Killer Cocktail (11 page)

twenty-four

Detective Brady left almost
immediately, but not before he reminded me that I had no business “poking around in this case” and that he was more than capable of solving this without the help of a “bored housewife.” Officers Hax and Kelly followed close behind. It might have been my imagination, but I think Officer Hax gave me a sympathetic smile on her way out.

I called Mandy and asked her if she knew anything about Christina's stolen Oscar. “No,” she answered with a laugh. “But I doubt it's actually been stolen. This has happened before. They usually turn up in a few days with a couple of…ah, additions, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don't, nor do I want to,” I said.

“Franco probably has it,” Mandy said, “He loves to tweak Christina. I remember him saying something last year about …”

“Franco doesn't have it,” I said, cutting her off. “The police do.”

“The police?” Mandy repeated. “Why do they have it?”

“We just gave it to them,” I said. “Skippy found it.”

“Skippy? How did he get it?” Mandy asked.

I quickly told her about the break-in and the attack on DeDee. Mandy gave a hiss of surprise. “Dear God,” she said. “You can't really think that Christina attacked Dee?”

“I have no idea,” I answered. “But I intend to find out. Do you know how I can get in touch with her? I have a few questions I'd like to ask her.”

“Of course. I'll call her and have her contact you right away,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. “And, Mandy, in the meantime? All of this is off the record, okay?”

“Of course, Nic. I didn't hear a word from you.”

Christina called me five minutes after I hung up from Mandy. “Mandy told me what happened,” she said her voice tight with emotion. “I'm horrified to think that my Oscar might have been used to hurt someone. I'd be glad to tell you what little I know, though. Why don't you and your husband come to my house for lunch this afternoon? Mandy is coming as well,” she said.

“I don't want to put you out,” I said.

“It's no trouble at all,” Christina said, “and besides, the paparazzi have been all over me lately. I'd rather not go out.”

I had just agreed when Christina surprised me by adding, “Oh, and Mandy says that you are to bring Skippy, but under no circumstances is Nigel allowed to bring Roscoe, whoever he is.”

I stifled a laugh. “That shouldn't be a problem. I think Roscoe is in rehab anyway.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” Christina said. “Is he a relative?”

“No, he's a foul-mouthed parrot,” I answered.

“Oh,” she said, slowly. “I see. Well, then I'm really sorry he can't make it.”

Footage from the set of
A Winter's Night
5/5/96

Barry is sitting in his chair, making notes in a script. In the distance yelling can be heard. It is Frank Samuel. He is berating someone about a set mistake.

FRANK

Are you a complete idiot or just a partial idiot? I can't tell. But let's see if we can't figure it out. In the nightclub scene, you have Hanna drinking a coke, right?

CREWMEMBER

Yes, sir.

FRANK

Well, not only do you have her drinking it directly from the bottle, which no well-bred lady would ever do, you screwed up the bottle. Care to tell me how you did this?

Barry looks up from his notes and turns his head to listen to the tirade. He closes his eyes with resigned frustration. After a second, he pulls out his cell phone and quickly dials a number.

FRANK

I asked you a question! Look at the damn bottle and tell me what you see!

CREWMEMBER

It … it says Coca-Cola, sir.

BARRY (speaking quietly into his phone)

Z? Hey, it's Barry. Uh-huh. Yeah. He's at it again. I don't know, some poor bastard in props, I think. But it's only a matter of time before he heads my way, and I just can't deal with him today. (Pauses and laughs) I stand corrected. Wait a sec, Z.

Barry cocks his head to listen to Frank.

FRANK (his voice growing even louder and angrier)

I can read, you idiot! Although, I have to admit, I'm mildly surprised that YOU can. The logo is painted in red paint!

CREWMEMBER

Uh … you want it a different color?

FRANK

No, I don't want it painted a different color, you moron! I don't want it painted at all! What year is this movie set in?

CREWMEMBER

Uh … 1949?

BARRY (rubbing his hand over his face)

Anyway, could you possibly …? Thanks, Z. You're a lifesaver. A gorgeous lifesaver. (pauses) Yeah, I think she's around here somewhere. What? No, of course not! Don't be silly. She's having a blast following John around, and God knows he'll never get sick of adoration. Yeah, right? Okay, see you in a few. Thanks, Z.

Barry hangs up the phone and looks over to where Frank is yelling.

FRANK

That's right! 1949! And Coke didn't start painting its logo onto the bottles until 1957! So unless we've added a time travel element to this movie that I'm unaware of, you've got the wrong damn bottle! Where the hell is Barry? Barry! Where the hell are you?

Barry sighs and stands up. He puts down his script and begins to walk toward Frank's voice.

BARRY

Over here, Frank.

twenty-five

A few hours later,
Nigel, Skippy, and I were seated on the terrace of Christina's Malibu home drinking white wine and eating
Salad Niçoise.
Below us the Pacific Ocean lapped at the white sands of Zuma Beach. Above us, white puffs of clouds floated across the clear blue sky. Nigel said he felt like he was in an ad for anti-depressants.

