Dying to Have Her

by Heather Graham

  “I’m all right. Really.” Was she? She would never forget the look on Jane’s face. Never forget the way her eyes had closed, the light fading from them. She’d still had a pulse, but standing there, watching as the paramedics worked, she had known that the pulse would fade, just as the light had faded from Jane’s eyes.

  “Jinxy, you okay?” Jay asked softly.

  Jinx nodded. “Of course.” She didn’t look or sound all right.

  Serena met Jay’s questioning gaze. “Why don’t you see Jinx home, Jay?”

  “No, no, I don’t want to be any trouble,” Jinx protested.

  But over her head Jay nodded at Serena. “Jinx, it’s no trouble whatsoever. Let’s get some fresh air, eh?”

  “All right. Thanks. Maybe I am a little too shaky to drive. My car will be all right in the studio lot.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” Jay said.

  Jinx flashed a weak smile at Kelly and Allona, and moved past them.

  Watching Jinx and Jay leave, Allona let out a long sigh. “You do need kids,” she said, studying Serena with a sage appraisal. “The maternal instinct is all over you. Poor little Jinx, hell. I promise you, the writers won’t be getting any breaks for emotional adjustment. We’ll be up for days. We have to totally redo all the scripts.”

  “They’re not going to hire a replacement for Jane?” Kelly asked.

  “The producers closeted themselves right away and the answer to that is no. We want to show our care and compassion to the world,” Allona said.

  “Miss McCormack?”

  At the sound of her name, she nearly jumped out of her seat. George Olsen was calling her in. He was a pleasant-looking man with large jowls, short-cropped white hair, and a coffee stain on his blue tie. He was probably good at his job, she thought. His voice was so carefully modulated, his expression so benign, that talking to him seemed like talking to a grandparent.

  “Watch it,” Allona warned softly. “He looks like Santa Claus, but I’m betting he knows how to go right for the jugular. Look how Jinx came out of that office!”

  “Be strong,” Kelly told her. “She’s right. Think of Jinx.”

  “Jinx is shy and young. I’m not shy, and—well, I’m not young either,” Serena murmured.

  “Hey, we’re talking about the queen of daytime television,” Allona told Kelly. “She’ll put those cops in their places.”

  Serena made a face at her and entered the office.

  The detective offered his hand. “I know how upset you must be, Miss McCormack, but of course, as you already know, we have to question everyone about this tragic circumstance.”

  “Of course.”

  He was silent for a minute, smiling. “Do you wear contacts, Miss McCormack?”

  “What? No. Why?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I admit I’m not a soap fan, but my wife is. She loves this show. Still, in person, Miss McCormack, you do have the most extraordinary eyes. Aqua. Like the Caribbean Sea.”

  “Thanks. Thanks very much.”

  “And they’re real?”

  “They’re not contacts. And they don’t dye eye color yet, even in Hollywood.”

  He laughed, but she wondered if it was a real laugh. Did he start off with compliments to set people at ease? Yet she wasn’t really nervous. A woman was dead. Tragically. An accident. And they were all shocked, emotionally drained and horrified. This was an inquiry to find out exactly what had happened. They had started with the lighting and set personnel, and they were being thorough, questioning anyone who had anything to do with the case. She would do whatever she could.

  “Please, come in all the way and sit down, Miss McCormack.”

  He sat behind Joe’s desk. She took the seat in front of it. She’d taken that same chair many times before, but never to face anyone other than Joe.

  “She hadn’t been here very long,” Olsen said, shaking his head. His jowls wiggled.

  “We’re all in—total disbelief.”

  “Naturally.” He leaned forward. “You were close when the light fell, Miss McCormack?”

  She couldn’t help shuddering. “Yes.”

  ‘Tell me how you came to be on the set.”

  “I was in the scene.”

  “But you hadn’t started taping. Did you talk with Jane Dunne before the accident?”

  “I said hello … but she was trying to get a point across to Jim Novac, our director.”

  “You hadn’t seen her earlier this morning?”

