by Joanne Fluke
“But I couldn’t possibly ask Norman to…”
“Nonsense!” Carrie cut off Hannah’s objection. “Norman’s crazy about Moishe and vice versa. And he’ll cat-sit until you get home…just so our little kitty star doesn’t get lonely.”
Ah-ha! Hannah thought. The custard thickens! Carrie’s afraid I’ll invite Ross in when he brings me home and she wants Norman there to prevent any hanky-panky. Of course what Carrie didn’t know was that there wouldn’t have been any hanky-panky anyway. Hannah had put in a rough day and she was determined to hit the sack early tonight.
Chapter
Fifteen
Hannah was beaming like a proud mother when the lights came back up and the screen on Sally’s huge television went black. Moishe had been adorable. Even Delores had given a few oohs and ahhs in the appropriate places, especially during the funeral scene when Moishe had licked Erica’s cheek to comfort her.
“A born ham,” Hannah said in an aside to Ross, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She guessed that some cats were born to be actors and others weren’t. And she was lucky enough to have a star on her hands.
“He’s even better than a trained cat,” Ross commented.
“You can train cats?” Hannah asked, but her grin gave her away. She knew there were some cats that were trained to obey commands, but it would never work with Moishe. If he understood what you wanted, he’d do it. If he felt like it. At that particular time. Maybe.
“I’d better get home soon,” Hannah said, glancing down at her watch. It was nine-fifteen and the early night she’d promised herself would turn into a late night if she stayed at the inn much longer.
“Just stay for Burke’s interview and then I’ll take you home. I want to hear how he handled that reporter. Everybody else is coming in to see it.”
“Who’s everybody?”
“The whole cast including Dean’s wife, Sharyn, and Tom Larchmont. Connor picked them up at the airport at seven and I’m sure they’re back here by now.”
“Okay,” Hannah agreed quite readily. She was eager to meet Lynne’s husband and very curious about the type of woman who would marry Dean. Sharyn Lawrence must be as long-suffering as a saint. She wanted to see Burke’s interview, too. Since it had been filmed that afternoon at The Cookie Jar, she really wanted to see how her shop looked. “Are they running the interview with Andrea, too?”
“Not until next week. I called the station and the news director said he wanted to intercut Andrea’s interview with the ones that they’ll be doing later this week of Tracey, Lynne, and Erica. He’s going to call it the Three Faces of Amy, and it’ll run next Friday night.”
Ten minutes later, the bar at the Lake Eden Inn was filled with movie people. Ross had introduced Hannah to Tom Larchmont and it was easy to see why Lynne had married him. Tom treated his wife like a porcelain doll, jumping up to get her whatever she wanted and draping an affectionate arm around her shoulders at every opportunity. And even though he was considerably older than Lynne was, he had the body of an athlete and the good looks of a man who had enough money to indulge himself.
Then there was Sharyn Lawrence. Hannah glanced across at the woman who’d married the Bad Boy Director. There was no denying that Dean made the hearts of his actresses beat faster, but his wife had the same effect on the men in the cast and crew. She was petite, barely five feet tall, and she had the wide-eyed look of a child. Her glossy black hair was cut in a gamine style that enhanced the innocent look, but that visual naiveté was completely at odds with her body. Sharyn had a figure that would certainly give Ronni Ward some competition in the Lake Eden Bikini Queen Contest. She was lush and curvaceous from the neck down, and ingenuous and childlike from the neck up. Hannah had spent only moments with Sharyn, but she was left with the impression that Sharyn was too smart and too savvy to put up with any nonsense from her husband. If Dean strayed too far afield while Sharyn was here, Hannah was willing to bet that the fur would fly.
Sally dimmed the lights and Dick put the giant screen in television mode. Chuck Wilson’s handsome face filled the screen for a moment and when the camera pulled back, Hannah saw Dee-Dee Hughes, his anorexic co-anchor sitting next to him. Both talking heads were seated at the large, curved desk, an integral part of KCOW’s News At Ten set, holding sheaves of paper they didn’t need since they both used TelePrompTers.
