Killer Ratings: A Susan Kaplan Mystery Page 7

  “Charles told me yesterday that Ray didn’t like the script. I asked him if that was really Rebecca’s opinion, but Charles wouldn’t say.

  “Last night Rebecca had a bunch of scripts and DVDs she reviewed with Ray in his office. Maybe mine was one of them.”

  “But you already told me Ray rejected your script.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” I shook my head as if to shake away the cobwebs. “She must’ve just told Ray about it and kept the script on a pile with the others on her couch.”

  Wagner’s voice was still gentle as he said, “We found your script on her desk.” That’s why it’s got blood on it, you dummy, I suspected he thought.

  “If I knew she had written that on my script, I would’ve taken it with me.”

  “When?” asked Wagner.

  “Whenever I found it. But I didn’t.”

  Wagner merely looked at me.

  “I didn’t do it,” I said to him, trying to convince him of my innocence. “I didn’t kill her.” Tears started running down my face unchecked. “I wish you’d believe me.” I hunched further into myself, hands covering my face. The tears spattered onto the script and Wagner gently removed it from the table, for fear, I was sure, that they would run and blur the ink of Rebecca’s final, vicious commentary on me.

  3.

  Wagner didn’t arrest me. Even I knew the evidence against me was circumstantial at best, and he needed either a confession that I wasn’t about to give, or proof like my fingerprints on the murder weapon. After I calmed down, he asked if anyone had seen me the night of the murder, after I left the office for the evening. I told him about my next door neighbor taking me out for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins. The detective asked for my neighbor’s address, so I knew things really were serious.

  “Do I need a lawyer?” I asked, my voice tight with fear and anxiety.

  “Not yet,” Wagner answered. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his card. “But if you remember anything else pertinent to the case, give me a call.”

  I took the card with ice cold, shaking fingers, too crushed with anxiety to look at him. What did he mean by not yet? What was wrong with a simple no?

  Wagner stared at me a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before rising from the table and exiting the room.

  Jennifer and Sandy dashed into the basketball court a few minutes later.

  “There you are,” said Jennifer, her blond hair slightly mussed as if she’d been driving to work in a convertible with the top down. She slid onto the bench across the table from me. “What happened?”

  Sandy sat down next to her, concern knitting a sharp vertical line between her eyes. She absently pulled on her upper lip. “Rebecca’s dead?” Despite the shock I knew she felt, her upper-class British accent made her sound like she was really saying, “And can you pass the crumpets, please?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m the one who found her.” There was a pause as Jennifer and Sandy absorbed this piece of information.

  “I thought Sherman might have found her when making his rounds,” said Sandy. Jennifer nodded emphatically.

  “No, I came in early and … and … there she was …” I trailed off, suddenly overcome.

  Sandy moved to my side of the table, rubbing my back in sympathy.

  “What happened?” asked Jennifer. “The cops wouldn’t tell us anything. They just took our names and said they’d talk to us in a few minutes.”

  I imagined the figure in the body bag, strapped to the gurney, the struggle to fit her through the narrow door leading out of the warehouse. Here in the basketball court, we had huge sliding doors that opened onto the loading dock that enabled the crew to bring in large pieces of camera and lighting equipment. I wondered if I should tell that to the police, in case they were still struggling with Rebecca, when Sandy interrupted my thoughts.

  “What about the writers? And Ray? Have they shown up yet?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I know of. You didn’t see their cars in the lot?”

  “No. Jen and I drove in at the same time. We saw your car and all the police cars. And several cops mucking about Rebecca’s parking space. Susan, what happened?”

  “I found Rebecca with her head bashed in when I went into her office this morning.”

  Sandy and Jennifer’s jaws dropped simultaneously.

  “God,” said Jennifer. “We knew she was dead, just not why … I just didn’t believe she was killed. I mean, I guess I knew she couldn’t just drop dead from natural causes, but murder …” She stared at me, her face pale under her tan.

