File M For Murder

“You know my work.” The playwright crossed his arms over his chest and returned Laura’s fierce gaze. “I don’t write about normal people. Normal is boring. Nobody goes to the theater to see normal.”

“No, they don’t,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t expect an artist to behave like a decent human being who treats others with respect outside the theater.”

“Mind if I quote you on that?” Lawton sneered at me. He turned back to Laura. “What do you think of the revised first act?”

Laura’s nostrils flared. “You just e-mailed it to me this morning. I haven’t had time even to open the file. I do have other things to do, like prepare for the classes I’ll be teaching in less than a week.”

Lawton grimaced. “You need to read it soon, because I have to give it to the workshop group in a couple of days.” He brightened. “Tell you what, have dinner with me tonight, and we can read it together. I’ll even cook.”

“You don’t cook that well.” Laura’s deadpan made me want to laugh. “I have other plans for tonight.”

“You’re not dating that fairy who teaches set design, are you?” Lawton glowered.

“It’s none of your business whom I spend my time with, straight or not. Besides, how could you have time for me when the love of your life is in town?” Laura treated him to a sweet smile.

Lawton’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “Crap. Don’t tell me that loony-tune Damitra is here.” He let out a stream of profanity that would have done the proverbial sailor proud.

I didn’t see any point in a protest at his vulgarity. The man had the hide of five elephants. No, make that five mammoths.

Laura laughed at him. “You’ll be too busy hiding from her to pester me, or anyone else for that matter. You two deserve each other.”

Lawton stood suddenly, sending his chair skidding backwards. “Don’t jerk me around, Laura. Remember who got you the job here.” He stared down at my daughter for a moment. “And who has connections in Hollywood that can either help or destroy your career.” He stalked away.

Laura was so furious she couldn’t speak. I watched her struggle to find the words to respond, but by now Lawton was too far away.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, sweetheart. He’s an arrogant jackass. It’s all big talk.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not. He’s really well connected in LA. One word from him in certain ears, and I might as well leave the business.” Laura banged the table with both fists. “I swear, I’d like to push him in front of a big truck.”

EIGHT

Two weeks sped by. Laura, increasingly anxious over preparations for her classes, spent most of her time holed up in her room or in her campus office. When I did manage to catch her long enough for a conversation, she alternated between excitement and dread. Not unlike her general state before opening night of all her high school and college performances, I recalled.

She made no mention of either Connor Lawton or Damitra Vane during those brief talks. I wasn’t sure whether she was hiding things from me, or whether my plea to Kanesha Berry for semiofficial intimidation paid off.

I’d finally caught up with the elusive chief deputy midweek. She gave no reason for taking so long to return my calls, and I didn’t ask. I knew better. Instead I explained the situation and asked her to do what she could to keep the conflict from escalating. She said she’d talk to Connor and Damitra, and with that I had to be content.

This morning, the second Monday of the semester, Laura, Diesel, and I breakfasted together. The rest of the household—Sean, Stewart, Dante, and Justin—had yet to put in an appearance. My housekeeper, Azalea Berry, stood at the stove, and the odor of hotcakes and bacon perfumed the air.

Diesel sat by my chair, nose aquiver, hoping for tidbits. He was as fond of pancakes and bacon as I was. I tried to keep the human food to a minimum, but that adorable face with its imploring eyes was difficult to resist. Only Azalea remained immune from such appeals.

Laura sipped at her coffee. “Would you like to come and watch us workshopping the play, Dad?”

“I’d love to.” I added half-and-half to my cup, along with a couple of packets of artificial sweetener. “I’ve never seen a play being workshopped before. Are you sure it will be all right?” I didn’t want any hassle from the playwright. The less I interacted with him directly, the better.

“It’ll be fine.” Laura smiled. “Connor won’t even notice you’re there. He’ll be totally focused on the stage and the actors.”

“Okay, then.” I leaned back as Azalea set plates in front of Laura and me. “Thank you.”

Azalea nodded and stood back to watch as Laura and I tucked into the pancakes.

“Mmmmm.” Laura chewed with an ecstatic expression. “Azalea, these pancakes are like heaven in my mouth.”

Azalea favored Laura with a smile. She had a tender spot for my daughter. “Thank you, Miss Laura. You eat on up, now. You been working too much, and you losing some weight, no matter how I try to feed you good.”