Dial Emmy for Murder Read Free Page B

don’t trip.” I squeezed a couple hundreds into his hand. He opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t even think about it!”
    He kissed my cheeks and grabbed his stuff. “Thanks for the hair dryer!” he yelled as he headed down the walk.
    Connie and I shuffled out toward the limo, being careful not to drag anything or scuff our shoes. I love limos. They always make you feel festive.
    We got in the car. I smiled. “This is gonna be fun, huh? I’m excited. Like George said, it’s just one big party!” Yeah, right. One big murder party.

Chapter 4
    I don’t mind admitting I was freaked out, but it was nothing compared to the chicken-without-a-head act they were doing backstage and in the control room. The director was screaming at somebody, anybody, to drop the curtain.
    I was hustled off the stage and then bumped and jostled as people started running around.
    “Are you all right?”
    I turned. Dave Crane’s assistant, Kenny, was eye ing me solicitously.
    “Yes, I—I think I am,” I said. I looked down at my hands, which had blood on them. They were shaking. I tried to stop it by wringing them but that just flung the drops around. Finally I started rubbing my hands together so it wasn’t so noticeable. Maybe I wasn’t doing so great after all. In the end I just held them out, trying to keep the blood as far away from my gown as possible.
    “Why don’t you go and wash up?” He seemed to have a hard time looking me in the eye.
    “Yeah, I will in a minute.” I stared back at the center of the stage.
    Somebody had succeeded in lowering the curtain, but now people were just standing around, staring at poor Jackson’s body, trying to avoid stepping in any blood. At least they were smart enough not to try to lower him all the way.
    Special security had been hired for the awards, and they took charge, locking the place down, not allowing anyone to leave. The police arrived quickly, flooding the auditorium with uniforms. People were getting antsy. The self-important were demanding to be released. The TV cameras had been turned off; the station must have put on some other programming.
    Connie had come backstage to stay with me. I think it was more for her own sake than for mine, though.
    “I don’t know how you can stand that,” she said when she saw me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “You look like something out of one of your early horror movies. You have blood on your forehead,” she said, pointing, “and in your hair. Uh-oh. It looks like that borrowed bracelet got it, too.”
    I looked down at my wrist, and sure enough, the cuff had drops of blood on it.
    “I’m sure that’s the last thing the jewelry store thought would happen,” Connie said.
    “Have you seen Mara?” I asked. “I have to get this stuff back to her ASAP.” My eyes were darting all over. While looking around for Mara, I realized this place was a logistical nightmare!
    “I hope the cops are blocking off the rear exits. There are a lot of ways someone could get out of here.” I looked up at the ceiling of the auditorium. “Not to mention, I’m sure there are trapdoors up there leading to the roof.”
    Connie stared at me.
    “What?”
    “Who the hell are you, anyway? What is it about murder that brings out your Nancy fucking Drew?”
    I didn’t tell her that I was trying not to scream, which had been my first instinct when I saw Jackson’s body. My whole body felt tense as I continued to force that scream back down my throat.
    Uniformed police started to gather near Jackson’s body.
    Connie had a tight hold on my arm.
    “Connie, you’re cutting off my circulation,” I told her, freeing my arm from her clutches.
    “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I’m not as hard-boiled as you. All this blood is making me queasy.”
    I took offense to that. “I’m not hard-boiled, Connie. I feel awful about what’s happened to Jackson. I can’t even comprehend it. . . .”
    “Yeah . . . whatever. This is some fuckin’ tragedy, very sad.” She