A Talent For Murder Part 9

Tim and Placenta sat down beside her and tried to hear the other end of the conversation.

"But I'm the 'nice' judge. You're hiring who? You don't mean that pushy and intolerant little Miss Spray-on Suntan? That That Trish Saddleback?" Polly said. "Is this because people are gossiping that I'm a latter day June Lockhart, sleeping with men younger than my son? I always said, 'Brava, June!' I suspect that one week's suspension will turn into two and three and four! Then the program will be over! I'm being punished because some loser parvenu broke into my home and had the disrespect to get killed here." Trish Saddleback?" Polly said. "Is this because people are gossiping that I'm a latter day June Lockhart, sleeping with men younger than my son? I always said, 'Brava, June!' I suspect that one week's suspension will turn into two and three and four! Then the program will be over! I'm being punished because some loser parvenu broke into my home and had the disrespect to get killed here."

Placenta reached for the bottle of champagne that rested in the ice bucket on the coffee table. As she refilled Polly's drink, the star's tone changed. "Oh dear, my agent, J.J., will be crestfallen. He's such a fan of me being on the show."

Polly smiled as she listened to Dartmouth for a moment. "Don't believe every little ol' thing you've heard about J.J. Temper? Nonsense! He's a precious p.u.s.s.ycat. At least to me. It was just a coincidence that Sharon Stone, Gary Busey, and dear Jane Seymour all had near death experiences shortly after one of J.J.'s little, shall we say, episodes episodes. Don't let my being unfairly treated by you and Sterling Studios keep you from answering when J.J. rings. However, you might want to wear earplugs. And if you're on antianxiety meds, you'd better take an extra couple of doses. Oh, and call in the studio's lawyers."

Polly hung up the phone and stared into s.p.a.ce. "I'm out of work for a week! I didn't do anything wrong, but I'm suffering the consequences of what those delinquent heathens, otherwise known as contestants, do in their spare time! If that walking pincushion Danny wasn't already dead, I'd rip out all of his piercings!"

After another long swallow of champagne, Polly sat back on the sofa and stared at her shelves of Emmy Awards. Soon, Tim and Placenta could read a look of peace crossing over Polly's face. She turned to Placenta and lovingly grazed her cheek with her hand. "You know that I love and adore you." Then she looked at Tim. "Dearest, dear man," she said as she leaned over and enveloped him in her arms.

"Oh, d.a.m.n," Placenta sighed. "It's time for another game of 'Meet the Murderer.' I smell another dinner party with a cast of killers stuffing themselves at our dining room table."

Tim gave Polly a stern look. "You've forgotten again that judges aren't allowed to a.s.sociate with the contestants."

Polly beamed. "I'm no longer a judge! Therefore, I'm free to mingle with whomever I please!"

"Randy will be furious," Tim said.

Polly shrugged. "He won't know because he isn't invited. Now, for the place cards. Calligraphy, of course. Taco Bell, Ped-Xing, Amy Stout, Miranda Washington ... is anybody else still alive? We shouldn't leave Michael out of the fun. They'll all be thrilled to have dinner at our famous home." Polly looked at Placenta. "Sat.u.r.day. Seven o'clock. Formal." She then turned to Tim. "Come up with a fun theme, sweetums. Something lavish, with Hollywood stars. Oh! A seance! Dead stars! How lovely would that be! I've wanted to get Karen Carpenter and John Denver back for ages! Or maybe Andy Williams!"

"Alive," Placenta said.

Tim added, "You'd better summon Anna Nicole Smith and Heath Ledger. I don't trust those kids to know that anyone existed before P. Diddy or Puff Daddy, or whatever he calls himself these days. If they'd ever heard how great Karen or John were, they wouldn't have the guts to open their own vocal cords in public."

Polly nodded. "Speed-dial someone for me, and hand me your phone, hon," she said to Tim.

Tim did the dialing, and just as Polly predicted, each of the invitees was eager to visit Pepper Plantation. They may have been unsophisticated teens, but because the facade of the mansion had been used as the exterior location shot for the popular sitcom For Closure For Closure, about a once-rich family trying to come to terms with the fact that their dead daddy's mansion is being taken by the bank, the kids acted as if they had been invited to the Cedars Sinai emergency room on a day when more than three former Disney Channel child stars were ambulanced in for overdosing on reality. "We're just as eager as you are, dear," Polly said to Taco Bell, who demanded that Polly send a car to pick her up. "I wouldn't treat my guests with any less outpouring of my well-known largesse."

