A Talent for Murder Read Free Page B

work with Gladys Knight.”
    “No one remembers that,” Brian said. He was modest—and right.
    “What they also might not know is that for the past decade you’ve been running the Actors’ Workout Fitness Center,” Dartmouth continued. “So he’s eminently qualified to judge a talent competition. He’s also the best darned cook in Hollywood.” Dartmouth pointed to a paper plate on which rested a pyramid of chocolate brownies. “Brian made treats for us.”
    “Double fudge,” Brian boasted.
    “Our other judge is, of course, the famous—or, as some would say,
infamous
—Thane Cornwall.” Richard chuckled goodnaturedly as all heads turned to look at the smug man with his arms folded across his sweatered chest. Thane’s body language suggested boredom and arrogance. However, he forced a tight smile and shrugged.
    “Infamy. Yeah, that works for more than a couple of people in this room.” He nodded to Polly and the others.
    “You’re British?” Polly asked Thane innocently. “I haven’t seen ol’ Queenie in decades. Did she ever replace those ancient bathtubs for stall showers at Buckingham Palace? Do you think the evil Prince Phillip did you-know-what? Wink, wink.”
    Thane sniggered. “Fascinating observation about my accent. You’re certainly a bright bulb. As for Elizabeth, I quite like her. And Phillip is … Well, princess killer or not, he’s done well for a short man. Wink, wink, yourself.”
    Polly camouflaged her annoyance by smiling even more broadly. “I’m not exactly a royalist. I know what those inbreeds are capable of doing. As Anglophiles, you and I are bound to have a ton o’ fun on this show. I’ll be Anne Boleyn to your King Henry!”
    “You wouldn’t be the first to lose your head over me,” Thane said.
    Everyone laughed. I know that we’ll
all
get along
very
well,” Richard interrupted. “Speaking of losing a head, I have a bit of bad news. We’ve lost one of our contestants.”
    “Lost, as in misplaced, departed, or … deceased?” Brian Smith asked.
    “Yes, and no. Jewell Jones was picked up by the FBI this morning for the murder of her grandmother in Georgia,” he said. “Someone saw her on one of our television promos and snitched. When they cuffed her she kept screaming that she should win our competition anyway because when Granny wouldn’t lend her the money to come to California, she did what she had to do to get it, which, she said, proves that she’ll do
anything
to become famous.”
    “Very resourceful,” Thane Cornwall agreed. “She’s set the bar high as far as I’m concerned.”
    Polly gave Thane a look of disbelief. “Do you have a granny? Would you do something sinister to her in a bid to make your own showbiz dreams come true?”
    Thane stared at Polly. “Save the Dr. Laura judgments for the contestants’ Q and A, Miss
Used to Be
.”
    Polly gave Thane an equally icy stare that chilled the entire room. “I don’t know you, and yet I’m getting a very disturbing vibration.”
    “Old motors make odd noises.” Thane smirked. “When was the last time you had your engine tuned up?”
    Polly looked at Thane with contempt. “As a matter of fact, I get serviced regularly.”
    “Okeydoke. Let’s call it a day,” Richard declared. “Be sure to review the rules of the show and your individual responsibilities before coming to rehearsal on Friday. And it’s important that you
not
become friendly with the contestants. We don’t want a Paula Abdul situation on this show. At least, not until we need tabloid publicity.”
    With that, the meeting was adjourned, and Polly reached for one of Brian Smith’s double fudge brownies. “I need something to take away the slimy taste of that annoying Thane person,” she said with her mouth full. “May I have three?” she asked Brian. “My herd over there”—she pointed to Tim and Placenta—”will do to me what Jewell Jones did to her poor granny if I don’t put something sweet in their