  “Do they have any leads?” Sandy asked.

  My voice quavered as I explained about the missing car and purse, and Sandy looked at me more closely.

  “What’s going on, Susan?” she asked. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  I took a breath and told them about Detective Wagner finding my spec Dress Blue and what Rebecca had scrawled on the cover. “I think … I think he suspects I killed her in anger.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Jennifer said, “It had to be a thief or crazy person.”

  “Or the nutter who wrote the death threats,” Sandy added.

  Jennifer nodded. “Or even a homeless person who wandered in after discovering the door was unlocked. There was no way it was you and if you want me to tell him, I will.”

  Her defense of me lifted a weight from my shoulders and I smiled at her in thanks.

  “There’s another thing,” I said. “The second death threat is gone.”

  I realized I hadn’t told Sandy about it so I started to fill her in when she interrupted, “You mean the one you found in Rebecca’s desk?” I must’ve looked surprised because she added, “Jennifer told me about it.”

  I looked at Jennifer accusingly. She shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big secret.”

  “Did either of you tell Rebecca I took it?” I asked.

  Chewing out Jennifer, I knew, would be an exercise in futility.

  “No,” Sandy said. She paused, as if knowing I wasn’t going to like the rest. “But I did tell Ray. Don’t worry,” she added hastily, forestalling my objections, “He didn’t believe you had sent them. He agrees with Charles, that they’re probably from some lunatic.”

  Thank God for small favors.

  “Did he take the letter then?”

  Sandy shook her head no.

  “What about the first one? The one you took.”

  “I threw it out.”

  “Sandy, that’s evidence!”

  “But I didn’t know it at the time,” she said. I couldn’t argue with her logic.

  Jennifer started to say something, but paused as both she and Sandy suddenly looked up. I turned around. Detective Wagner was walking across the basketball court toward us, his face again expressionless.

  “Ladies,” Wagner nodded briefly at us. Jennifer eyed him speculatively. I knew what she was thinking. Those muscles … I wanted to kick her under the table for staring. At least she wasn’t ogling the puckered scar.

  Sandy’s reaction was different. She studied the table top, giving the detective a quick, jerky nod when he asked if she were Sandra Martin.

  “And you’re Jennifer Bardos,” he said, turning to Jennifer. Jennifer gave him a two hundred megawatt smile and held out her hand. I stared in shock as he took it and gave her a smile back. Wow! Jennifer was flirting with the detective on a murder investigation! I didn’t know whether to slap her silly or applaud in appreciation. Instead, I sat silently in awe.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Jennifer then she paused, flustered. “Well, I guess not under these circumstances.”

  Wagner seemed unfazed. I realized that people like us, with our silly reactions, were nothing new to him.

  Jennifer kept smiling as she said, “And if you think Susan killed Rebecca, you’re nuts.”

  Although Wagner didn’t react, I wanted to kiss Jennifer.

  “
I need to take your statements,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I’d like you to examine your office,” he said to Sandy. “Do you still have the second threat sent to Miss Saunders?”

  “No. I just told Susan. I threw it out.”

  Wagner nodded, accepting this setback calmly. “I’d like you to take a look at your office anyway. Susan thinks someone may have been through your things.” If he still believed in my guilt, he gave no evidence of it.

  Sandy gave a start of alarm. “Was anything stolen?” she asked, looking at me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The room is a mess. Papers everywhere.”

  Sandy relaxed a bit, even managed to smile. “That’s how I left my office last night.” She turned to Wagner. “I’ll take a look, but I’m almost certain that’s a mess of my own making.” But I could tell by the way she held herself, she was still tense.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, “I was in your office last night after you left. It didn’t look anything like what it does now.”

  “No, you don’t understand, Susan,” she said. “I came back after my appointment.”

  Wagner, Jennifer, and I all stared at her. Was that why she was so tense? Did Sandy know something about the murder she was afraid to tell us about?

  I’m sure similar thoughts were running through Wagner’s mind. “What time was that?” he asked.