In addition to Mandy, Sebastian and Janice had joined us for lunch. The former checked his emails on his phone while the latter idly read the local paper's coverage of the Oscars.

“So, when did you notice that your Oscar was missing?” I asked Christina.

She took a sip of her wine before answering. “It was when I was getting ready to leave, actually,” she said. “Around one, I think?” She turned to Sebastian to corroborate this.

Still looking at his phone, Sebastian nodded and said, “One fifteen.”

“Right,” Christina said, “Anyway, I went to get my statue and realized it was gone. Of course, I didn't think anything of it at the time. Actually, I assumed Franco had it. Last year, he dressed up Meryl's as a Ken doll. But when I asked him, he swore he had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you remember who else was there when you left?” I asked.

Christina's delicate brows pulled together as she tried to remember. “I remember seeing Frank and Barry,” she said. “They were huddled together in a corner deep in conversation.”

“What about Cecelia? Was she still there?” I asked, remembering her hope to leave early.

Christina shook her head. “No. About an hour or so earlier, she marched over to both of them and yelled something about them being ungallant pigs. She said she was going home.”

“What did they say?”

Christina shrugged her shoulder. “Nothing really. Barry just waved her off, and Frank said something about making sure that Danielle got a ride.”

“Did Cecelia seem upset?” I asked.

Christina considered the question for a moment, and then said, “Not really. I mean, she was annoyed, yes, but she's used to Barry's ways by now. Once he gets into a business discussion, it's hard to pull him away.”

“How do you know he and Frank were talking business?” I asked.

She looked at me in surprise. “Well, I guess I don't actually,” she said slowly. “I just assumed. I mean, when the two of them get like that, it's usually about business.”

I nodded. “So, once you discovered your statue was gone, did you call the police?” I asked.

Christina nodded. “Yes, but not until later. I honestly assumed that it was either a prank or that someone had taken mine home by mistake. At one point there were a bunch of them on our table.”

“Do you remember whose?” I asked.

Christina frowned in concentration. “Well, there was Barry's and Frank's. And Meryl's and Tom's.”

“But those are all accounted for?” Mandy asked.

Christina nodded. “Yes. And when no one came forward with mine, I called the police. I can't tell you how sick I am that someone used it to hurt your employee. How is she by the way?”

“She's doing better,” I said, “Thank God. However, she has no memory of the attack.”

“Do the doctors think that her memory will return?” Janice asked.

“They haven't said,” I answered.

“I still can't wrap my head around the whole thing,” said Christina. “I mean, I know people are excited to see those tapes, but to attack someone just to get them? It doesn't make sense.”

“It doesn't,” I agreed. “From what we've seen of the tapes so far, it all seems pretty banal. I was hoping that you might be able to shed some light as to why anyone would want to prevent us from publishing those tapes.”

“I'll try. What do you need to know?” she asked.

“That's the problem. I don't know exactly,” I said. “I'm just trying to get an idea of what it was like back then. What was the atmosphere on the set like? Was it tense?”

Christina sat back against the white cushions and crossed her long legs. “You haven't been on too many movie sets, have you?” she said with a small laugh. “There's
always
tension. But I'd say that
A Winter's Night
wasn't too bad.” She glanced at Mandy. “You were on the set a fair amount. Did you think it was tense?”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Well, not unless Frank was around. Then it was extremely tense.”

Christina tipped her head in agreement. “That's true.”

“Why was that?” I asked.

“I don't know. He was just a bundle of nerves then,” Christina said with a shake of her head. “He was
always
underfoot, either suggesting ideas to Barry or worrying that we were over budget, or that we wouldn't finish in time. He drove Barry nuts. I remember one time the two of them got into a huge screaming match that culminated with Barry threatening to have him thrown off the set.” Christina laughed. “God, I remember how Frank would stomp around the set breathing out of his nose like an angry bull.” Turning to Sebastian, she said, “Bash, what was that nickname you gave him? He was the bull in the
Bugs Bunny
cartoon?”

“Toro,” Sebastian said, still looking at his phone.

Christina smiled. “That's right! Toro. After every one of Frank's rants, Bash would mutter, “Of course you realize, this means war!”

Everyone laughed, except for Janice. “Well, I thought Frank behaved just fine on the set,” she said. “He had a picture to make—an important one—and he wanted it made right. Plus, he had invested a ton of his own money in the project. When you have that kind of responsibility on your shoulders, you have to be tough. Someone has to be the ‘bad guy' or nothing will get done.”

Mandy shook her head in disagreement. “With all due respect,” she said, “The only reason anything got done on that set is because Zelda was around. She was the only one who could make Frank see reason.”

“What was she like?” Nigel asked. “I've only seen a little of her on the footage.”

“She was different,” Christina said thoughtfully. “I mean, for this town. She was the type of person who really looked at you when you talked and actually listened. She didn't have a hidden agenda. She wasn't trying to get information out of you, or get you to pass on information to someone else. And she adored Danielle. I remember the two of them together on the set. They played this one card game all the time. I don't remember what it was, but they would both cheat so outrageously until they were crying with laugher.” Christina's voice trailed off. Across from me, Janice's posture grew stiff and her lips pressed together.