Hannah and Ross watched as the news rolled smoothly along. There had been a robbery on a quiet residential street in Grey Eagle, a fire in a tire store in Browerville, a band concert in Little Falls to benefit a local charity, a near drowning on the banks of the Mississippi when someone’s bicycle slid off a path and crashed through the thin ice on the river, and a yard sale in Royalton, where several items, stolen the previous summer, had surfaced. The Skatin’ Place in St. Cloud had changed its hours, the Long Prairie Volunteer Fire Department was holding a raffle, and the little town of Sobieski was planning a high school reunion.
The camera pushed in to feature Dee-Dee’s perfect face. “Stay tuned for our own P. K. with The Movie Moment,” she said. “Tonight P. K. will be interviewing a television personality we all know and love at The Cookie Jar in Lake Eden.”
“Nice plug,” Ross said, patting Hannah on the back.
“It was all his idea. I never would have thought to ask.”
Hannah found herself holding her breath as she waited through a slew of commercials for new cars hardly anyone could afford, carpet stores that could install practically overnight, and companies that could give you credit, check your credit, or clean up your credit report. It seemed like forever, but at last Chuck and Dee-Dee were back.
“So tell us who you ran into at The Cookie Jar,” Chuck prompted, and the camera moved to the side, where P. K. was sitting a bit removed from the important co-anchors.
“Burke Anson,” P.K. said, leaning close as if he were confiding a big secret. “He’s the male lead on a new feature that’s filming in Lake Eden. It’s called Crisis in Cherrywood.”
The camera moved to Dee-Dee Hughes. “For the few viewers who don’t know who Burke Anson is, why don’t you refresh our memory?”
“He’s the suntanned Adonis in the Surf ’n Turf commercials,” P. K. said. “But for those of you who remember Burke with his surfboard, I’ve got to warn you that in my interview with him, he’s fully dressed.”
The camera caught Dee-Dee giving P. K. a petulant look and then the tape of the interview began to run. Hannah smiled as she saw a wide shot with Lisa and the display jars of cookies behind the counter. Their shop looked good, right down to the pictures Norman had taken of their best cookies for the walls. She really ought to have him take more pictures. The Cherry Bomb Cookies would look fantastic, and so would the Mock Turtles. She was just thinking about other cookies she could ask Norman to photograph, when she realized that she wasn’t paying any attention to the interview, and she focused on the television again.
“Not at all,” Burke replied, looking straight into the camera as he responded to P. K.’s question about their exhausting shooting schedule and whether it was taking a toll on the quality of the production. “Our director, Mr. Dean Lawrence, won’t let us get by with anything less than our best performance.”
“I heard about the full-dress rehearsals you do the night before shooting every scene. Someone told me it’s not unusual for Mr. Lawrence to run the scene several dozen times. Isn’t that hard on the actors, especially when you’re not going to shoot the scene until the next day?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anybody complaining.”
“Tell me about the next day. Do you rehearse again, before you actually shoot the scene?”
“Oh, definitely. We rehearse for as many times as it takes to get it right. Then we shoot.”
“But most directors don’t make you go through the scene that many times, do they?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. This is the first feature film I’ve ever been in. But I firmly believe that Mr. Lawrenc
e is a genius. You should see him when he puts on my costume and does my part for me. It’s a great learning experience.”
“He puts on your costume and demonstrates your part?”
“Yes, if I can’t seem to find my motivation. He does a darn good imitation of my voice, too.”
“Do you think he does this because you’re a novice? I mean, because you’re not a veteran movie actor?”
Burke shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so. He does it for other actors, too.”
“How about the actresses?”
“Well, Lynne doesn’t really need any help like that. She gets everything right the first time.”
“Just let me clarify that, Burke.” P. K. turned to face his camera. “Burke is referring to Lynne Larchmont, who plays the female lead in Crisis in Cherrywood.” P. K. got back in interviewer posture. “You say your director, Dean Lawrence, occasionally puts on the costumes and demonstrates the parts for his actors. Is that right?”