By the time Polly, Tim, and Placenta were settled in to watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, their party plans were in place. The guest list was complete. It now fell to Tim to organize a memorable evening, and to Placenta to visit her favorite online cooking service and order a meal that would give the I'll Do Anything to Become Famous I'll Do Anything to Become Famous contestants an idea of how a real, live, living legend dines. contestants an idea of how a real, live, living legend dines.

It was unusual for Polly to be unable to sleep. Regardless of how little she may have worked or played during the day, a nightcap of champagne (after an entire evening of champagne) almost always calmed any fears or insecurities she may have felt at bedtime. Tonight, however, in the darkness of her room, thoughts about her career, her relationship with Randy, and the deaths of Thane Cornwall and Danny Castillo bombarded her. She couldn't help believing that there was a connection between the two murders. Surely it couldn't be a coincidence that Thane's and Danny's lifelines were scheduled to end at roughly the same time? Did Danny kill Thane? Had he come to Pepper Plantation for a second judge? But then who killed Danny? Were there perhaps two or more killers among the contestants who were vying for the first-place prize on I'll Do Anything to Become Famous? I'll Do Anything to Become Famous? And drat, would her agent J.J.'s bombast kill off any future chances for her to work with Richard Dartmouth and Sterling Studios? And drat, would her agent J.J.'s bombast kill off any future chances for her to work with Richard Dartmouth and Sterling Studios?

Polly tossed and turned, until she finally gave up trying to sleep. She sat up in bed, rested her back against the padded headboard, and stared into the semidarkness.

In the abyss of her master suite, she could make out the silhouettes of the fireplace, her dressing table, a fake ficus in the corner, her computer desk, and the chaise by the window. Polly sighed and scooted down once again to attempt sleep. The instant she set her head onto her pillow and closed her eyes, Polly thought she saw a hint of light ricochet off her window. She froze.

You're just tired, Polly rea.s.sured herself. A car pa.s.sed by the house. No, we 're too far back on the estate. Headlights never reach this far. Plus, this room doesn't face the street. An airplane! A helicopter? That's it. She closed her eyes again. Just as she was about to roll over and hug her pillow, another flash of light startled her.

Polly eased herself out of bed and cautiously made her way toward the window. A light moved through the garden. She quickly backed up and reached for the security alarm pad next to her bed. However, it wasn't illuminated, which meant it was inactive. She pushed the panic b.u.t.ton anyway. Nothing. She raced down the hall to Tim's bedroom, roused him from sleep, and told him to call 911.

Tim went to the window and saw nothing more than the solar lights that outlined the garden walkway. However, Tim knew that his mother wasn't an alarmist and therefore he turned to his own security system keypad next to the bed and pushed the code for emergency service.

"It's no use," Polly said. "The alarm isn't working."

Tim looked at the keypad, then at his mother. "Yes, it is."

Polly looked at the lighted numerals. "Mine isn't on."

Just then, the telephone rang. It was an operator from SOS. "We've received a signal indicating an emergency."

"We have an intruder," Tim said.

"What is your pa.s.sword?" the operator said.

"PP," Tim replied.

"No s.h.i.t," the operator chuckled. "A car is on its way."

"I'm calling Randy," Polly said, and reached for Tim's cell phone. Although the room was dark, she could see the illuminated face of the screen.

Suddenly, a human form appeared in the doorway. Polly looked up and shrieked, "JesusJosephandMary!" She held her hands to her chest and took a deep breath. "Placenta! You scared the h.e.l.l out of me!"

"What's going on?" Placenta asked.

"Polly saw something in the garden," Tim said.

"Not something," Polly corrected. "Someone. Walking around with a flashlight."

Now it was Placenta's turn to become agitated. "Why didn't the security lights go on? Where's that freakin' SOS when we need 'em? I told you we should switch to Mayday!"

Tim handed his cell phone to Polly. "Call Randy. I'll go check all the doors." He made his way to the hallway and down the stairs.

As Tim descended the Scarlett O'Hara Memorial Staircase, he heard the chime of the front gate intercom. He went to the front door and pushed the Talk b.u.t.ton. When he was a.s.sured it was the security company, he pushed the b.u.t.ton to open the main gates to the estate. Still, he wouldn't open the door to the mansion until he was certain that the guards were legitimate. "Check the grounds," Tim said. "My mother saw an intruder walking through the back garden."

