this morning I’m going to call Dilys at headquarters
and find out what she’s—”
“Dilys!” Judith exploded. “Where’s she been since
Saturday night? Sunbathing? And what have you
been doing except studying Bill’s stupid chart?”
304
Mary Daheim
“That chart’s not a bad idea,” Joe said, still relatively calm. “Woody and I used to put together something like—”
“Woody!” Judith cried in exasperation. “I thought
he was helping you. Has he been kidnapped by Gypsies or did the floating bridge between here and the
Eastside sink again?”
Joe threw up his hands. “Okay, okay! Don’t knock
Woody. He’s been running background checks on
these goofballs all weekend. I expect to hear from him
soon.”
“And he won’t have one single thing that will help
us,” Judith declared, dumping two pounds of bacon
into a skillet. “Toast.” She bit off the word. “That’s it,
toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs. They can take their
weird food cravings someplace else if they don’t like
it.”
“Hey, has Woody ever failed when it comes to being
helpful?” Joe asked, getting two dozen eggs out of the
fridge. Judith started to grab them from him, but he
pulled the cartons out of her reach. “I’ll fix these. I do
a better job of it.”
Judith refused to acknowledge that Joe definitely
had a way with eggs. “I’m not criticizing Woody per
se,” she asserted. “I meant that any information he
comes up with—and I’ll bet there won’t be much—
isn’t going to help us in this particular instance.”
“You don’t know that,” Joe countered. “I don’t see
why you won’t sit back and let the police and the studio’s investigators figure out what happened. They’re
pros.”
“You used to be a pro,” Judith shot back. “I thought
you still were with your private detective jobs. But you
SILVER SCREAM
305
don’t seem very involved in this whole, horrible situation.”
“That’s because I’m retired from the force,” Joe said
with obvious resentment. “I don’t have the resources
anymore. Once you’ve been a cop, you realize that
most of the time law enforcement personnel know
what they’re doing.”
Judith didn’t respond, but gave him a skeptical look.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he didn’t have faith in his
ability to work without the backup provided by a fullfledged police staff. Maybe, she thought with a pang,
he didn’t care about Hillside Manor as much as she
did. It was even possible that in retirement, he disliked
the constant parade of strangers going in and out of his
home.
The phone rang as Joe was whisking eggs, green
onions, and slivers of red pepper in a big blue bowl. Judith answered, and somewhat sheepishly wished
Woody Price good morning. Without looking at Joe,
she handed over the receiver.
“Good morning!” Eugenia Fleming’s booming
voice and majestic presence filled the kitchen.
Judith pointed to Joe, who had put one finger in his
ear. He immediately began moving down the hall and
out of hearing range.
“Sorry,” the agent apologized, speaking with less
volume. She was already dressed, wearing a tailored
pants suit with a no-nonsense silk shirt.
“You’re up early,” Judith remarked, trying to be polite. “I usually don’t serve breakfast until eight.”
Eugenia checked her watch against the schoolhouse
clock. “Seven-forty on the dot. I’m a morning person,
which can be a disadvantage in Hollywood. Except for
306
Mary Daheim
people who are actually involved in shooting a film,
everyone else tends to work late into the night.”
“The coffee’s ready,” Judith said. “Would you like a
cup?”
“Certainly,” Eugenia replied, surveying the kitchen
with a critical eye. “Black, please.”
Judith poured the coffee into a Moonbeam’s mug
and handed it to her guest. “I’m curious,” she said in a
casual tone. “Why was Morris Mayne’s wife allowed
to go back to L.A. when the rest of you weren’t?”
Eugenia choked on her first swallow of coffee.
“Well . . .” she began, gathering her aplomb, “that situation was different.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Eugenia cleared her throat. “Different.” She
winked.
Judith gave the other woman a quizzical look. “I
don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.” Eugenia winked again.
Enlightenment dawned. “You mean,” Judith said,
“Morris came here with someone who wasn’t his
wife?”
“Now,” Eugenia said, wagging a finger, “don’t be
too hard on Morris. His wife is a genuine recluse. She
hasn’t left their house in fifteen years. You can hardly
blame the man if he sometimes gets lonely when he
travels. It’s sad, really. I admire him for staying with
her.”
“Yes,” Judith said slowly, “you have a point. So the
woman who came here with him after the premiere
was his . . . ah . . . companion?”
It was Eugenia’s turn to look puzzled. “What
woman?”
SILVER SCREAM
307
“The one dressed as a pioneer,” Judith replied, turning the bacon in the cast-iron skillet.
Eugenia shrugged her broad shoulders. “I’ve no idea
what you’re talking about. Morris’s . . . companion remained at the hotel.”
Joe’s conversation with Woody ended just as Eugenia took her coffee into the front parlor.
“Eat your words, Jude-girl,” Joe said, wielding a
whisk in a bowl of eggs. “Woody came up with some
interesting stuff.”
“Criminal stuff?” Judith asked in surprise.
“If it was, would you stop treating me like I had
bubonic plague?”
So frazzled were Judith’s nerves that she actually
had to think twice before answering. “Yes, sure, go
ahead.” Her attempt to smile wasn’t very successful.
Joe didn’t respond until he’d put a quarter pound of
butter into a huge frying pan. “Nothing on Eugenia,
Morris, or Chips,” he said, keeping his voice down in
case Eugenia was still in hearing range. “Ellie has a
stack of speeding and parking tickets as high as the
Hollywood Hills. Ben got busted a couple of times for
possession.”
“Of what?” Judith asked, getting plates out of the
cupboard.
“Weed.” He shrugged. “Dirk has been arrested four
times for assault, but the charges were always
dropped.”
“Does that include the incident with Bruno at Marina Del Rey?” Judith asked.
Joe nodded. “It seems Mr. Farrar has to prove his
macho image on both sides of the camera.”
308
Mary Daheim
“Unsure of his manhood? Low self-esteem?” Judith
murmured.
“Rotten disposition, no self-discipline.” Almost
forty years as a cop had caused Joe’s patience with
people’s foibles to erode long ago.
Judith placed the silverware settings next to the
plates on the counter. “What about the others?”
“I’m not finished with Dirk,” Joe said, taking a