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“So is nothing worth keeping a secret?"

“You tell me. Willie Nelson has told the world about his tax problems. Everybody on the screen or stage wants to talk about their infidelities and brushes with the law."

“I guess you're right."

“Even the things they haven't done are on the front page of the tabloids and most performers seldom even bother to sue the rags. Sometimes they even have their staff plant the fake stories. I guess they figure any publicity is good publicity. Besides, Jane, the blackmail didn't work."

“What do you mean?"

“Angela didn't get the part. That's what the gossip mill says he was working on, getting Angela the vacant part yesterday afternoon."

“Oh, I found out something interesting about Angela. At least I think I did. George Abington says Angela was Jake's niece.”

Maisie laughed. "Oh, was she?"

“George Abington says so. Do you suppose he's right?"

“I have no idea. Never met the man before. He could be a pathological liar for all I know. But — he could be right. I just assumed it was a romance from all the attention Jake paid to her, but it could have been plain old nepotism. Come to think of it, she looks sort of like him. The same coloring and the sharp planes of their faces. They could be related."

“But she told me he was trying to seduce her."

“That's when she was trying to impress you, right? I heard about you being a famous scriptwriter. That doesn't happen to be true, does it?"

“No, of course not. But it does make people talk to me. I didn't come up with it. Shelley did."

“Then that's why Angela lied. She was trying to get you to see her as the poor, virginal heroine and write her a tasty role.”

A hand fell heavily on Jane's arm.

She turned and looked at Shelley, who was wide-eyed and stunned-looking.

“Shelley, you look like somebody just hit you with half a brick," Jane said. "Come sit down and tell me what's wrong.”

They took up their positions in their lawn chairs. "I've been talking to Lynette Harwell. Or rather, I've been being talked at by her. I knew you wouldn't want to have a chat with her, so I gave it a shot."

“And. .?"

“And she's amazing. Amazing.." Shelley's voice trailed off as if she were remembering a horrible event from the distant past. Like the Black Plague.

“Shelley, get a grip!"

“Yes, yes. She ought to be institutionalized. She's not quite human. Jane, she knows and cares about positively nothing but herself. Nothing, I tell you! I asked her about other people in the cast and she quite honestly didn't seem to know who I meant. She seemed to dimly remember George Abington. Not because she was once married to him, mind you, but because she had some scenes with him.

I'm not kidding! George only exists, in her mind, to fill in spaces in the script with talk so that the camera can focus on her reactions.”

Shelley was hanging onto Jane's arm, as if it were her last link with the real world.

“What about Jake?"

“She didn't seem to really know quite who he was. I asked her if she'd ever worked on a set with him before and she looked at me as if I were crazy to expect her to remember anybody she's ever worked with. Her only interest in Jake was that he 'got himself killed'—that I assure you is a direct quote — and has perpetuated the myth about her being bad luck on a set."

“No!"

“By that time I was so fascinated, that I asked her what she knew about his death and she knew nothing. Not that he was stabbed, or where or when it happened. I tried to make her speculate on who did it and she just said, 'Well, I didn't.' Understand this, Jane, that wasn't a denial of guilt, it was a statement that if she didn't do it, who could possibly have any interest in who did? Amazing."

“That all fits with what George Abington said about her. I'll tell you about my conversation with him in a minute. So you're pretty sure she was telling the truth? About not killing Jake?"

“Positive. When she ran out of self-praise for a second, I quickly asked her if Jake had been blackmailing her and she was genuinely astonished at the question. Blackmail, she explained rather patiently to me, requires that a person has done something wrong. She — it should have gonewithout saying — had never done anything wrong." "But she was in drug rehab, wasn't she? Why didn't you bring that up?"

“Oh, I didn't need to. She did. She was put in some kind of institution. She went on about it until I was ready to throttle her," Shelley said. "I didn't exactly get the idea it was to do with drugs, but it was hard to tell. She's worked it around in her mind that she was merely there to brighten the days of the patients and staff. A charitable act, don't you see? She likened it to Dorothy Lamour handing out coffee and donuts at the U.S.O. during World War II. Although she didn't mention the war itself. I don't think she knows there was one. She hadn't been born yet, so what could there have been for people to fight about!"

“Shelley, if your voice gets any higher, only dogs and bats will be able to hear you! Calm down.”

She sighed heavily. "I know. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. All of this" — Shelley waved wildly, a gesture encompassing the whole set—"all of this is a waste of money. I tell you, that one good performance she gave so many years ago was a fluke. This is going to be a bomb of a movie. What I don't get is why anybody cast her in a supposedly good role. It couldn't have been anyone who ever spent five minutes with her. No wonder the producers are hiding! They must be the stupidest people in the world."

“But Shelley, when I overheard her talking to Mike, she was talking about him, not herself."

“No, Jane. She was talking about him in order to seduce him into thinking she was wonderful."

“True, I guess."

“And even when she was talking about your husband, she was trying to make herself look like a tragic heroine, but still generous and capable of recognizing talent. Think back, Jane. Wasn't that the case?”

Jane shuddered. "I don't want to think back on that conversation. Ever. Shelley, do you think maybe she's really crazy enough to have killed Jake and, well — not remember it?"

“Oh, I guess it's barely possible," Shelley said with resignation. "She's so far beyond my range of human experience, I couldn't even guess. For all I know, she's been knocking people off right and left and has justified it as Lady Bountiful sparing them the pain and indignity of growing old. .”

Her voice trailed away and her eyes grew very wide again.

“Will you just look at that!" Shelley exclaimed.

16

“Good Lord!" Jane exclaimed. "Isn't that Jennifer Fortin? And we were just talking about her yesterday!”

A crowd of people were surrounding the willowy blond actress who had just arrived in Jane's backyard and was dispensing waves and smiles like royalty. "What's she doing here?" Jane asked.

“Just throwing a little shit at the fan," Maisie said from behind them. She pulled a chair up and sat down with a wicked glint in her eye. "I heard she was in town, but I never thought she'd show up here. What superb timing. She must have a mole on the set."

“What are you talking about?" Jane asked.

“You must not be up on your movie gossip," Maisie said, shaking her head. "Jennifer was rumored to want this role badly. And Cavagnari wanted her too, by all accounts. But Harwell got it, which must have made Fortin crazy. Fortin's gotten a little testy when interviewers have compared her performances to Harwell's one great one. I wouldn't think Harwell much likes it either, especially when the movie rags talk about how Fortin looks so much like a young Harwell. So here's Fortin, on the very day Harwell has to do her best work or write her career off. Dear Lynette is going to go haywire when she learns who's hanging around the set watching her today.”