“Jane, I'm really sorry," Mel said, taking her arm possessively as they headed for her house. "About this weekend, I mean.”
Jane glanced at her watch. "So am I. Right now we'd have been heading for the airport." "Another time. As soon as this is sorted out." "Are you getting close to solving the murders?" "I'll tell you all about it when we get away from here.”
They went in through the kitchen door and back out to the garage from the inside entrance. They sat in the car in the dark garage for a minute. Mel kissed her long and hard, then Jane sighed and pushed the garage door opener. Shelley was waiting outside, smiling as if she'd guessed what caused the delay.
They went to a family restaurant a few blocks away, which was nearly deserted. The breakfast crowd had gone and the lunchers hadn't arrived yet. Mel got them a booth in the far corner and ordered coffee all around.
“So?" Jane said when the waitress had come and gone. She hadn't much liked the hungry looks the young woman had given Mel. Nor had she been pleased with the fact that the waitress was dressed in a very flattering uniform while Jane herself was in gray sweats.
“So, I guess you heard about Angela's ring being in Harwell's dressing room."
“Just gossip. Is it true?”
He nodded. "She claimed at first that she'd never been in there, but we had questioned somebody who saw her knocking at the door the first day of shooting.
Then she admitted she'd been lying before and that she had gone in. It was the day before Harwell died and Angela could well have claimed that's when she lost the ring, but she didn't."
“I doubt that would really have worked," Jane said. "I'll bet Olive knows every inch of that trailer."
“Yes, and the ring was in plain sight on the makeup counter, but it's the one thing that makes me tend to believe Angela — the fact that she had a legitimate excuse for the ring being there, but kept denying that it could have been."
“What do you mean?" Shelley asked.
“She claims it was in her purse and she didn't have her purse with her when she visited Harwell."
“Why was she there at all?" Jane asked.
“To have a fight with Harwell. No, that's not true. She claims she went in just to ask Harwell nicely if she would use her influence to get her the part the chicken pox girl had left vacant. She also says she wanted to apologize for Jake's attempt to blackmail her. That's when the feathers started flying."
“Why?"
“Harwell took offense. Said nobody had ever tried to blackmail her and they'd better not try. Angela says — and this, mind you, is all just her word — that Harwell got the mistaken impression that Angela herself had come to practice a little extortion. The more Angela tried to explain, the madder Harwell got. Angela says she was being so stupid and dramatic that she wanted to shake her. Angela finally said something sharp and nasty, sheclaims she doesn't remember just what it was, but I don't believe that. Anyway, Harwell tried to slap her, and Angela ducked out."
“That's all?"
“That's all she says. It's possible that she went away and got madder and madder about it. Figured Harwell would bad-mouth her in the business, then went back the next afternoon and poisoned her tea."
“Is that what happened? Poison?"
“Not exactly. Sleeping pills. A huge dose. The pathologist says he's got a lot more tests to run, but he's pretty sure that was the cause."
“Where'd the sleeping pills come from?" Jane asked.
“They were Harwell's. Legitimate prescription. Refilled the day before. The cup was still in the trailer. Preliminary tests showed traces in the bottom."
“Anything else? Any injuries? Sign of struggle?”
Mel shook his head. "Nothing immediately obvious. It looks like a nice, quiet suicide. The tea must have tasted awful. She couldn't have drunk it accidentally without noticing something strange. And I guess I told you, she was laid out as if she were ready to be popped right into a coffin. Fancy dress. Hair and makeup perfect. Hands neatly crossed."
“Are you wavering about it being suicide?" Shelley asked.
“Not at all. Just telling you the impression it's giving everybody else.”
They were quiet for a moment while the waitress refilled their cups. Jane wondered again why she hadn't just put on a skirt and blouse this morning instead of the baggy outfit she'd chosen without any thought.
“Anything else of significance in the dressing room?" Jane asked. "Oh! We forgot to ask you. Did you really find a press release saying who the producers were?"
“Yes. How did you know about that?"
“George Abington told us."
“I wish you two wouldn't meddle in this. I appreciate having someone to talk to about cases, but it scares the stuffing out of me when you two start doing your 'junior detective' stuff.”
Shelley ignored the warning. "Do you think there's a connection? Between the murders and the secret about the producers, I mean."
“There might be, but I'm damned if I can see what it is. I'll admit, though, that I'm beginning to wonder if the blackmail had anything at all to do with either murder."
“Why is that?" Jane asked.
“Well, think about it," Mel said, leaning forward. "It was over something so trivial. Jake just wanted Angela to get a little part. I'll grant you, I don't know much about the movie business, but that's still a stupid reason. It wasn't a big part. I've studied the script. It was a few lines that were only designed to give the main character someone to talk to. The character part didn't even have a name. It was just `farm girl,' and she said things like, 'What do you mean?' so that Harwell's character could go off into a monologue. I can see how Angela would have liked to have the part, but if she'd gotten it and donethe greatest acting in history, it wouldn't have done her much good. I'm finding it hard to believe that two people could have met their deaths because of something that insignificant."
“Maybe Jake was really blackmailing them about something else entirely," Shelley suggested.
“Or maybe it had nothing to do with the blackmail," Mel repeated. "It doesn't make sense."
“But it does, in a way," Jane said. "I can't claim to have known Jake very well, but from what everybody's said, it would have been like him to go overboard and use a sledgehammer to kill a gnat. Everybody says he was great with objects and lousy with people. He apparently had no sense of proportion in relationships. I can imagine him deciding there was something he wanted and just using the first tool at hand, which was blackmail, instead of something appropriate, like simply asking that Angela be given consideration for the part.”
Mel shrugged. "I guess there are people like that. I'm glad I don't know any of them personally.”
The waitress drifted by again, giving Mel a melting smile which Jane was extremely glad to see that he didn't return or even acknowledge.
“There's something else—" he said. "There was a religious medallion on the sink in the bathroom." "Not Lynette's?"
“Nope."
“Whose?" Jane asked.
“Butch Kowalski's, I'm afraid.”
Jane shivered. "Certainly not?"
“It had his name engraved on the back. It didn't take a lot of 'detecting' to figure it out."
“You've talked to him about it?" Shelley asked.
Mel nodded. "He just says he doesn't know how it got there. He wore it on a chain around his neck, but the chain broke a couple days ago and he stuffed it in his pocket. He claims that he took it out at some point to see if he could fix the chain, but can't remember where he put it next."
“And you think that sounds fishy?" Jane asked.
Mel laughed. "I don't think 'fishy' is the word I'd have used, but it is pretty thin."
“It could be the truth," Jane said.