Final Curtain Read Online Free PDF Page A

at the star.
    “She’s Polly Pepper, and if you don’t know that you should be clutching the halter of a guide dog,” Tim snapped, as he elbowed his way through the assembled cast. “She’s the star of this show, and a living legend for that matter. And who are you ?”
    “I’ll ask the questions,” the detective responded, and then turned to Polly. He softened his approach. “I’m sorry, Miss Pepper, I didn’t recognize you. I used to be a big fan. When I was a kid, I mean. Let me rephrase that. I don’t have time to watch television or keep up with Hollywood news anymore.”
    Polly smiled warmly and held out her hand. “Of course you don’t. There are some jobs that people think are more important than showbiz. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Detective…?”
    “Collins. Wayne Collins.”
    “Detective Collins, this is my son, Tim, and our maid, Placenta.” Polly pointed to each and then began introducing the rest of the assembled cast. “And as you may know we’re putting on a stage musical. That’s our darling director behind the tape barrier.” She pointed to Karen. “She’s unexpectedly turned up brutally murdered.”
    “Murder hasn’t been established,” Detective Collins quickly pointed out.
    “If it looks like a duck, and no longer quacks,” Polly scoffed.
    “What were you saying about something you didn’t see being potentially important?” Detective Collins continued.
    Polly explained that although the other cast members claimed that actress Sharon Fletcher had never arrived for the morning rehearsal, she had definitely been at the theater that morning. “Tim and Placenta and I saw her car in the lot. Along with the body. I mean Karen Richards. Our obnoxious artistic director, Gerold Goss’s car was here too, but none of them ever showed up for rehearsal. Karen obviously had a good excuse.”
    “Which one of you actually found the body?” The detective’s tone was at once curious and accusatory.
    “We all did, the entire cast. All at the same time.”
    In that moment Gerold Goss blustered onto the stage demanding to know what was going on and why he had to identify himself before being allowed past a guard at the door to his own theater. He looked at Polly. “Now what have you done?”
    “The police are here because someone let Karen have their Emmy Award—buried in her pretty head,” she said matter-of-factly.
    Detective Collins interrupted. “We haven’t established the scenario.”
    Polly folded her arms across her chest and pointed to the scene of the crime. “Body. Emmy. Blood. Scenario established.” She turned back to Gerold. “Where were you when her lights went out? So to speak.”
    Gerold put his hands on the back of a folding chair to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked in a small voice as he sat down. “Who did this to Karen? Was it robbery?”
    Polly placed her hand on his meaty shoulder. “Robbery? No,” she said.
    Again Detective Collins stepped in to explain that motive had not been established. Polly again faced the man. “How many hoods do you know who run around with sacred acting awards, let alone leave them at the scene, when they commit robberies?”
    “Nothing in Hollywood surprises me anymore,” the detective said.
    “This is hard for all of us to accept,” Polly sighed, returning her attention to Gerold. “We’re now a show without a director, a ship without a captain. Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around the theater this morning?”
    Detective Collins reiterated, “I’ll ask the questions.” He waited a beat and then said, “Did you see anything out of the ordinary here this morning?”
    Gerold looked confused. “I just got here.”
    “Your car was parked in the lot when we arrived at eight twenty-five .” Polly enunciated the time as clearly as if she were doing speech exercises: How. Now. Brown. Cow .
    “Yeah, I drove in at around eight, then went for my daily walk. Cardio. I never actually came into the