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“Spite?” Gorsk said. “Professional jealousy? Or maybe Morro was pitching something himself and Cole was in his way. There’s no telling what goes on in the minds of these creative types. They all think they’re natural-born geniuses.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“When the truth of the matter is they’re all just bit players in an industry that doesn’t much care about them in the long run,” Gorsk said. “Hollywood eats ’em up then spits ’em out.”
As they stepped back to let two crew members carry an unwieldy cardboard fireplace past them, Theodosia said, “What do you know about something called a completion guaranty?”
Gorsk stared at her. “Nothing. Why?”
“Just a random thought I had.”
10
“Hey,” Haley cried out the minute Theodosia walked in the back door of the tea shop. “Riley just called.”
“His plane landed?” She was pleasantly surprised.
“Uh-huh, and he asked me to pass on a special request.”
“Which is?”
“He’s asking—hoping, really—that you’ll make lemon chicken for dinner tonight.” Haley paused. “Want my recipe?”
“By all means.”
“Actually, I have two recipes,” Haley said. “You want the straightforward easy one or the tricky one with yogurt?”
“I think straightforward and easy will work just fine.”
“Gotcha,” Haley said.
“Is Miss Dimple here?”
Haley gave a quick nod as she added chopped onions and halibut fillets for her seafood casserole. “Out in the tea shop.”
Miss Dimple was indeed out in the tea shop, pouring tea, running orders to Drayton and Haley, and doing a bang-up job.
“You’re back,” Drayton said as Theodosia approached the front counter. He consulted his watch, an ancient Patek Philippe that ran a few minutes slow, and added, “With time to spare.” He tapped his watch face. “I think.”
“And I have news,” Theodosia said.
“Do tell.”
“A couple of things. First, I paid a visit to that screenwriter Craig Cole last night at the Featherbed House.” Theodosia paused. “Where he was holed up in the Honeymoon Suite.”
Drayton’s brows rose. “Honeymooning all by his lonesome?”
“Apparently so. Anyway, I took it upon myself to ask him a few questions about the murder.”
“And what did Mr. Cole have to say for himself? Or did he clam up?”
“Not at all. Cole pointed his finger directly at Andrea Blair.”
“He thinks she’s the killer? That mousy little actress?”
“Not so mousy. I had a short conversation with Andrea this morning and she’s totally convinced that Cole was the killer. Her agent, Sidney Gorsk, seems to lean that way as well.”
“Strange that Cole is accusing Andrea and vice versa.”