  Sandy shrugged. “Seven-thirty. I had a dental appointment at six. When I got out, I started to feel guilty about some of the work I had left untended. So I came back here. But I wasn’t able to catch up on everything, as you can tell.”

  She smiled, but it was weak, and I knew something else was going on.

  So did Wagner, because he loomed over Sandy. “Why don’t we check out your office anyway,” he said. And you can tell me whether Rebecca was still here and whether you and she had a violent argument that ended in her death, I suspected were his unspoken thoughts. Not that I wanted Sandy to be guilty, but I wouldn’t have minded him thinking someone other than me could be a suspect.

  Jennifer and I watched Sandy and Wagner cross the warehouse and disappear into the corridor. Even though Wagner was not touching her, Sandy’s shoulders were hunched as if anticipating—and dreading—physical contact with him.

  “Do you think she did it?” Jennifer asked in awe.

  Normally I’d be scandalized at such a question about a mutual friend. Now I needed to know everything Jennifer knew.

  “Why do you ask?”

  Jennifer paused. I could see she was desperately worried.

  “Sandy told me she was going to have a talk with Rebecca about the probation thing,” she said. “Last night. Just the two of them. With no one around to interrupt.”

  4.

  Sandy returned fifteen minutes later. She looked pale and shaken but managed to give us a smile that was meant to be encouraging. “Zack just arrived,” she said. “The police are questioning him now.”

  “What did you tell Wagner?” I asked.

  Sandy didn’t look happy. “I’m afraid I got Zack in a bit of trouble. But I had to tell the truth.”

  “Which was?” I tried to keep the urgency out of my voice.

  “He was here last night. Rebecca and he were arguing.” Jennifer and I looked at her in shock.

  “But I saw him leave,” I said.

  “He had come back,” Sandy said. “I was working in my office. I knew Rebecca was still here. Her car was in the lot and she was making phone calls from her office. But I kept my door closed so she wouldn’t know I’d come back.”

  I snuck a peek at Jennifer. Didn’t she just tell me Sandy had wanted to talk to Rebecca? Was Sandy lying to us? Or did she have second thoughts once she had calmed down?

  “So Zack didn’t know you were here, either?” Jennifer asked.

  “Zack didn’t see me. He walked right past my office, but as I said, my door was closed.”

  “Then how did you know it was him?” said Jennifer.

  “I told you. I could hear them arguing. Which made me realize he had returned.”

  “The fight was that loud?” I said.

  Sandy nodded glumly. “Was it ever.”

  She stopped and stared down at the tabletop, possibly reliving Zack and Rebecca’s fight. She didn’t seem inclined to continue, so Jennifer pressed her.

  “What were they arguing about? Did Zack kill Rebecca?”

  “I don’t know,” she said unhappily. “I couldn’t bear to hear them arguing, so I snuck out before he left.”

  She looked so miserable I put my arms around her. I knew what she was thinking. If Zack didn’t kill Rebecca, Sandy had gone and made him the number one suspect.

  “Sandy, we know someone stole Rebecca’s car,” I said. “I don’t think her death had anything to do with Zack. It had to be someone who just wandered in off the street.”

  Sandy managed a hopeful smile. “And Zack’s not really the murdering type.”

  “Right,” I replied. Although that’s what everyone says about murderers they know personally.

  “So what were they arguing about?” Jennifer’s one-track mind returned to the heart of the story. “C’mon, San, if the police already know, what difference does it make?”

  Sandy hesitated, then said, “Care to take a guess?”

  “Peggy,” I automatically answered.

  Sandy looked at me in surprise. “How’d you know?”

  “You were there last night. When Peggy saw the two of them together. I think Zack and Rebecca were having an affair.” I told them about the kiss I inadvertently witnessed in the parking lot. “I bet Zack felt bad about Peggy finding out or at least suspecting something.”

  Sandy nodded. “It began with Peggy. How Zack didn’t want to see her hurt, blah, blah, blah. You know, the usual male bullshit.”

