Dying to Have Her (6 page)

Liam set his hands on the desk. “Maybe someone hid it, knowing that Jennifer would be upset about people smoking in her dressing room.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s nothing. I just don’t like a dangling thread like that.” He cast a sidelong glance at Joe Penny. “In any case, Joe here is convinced that he should err on the side of caution. Serena McCormack is important to
Valentine Valley.
Hell, the whole soap-following, magazine-buying, television-watching population of America loves that evil woman.”

“You’ll take the job?” Joe asked.

“You know what I’ve asked for, right?” Liam said.

“Yeah, highway robbery. They should lock you up,” Joe said.

Liam grinned. ‘Take it or leave it.”

“If you’ll do it, you’re hired.”

Olsen cleared his throat. “Hutchens seems to think that you and Serena had some kind of a volatile past. I know the kind of work you do. You’re professional to a fault. But if you think that a disagreement between you two is going to hamper your work in any way—”

“It won’t,” Liam said flatly. “I have one question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“What if Serena says no way to a bodyguard?”

“We won’t let her,” Joe told him.

“Last I heard, it’s a free country.”

“It’s an expensive free country, especially in California,” Joe said gruffly. “Andy and I are convinced that we’ve a lot more at stake than what we’re paying you. And hell, we both know you, like you, the cast knows you … you won’t have much of a problem from that end.”

You don’t really know Serena,
Liam thought.

“Just one other small detail,” Liam said, leaning forward and staring hard at Joe.

“Go on,” Joe told him.

“If it wasn’t an accident, then someone on that set was behind the death.”

“Obviously,” Olsen said.

“When do I see the set?”

“Now,” Olsen told him. “Right now. And as to watching out for Miss McCormack …”

“Don’t worry,” Liam said. “I’m on it.”

“Subtly, right?” Joe said anxiously.

Liam shook his head. “No way.”

“But she hasn’t been told yet—” Joe protested.

“Okay, Joe. I’ll give you the weekend to tell her. She won’t know I’m anywhere near. But after that … if you haven’t told her, I sure as hell will.”

T
HE FUNERAL WAS HUGE.
When Serena arrived, it was already under way.

Despite her best intentions, she had run late. She had called a taxi, knowing there would be a shortage of parking. During the drive from her hilly, forested neighborhood in the residential area of Glenwood, she watched the landscape changes in the town she loved so much, coming from winding, quiet heights down to the commercial bustle along Van Ness.

St. Brendan’s was already crowded when she arrived, with police holding back the throngs who couldn’t fit into the church. She was stopped herself, and though she didn’t think that the young officer who halted her mad dash down the street had ever watched a soap opera in his life, he studied her and at last seemed to believe she was who she said she was, an actress in the daytime serial
Valentine Valley,
a coworker and friend of the deceased.

Friend. She had said the word
friend.

She wasn’t too certain about the last herself. She’d thought about Jane a lot in the few days between her death and the funeral. She had known her better than some of the staff, but she still hadn’t known her very well. Jane had only come on the set as a new character when Jennifer’s baby had been born. She had been pleasant enough during her appearances for discussions with the producers—pleasant enough to Serena. On the set, though, she’d been very demanding, a prima donna. Andy complained that they were looking at an “attitude problem” right from the get-go.

St. Brendan’s looked spectacular. Jane’s ornate coffin was down by the altar. The priest was already conducting the service. The smell of the candles and flowers mingled with that of expensive perfumes. Serena stood still for several seconds, trying to get her bearings. Her long view gave way to the backs of men’s well-groomed heads, some long, loose female hair, and a variety of hats in all colors, shapes, and sizes.

She sneezed.

“Serena!”

Her name was hissed softly as an arm reached for her.

Jennifer Connolly—no, she kept forgetting. Her friend had married and taken her husband’s name—Jennifer
Markham.
She had slipped from the
Valentine Valley
pew to grab Serena up like a lost puppy and pull her into the fold. Gratefully, she followed, whispering an “Excuse me!” each time they stepped past someone to reach the middle where Jennifer had been sitting.