“That’s right. It’s very helpful.”
P. K. gave a little laugh and winked at the camera. “But of course Mr. Lawrence doesn’t do this for the women’s parts.”
“Sure he does. And he looks pretty darn convincing in drag.” There was a stunned silence. It was obvious that P. K. wasn’t about to risk a comment after the bombshell Burke had just dropped. But Burke plunged right ahead into even deeper water. “I was just kidding, you know. But Mr. Lawrence can do great voices. He’s got Erica’s down pat. If he put on her costume and sat down in a dark bar, I bet seven or eight guys would come over and try to hit on him.”
Hannah heard several people gasp and she turned to look at Ross. Burke had certainly stepped in every cow pie in Winnetka County and perhaps even in the whole state of Minnesota.
“Idiot,” Ross muttered under his breath, staring at the screen. “I hope that reporter’s a pro.”
“Very funny, Burke,” P. K. jumped in, turning to face the camera. “Movie people are always kidding each other like this, folks. But there’s no denying that Mr. Lawrence is not only a great director, he’s also a great actor. Burke didn’t mention it, but there’s a cat in the picture. His real name is Moishe and he’s got a couple of lines…or maybe I should say, he’s got a couple of yowls. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Lawrence could play that cat better than Moishe himself.”
“Smooth,” Ross said under his breath. “Now people will remember the cat.”
Hannah risked a quick glance at Dean. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a friendly smile and Hannah was glad she wasn’t Burke right about now.
“Thank you, Burke,” P. K. said from his chair on the set. He turned to face the camera. “We’ve got a treat in store for you next Friday night right after the news. It’s an in-depth story about the three actresses playing Amy Thompson in Crisis in Cherrywood. We mentioned that Lynne Larchmont plays her as an adult, and Erica James plays Amy as a teenager. What we didn’t mention is that the third actress is our very own Tracey Todd from Lake Eden, Minnesota, and she plays Amy as a child.”
The news had only five more minutes to run and everyone was silent as Rayne Phillips informed them that the weather tomorrow would be almost the same as it had been today. Then Wingo Jones gave the sports scores and showed a clip of the center from the Little Falls Flyers sinking a basket from the opposite side of the court in the last two seconds to win the game. The credits scrolled much too rapidly for anyone except someone’s mother to read, and then the screen went dark and all was silent as the lights came up.
Hannah sneaked a quick glance at Burke. He looked understandably nervous. What he’d said was inflammatory and might even be considered actionable.
“Uh…Mr. Lawrence?” Burke said, not daring to call the director by his first name.
“Yes, Burke.”
“I’m…uh…I’m real sorry about that. I’m not used to giving interviews and…um…I thought it would be funny. You know.”
“It was funny, Burke. I’m sure people will be talking about it for weeks to come.”
“But…you’re not…uh…mad, because of what I said and all?”
“Why on earth should I be angry? I just told you I thought it was funny.”
“But…I think maybe it didn’t make you look so good. I mean, with my crack about the dress and the bar and all. I know you don’t get dressed up in women’s costumes, but I thought it would be really funny…at the time, that is.”
“And I told you it was funny.”
Hannah stared at Burke, willing him to quit, but Burke didn’t seem to know how to stop. “Then…no hard feelings?” he asked.
“No hard feelings.” Dean stood up and yawned. “Come along, Sharyn. I’m going up to bed. We have an early call tomorrow. Seven o’clock, my office. I want Erica and her two school chums. They’ve already been notified.”
“Not me?” Burke asked, gulping slightly.
“You’re not in that scene, Burke. I’ll see you on the set at ten.”
Hannah held her breath until Dean walked out the door and then she released it in a long sigh.
“Are you okay?” Ross asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just relieved, that’s all. The fallout wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I expected Dean to keelhaul Burke in Sally’s new koi pond.”
“Dean wouldn’t do that. He’s a pro and he knows we need Burke to finish the picture.”