  Jennifer and I nodded. We knew all about the usual male bullshit.

  “I really couldn’t hear everything, just the gist of things. Not until they really started arguing. And it was mostly Zack doing the shouting.”

  She took a deep breath. I almost wanted to tell her to stop. Gossip was fun in the telling, but afterward you felt dirty and guilty. And neither Jennifer nor I were very good at keeping secrets. But I wanted to stay out of jail, so I kept my mouth shut and waited for Sandy to continue.

  “Zack wanted the relationship out in the open. No more hiding, I think he said.”

  “So they were really screwing each other?” asked Jennifer, wide-eyed.

  “I don’t know,” Sandy said. “They were obviously involved. Zack wanted more of a commitment. Rebecca didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s a switch,” said Jennifer. I knew she had been trying to get her boyfriend Steve to propose marriage for a year with zero success.

  “So why was Zack shouting at Rebecca?” I couldn’t help myself. I was getting as involved in the story as Jennifer.

  “She kept laughing at him. Not taking him seriously,” Sandy said. “I couldn’t quite hear what she said, but I did hear her laugh.”

  That throaty, ultra-feminine laugh. Strange to think we would never hear it again.

  “So he tried to shout her into a commitment?” asked Jennifer. “I don’t understand.”

  “I told you, he wasn’t shouting at first. But the more Rebecca laughed, the more upset he got. She just refused to take him seriously. And then he …”

  She paused. By this time both Jennifer and I were hanging onto every word.

  “And then he what?” Jennifer demanded.

  Sandy shook her head. “It was getting pretty tense in there so I left the office and drove home.”

  She spoke directly to the table top when she said this, and I studied her closely. She was lying. But why? I opened my mouth to ask her, when suddenly Charles Green appeared.

  “Sandy.”

  Even though her name was spoken gently, Sandy practically jumped out of her seat. Charles put a placating hand on her shoulder.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to
scare you.”

  He had entered the basketball court with Peggy, a frightened-looking shadow, behind him. He moved around to the head of the table, his pipe sticking out of his jacket.

  “I was just with Ray. He wants to know whether you talked to the police.”

  Sandy nodded. “Zack’s with them now.”

  Charles and Peggy looked at one another; Peggy turned three shades of pale.

  “All right, I’ll tell him. Look,” and Charles directed this to all three of us, “don’t say anything more to the police. Ray is calling our legal department right now. He wants a lawyer with us when we make our statements.”

  I was glad legal would be involved. But I wish they’d been there when I’d answered Wagner’s questions. “I already made my statement. I was the first one in … I found the body …” My voice trailed off.

  Charles and Peggy swiveled their heads in my direction.

  “Do they have a suspect?” Peggy asked. She looked nervous, and I wondered if she was concerned for Zack or for herself.

  “Susan says Rebecca’s car was stolen,” said Jennifer, “and her purse. Maybe it was a drug addict. Or some homeless person.”

  “Okay, look, I don’t know anything more than you do,” said Charles, taking command. (Something he never got to do when Rebecca was around, a devilish voice within me said.) “Stay here and don’t say anything to anyone. I need to tell Ray about Zack. You’ll be okay?”

  The three of us nodded.

  “Good. I’ll be back.”

  He strode out of the room. Peggy threw us a brief, reassuring smile (though I felt I should be the one reassuring her) before following quickly after Charles.

  “Damn, I forgot to tell him about Sherman,” I said.

  “What about Sherman?” Jennifer asked.

  “He disappeared with some detective ages ago. I want to know what happened to him.” I stood up and climbed over the bench.

  “Susan, where are you going?” Sandy asked in alarm.

  “I just want to check out Sherman’s office. My rear end’s numb from sitting on that bench all morning.”

  I strode past the bathrooms and made for Sherman’s office. I shoved open the door. Sherman was inside, sitting at his desk, head in hands. For a horrified moment I thought he was crying.