by Nero Blanc
“This is certainly a mess,” Sara sighed at last. Her statement needed no explanation. All three of them were still consumed by the past week’s events. When Belle and Rosco failed to respond with anything more than slim smiles, Sara added, “I suppose it’s entirely possible that Debra Marcollo is guilty, after all—”
“As always, it’s a question of motive,” Rosco said, “and to be honest, despite her presentation during my interview with her, Debra continues to be a major suspect. The evidence certainly points in her direction.”
“But there’s no way she could have put those bullets in the prop pistol the other day,” Belle countered.
“Quite possibly the two issues are unrelated, dear,” noted Sara.
Belle looked at her elderly friend. “I think they are related, Sara. The coincidence of six .38 caliber bullets going missing from Darlessen’s beach house, and six bullets being found on the Anatomy set … well, it’s a situation too obvious to ignore. And what about Nan’s supposed accident, the one Shay is beginning to feel might have been intended for her? Or the mystery guy following her home? What about the hornets’ nest that was stirred up when the cast and crew discovered live ammunition had been brought onto the set?”
“And what are your conclusions?” Sara asked.
Belle’s glum face continued to regard her friend. “I have no idea.” Then she sat up a bit straighter. “A lot of what Shay told me this afternoon seems to revolve around Lance diRusa as a breaker of hearts and marriages.”
“He apparently had ample reason to bear a grudge against Chick,” Sara added.
“Enough for murder?” Rosco asked.
“Hear me out,” Belle continued. “Now, obviously, Lance could have entered Chick’s home, and he could probably have found a way to access the Anatomy set or even the pistol range in Inglewood where the prop revolver was rented. But something tells me that the evidence pointing to him as our guilty party is too easy—”
“The simplest solution is often the best,” Rosco interjected.
“Let your wife finish, Rosco,” Sara chided.
Belle gave her husband an arch and meaningful glance. “Thank you, Sara.”
“We women have to stick together, dear.”
“That we do.”
The waiter arrived with their drinks, and the three fell silent until he moved away. Sara looked with some skepticism at the line of salt rimming her glass.
“Do I remove this or sip my margarita through it?”
“You do whatever you like,” Rosco answered.
“But what is the correct mode?”
“To drink it through the salt.”
Sara raised her glass and smiled, although the expression was still cautious. “Well, here’s to my soon-to-be-embattled arteries.”
Belle also smiled. “I don’t think you need worry about health problems, Sara. Your arteries are probably a lot heartier than mine or Rosco’s.” Then Belle’s face abruptly clouded, and her brow creased in concern. “However, if the accident that put Nan out of commission was, in fact, not a mishap, but staged—”
“Wait, back up,” Rosco interrupted. “Are you talking about Shay’s theory?”
“No,” Belle answered slowly, “this one’s my own.” She paused for a brief moment before continuing; as she spoke, her speech gained speed and momentum. “What if Nan DeDero was the intended victim all along, meaning that someone needed her gone from the set, and what if, ultimately, her removal was simply a means to another end?”
“You’ve lost me, Belle,” Rosco said.
But Belle scarcely heard her husband. “What happened after Nan was sent to the hospital? Sara was flown in as a replacement? And whose brainchild was that? Miso Lane’s … whom I began to mistrust when I discovered he’d snapped all of those Polaroids back in Newcastle—”
“But where does Chick’s death fit in?” Rosco asked.
“I don’t know,” Belle admitted, “but I am aware that Miso had access to the prop pistol … and I also strongly suspect he’s fixated on Sara.”
Sara laughed. “Not dear little Miso?”
“You see? That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Sara! He has you completely buffaloed. He’s up to no good, I’m sure of it.”
Rosco looked at Sara, and then at Belle. “I don’t see how this plays out. Are you thinking Miso Lane is connected to Chick Darlessen’s death?”
“I don’t know, Rosco. Maybe Chick discovered that Miso was intending to commit a very serious crime.”
