“So, let me see if I follow this. You and your ex-wife agreed to bring in your other ex-wife, who took you away from the first wife, and hire the man who broke up your second marriage to direct it?" Shelley asked, shell-shocked.
George shrugged and grinned. "What can I say? Hollywood. Wonderful, weird place. It was the right property for everybody. I got a good role, Lynette got a great one. If it does as well as we think it will, the cable rights alone will keep us all in luxury for a good long time. Even the original author's heirs are thrilled. They've gotten a terrific paperback reprint offer and the old book will have a whole new life.”
Shelley was still shaking her head in wonder.
A production assistant stuck her head in the door. "Mr. Abington, we need you for a minute to get a light reading."
“Be right back. See if you can't get that damned script put back together for me, would you?" he said as he left.
Jane and Shelley sat and stared at each other for a minute. "Jane, I'm amazed. That was really clever of you."
“Not as much as it sounds like. It was what was bothering me last night. I was almost asleep when I remembered another one of Katie's doll stories. She said her doll had been a secretary who had been so much more beautiful than the others that they hated her, but she got them back by marrying the head of the corporation and firing them all. It just seemed like a possibility somehow — that the producers were staying undercover because they were too well acquainted with somebody here, but I didn't really know how until I heard that guy on the phone this morning."
“See? You do have a resident subconscious. It didn't really move to Bermuda." Shelley picked up the script and knocked it briskly on a table to get the pages realigned.
“Just in for a fleeting visit, I'm afraid. But I kept thinking the producers were secretly trying to get back at somebody and that didn't make sense. Why risk a huge amount of money to get even with someone. Instead, they were promoting somebody. Two of themselves."
“Well, now we know what Jake was blackmailing Lynette about," Shelley said. She'd found the missing brad and threaded it through the holes in the script.
“Probably so. But how did he know?”
Shelley shook her head. "I don't suppose we'll ever find out. He'd been around the business a long time, though, and knew everybody. Maybe he heard the front guy calling George's wife and put it together, too."
“But that would only lead him to George. Not Lynette."
“It led you to Lynette."
“You're right. But Shelley, I still don't see how it helps us. I hate to admit that after my 'brilliant' deduction. What if Jake was blackmailing her about being a producer? He must have known the same about George, and he tried something entirely different on him and it was easier to figure out George's connection than Lynette's. Anyway, even if it helped explain why Jake was killed, it doesn't help with Lynette's death. I can't quite see her killing Jake, then doing away with herself out of remorse. She probably had no concept of remorse."
“Unless—"
“Unless?" Jane asked.
Shelley lowered her voice. "Unless it was George trying to keep it all a secret. And now the two of us know."
“Oh—!”
Shelley set the script down as if it were a bomb and they both rose and quickly headed for the door. But George was standing just outside.
“Where are you going, ladies?”
Did he sound menacing or was it Jane's imagination going into overdrive?
“No, no. We don't want to disturb you anymore."
“I haven't got a thing to do for another hour.”
He came in the door, sweeping them before him. "Look, George — Mr. Abington, we're going to have to tell the police what we know. In fact—" Jane started to say they already had, but was cut off. "I don't think they'll be too surprised." "Why?"
“Because I told them last night when they were collecting alibis."
“You told them already?"
“Of course. It wasn't that deep cover a secret. In fact, we had a press release written up to present at the wrap party tonight. There was a copy in Lynette's dressing room. The police found it and asked me about it.”
Jane didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. She settled on angry. "Then why the hell was it a secret to begin with!" she snapped.
“Why, for Cavagnari's sake, of course," he said, as if this should have been obvious to an especially backward four-year-old.
Seeing their blank expressions, he explained patiently. "Ladies, directors are a touchy lot. They will work for producers, any producers. The — producers can be mob bosses or survivalists, as long as they have the money to put up. But directors hate working for actors. They consider us below them in the food chain and we damned well better staythere. Roberto didn't mind taking orders from an orthodontist's wife from Encino. Just as long as he didn't know two of his actors were also giving the orders. But as of tonight, Roberto's main work is done. In a few hours, it won't matter. He's still got to oversee the cutting, but we won't be underfoot. Well, even if Lynette hadn't died, I mean."
“Okay, George. So you're saying Jake wouldn't have been trying to blackmail Lynette over this?" Shelley asked. She sounded as irritable as Jane was feeling.
“Oh, he might have been trying. But Lynette probably wouldn't have much cared. It all happened so close to the end of filming anyhow."
“But her most important scene was yesterday. She wouldn't have wanted the director to know before that, would she?”
George thought a moment. "I don't think it would have mattered. Lynette had that scene down cold. She didn't need Roberto to tell her how to do it."
“I don't get it," Shelley said. "She seemed so vain and stupid. And yet, you're saying she created a marvelous performance out of that empty head? And before that, helped put together the financing for the whole deal?"
“I guess she was sort of an idiot savant," George said. "Dumb as a chicken about most things and brilliant in a very few."
“Who killed her?" Jane asked, hoping to surprise valuable information out of George.
“No idea," he said cheerfully. "Not my problem, thank God.”
2 2
“Can we believe him?" Shelley asked as the two walked back to their "home base" in Jane's yard. "About what?"
“Everything. Anything."
“I think I probably do. We don't have much choice. Besides—" Jane explained to Shelley about George's being so nice to poor old Olive a little while earlier. "It's entirely possible that he may know more than he's telling us. He may even be lying about what he is telling us, but I'm absolutely certain the man isn't a killer. I think his instincts are basically kindly.”
As they came through the gap in the scenery, they met up with Mel. "There you two are. I've been looking for you. I've got to get away from here for ten minutes. Want to go someplace for coffee?"
“Sure. I'll drive," Jane said. "You're probably parked fourteen miles away anyhow and I'd like to get another shot at running over a reporter. It's something I think I could be good at with a little practice."
“I've got to run home for a minute first," Shelley said. "I'll meet you in your garage.”