  “No. Actually, I’d tried to. I’d left my dressing room and headed for Jen’s—well, Jane’s room, since Jennifer’s on maternity leave. But she wasn’t there.”

  “Why?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Why were you going to see Miss Dunne?”

  “Oh, well … she was new here, and I was going to walk on set with her and chat a bit before we started taping.”

  “But Miss Dunne had left?”

  “Yes. She … like I said, she wanted to talk to Jim,” Serena murmured.

  Olsen sat back, watching her. “You’ve been with the show a long time—right, Miss McCormack?”

  “About five years. Since it began.”

  “Um, so the show is near and dear to your heart?”

  Serena felt the faintest twinge of guilt. Yes, she loved the show, but she’d also just done a screen test for a disaster movie that was sure to be a summer blockbuster. She’d done the shoot for a friend, not really planning ahead. If she got the role, and took it, she would either have to leave Valentine Valley or arrange for a very long leave of absence. She hadn’t told anyone at the show, except for Jennifer.

  “The show is near and dear to your heart?” Olsen repeated, shaggy brows furrowing.

  “Very.”

  “And it’s my understanding that Jennifer Connolly is one of your best friends.”

  “Absolutely true.”

  “Hm.”

  She leaned forward. “Excuse me. What is that ‘hm’ for?”

  “Oh, just that Miss Dunne was a threat to your friend.”

  “A threat?” Serena stood up. “A threat? No, there was no way that any other actress would be a threat to Jennifer. Jen asked for time off to be with her baby; it’s as simple as that. The producers love her, the director loves her, the cast loves her, and what is most important, sir, the audience loves her.”

  “Miss McCormack, please, please, sit!” Olsen said, apparently distressed. “There’s been a terrible accident. I have to ask these questions.”

  “Fine. Let me try to answer you. Jennifer’s place here is totally secure. This is a soap, and we have lots of room for errant daughters and wild, wicked women appearing from the past. Jane was asked onto the show, and she was wanted here, and none of us was in the least worried about our jobs. I went to see her as a friendly gesture—”

  “Did you see anything unusual in the dressing room when you tried to find her?”

  “No. Unless …” She paused, frowning.

  “Unless?”

  “Oh, nothing, really. Except that Jennifer doesn’t smoke. Jane must have been more nervous about the role than she was letting on. There are no ashtrays in the room. Jane had taken a saucer to use as an ashtray. And apparently she had burned a piece of paper. There was a charred scrap of something in the saucer along with the ashes. I’m not sure what that could possibly mean, but …”

  “I’m assuming you checked that out?” Olsen said.

  He was talking to someone behind Serena, a man seated on the couch at the far end of the room. She hadn’t really looked at him. As the man stood up, her heart almost caught in her throat. It couldn’t be.

  Liam.

  Liam Murphy, with whom she’d had a passionate affair before he’d walked out her door, never to return.

  But it wasn’t Liam. This man was tall, broad-shouldered, and well muscled, which had first made her think of Liam. He had thick, dark hair that made him a perfect barbarian type. She knew this detective. He
had worked with Liam. He’d asked her out for coffee when she’d split up with Liam. She’d gone—admittedly, to stay close to Liam. She’d known it was wrong. But they’d had coffee one day, she’d seen a movie with him, and then they’d had dinner. That evening she’d told him the truth, that she just wasn’t ready for another relationship.

  Bill Hutchens was a nice man, attractive, serious, and capable of being very charming—and understanding. She wished she could have felt something for him. The chemistry just hadn’t been there, and he’d wanted more than she had to give. Still, they had remained friends. He liked being a cop, but he liked shows, movies, and actors as well. She had gotten him a walk-on in a Viking movie once, and he had helped her with a parking ticket.

  “Bill!”

  “Hi, Serena.”

  “Well, I see you two know each other,” Olsen said.

  “Old friends,” Bill told him.

  “Well, good. Bill is going to be in charge of the investigation here, Miss McCormack. So you call on him if you need to.”

  “Terrific,” Serena said. Maybe it would be. Bill would understand that there wasn’t a cast member on the soap who had felt even remotely threatened by Jane Dunne.

