by Marie Celine
‘You–you gave it to Gretchen? Why?’ Kitty wasn’t simply stalling for time – the stalling for time was definitely a good thing – but she really wanted to know what David’s motivation was. And what was his relationship with Gretchen? Twisted, yes, but what else?
David’s laughter filled the office. ‘Don’t you get it, yet, Kitty? You said it yourself. I’m Cam.’ He was smirking. ‘You found those stupid love letters, didn’t you?’ He said the word love with a healthy dose of mockery.
‘You and Gretchen? It’s true that you were lovers?’ Kitty’s eyes grew ever wider. ‘I heard that you and Gretchen’s daughter, Cindy, were lovers, too.’
‘We were.’ He folded his arms across his chest, though he never let go of his hold on the knife. He shook his head. ‘Gretchen and I had an affair. Oh, we were hot and heavy for a time. I even gave her my ring. It was too large for her finger, of course. So, she wore it on a silver chain around her neck.’
He paced and, while he did, Kitty looked for some avenue of escape. He was between her and the door, so that was out. And the window was latched and the blinds were down.
‘But she was such a pain. We broke up.’ David explained how he’d then taken up with Gretchen’s daughter, Cindy, partly out of spite. He knew Gretchen would hate it and he’d been right. Gretchen had become enraged.
‘Gretchen didn’t think I was good enough for her daughter. She tried threatening me, but I laughed in her face. She said she’d tell Cindy about our affair. I called her bluff and dared her to, but she chickened out.’ His eyes flattened. ‘But then she promised me money.’ He used the knife to point to the envelope. ‘That money.’
‘She was paying you off to stay away from Cindy?’ This was getting more and more bizarre. What sort of people had she gotten involved with?
‘That’s right.’ He laughed again. Kitty was glad somebody was finding this whole situation funny, because she sure wasn’t.
‘And I didn’t mind. To tell you the truth, Cindy’s just as bad as her mother. A real pain in the butt. A spoiled cow herself. How I loathed that woman.’
‘So what happened? If Gretchen was going to pay you, why kill her?’ There really seemed no point.
David’s jaw tightened. ‘Because, dear Gretchen said she’d had a change of heart. It was the afternoon of your first taping. Gretchen was supposed to pay me. She’d sent Fran to pick up the money,’ he explained. ‘I couldn’t wait to get my hands on all that loot.’ His fingers wriggled. ‘But Gretchen was full of herself. You know she told me that the idea for your cooking show wasn’t even hers, like she’d told everyone?’
Kitty knew.
David shook his head. ‘Turns out, that ape of an ex-husband of hers had come up with the idea – and she was bragging how she’d practically swindled him out of any share of the profits. Boy, she was convinced there were going to be huge profits for her and the network. What a piece of work.’
He waved the knife in the air. ‘But that was no skin off my nose. I mean, if she wanted to screw her ex that was her business. All I wanted was what was coming to me.’
He stopped and his voice grew cold. ‘But then Gretchen said she wasn’t going to pay me. The hag reneged on our deal. She laughed and said that since I’d already dumped Cindy, there was no reason to pay me. She laughed in my face, Kitty, and demanded that I leave her office.’
Kitty took a deep breath. David looked ready to pounce. She needed to calm him down again. ‘That’s terrible. I mean, you must have felt betrayed.’
He studied her face, and then spoke. ‘I knew the set was hot – the show had already started. I saw your open bag backstage and grabbed the knife. It was handy, you know?
‘I slipped the knife inside my shirt. I wanted to scare her. I went to Gretchen’s office. Nobody saw me. Everybody was busy out front with The Pampered Pet show. I started digging around. Fran had come back to the studio so I knew the money had to be there someplace.’
But Kitty knew that it hadn’t been. Fran had never given the envelope to Gretchen. It had remained in her bag.
‘I knew Gretchen would come looking for me and she did. She found me looting her office and started screaming like a banshee on fire. She demanded that I leave and get back to my camera. I told her that she really should pay me.
‘The cow yelled that I was fired and that she would insist that Bill Barnhard blackball me from ever working for CuisineTV again. She pointed at the door and then had the gall to turn her back on me.’