Mandy nodded. “Zelda got along with everybody. Especially Barry,” she said with a smile. “He once told me that he had her number on speed dial for when Frank got out of hand. Barry would call Zelda; Zelda would then pay a surprise visit, during which she would somehow smooth things over and convince Frank to take a break.”

Christina laughed. “Now that I think about it,” she said, “Zelda did make a lot of ‘sudden' appearances on the set. But she definitely could calm him down. It's funny. I thought Zelda and Frank were the perfect couple. I never thought they'd get divorced. I guess it just goes to show how naïve I was.”

“You're not naïve,” said Mandy. “Zelda
was
nice. Of all of Frank's wives, she was the best. He was an idiot to ever let her go. He may be a brilliant producer, but he's a complete jackass when it comes to women.”

“Why did they get divorced?” I asked.

Mandy gave an airy wave with her hand. “Oh, you know—the usual reasons. He couldn't keep his damn zipper zipped. Ended up leaving her for some bimbo half his age and,” seeing the pained look cross Christina's face, she stopped short. “Oh God, Christina,” she gasped. “I'm so sorry! I'm such an ass. I didn't mean to …”

Christina took a deep breath and shook her head as if to negate Mandy's self-reprimand. “Please, don't worry about it. I'm fine,” she said, her voice barely audible. With a bitter laugh, she added, “Hell, if everyone had to avoid referencing men who've left their wives for younger women, conversations in this town would come to a screeching halt.”

“You're better off without him anyway,” Janice said with a brisk dismissal. “But I still say you're wrong about Frank. He was no worse than any other producer with a movie to shoot. If he was hard on you, it was for a good reason. After all, you know what they say, ‘You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.'”

Sebastian looked up from his phone. “Is Christina the omelet or the egg?” he asked. “I can never remember.”

Christina snorted. Janice shot her a derisive look. “Oh, please. What do you have to complain about?” she asked. “And in any case, I don't remember Frank and Barry fighting all that much, but even if they did, it's all forgotten now. They're obviously still good friends.”

“Well, seeing how Barry is married to Frank's sister, it's in his best interest if he stays on good terms with Frank,” observed Sebastian. “You don't want to get on the wrong side of a Samuel. They play for keeps. If Frank or Cecelia ever turned their backs on him, Barry's egg wouldn't just be broken, it would be cooked.”

“Speaking of bad eggs,” said Janice, “The person you should be focusing on is Melanie Summers.”

Sebastian stared at his mother in confusion. “Who the hell said anything about bad eggs?” he asked.

“You did,” replied Janice.

“I said ‘broken' not ‘bad,'” Sebastian said.

Janice dismissed this with a flick of her wrist. “Broken. Bad. Same difference,” she said.

“Not to the Board of Health,” Nigel said.

“My point is,” Janice continued, “Melanie Summers was a bad egg. A broken, bad egg.”

Christina tensed. “Mother,” she said in a low warning voice.

“Don't ‘Mother' me,” Janice said holding out her hand as if to stop Christina's words. “Now, I know there are some who say it's wrong to speak ill of the dead….”

“Oh, I think I know the group you mean,” Sebastian offered helpfully. “Polite society? Decent human beings?”

“… but in her quest for stardom,” Janice blithely continued, “Melanie Summers would do anything
or anyone.”
She paused and pursed her lips, “
If
you know what I mean.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his expression earnest. “For the sake of argument, let's say we don't. Is there a specific book you might recommend? Maybe one with pictures?”

Christina leaned forward as well, her eyes bright. “Or even better, a movie?” she asked.

Janice ignored them both. “The sad fact is, Melanie Summers used sex to advance her career. And I'd imagine that there are some people in this town who would prefer for that fact to remain unknown.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that Melanie was cast in leading roles because she slept with someone?” asked Mandy.

Janice gave a sanctimonious nod of her head. “The whole thing is disgusting.”

“Look, I'll agree with you that Melanie wasn't a very nice person,” Mandy said, “but she was a hell of an actress. I find it hard to believe that she got the lead in
A Winter's Night
because she slept with someone.”

Janice only shrugged. “It's not for me to say,” she said primly.

Christina stared at her mother. “For God's sake, Mother! You just did say it!”

“I never said who, and I never will. But it doesn't make it any less true,” Janice replied.

A moment of confused silence followed. “You'll have to excuse my mother,” Sebastian said looking at us apologetically. “She used to write assembly instructions for Ikea. She's not used to speaking clearly.”

“Sebastian!” Janice protested. “That's not true at all….” she said and then trailed off as she looked at the paper in her lap. Her mouth opened in surprise and then closed again. Glancing back up at us, she abruptly stood. “If you'll excuse me,” she said with an excited tremor in her voice. “I need to make a phone call.” Without another word, she turned and left.