“But he was just putting a good face on it, right? I mean, he’s mad at Burke, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Dean’s lived in Hollywood long enough to know that almost any publicity is good publicity. And Burke mentioned Dean’s name and the name of the film several times. Of course Dean didn’t like the reference to women’s costumes, but Burke did say that he was a genius and Dean’s bound to like that part of it. It’s a mixed bag, but my guess is that Dean’ll take it in stride.”
“Just one cup of coffee,” Hannah said, climbing up the stairs to her condo two hours later. They’d stayed for the late night snacks Sally had put out after the news and chatted with some of the cast and crew. Before they’d realized it, almost two hours had passed and Hannah had told Ross that she had to go home. “And right after your coffee, I have to get to bed. I need to get my sleep tonight.”
Ross gave her a teasing grin. “You’d never make it in showbiz. There are nights that I have to deal with only six hours’ sleep.”
“Six hours’ sleep is good. On most nights, I don’t get more than five.”
“It’s been as little as four for me.”
“And three for me. And last night, I got only two!”
“Really? But why was that?” Ross asked, breaking the chain of one-downmanship.
“Moishe. He must have been nervous, because he got up to eat every hour on the hour. And then he used his litter-box.”
“Why would that keep you awake?”
“His claws screech against the plastic when he covers. And don’t ask me what covers means.”
“I know what it means. My mother had a cat. Do you want me to brace you for the onslaught?”
“Please,” Hannah said getting out her key and slipping it in the lock. But when she opened the door, the usual orange-and-white bundle didn’t hurtle out to greet her.
“Where’s Moishe?” she said, spotting Norman on the couch.
“He went to bed early, right after I fed him. I think he was tired after his scenes today. I hope you don’t mind, but I think he’s sleeping on your pillow and I didn’t have the heart to wake him. And…I finished your chocolate fudge ice cream.”
Hannah told him she didn’t mind about the pillow or the ice cream, and went into the kitchen to put on the coffee. When that was accomplished, she headed to her bedroom to check on her four-footed movie star. Moishe was sleeping the sleep of a well-fed jungle tiger, and from the way he was smacking his lips, he was probably dreaming of mouse body parts. Norman had been right. Instead of falling asleep on the expensive goose-down pillow she’d bought for him, he was o
n her expensive goose-down pillow.
“The pillows are always softer on the other side of the bed,” Hannah whispered, and let her minipanther sleep. She was just passing the guest room on her way back to the living room when she noticed that the door was open. That was odd. She always closed it when there were no guests. It wasn’t to conserve energy or any of the admirable ecological reasons. It was because Moishe loved to “hunt” the satin butterflies on the new bedspread she’d bought for the guest room. Hannah was about to shut the door when she realized that there was a good-sized lump on her bed, and her eyebrows headed straight toward the ceiling fan the former owner had installed. There was someone sleeping in her bed. She took a step closer and her eyebrows remained on high alert when she recognized her uninvited guest. It was Mike!
Hannah gulped, feeling a bit like Baby Bear who’d come home to find his porridge eaten, his chair recently used, and Goldilocks sleeping in his bed. In her case, it was her ice cream that had been eaten, Norman who’d been sitting on her couch, and Mike who was sleeping in her bed. But all that didn’t really matter. It was close enough to prove that fairytales weren’t all that wildly exaggerated.
“What are you doing in my bed?” Hannah asked, prompting a bearlike snort and a leap to the feet from the unsolicited sleeper who’d been snuggled up on her new bedspread.
“Hannah! Sorry about that. I started to doze off on the couch and Norman told me to come in here. He said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Well…I guess I don’t,” Hannah conceded, “but what are you doing here in the first place?”
“I brought the pizza.”
“What pizza?”
“The pizza Norman ordered from Bertanelli’s. I was sitting there waiting for my pizza when he called in his. Ellie told me they were short a delivery guy, so I figured I’d just bring them both out here and we could eat together.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, wondering what sort of numbers that would rack up on the scale of coincidence. “You want some coffee? I just put on a pot.”