Kitty held her breath. The room seemed alive with negative energy and looming menace.
‘So I gave her what she had coming. Dear Gretchen liked to stab others in the back.’ He ran his tongue along his lower lip. ‘So I gave her a taste of her own medicine.’ His eyes dropped to the spot on the floor where Gretchen’s body had lain only days before.
Kitty didn’t think she’d get another chance. With one hand she tossed the envelope toward the ceiling. With her other hand, she threw the heavy brass desk lamp at the side of David’s head.
He looked up reflexively at the rising envelope as the brass lamp hit him in the ear. He howled with rage and turned toward Kitty.
But Kitty was already halfway to the door and running as fast as she could. The lamp had come unplugged and the room had gone dark. Light from the hall beckoned and Kitty dove for the door. David’s hand grabbed her ankle and she fell face first. He was pulling her back.
‘Let. Me. Go!’ Kitty lashed out with her free foot. David screamed in agony as her shoe made contact with something soft and squishy. His grip relaxed and Kitty surged out into the hall, yanking the door shut behind her to buy herself some time.
But would it be enough?
TWENTY-NINE
Kitty stumbled down the dimly lit hall with no direction in mind and escape her only goal.
Think. Think. Think.
The words bounced through her mind as she ran noisily down the narrow hall. Each bang made her wish she had worn quieter shoes. Then again, the heels had served her well as a weapon. Kitty heard a scream that would have curled her blood if it hadn’t all congealed the minute David had suddenly popped into Gretchen’s doorway clutching that vicious-looking knife.
She’d scream herself but what would be the point? There was nobody else around. The studio was deserted but for her and David inside, and Brad the security guard outside. This was a soundstage. It was meant to protect those inside from the sounds of the outside world. She could scream at the top of her lungs, and though Brad was only fifty or so yards away, he’d never hear her.
Kitty turned at the nearest intersection even as she heard David’s pounding feet pulling closer. It was nearly dark. Shadows were everywhere and each one gave her a start that she thought would stop her heart for sure.
Which way was the door? There had to be an exit around here somewhere. One of those fire exit doors that the law required. If she could find one of those, not only could she escape outdoors, but hopefully going out the door would set off some sort of alarm. That would bring down the fire department, the police department, and half a dozen news hounds and countless lookie-loos.
That would be her salvation.
If she could find a door.
‘Come on, Kitty,’ cajoled David. He didn’t sound nearly as winded as Kitty was feeling. ‘What are you running for? Let’s talk about this. We can do a lot with a hundred thousand dollars. You can come with me to Central America. Start fresh. I’ve got a little place all picked out.’
Like she believed that. I’m thirty years old, not some child! she wanted to shout, but she wasn’t about to give herself away. No point making this easy on him.
Kitty turned left again and banged face first into something hard and unforgiving. It shook and rattled loudly. She reached out to quiet it. Not that it mattered much. David would have heard the noise for sure. She ran her hands up and down the cold metal object, her eyes adjusting to the dark, and smiled. She knew where she was now. She was on the set of The Pamp
ered Pet. What she’d slammed into had been one of those big spotlights the crew were always aiming at her during taping.
Kitty ran her tongue around her lower lip and tasted blood, bitter and metallic. She’d cut her lip on the light stand. Running to the pantry, she scanned the shelves. She grabbed a jar of virgin olive oil and clutched it to her chest. If anything, she’d clobber him with the thick glass bottle if he got too close.
Kitty was working her way around to the backside of the kitchen island when David suddenly appeared only a few yards away. He’d managed to pick up a flashlight. He shot its beam across the otherwise dark set like a pulsar.
Kitty ducked and held her breath, leaning against the island. There had to be something around here that she could use as a weapon that would be superior to a lousy jar of olive oil. This was a kitchen, after all.
‘Here, Kitty, Kitty.’ David chuckled.
Kitty shivered and twisted around on her hands and knees. There was a set of CuisineTV knives on the counter beside the sink. Did she dare stick her neck up and try to reach them?