“Which would be what exactly?”
“Kidnap Sara? Hold her for ransom? Or her brother. Don’t forget, the senator is up in Sacramento at this very moment.”
“Well, actually, no,” Sara said, “he’ll be flying down here tomorrow to pay me a small visit. The coincidence of both of us being in California at the same moment seemed to warrant a meeting in the sun.”
“See! See!” Belle said pointedly. “This all could be a plot by Miso.”
“Oh, my dear,” Sara said, “I’m very fond of you, and I must admit I’ve enjoyed being the center of so much attention, and I’m thrilled to be able to spend a few moments with my ‘very important’ brother, but this theory of yours seems rather too inventive.”
“Your brother’s a distinguished senator, Sara. A statesman, really, with an international reputation. Perhaps this is part of a larger conspiracy. He’s on the foreign relations committee, after all.”
Sara laughed again. “What did they put in your margarita, dear?”
“I’m being serious!”
“That’s what worries me,” was the older lady’s amused reply.
“Okay,” Rosco said. “Let’s leave Washington and international cartels where they are for the moment, and look at what we have: one dead screenwriter, a movie set that seems particularly accident-prone—”
“And my peculiar crosswords, especially the last one with all the names—”
Rosco shook his head. “I hate to say it, Belle, but I’m beginning to suspect those puzzles have no connection to the other incidents, other than the fact that I’d sure like to know who created them.”
Belle stared at her husband. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. I realize the latest mystery crossword has a potential name match-up—”
“More than potential,” Belle countered with some heat.
Rosco took a measured sip of his drink. “Which sent you on a wild goose chase to the Down & Across set.”
“Where I just happened to learn that Chick Darlessen was Bartann Welner’s nephew,” Belle argued.
“I think their relationship’s completely circumstantial, Belle. Because from where I sit, we have a perfectly good homicide suspect in Lance diRusa. He had a motive for killing Chick, and a motive for wanting to throw a monkey wrench into the filming of Anatomy.”
Belle swirled the liquid around in her glass. She didn’t look happy. “Everything you’re saying sounds very logical.”
“Crimes often are,” Rosco answered. “Even crimes of passion have a discernible pattern—”
“So you’re convinced the crosswords have no part in Chick’s death or the incidents on Anatomy?” Belle asked as she continued to gaze into her glass.
“I’m following logic again, Belle. If the mysterious constructor has information to share, why doesn’t he or she come forward rather than supply a list of names that includes everyone under the sun? Except for Senator Crane, that is.”
Belle frowned, then leaned back in her chair and released a long and weary sigh. “I understand what you’re saying, Rosco, and you may well be correct … but I still would like to know who’s creating those puzzles and why.” Then she looked at her husband with a lopsided grin. “Besides, I’ve never been a fan of logic.”
As the chimichangas arrived, and Rosco—to Sara’s surprise—requested another round of margaritas, a black-and-gold pickup truck was exiting Rinconia Drive in the Hollywood Hills and entering El Contento. When it neared Sh
ay Henlee’s hillside home, it stopped. Max Chugorro didn’t want to risk triggering the sensors on the exterior lighting by driving too close, so he sat in the truck’s cab and considered his options. Words on paper, he thought, it’s merely words on paper. His brain repeated this soothing mantra a couple of times, then he picked up the package lying on the seat beside him, and eased open the cab door. The time was right for Max Chugorro to make his move on Shay Henlee.
FAMOUS LAST WORDS
Across
1. Dyer
4. Toupee
7. ___and Mike
10. Command to Fido
13. Bat material
14. Garden tool
15. Dr.’s group
16. One-time link
17. LAST WORDS
20. But
21. Mr. Gooding
22. Roofing material
23. Cook book
24. LAST WORD
26. Head of the corp.
27. Mr. Chaney
28. Business letters
29. Computer technology; abbr.
31. Track shapes
34. Truck full
36.“___dead body!”
