Two Cooks A-Killing by Joanne Pence

strawberry. “So, you think she committed suicide because she was troubled?”
    Heinz grimaced. “Brittany would never have killed herself.”
    Angie ate, waiting for an explanation.
    â€œIt had to have been an accident,” Donna said. “A horrible accident. There’s no way anyone could have entered her room.”
    Angie pushed the strawberries and melon cubes to one side and took a bite of fresh peach cobbler. “Did the rest of the cast get along with Brittany?” Angie asked.
    Donna eyed her coldly. “Why so interested?”
    â€œI was a big fan, and now I’ve been given her room. It’s made me curious.”
    â€œI should imagine!” A shudder rippled through her. “Did she get along with others? Who knows? All these people are jealous of each other no matter what they say or how they act. Hollywood is the only place where people can literally kill you with kindness.”
    With that, she finished her wine and went into her trailer. Angie joined some young audio engineers. They were polite, but might have been speaking in tongues, for all she understood of their conversation.
    Going back to her cold little room held no appeal. Instead, she slowly walked around the house to the courtyard and entered through the gate. Twinkling Christmas lights gave it a magical air.
    The smell of cigarette smoke told her she wasn’t alone.
    â€œHello?” she called.
    â€œHello.”
    Silver was at a table hidden behind a miniature orange tree. The lights and fake snow at his feet were incongruous with his rolled shirtsleeves.
    â€œWhat are you doing out here all by yourself?” she asked.
    â€œI should ask you the same thing,” he replied, gesturing for her to join him. “Lonely?”
    â€œA little. I miss my fiancé,” she admitted, sitting across the table.
    â€œFiancé?”
    She showed him her ring.
    â€œTell me about him,” Silver said.
    She liked to talk about Paavo. How brave and strong and smart he was; how many cases he’d solved; how handsome he was with his dark wavy hair, large blue eyes, and high cheekbones; how gentle and kind he was with her despite making crooks and killers quake by his mere glance.
    Silver was soon chuckling as she described her and Paavo’s differences, and how, even after knowing him for some time, she was still amazed that they decided to get married.
    â€œHe’s a lucky man, Angie,” Silver said. “I’d give anything to find a woman who’d talk about me the way you do about him.”
    â€œI’m sure you will someday.”
    â€œNot out here, though.”
    â€œIf you don’t like it, why do you stay?”
    â€œContacts. It doesn’t hurt to make them. I could use some if I ever get to Hollywood. I’d like to go. But so far, I haven’t had the nerve.”
    â€œYou want to act?”
    â€œI’d love to. My mother, when she paid attention to such things, used to tell me I’d make a great actor—that I had the looks and the talent.”
    â€œYour mother.” Angie couldn’t help but smile.
    â€œOh…I know what you’re thinking. What difference does it make what one’s mother says? They always try to uplift one’s spirits, don’t they? Tell one how great one is?”
    â€œOh…I don’t know that I’d say that,” Angie admitted. Serefina was more apt to list her shortcomings than her talents. In fact, had Serefina ever mentioned her talents? She couldn’t remember. She knew she was loved, but sometimes it seemed she was loved “despite” everything, not as a result of it.
    She glanced at Silver. He certainly had the looks to become an actor. She found herself staring at his face, trying to find a flaw. Those she noticed—a slight crookedness to one eyebrow, two laugh lines on the left side of his mouth, and only one on the right—were charming.
    â€œYour mother