you dyed your hair?'

‘Do you think it's too much?'

‘It looks good, but it does make you look like a younger and prettier Lenore. It'll be a shock for some … but in reality TV that's a good thing.'

‘I thought so. This whole thing … Oh look, there's Ada. You're the one who picked her, aren't you? She looks awesome.'

‘Yes,' remembering how only two days ago she'd thought his choice of hostess was too old.

‘I'm going to say hello, and Barry, remember: if you need anything, let me know. I intend to pull my weight. You'll be the one who knows what to do. I'll be the one to make sure it happens.'

‘Good deal,' he said and, weirdly enough, he meant it. He watched as Rachel greeted Ada. The young woman threw her arms around the elder, whom they'd again dressed in Chanel; the make-up apron was still around her neck. He turned away. The next scene to be shot was critical. In it, Ada would briefly explain to Rachel − as she would to the heirs of each week's episode − what the show entailed.

Melanie came up to him. ‘This next scene makes or breaks the show,' she commented, as though reading his thoughts.

‘Yeah, you read Daryl's script.'

‘Yeah, and made a few changes.' She glanced at Ada and Rachel. ‘I bet we don't need it.'

‘I hope you're right, but make sure she can see the teleprompter anyway.'

Barry turned at the sound of the front door opening. His anger surged. People needed to respect the ‘Do Not Disturb, Filming in Progress' signs. Just as quickly as his temper flared, it came down. ‘Jeanine, Ashley, what are you guys doing here?'

‘I hope you don't mind,' Jeanine said. ‘We've been out all day. I'm in love. This town … the farms, the houses …'

Barry, even a decade into their relationship, got lost in her emerald eyes. He sensed her excitement. ‘Something's up; what is it?'

‘This place, Barry. I don't know how to describe it.'

‘Horsies, Daddy,' said Ashley. ‘And ponies, and we saw moo cows, and they let me pet the baby chicks. They were so soft.'

‘We stopped at a farm that has a petting zoo,' Jeanine explained. ‘It's owned by a husband and wife who raise exotic animals, ostriches, zebras. They even have kangaroos. This whole town …'

He marveled at how the light through the front windows created halos in her fiery hair. He often wondered why she'd abandoned her modeling career. Yes, Hollywood and New York were filled with gorgeous women. But with Jeanine it went beyond the surface, and she also had the rare ability to show her inner grace on film. If he'd had his way she'd have been the winner and not first runner up on
Model Behavior
. To be fair, in a totally uncharacteristic way, Jeanine had choked in the final competition. It was an underwater photo shoot with the two remaining contestants in mermaid drag. Jeanine, who'd proven herself a strong swimmer and diver in prior episodes, seemed unable to stay down long enough to get the necessary shots. She'd then further damaged her chances by sobbing on screen, like all of the other silly girls who'd gone home, wailing that the task was too hard.

The audience had given the win to an insipid redneck teen with a back story involving a mother so obese she had to be craned out of her bedroom and a father who got his own short-lived reality show about backwoods hunting, entitled
Coon Hunt
, which was hastily cancelled when it was discovered he was an active member of the KKK
.
When the final results had been tallied, Barry had seriously considered giving the win to Jeanine anyway. But one thing he knew − you can fake anything in TV, just don't mess with the FCC rules concerning game shows. And while
Model Behavior
was a reality show it was still a contest, with a six-figure cash prize and a year's contract with a top agency. He looked at little Ashley, who was gazing wide-eyed at all the activity in the grand foyer. ‘You're having a good time,' he said.

‘Barry, do you know what houses go for here? What we paid for' − she picked her words carefully, not wanting Ashley's impressionable ears to pick up anything they shouldn't – ‘our little apartment … We could have something wonderful here. And did you know that Grenville has one of the top-rated public school systems in the country?'

‘I didn't. So what are you saying? You want to move?'

‘Do you know how many Hollywood A-listers have homes out here? It wouldn't hurt your career. Imagine Ashley growing up here, with space, and kids who aren't afraid to leave their homes. There are real neighborhoods. We were driving around, and …' She shook her head. ‘I know you like New York and all, but …'

‘If this show takes off …' He looked back at Melanie, who was shepherding Rachel and Ada into the paneled library for the critical next scene. ‘You'd really consider leaving New York?'

‘Barry, if it was what you wanted, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Think about it; this is a real place. We could raise our family here. Maybe another baby, maybe two.'