37. Laker’s org.
40. LAST WORD
42. Thelma’s connection to Louise
43. LAST WORDS
45. Deuce topper
46. Gigi star
47. Dye type
48. Vane reading
51. First lady
52. “I___Rhythm”
54. Mr. Sinclair
56. Great revue
58. Mr. Carney
59. Flounder
60. Tic-Tac-Toe loser
61. LAST WORDS
65. Ms. MacGraw
66. 100; abbr.
67. With 70-Across, LAST WORD
68. 28-Across relative
69. Nice eau
70. See 67-Across
71. Lauria of The Wonder Years
72. Type of trip
Down
1. Scamp
2. Tristram’s beloved
3. Nickname for many a college athlete
4. ___Framed Roger Rabbit
5. Debt; abbr.
6. Stage lighting filter
7. Veranda
8. LAST WORD
9. Roofing material
10. LAST WORD
11. List member
12. LAST WORDS
18. Cheer
19. Supped
23. Sheltered nook
25. LAST WORDS
26. LAST WORD
27. LAST WORDS
30. After a while
32. K–O link
33. NSW capital
35. Insecticide; abbr.
36. Court call?
37. B’ Way’s home
38. Feather stole
39. LAST WORDS
41. Imp
44. Worked a loom
48. Butt
49. LAST WORDS
50. Violinist Georges
52. Coffee option
53. Siouan
55. Tire fig.
56. Walk about
57. Wheel connector
58. Yemeni port
61. Mr. Ventura
62. Norm; abbr.
63. “Gotcha!”
64. Brando’s first film; with The
To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords
CHAPTER 35
Rosco couldn’t quite decide what was more unusual: the fact that Lance diRusa’s theatrical agent had revealed the actor’s home phone number without subjecting him to a barrage of questions, or the fact that Lance was willing to meet with Rosco at the drop of a hat. The issue of diRusa’s Malibu house being only a quarter of a mile down the beach from Chick Darlessen’s rental cottage was another phenomenon that came as a bit of a surprise.
Because of the astonishing ease with which these potential problems had been remedied, Rosco scooted out of the hotel without bothering to check with the front desk for messages—meaning that he missed the Famous Last Words crossword puzzle altogether. All he’d taken time for was a kiss from Belle and the standard warning, “Be careful, Rosco, Lance may be dangerous … and probably is.”
At 10 A.M., the morning was already warm; close to eighty degrees, with bright sunshine reflecting off a lustrous blue ocean, it was a perfect day for a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway in a Mustang convertible. If anything, the ride was far too short, and Rosco spent the minutes enjoying the fresh air and wind, the sights of surfers combing the waves, and the pelicans riding the breeze rather than worrying if Lance diRusa really was a killer. It was possible he was simply a snubbed and disgruntled actor who seemed like a murderer. Why else would he agree to this meeting so readily?
Rosco exited the P.C.H., found Lance’s driveway, and parked the Mustang near the actor’s garage, beside an electric-green Dodge Viper. He was early. It was just 10:25, so he studied Lance’s sports car for three or four minutes before ringing the doorbell. The heavy cedar door opened almost instantaneously, as if Lance had been perched there lying in wait for his visitor. “Like that Viper, huh?” he insisted with a cocky smile. “American muscle, just like me. A car needs to reflect its owner. That’s something I like to tell the press. You see that Viper there, you see Lance diRusa. Special paint job. No one else has it.”
In both size and weight, Lance was a near duplicate to Rosco, and he presented a similar confidence in stance and demeanor. But the actor’s handshake and his boasting comments told Rosco he was dealing with someone far more arrogant, aggressive, and egotistical than he could ever be.