  “Did you find the saucer and the charred paper?” Olsen asked.

  Bill shook his head, watching Serena worriedly. “No.”

  “Are you sure of what you saw, Miss McCormack?” Olsen asked. “Maybe …” He lifted his hands.

  “I’m sure of what I saw, because Jennifer doesn’t smoke.”

  “Maybe someone removed it, not wanting anyone to speak badly of her now that … now that she can’t defend herself,” Bill suggested.

  “And you looked thoroughly through the dressing room?” Olsen inquired. “You’re sure you didn’t miss it?”

  The look that Bill gave his superior was eloquent. Of course, he hadn’t missed such a thing. He’d been a cop for more than ten years. He knew his business.

  “Well …” Olsen murmured.

  “Shall I sit back down, or were you finished with me, Lieutenant Olsen?” Serena inquired. She suddenly wanted to escape. This was really terrible. She had watched a woman die, and she did feel shaky, and she wanted to go home and be alone.

  “Just one more thing, Miss McCormack.”

  “Yes?”

  “You were so close to that light.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be in that spot?”

  “I … I think my marker was near where the light fell, yes.”

  Olsen nodded, as if he knew something she didn’t.

  “Lieutenant—”

  “Don’t you see, Serena?” he interrupted, leaning forward. “It could have been you beneath that light. Is there a reason anyone would want to kill you, Miss McCormack?” Olsen asked.

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  “Is there a reason anyone would want to kill you?”

  “No. Emphatically no.”

  “They say you can be rather feisty.”

  “You’d have to arrest half of Hollywood if that was a crime.”

  “Miss McCormack—” Olsen began.

  “I have no intention of leaving town.”

  “Of course not,” Olsen said. He actually smiled. “But you should be careful as well, don’t you think?”

  “I’m always careful.” She locked her doors, she had an alarm, she drove into her driveway backward so that she could escape if someone got in the house.

  Olsen riffled through some notes on the desk. “Miss McCormack … your brother-in-law works on the set, right?”

  “No, not really. My sister, Melinda, and her husband, Jeffrey, both have degrees in ancient history. Jeff specializes in Egyptology. He has been contracted as a consultant from time to time.”

  “Time to time has been lately—right?”

  She nodded. “My character on the show is into archaeology. She’s been to Cairo on a dig and brought back a number of artifacts. When she gets angry—or when she’s afraid she’s going to be caught in some evil deed or another—she heads back to Egypt.” Serena offered him a small smile, reminding him that this was a soap opera they were talking about—entertainment loved by many, but not TLC or the Discovery Channel.

  “Your brother-in-law was in this morning, right?” Olsen persisted.

  She sighed. “Yes. Joe Penny had Jeff in to talk about some props he’s acquiring. We’re going to have an accident occur on a dig. But Jeff was gone before the lights fell. Look, Jeff isn’t a real cast or crew member. He and Melinda are academics. They’re not really ‘Hollywood’ types at all. They’ve been married nearly twenty-five years, and their major interest in life is their twins.” She stopped, aware that she was defending him. “Lieutenant, what does this have to do with anything?”

  “I like being thorough, that’s all. This is L.A., and I see lots of things go down.” He waved a hand in the air. “Like today. So you tell me, what do you think, Miss McCormack?”

  “Think?” She arched a brow. “Frankly, I’m not thinking. I’m feeling. My heart bleeds for Miss Dunne, and in all honesty, even though I’m feeling really terrible and a lot of pain for a life lost, I thank God that it wasn’t I.I thank Him sincerely for my life.”

  “I was just thinking that maybe you should have some protection.”

  Serena frowned. “A light fell, Lieutenant. No one was …”

  Olsen leaned forward. “How often do lights just fall?” he asked.

  “Well …” She’d never seen a light just fall before, but it wasn’t impossible. “This was an accident,” she said. “No one was …”

  “Homicides often look like accidents,” Olsen said. “Union people work here. Experts—who know how to work with lights. The investigation will take some time. I hope you’re right, though, that it was merely a tragic accident.” He stood. “Just take good care of yourself, Miss McCormack. Okay?”