She knew that people had turned to watch her arrive. Who was she? How important? What was she wearing?

There were press people everywhere.

Lord, but Jane would have loved this,
she thought.

Jennifer sat to her left, with her husband, Conar, at her side. He nodded to Serena, a small, welcoming grin before he turned back to the priest and his handsome face sobered in reflection of the occasion.

Turning slightly, Serena saw that the row behind her was filled with crew members from
Valentine Valley.
Lighting, makeup, set design. Allona was with the crew; she arched a brow with a shrug, indicating that it had been suggested that she come. Jinx sat next to Allona. Thorne McKay, from makeup, was next to Jinx. She gave them all a weak smile.

When she turned to face the front again, Serena realized that she had squeezed past Joe Penny and Andy Larkin. Though Joe was the main producer on the show, Andy held tides as both producer and actor. Andy was also her ex-husband. On the show—and in real life.

Watching him, she realized that she did still feel a fondness for Andy—she always would. He was tall and good-looking and usually very pleasant. She had once thought that he really loved her, that he couldn’t bear to stop looking at her anytime they were out, especially at the beach. She had been so flattered, so certain that he really cared for her, that he had eyes for no one else but her.

Then she had realized one day that he was studying his own image in the reflection of her sunglasses, and bit by bit, she had begun to realize that the man on the surface was the only man there was. He was still her friend. She loved him like … a brother. A spoiled, willful brother. Or perhaps the child she didn’t have—and had thought that she had wanted with him.

Andy looked her way, smiled, squeezed her hand. She felt guilty. In his way, Andy was a really good guy. He still wanted to get remarried. He brought it up now and then.
Hey, Serena, want a cup of coffee? Hey
—
how about getting married again? Man, it would be so good for the show’s ratings!

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, of course. In fact …”

“In fact?”

“I’m feeling a bit guilty,” she admitted. “I barely knew her.”

“Well none of us knew her that well. She was just starting with us. But … well, it was terrible,” Andy said. He waved a hand in the air and spoke softly. “An act of God.”

An act of God! She had heard that term so many times now. But the police had been crawling over the set since the event, so she had heard.

Seated in the pew behind Andy, with others in the cast and crew of
Valentine Valley,
Jay Braden sniffed loudly. It was, in fact, Serena decided, a snort.

“An act of a merciful God!” he muttered.

“Jay!” Kelly, seated next to him, chastised him swiftly. Serena was surprised; she had seldom heard Jay make such snide comments.

“She’s dead!” Jennifer whispered to Jay. “Don’t be terrible.”

“I’m not being terrible. I’m being honest. You guys should never have hired her!” Jay continued, tapping Andy on the shoulder. His voice seemed loud; Serena prayed that it hadn’t carried.

“Hey! This is a funeral, for God’s sake!” Serena reminded him.

“She was on a roll. She seemed a good choice at the time,” Andy said dolefully, still looking forward.

Silence fell over them, and Serena heard the funerary liturgy of the priest, smelled the death-room smell of too many lilies, and breathed in the smoke from the candles that filled the church.

Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes.

There was a brief eulogy, given by an old acting teacher. That surprised Serena. If she had been the one killed in an accident, her sister would have spoken for her—or Jennifer. Or even one of these guys. They might have been crude, but their words would have had some emotion in them.

Soon the service ended. They all stood up and started filing out to the center aisle.

“A great funeral. Jane would have loved this! Will you look at the crowd!” Joe said.

“Hey,” Andy murmured, “everyone loves a good funeral.”

“Everyone loves a good wedding, gentlemen,” Jennifer cut in. “Will you people please behave!”

“Of course, Jennifer, of course. You’re so right,” Andy said and immediately fell into a semblance of gravity and dignity.

“What on earth is this going to do to our plot line?” Jim Novac said as they were walking out.

“We’re not changing anything,” Andy said. “Much.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Serena said, kicking herself. This was a funeral. And here she was, getting drawn into the conversation. “Allona said on the phone last night that she was going crazy rewriting everything—”

“Every scene that had Jane in it,” Jim murmured.