“Come on in,” Lance said as his smile became less sincere and his voice took on a tone that was too loud for Rosco’s liking. “It’s a thrill to meet the real deal. I’ve been curious as to what the true Rosco Polycrates looked like. See, guys like me, in the industry that is, need to keep their mug in the papers, whereas the genuine article, like you, gotta do just the opposite. And I’m gonna respect that. I even turned off my security cameras … Yeah, I can’t tell you how smoked I was when Darlessen screwed me out of playing you in Anatomy. I was really into that part … Brain and brawn … that’s what I do best … my signature, you might say. Why don’t we step out onto the back deck. It’s more comfortable, and I’ve got a hell of a view of the ocean.”
As the two men walked through the house, Lance made certain to point out his collection of Dali and Picasso prints, and with each one, Rosco was informed of the purchase price and estimated value in today’s art market.
“Yeah,” Lance said after they had settled into sleek black Italian lounge chairs on the deck, “I could’ve killed Darlessen for ruining that opportunity for me.” This induced another laugh. “Of course, I didn’t. But, like they say ‘what goes around comes around.’”
Rosco paused for a moment, trying to ascertain the applicability of the remark. “Interesting,” he finally said. “In fact, that’s exactly why—”
Lance held his hand up, stopping Rosco in midsentence. “Hey. Hey. Who doesn’t know why you’re here? Why do you think I told my agent to cough up my phone number, PDQ? You could sell those seven digits of mine to any starlet in town for a fortune if you wanted. Hell, to be honest, I can’t figure out why it took you so long to get out here.”
“You were expecting me?”
“Sure. I was expecting you four days ago—you or the cops, and to be honest, I would have preferred LAPD. I would have liked to get a uniform out here. When I heard that Darlessen had been killed, I said, ‘Man, the cops are going to be at my front door before I can finish my morning coffee.’ Carpe diem, that’s what I like to say.”
“So does my wife.”
“How about that … Anyway, whammo, next thing you know, they got Debra Marcollo locked up.” Lance lit a cigarette, but rather than make him appear more macho, it made him seem weaker, less in control, and, to a certain extent, nervous.
“Weren’t you and Debra dating at one time?” Rosco asked. He
turned his face to look at the ocean’s waves breaking on the beach rather than at Lance.
Lance laughed through his cigarette smoke. The sound was forced. “Hey, I’ve dated half the babes in Hollywood. If you’re lookin’ for a jealous lover angle, that ain’t me. I can pick the women off the trees, anytime, anywhere. I can’t tell you how many sweeties I’ve been through.”
“So you’re the one who dumped Debra, not the other way around?”
Lance inhaled deeply. “Is that what she told you? She said she dumped me?”
“I’d just like to hear your side of it.” Rosco returned his gaze to diRusa’s face.
“Yeah, well Debra’s a liar. You can’t believe anything she says. Sure she’s gonna insist it was me who killed Darlessen. She’s out to save her own neck.” The actor gave his watch a nervous glance.
“Am I keeping you from something?” Rosco asked.
“No. No. I’m expecting someone. You want a beer or something? Tequila sunrise? Anything you want, I got.”
“I’m fine. It’s a little early for me—”
“Hey, sunup was a long, long time ago.”
“Right.” Rosco nodded, then got to the point. “When was the last time you were in Chick Darlessen’s house?”
“A couple of—” Lance stopped in mid-sentence and flipped what was left of his cigarette out onto the beach. “How did you know I’d been in his house?”
“Debra told me,” Rosco lied, then followed it with another falsehood. “Besides, the cops picked up a strange set of fingerprints at the house. I just figured they were yours.”
“Hey, back off, I’ve never been printed. I’ve never been in the military. The FBI doesn’t have any print records on me.”
“I didn’t say they were yours. I just put two and two together. I mean, you live right down the beach? So why were you in his house if you and Chick disliked each other so much?”
Lance reached for another cigarette but realized the move appeared self-conscious so he tossed the pack onto a long granite coffee table that looked almost purple in its blackness. “I’m trying to quit,” he said to cover the move. “Look, that’s my business why I was in Debra’s house, okay? So drop it.”
“But Darlessen was a real thorn in your side, right? He successfully barred you from the Anatomy set and stole your girlfriend.”