  “Sir, it’s a promise.”

  He smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss McCormack. Oh, I may call you into the station soon for a formal deposition.”

  She nodded.

  “Great eyes, Miss McCormack.”

  “Thanks.”

  She was dismissed. She hadn’t seen Bill leaving, much less coming back into the room, but he had done so. He had apparently been assigned to see her out.

  He squeezed her arm as he walked her through the door. “A lot more than great eyes, Serena,” he told her. That was Bill—trying to be nice, trying to make her feel better. A nice, even-tempered guy. Why hadn’t she been able to fall for him? In life, not even chemistry seemed fair. She had to go for the uncompromising macho man who gave no quarter.

  “Thanks,” she said softly. “Bill—”

  “Hey, that was from a friend. Who hoped to be more, but I’m still glad to be a friend. A friend who’s worried about you. Please—”

  “Hey!” she murmured. She studied his handsome, too serious face, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be very careful.”

  He nodded, ready to call in me next person. “Ms. Allona Sainge?”

  Allona rose. “Here—right here,” she said to Bill. Then, “Santa Claus—or jugular chewer?” she whispered to Serena.

  “Hm. Mostly Mr. Claus. Honestly. But watch out for vein chomping, anyway.”

  Allona grimaced. “See you later, baby.”

  Serena nodded and watched as Allona elegantly sashayed into the office.

  “I guess I’m last,” Kelly said with a shiver.

  Serena paused to squeeze her hand. “Want me to wait around?”

  “Good heavens, no. Go home. This place is giving me the creeps today. Honestly, I just want to go home myself, sink into a hot tub, and have a big, big drink.”

  Serena nodded. She felt like doing absolutely the same.

  It was going to be a very hot bath—and a very, very big drink.

  Later, Olsen sat looking at his notes. He was done with the first round of questioning. Bill sat in front of him.


  “Tragic accident?” Bill inquired. “Or …”

  “We won’t know anything until forensics finishes with the rigging,” Olsen reminded him. “Accident. Yeah, it could have been. Such bizarre things do happen. But still …” He scratched his forehead. “You know what sticks in my craw? It’s that Serena McCormack saw something in the deceased’s dressing room that wasn’t there when you went back to check.”

  Bill leaned forward. “Maybe she didn’t really see anything. Maybe she was upset.”

  Olsen shook his head. “You’ve been a good cop for a long time, Bill. But I’ve been a cop much longer. There was no reason for her to be upset when she went by Jane Dunne’s dressing room. She saw something.”

  “Lieutenant, I searched that room after we first arrived. There was no ash-filled saucer in the room, no note.”

  “Right. But time passed between the accident and when we arrived.” He tapped his pencil on the desk, thinking. “And what about that producer’s idea?” He looked back at his sheet. “Joe Penny. He thinks Serena McCormack needs some protection.” He shrugged. “He’s right. There’s a possibility that she was the intended victim. Jane Dunne was standing on a tape marking what should have been Serena McCormack’s position.”

  “We don’t know that there was an intended victim.” Bill hesitated. “Pearson from forensics said there are no obvious marks that would indicate tampering on any of the lighting remnants they’ve gathered.”

  Olsen pursed his lips. “There’s not enough there to warrant police protection. But if Penny wanted to hire someone on his own …”

  “Serena’s a friend,” Bill said with quiet vehemence. “I will do my absolute best with whatever resources we have—”

  Olsen let out a snort. “Hell, no, we don’t have the manpower to guard her, even if it was an attempt on her.” He looked up at Bill with a shrewd grin. “Look, this is a soap, a highly rated soap, in Hollywood, California. We’ll tell Penny to hire a P.I. Then give Liam Murphy a call.”

  Bill hesitated. “Liam Murphy?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “There might be some bad blood there.”

  “Why?”

  “He and Serena McCormack dated for a while. If you’re trying to throw Liam some work, that’s great, but—”