Would she have the strength, both physical and mental, to use one if she did? That mental part was sketchier than the physical part. Kitty had never purposely hurt anyone before. Even at risk of her own death, she wasn’t certain that she could do it now.
The light danced above her head. David was getting closer. Then she had an idea. She pulled the stopper from the jar of oil and quietly dumped the entire bottle out on the floor between the island and the counters. If anything, the oil slick would slow him down.
An open shelf on the rear of the island held pots and pans. Kitty studied the dark shapes, exploring them with her hands. She wrapped her fingers around a heavy cast iron skillet. She slid the skillet off the shelf. If she could hurl it at him or maybe in the direction she had come in from, she might be able to distract him long enough to make a run for it.
Of course, she’d have to be careful to avoid all that extra virgin olive oil she’d just spilled across the floor. If she remembered correctly, there was a fire exit off to her right, just beyond the bleachers where the audience sat the day of the taping. There was a chance that she could reach it. Slim, but worth taking. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options.
Kitty eased herself up slowly, praying her movements didn’t give her away. As she did, the beam of the light caught her in the face, momentarily blinding her. She screamed. David was only inches away and there was an ugly-looking knife tucked under his belt.
She swung the skillet at his head.
David knocked it away with his elbow. ‘Not this time!’ he snarled. He tossed the flashlight aside and clamped his fingers around her neck.
The skillet slipped from Kitty’s hand and landed on David’s foot. He howled with rage and pain. Sensing his weakness, Kitty drove her heel into his foot even as she felt her vision fading as his hands tightened around her throat.
The knife!
Kitty groped for the knife at David’s belt but he beat her to it. ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ He knocked her hand away. But to do so, he’d had to release his death grip on her throat.
Kitty pushed free and turned. David grabbed her by her hair and spun her back around. Tears of pain flooded her eyes. She kicked him in the shin, broke free and ran.
‘You want the knife?’ David chuckled. ‘Here!’ he shouted. ‘You can have it!’
Kitty screamed and twisted to one side. The knife whistled past her, clanged against the refrigerator and spun loudly on the floor. Kitty dove for it but she was too late.
David was already there. ‘Get up!’ He glared at her, flashlight in hand. Blood oozed from the side of his face. His clothes were a mess. Whether all that damage was the result of the skillet, her earlier beaning of him back in Gretchen’s office with the brass desk lamp or her shoe, she didn’t know. But he deserved every bit of it. And then some.
David slid the knife closer to himself with his shoe then bent to retrieve it. Kitty scrambled to her feet, mindful of the oil on the floor, and pushed up against the countertop. Somehow she had to squeeze past David, get to the fire door and safety. But how?
David stuffed the flashlight under his belt and bounced the knife in the palm of his hand. ‘Think you’re going to get away?’
‘That was the idea.’ She edged further behind the counter, careful to stick closer to the edge. There was a puddle of oil somewhere and it was meant for David, not her.
‘Funny. Very funny.’ David stepped in and slammed Kitty against a bookcase. A pair of the flimsy bookcases held books written by various CuisineTV hosts. ‘Not so funny now, is it?’
Kitty grunted and bit down on her lip as she thrust her arms back to keep her balance. The bookcase shook – it was only meant as set decoration after all and wasn’t permanently attached to the wall – and went crashing down.
Kitty twisted to the left as it fell.
David jumped for her but he never had a chance. He slipped in the pool of oil. ‘What the—’ His feet flew from under him. Kitty heard his skull crack the ground. She pulled on the second bookcase and watched as it crashed down on top of him. Kitty threw herself across the bookcase. David lashed out, arms and legs swinging and kicking madly.
Kitty was wondering how long she could keep this up when several of the large klieg lamps suddenly snapped to life, filling the set with their bright, hot lights. Fran burst into the middle of the soundstage, her mouth hanging open. ‘What is going on here?’
What she saw was Kitty straddling a fallen bookcase and riding it like it was a raging bull at the strangest rodeo on Earth. ‘Quick!’ Kitty cried. ‘Don’t just stand there – give me a hand!’
‘I’ll kill you,’ David bellowed, grabbing Kitty’s arm and yanking mercilessly. ‘I’ll kill you both!’
