Death in Daytime by Eileen Davidson Page B

sleeping beauty a kiss on the forehead and went in to work early to finish catching up on scenes. My mom came over to stay with Sarah.
    Because we were behind, there were more cast members around than usual, and I felt myself looking at them all as potential suspects.
    Cindy Pacelli had asked me on the day of the murder if I'd done it, but did that necessarily mean she hadn't? Marcy had been openly critical of the way Cindy dressed at work, calling her attire too "revealing." In return, Cindy went around saying Marcy dressed like an "old maid." I wondered if anyone had told the detectives about that . Thomas thought Marcy had been given too much power by the network. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do. He couldn't be too sad about her murder, then. Total control would be turned back over to him. He was already reveling in it. Was that something he would have killed for?
    As I came in contact with other cast members during the day, I tried to figure out what motive they might each have had to kill Marcy.
    I talked that over with the only person I could--George.
    "Either one of them could've done it," I said, starting with Cindy and Thomas. He looked at me in the mirror and asked, "Weren't they on the set like you were when the light fell?"
    "Yeah, I guess they were," I said, "but then a lot of people were around. Somebody could have slipped out to kill her, and then snuck back in during the commotion."
    "Is that what the police are thinking about you?"
    George asked.
    "I suppose so," I said. "I'm the only one who had a screaming match with her, one that everyone heard."
    "But you're not the only one who had problems with her," he said. "Not by a long shot. And I mean, even more people than just Cindy and Thomas."
    "George," I said, eyeing him in the mirror, "what do you know?"
    "Just little things I hear, darling," he said, smoothing the sleeve of his orange silk shirt. "And little things Linda hears when she's got some of you in her chair."
    Linda was Makeup, and I knew Hair and Makeup shared a lot of gossip. "You have to give, George," I told him. "Give till it hurts."
    Before he could respond, my cell sang out, "Young men!" George looked at me questioningly. "Don't ask. What, Connie?"
    "Don't hang up, Al, okay? Listen up. You are hot, hot, hot and we have to strike now!" Again with this?
    "Connie, I'm hot because people think I'm a killer!
    I'm not interested in capitalizing on that!" She was starting to bug me.
    "Al, this is different. It's a lead fuckin' role. Yes, it's a B, maybe B-minus movie and a little violent. But a nice fuckin' juicy role."
    I hesitated but, ever the actress, I bit.
    "How violent?"
    "Now just listen. The film is being done by fuckin'
    Quentin Tarantino! Well, not exactly Tarantino . . . more like an old classmate of his from film school. But they have very similar directing styles. And your character will have to kill a few people. With a hatchet. One's your frickin' boss in the movie! That's kind of fun, right? Oh, and just a little bit of nudity. Wait, wait, it could lead--"
    I pressed END with every fiber of my being. Connie had clearly lost her mind. I was about to complain to George about the absurdity of the whole thing when Amanda Ballard came in, whining that her hair just would not behave.
    Amanda's a pretty thirtysomething who plays Tiffany's younger half sister, Cicely. Amanda was in a soap opera love triangle along with a good-looking, hunky guy by the name of Roman Stroud and another pretty actress named Hannah Varga. Things started getting interesting when Hannah took it upon herself to get a boob job. Not unheard of in Hollywood. Now, Amanda had a "slightly" competitive nature, and like a lot of actresses and actors, she's insecure. It kind of goes with the territory. She was used to being the "hot girl" on the show, so she decided she'd get her boobs worked over, too. Actually, she had already had one procedure. So, she went bigger. Then Hannah, not to be outdone,