Tim felt safe enough to turn on the lights throughout the house and outside, as well. If someone had trespa.s.sed on the property, the commotion would surely have scared them away.

It was nearly 2:00 a.m., and Polly and Placenta joined Tim in the great room of the house. "I can't reach Randy," Polly said. "He always keeps his phone on. Not a good sign when you can't reach your boyfriend twenty-four-seven!"

"Don't go there," Placenta advised. "He works hard. He's probably zonked out and didn't hear the ring tone."

Soon, the SOS security detail was once again at the front door. This time Tim invited the two men into the house, and led them to the great room. After introductions, and Polly apologizing for not looking her movie star best, a handsome Hispanic guard, impressively dressed in a stiffly pressed khaki shirt with faux police and military-style badges sewn onto the sleeves and pockets, explained that although he and his partner had covered every corner of the property, they failed to find any trace of a gate-crasher. "If anything, including a racc.o.o.n, had wandered onto the property, the alarm would have been triggered," the guard a.s.sured Polly.

"It's not working properly," Polly said. "At least the keypad beside my bed isn't functioning."

The guard looked sheepish. "Look, because I'm a huge fan of yours, I'll be honest. SOS sucks. I could get fired for telling you this, but I know that our system has been experiencing intermittent communication failures, especially here in Bel Air."

Placenta gasped. "Are you telling us that we're not safe in our own home? We spend a fortune for security, and now we hear that it's not working."

"Everyone says to hire Mayday!" Tim said.

"It's working," the guard said. "It's just not working all the time."

"I'll stay here until the system is once again operating," the guard said in a clipped military manner. He looked at Tim and smiled. "Sir, may I see you outside for a moment?"

Tim looked at his mother and Placenta, who were in a deep discussion. "Someone was on the estate, and I think they're after me!" he heard Polly say as he followed the security guard out of the room.

Once in the hallway, Tim looked at the guard's badge. "Raul." He smiled. "Thanks for getting here so quickly. But what's with the signal breakdown? I hate to say it, but it looks like there's some truth to the rumor that SOS stands for."

"I've heard 'em all," Raul said. "'Switch Our Service' being my personal favorite."

"We're safe now, right?" Tim asked.

Raul smiled. "If you mean the house, yes ... and no."

Tim's smile grew wider. "So every night we may have an emergency and you'll have to keep coming back."

Just then, Randy Archer rushed into the house and bellowed, "What's going on, and who's in charge?"

Raul squared his shoulders and looked defiantly at Archer. "I'm Officer Cervantes, with SOS. And you are?"

"Taking over!" Randy said. "Beverly Hills Police Department. A real real policeman. You can go now." policeman. You can go now."

Tim looked at Randy. "What's with you? This man's done a great job of securing the area and protecting us."

Randy looked at Raul and shook his head. "I'm sure you did an awesome job. But I'll take things from here."

Tim and Raul shook hands. As Raul was leaving the house, Tim sprinted to the front door. "Um, here's my card." He reached into a drawer in the granite-top foyer sideboard and lifted out a business card holder. Raul looked at the engraved card. "I'll e-mail you." He met Tim's eyes. "Hasta luego "Hasta luego, man."

"Was I interrupting something?" Randy asked when Tim returned to his side.

Tim exhaled in resignation. "Polly's in the great room."

When Randy arrived at Polly's side, he gave her a tight hug and asked her to tell him what she had seen from her window.

"A light," she said. "Someone was walking around with a flashlight. How did you know to come over?"

"Your number came up on my missed call log. I got here as fast as I could. You wouldn't call at two in the morning unless it was something important, so I called ahead for backup."

Polly smiled. "Then you're not angry with me?"

"How could I stay ... Let's talk about what you saw. It's a bit breezy tonight. Is it possible that the wind moving the leaves on the trees could have made it appear that the glow from the garden lights was moving?"

"I saw what I saw," Polly said.

"But the security system wasn't breached," Randy continued. "If someone had gotten onto the property, the alarm would have sounded."

"It's not working properly," Polly testified. "I went to press the Panic b.u.t.ton and it was off. Tim's was fine, but not mine."