‘Not if I can help it!’ yelled Fran, racing over to come to her friend’s aid even as Kitty grabbed the nearest thing at hand – a hardcover copy of The Joy Of Cooking – and brought it down on David’s face. He raised a hand to fend her off. The thick book bounced off his fingers and crashed into his nose. After a moment, he stopped thrashing.
Kitty fell forward, out of breath. The book dropped from her hand. Her hair and clothes were wrecked and her brain was still trying to make up its mind what was real and what was not and whether it even cared one way or the other.
Fran leaned over her, hands on hips. ‘So, tough day at the office?’
THIRTY
Kitty weakly thrust out her right arm. ‘Hand me your phone, would you?’
‘What happened? Did this jerk make a pass at you?’ Fran cast a suspicious eye on David. ‘You calling the cops?’
Kitty nodded. She looked at her watch. Jack was probably still at the station. Perfect. She punched in his number.
‘Hello, Jack?’ she said, a look of supreme triumph on her face, that she sorely wished her fiancé could see but sadly could not. Her smile betrayed her extreme satisfaction. She had been praying for this moment for days but never thought it would come. ‘Would you be a dear and put Elin on the line, please?’
Jack muttered some words of confusion then passed along his cellphone.
‘Good evening, lieutenant. This is Kitty Karlyle.’ She winked at Fran. ‘I’ve got your killer here if you’d like to come pick him up.’
David started thrashing again but he wasn’t going anywhere. He was pinned down good. Fran planted her foot on the back of the bookcase, adding her weight to David’s burden, just for good measure.
Nordstrom’s bellowing forced Kitty to pull the phone some inches away from her ear. When the lieutenant calmed down, Kitty told her to head over to Santa Monica Film Studios.
‘No hurry,’ said Kitty, rubbing a little salt into the wound, ‘everything’s under control here.’
She hung up as Jack came back on the line demanding to know what was happening. Kitty said she would explain it to him when he got there.
‘David killed Gretchen?’ Fran looked incredulous.
Kit
ty nodded and explained the how and why. ‘What are you doing here?’
Fran pulled a face. ‘Two reasons. Number one, I thought you might need a friend to pick you up, figuratively that is, after your meeting with the big boss. I thought I’d buy you a drink and give you a shoulder to cry on after he canned you. I tried calling you but it went straight to voicemail.’
‘My phone died.’ Kitty frowned. She’d almost died, too. ‘I thought you said I had nothing to worry about?’
Fran shrugged sheepishly. ‘I could have been wrong.’ She looked around. ‘Where is Bill Barnhard anyway? What happened?’ She looked at the bookcase. ‘He’s not under here too, is he?’
‘He received a phone call and had to leave before we even had a chance to talk. He was gone before I arrived.’ She jabbed her thumb in David’s direction. ‘I’m guessing that call came from this jerk.’
David’s stony face and icy stare told her she was right.
‘What was the second thing?’
Fran said, ‘I finally remembered where I’d seen that silver ring we found with the money. For a while, Gretch was wearing it around her neck on a silver chain. When I asked her about it, she said it came from an admirer but she wouldn’t say who.’
Fran snapped her fingers. ‘Hey, David used to wear a ring like that on a chain around his neck, too.’
Kitty nodded weakly. She felt completely drained and her shoulders felt like she’d attempted to lift a five-hundred-pound dumbbell over her head. Instead, she had a two-hundred-pound dumbbell under a bookcase.
‘That makes sense.’ Kitty cocked a hand toward David, lying sullenly beneath her. ‘Fran, meet Cam. As in cameraman.’
Fran gaped. ‘Gretchen’s lover? I knew it!’ She paused. ‘But, I thought he and Gretchen’s daughter, Cindy, were lovers?’
Kitty coughed out a laugh. ‘Oh, Fran. This is Hollyweird, remember?’
Fran pursed her lips and was about to reply, when the police suddenly appeared. Lieutenant Elin Nordstrom was in the lead, dressed in a navy dress suit, long legs practically dancing across the soundstage like it was opening night on Broadway. Jack was right behind her.