“Our big deal is love and
death
by Valentine’s Day. The other soaps will be pointing fingers at us, saying, ‘Death—they really mean it over there!’” Serena pointed out.

“Maybe we should change things,” Andy said.

“We can’t!” Joe Penny insisted suddenly. “All of our teasers are out already in the soap magazines, the women’s magazines, and newspapers. We have Valentine’s Day contests going on—
Who’s the Killer? Who’s the Lover? It All Comes to Light on Valentine Valley!”

“Who’s the victim
has already happened,” Serena said dryly.

“She isn’t a
victim.
There was an accident. A very sad accident,” Andy told her. His voice was full of the proper pathos.
He doesn’t mean a word of it!
she thought.
The three of them! They’re all just worried about how a death was going to affect their livelihood!

Accident. They were all saying
accident.
It was what she believed herself, right?

“We have to just live the way we want to live,” Jim said. “There was Jane, torturing herself to quit smoking so she wouldn’t die of lung cancer. And there she is, dead from a spotlight. I quit smoking myself. She was a bitch, but I wish I could have rushed her one last cigarette.”

“She had her one last cigarette,” Serena said.

She was startled when they all turned to stare at her. A flush touched her cheeks. Olsen had told her not to mention the note.

She wouldn’t mention the note—or scrap of burned paper—she had seen. “She was smoking before she went on the set. Using a saucer for an ashtray. She did have her last cigarette, Jim.”

He nodded gravely, as if that meant a lot.

They came out to the walk that surrounded the church and ambled around to the parking lot behind it. Others also headed to their cars, talking all the while. Serena overheard the usual comments.

“What a tragedy!” came from a lovely young woman.

“Um. Cuts down on the competition, though, eh?” That from a jaded dame in a wide-brimmed hat.

“Think someone did her in?” queried an older man.

“Whatever for?” asked the woman.

‘To cut down on the competition?” the young woman suggested.

“For pure meanness!” the man said.

The woman laughed softly. “A mercy killing—for the rest of the cast?” she said, and they moved on.

Standing alone, away from the others for a moment, Serena felt a real and terrible sadness for the woman who had lost her life. Where were Jane’s real friends? Did playing in the world of pretend too much mean that she didn’t have any friends who were
real!

Too many people let the struggle to be on top become the entire focus of their lives.

“Somebody did her in, you can bet. Murder. And someone on that set did it!”

She jumped as she heard the words, spoken in a hiss. She spun around to see who had spoken.

No one seemed to be really near her, although dozens of people stood in clusters, not at all far away.

One word ricocheted in her mind.

Murder.

She saw Conar Markham. Realizing that she had stopped walking with the group, he and Jennifer had come back for her. “What’s wrong, Serena?”

Leave it to Conar. He was studying her with both curiosity and real concern. She smiled. She was lucky. She did have real friends. She shook off the unease that had gripped her. She wasn’t about to tell Conar that she had felt a sudden panic.

“Nothing. I was just—feeling sorry for Jane. Not even so much for the fact that she died, but … I can’t help wondering about her
life.”

“I know,” he said softly.

She smiled. “How’s the baby?”

He started to answer her, but someone tapped him on the arm. It was one of the funeral attendants. Conar was a tall man, and he lowered his head as the funeral home employee spoke to him in a whisper.

Conar then said, “I’m a pallbearer.”

“What?” Jennifer said, puzzled.

Conar shrugged. Jane had had no real friends! They were calling on the cast and crew of the soap to bear her coffin, Serena thought.

“Oh, of course,” Jennifer said.

“Ride with Serena?” Conar said.

“We’ll be with Andy,” Serena said quickly.

Conar nodded and left them. Andy, coming up, sniffed. “Serena, I’m a pallbearer. Doug will drive you, all right?” Doug Henson was the head writer on the show. Handsome to a fault, gay, funny, talented, self-mocking, and as irreverent as Allona was cynical. Serena loved him.

Serena looked at Jennifer. “Of course.”

“Well,” Serena said, then smiled at Jennifer and repeated the question she had earlier put to Conar. “How’s the baby?”

She was referring to three-month-old Ian, who was home with Jennifer’s mother.