Pillow Stalk (A Mad for Mod Mystery) by Diane Vallere

chauffeur routine, I’d worn comfortable Keds in the event that something—I still wasn’t sure if it would be his attitude or mine—interrupted the convenience of his offer and I ended up on foot. I was nothing if not prepared.
    “I want to go back to the Mummy, do some work on the film festival. Do you know how to get there?”
    “I took you yesterday, didn’t I?”
    Tex drove to the theater. He pulled into the lot and parked out front.
    We both got out and a small puff of dust swelled up from under my white sneakers when they hit the ground.
    “You’re coming in?” I asked.
    “That okay?”
    “Sure.” The truth was, after the note I’d found in the middle of the box office tallies, I was a little wary of entering myself. I didn’t really believe that someone was out to get me, but it seemed the company of a police officer wasn’t so bad as far as security blankets went. I unlocked the front door and he followed me inside.
    “So what are you going to be doing in here?” he asked.
    “Office work, mostly. On the computer.” I was hoping to reach Susan for that Doris Day dirt, and if I did, that would require a bit of privacy. I crossed the room to the desk, and flipped through a couple of calendars Richard had left scattered on top of his inbox. “You can walk around if you want. Go upstairs and see the projection booth. Not many people get a chance to see that.”
    “Sounds good,” he said from right behind me. “If you need me, will I hear you?”
    “Why would I need you?” I turned around. I didn’t realize that he’d followed me. He stood close. Too close. His face was inches from mine and he smelled like powdered sugar. It was so unexpectedly charming that I resisted the predictable donut jokes.
    “If you don’t need me now, you will soon enough.” His eyes jumped from mine to my lips, where they lingered for a moment, then back to my eyes. He stepped backward and looked me up and down.
    I stayed where I was, leaning against the desk. The bodice of my white cotton dress hid anything that he might have seen that morning yet still I felt exposed. I didn’t move or reply.
    He turned away and walked to the door. Once he reached the hallway, without turning around to face me, he said, “By the way, Night, that’s a hell of a dress.” Then he disappeared in the hallway.
    There was no time to waste questioning the lack of “Ms” or applauding my choice of outfits for the day. The Rolodex was still open to the AFFER listing and I dialed the number.
    “I can’t believe you never called me back!” Susan answered.
    “I thought you were going to call me?”
    “Whatever. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time—”
    “Neither do I,” I interjected, glancing at the doorway. Thanks to the old building I could hear Tex’s footsteps in the room above me, but I wasn’t sure how well my voice traveled so I kept it low. “What’s this dirt you want to tell me?”
    “It happened about ten years ago. Before my time. It was crazy, at least it sounded crazy. Someone wrote to the president of the company about destroying all of Doris Day’s movies. He said it was the only responsible thing to do, to ‘protect the landscape of American Cinema’. He outlined every movie that AFFER had in the vaults. The staff at the time thought it was some kind of a joke. Then there was a break in. The only thing missing was the second reel of Pillow Talk .”
    “Did it ever turn up?
    “Well, something turned up but it wasn’t a reel of Pillow Talk .”
    “Don’t hold out on me now. What was it?”
    She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “Rumor has it the second reel of Pillow Talk was replaced with a home movie starring a certain blonde in a compromising position.”

SEVEN

    “ What? ” I exclaimed.
    “Madison?” yelled Tex. His feet thundered down the stairs.
    “What?” I hissed into the phone. “Are you kidding me?”
    “Madison? What’s wrong?” asked Tex from the hallway.
    “Nothing. I