The Homewreckers(119)

Jada crossed her long, slender legs. “The schoolteacher, Lanier Ragan, vanished on a stormy night seventeen years ago, leaving behind a grieving husband and three-year-old daughter. But last week her tomb was discovered—in the cavity of a long-disused septic tank pit at the Homewreckers house, and the mystery deepened.”

She turned to Sorrels, seated on the director’s chair next to hers. “Antonio, the making of this new HPTV show has more twists and turns than one of those winding staircases in one of Savannah’s famed historic mansions.”

“So it seems,” Sorrels replied.

“What a stiff,” Mo mumbled to himself. “And whoever scripts this clichéd pile of crap should be fired.”

“The murder has rocked the Homewreckers shoot, where insiders say that Trae and Hattie, who’ve become romantically involved during the shooting of the show, have recently quarreled over the design direction on the home renovations,” Jada said.

“Insiders tell me that the discovery of the body is only the latest in a series of incidents that have caused turmoil on the Tybee Island set. Local authorities have cited Hattie Kavanaugh’s company for numerous building code and noise ordinance violations, and a fire of suspicious origin did extensive damage to the hundred-year-old historic beach house. Law enforcement authorities are calling the fire arson.”

“Wow, a fire, a dead body, what next?” Sorrels said, trying to look concerned but only managing to look slightly constipated.

“Well … our sources tell me that there is significant friction between Trae Bartholomew and the show’s creator slash producer, Mauricio Lopez, whose most recent HPTV series, Killer Garages, was canceled after one disastrous season.”

“Disastrous?” Mo yelped. “Who’s feeding this bullshit to these two?”

A petite brunette, who was sitting two barstools down, looked at him and just as quickly looked away. “Sorry,” Mo muttered. Although he wasn’t.

“In the meantime, network execs are reportedly alarmed by recent revelations concerning Hattie Kavanaugh’s family. Headline Hollywood has learned, exclusively, that her father, Woodrow Bowers, once a prominent Savannah banker, was convicted in 2002 of embezzling millions from a local nonprofit which he chaired at the time.”

“Oh wow,” Sorrels said.

Jada crossed and recrossed her legs again. “At trial, Bowers admitted that he stole from the charity, money designated for sick children and homeless families, to fund expensive vacations and buy a condo for his mistress, who worked at the same bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mo exclaimed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the brunette take her umbrella drink and move to a table near the window.

“Hmm,” Antonio Sorrels said. “What’s the network have to say about this news?”

“I called the VP of HPTV programming, Rebecca Sanzone, earlier today, and she declined to comment specifically on the revelations about Hattie Kavanaugh, but we do know that cast members on shows like The Homewreckers are routinely asked to sign what’s called a morals clause, which would allow the network to cancel their contract for cause if the personality was accused of behavior that would cause shame or embarrassment to the network,” Jada said.

“Rebecca Sanzone said she was unaware of Hattie Kavanaugh’s family history,” Jada went on. “Antonio, we’ll be following this story as it develops.”

“There is no story,” Mo growled. He looked down to see that his dinner, a rare cheeseburger and garlic-sprinkled pommes frites, had materialized while he was engrossed in watching Headline Hollywood. He pushed the plate away and summoned for his check.





63

Kiss and Tell




Hattie was dozing when Ribsy began barking. She’d arrived home shortly after nine, sweaty and exhausted, and after showering and dining on a bag of microwaved popcorn, she’d stretched out on the sofa, intending to continue reading Void Moon.

But now Ribsy was barking, so she staggered to the door and snapped on the front porch light. She saw Mo Lopez bounding up the front steps.

She unlocked and opened the door, poking her head out. “Mo? Is something wrong? Did something else happen at the house?”

“Not at the house,” he said. “Can I come in for a minute?”

Hattie glanced down at herself. She was dressed in a tank top and a loose-fitting pair of shorty pajama bottoms, and her hair was knotted on top of her head.

“Uh, yeah. Let me just grab a bathrobe.”

Ribsy followed Mo to the armchair opposite the sofa, and when Mo sat down, he thrust his snout into Mo’s crotch.

“Ribsy, no!” Hattie said, tying the belt of her robe as she emerged from the bedroom.

Mo gently pushed the dog’s nose away, distracting him with an ear scratch.

Hattie sank down onto the sofa, her legs curled beneath her. “What’s up? It’s kind of late for a social call, isn’t it?”

“Sorry,” Mo said. “It’s, uh, kind of important. Did you watch television tonight?”

“God, no. I only got home about an hour ago. Why? What was on?”

Mo cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. Remember that reporter from Headline Hollywood?”

“Jada whatever? What about her? Did she run another story about us?”