Randy signaled to one of the police officers standing by the doorway. "Check all the quadrants in the house, and the security boxes as well."

"It's no use," Polly said. "That cheap-o security service we have is on the fritz."

Placenta poured a gla.s.s of champagne for Polly. "Anyone else?" she asked. "Polly doesn't make stuff up, except her date of birth. If she saw someone on the property, it wasn't from the DTs."

Randy agreed. "I have no doubt that someone was here. But how are they getting in? Even if the alarm isn't working, the gates are locked, and the hedges are so high and thick, who could get through? First Danny and the person or persons who killed him. Now someone trespa.s.sing in the middle of the night. I don't like it. And I don't like you being here alone."

"I'm hardly alone," Polly said. "However, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll let you bunk with me for a few nights."

Randy smiled. "That would make me feel just fine."

"No pressure," Polly said with a grin. "You could share s.p.a.ce with Tim again, if I snore."

Chapter 12.

Friday morning dawned, and the residents of Pepper Plantation moved into the day with much lethargy. Polly shuffled to the outdoor breakfast table at half past ten. "What time did Randy leave?" she asked Placenta as she sipped a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary. "I don't want a virgin."

Soon after, Tim wandered down to the patio and greeted his mother and Placenta with a groan. Placenta, too, was tired and took her time pouring the coffee and serving her famous scrambled eggs with cream cheese, and a side of hash browns. When the family was served, she sat down at the table with them and sprinkled Tabasco sauce over her eggs. "I want a man around the place," she said.

Both Polly and Tim made guttural sounds that seemed to say, "Who doesn't?"

"I mean a security guard," Placenta continued. "Someone who'll patrol the grounds day and night."

"A retired old codger? Someone who always dreamed of being a policeman, but never made the force? A deluded nut who lives out his fantasy by wearing a uniform and sidearm?" Polly said. "I don't think so!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of hiring the UCLA gymnastics team," Placenta said. "We would feel safe, and at the same time live our fantasies." She looked at Polly. "You keep jeopardizing our lives by playing with freaks and felons. We need more protection than a faulty alarm system or a besotted detective."

"I agree with Placenta," Tim said. "The gymnastics part anyway. But seriously, I think we do need someone around here twenty-four-seven. This week has been weird, and last night was scarier than when Bea Arthur comes over."

Polly looked out through her sungla.s.ses and gazed at her manicured estate. The pool water was shimmering and bees were drifting among the roses and snapdragons and peonies. She loved the privacy and the silence of her property. "With a stranger around, I'd have to be Polly Pepper in my own home. I can't keep that up all day long."

"Celebrity guards sign confidentiality agreements," Placenta encouraged. "If you behave like the Beckhams, they can't run to the Peeper Peeper and spill their story for big bucks." and spill their story for big bucks."

"But their nanny did just that!" Polly raged. "So did Rob Lowe's chef! Big celebrities like me can have their staffs sign confidentiality agreements, but who wants to go through the pain and expense of suing household help?"

Polly sulked. "Fine," she said. "But I don't want any part in the selection process. Just find someone who won't blab all our secrets to Barbara Walters!"

Tim looked at Placenta. "Let's get on this right away. I know the perfect candidate."

"Amigo Sanchez cannot be our guard!" she said. "Neither one of us needs the distraction."

"I can at least have lunch with him and get a few references." Tim drained his coffee mug, grabbed two slices of bacon, dragged his napkin across his mouth, and stood. "Time for my ablutions. Have to make a good impression on potential employees."

"It's supposed to be the other way around," Polly said.

As Placenta sc.r.a.ped up the rest of her scrambled eggs with her fork Polly complained, "This'll shoot my budget all to h.e.l.l. I almost can't afford the gallons of Veuve that flow through our veins, let alone add someone to the payroll. Personal safety takes a backseat to personal satisfaction."

"Look at it this way, I'm cheap labor," Placenta said. "I haven't had a raise in five years, so you're probably actually saving moolah even if you hired two guards."

Polly rolled her eyes. "If people would just stop trespa.s.sing and falling down dead around this place, we'd be fine." From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of something moving in the distance amid the pygmy palms and tall hedge that divided her property from Kenny Rogers's estate. "What the h.e.l.l...?

Placenta followed her gaze to the end of the yard. "I'm calling 911!" she said as she reached into her ap.r.o.n pocket for her cell phone.