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“The notes,” he replied. “This was effective, but I don’t like being kept in the dark. And the writers should have been notified so they could include this in today’s briefing.”
Caro wasn’t following. For some reason it sounded like Renauld didn’t know anything about this, either. But that was impossible.
“You folks have a bigger problem than solving your TV mystery.” This time Hildy’s voice was loud and unwavering.
Caro cast a quick glance at Mick, still standing out in the bedroom. She gave him a pleading look. “Can you take her out of here?” she mouthed, nodding toward Hildy.
He squeezed into the crowded bathroom, giving her a reassuring smile. “Come on, Hildy darlin’, let’s leave these bloodthirsty souls to their murder.”
She didn’t budge. “Murder is right.”
Then, leaning close to Miss Hester, still lying silently in the tub, she poked her with one long finger. She leaned over, sniffed and nodded to herself. Everyone in the bathroom stopped talking, wondering what on earth the old woman was doing.
“Yep. Can’t disguise that smell.”
“Smell?” one of the officers asked, looking confused.
“Of real blood,” Hildy explained matter-of-factly. “Smelled it one too many times in the old days whenever the gangs got riled up and went for their Tommy guns.” Hildy never seemed to have any qualms about referring to her colorful past.
Then Caro realized what she’d said. Blood? Real blood? “Hildy, what are you talking about?” Caro asked, even as the truth began to sink in.
“Well,” the old woman explained, “this here isn’t one of your made-up murders.” She shook her head and lifted Miss Hester’s hand. When she let go, it plopped heavily onto the woman’s body. The victim didn’t even flinch.
“What you got here is an honest to goodness corpse.”
When no one responded right away, Hildy let out an impatient sigh. “Get it? She’s really dead!”
Silence greeted the pronouncement. Silence, and the expression of disbelief on the faces of everyone in the room. Disbelief gave way to shock. Then understanding. Then horror.
One of the female contestants, Deanna, fainted dead away, not even caught by the two men who’d been vying for her attention for two weeks. The incident seemed to snap everyone out of their lethargy, because, finally, one of the young policemen shrieked, “She’s really dead? But…but Itouchedher!”
He punctuated his shrill remark by going pale. Then he promptly lost his candy corn and apple cider all over his shoes.
Not to mention all over the victim.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IN THE DAYS following the murder of Miss Hester, everyone in Derryville speculated on who had done it. And why. Mick had heard all kinds of theories.
Miss Hester had found out about kinky, evil things going on up at the set and they killed her to shut her up. Miss Hester had figured out the fake killer and threatened to tell one of the contestants, so the fictional killer had become a real one, not wanting to lose the million dollars. Miss Hester had discovered a secret affair. Miss Hester had been attacked while praying for the heathens from Hollywood. Miss Hester had startled a thief. Miss Hester had been set on by the ghosts of the Little Bohemie Inn. Miss Hester had been having a fling with the director and he’d killed her in a jealous rage.
Mick found that one especially hard to believe.
But the one he disliked the most was the one that had begun to circulate yesterday.
“Well, shedidthreaten to kill her. Right there in the church office. I heard all about it a few weeks ago.”
Mick stiffened but continued to eavesdrop on the two women speaking in the next aisle in the drugstore.
“And she’d obviously been thinking about it. She had it all worked out in the book.”
“In abathtub, no less,” the first woman replied.
Mick felt no compunction about listening to the two gossipy women. Because they were talking about his sister, Sophie.
“Anyone with that wicked an imagination is bound to have murder in her soul,” a voice continued.
“Poor Miss Hester. She wassogood.”
