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gave the detective a long quizzical stare. “If you know it’s not at Pepper Plantation, then you know exactly where my cell phone is. So why don’t you tell me ?”
    “Just take a guess, ma’am. Where were you this morning between eight and eight thirty?”
    “What’s going on? I’ve already told you that I was here in bed, sick with this cold. So I made a mistake when I said I used my cell. That doesn’t make me a killer.”
    “What makes you think that Ms. Richards was killed?” Collins asked.
    Sharon swallowed hard. “I just presumed…”
    “At the moment, Ms. Fletcher, your cell is in a plastic bag down at the crime lab,” Collins said. “It’s evidence in this case.”
    “Evidence?” Sharon said.
    “Miss Fletcher, your cell phone was found next to the body of Ms. Richards. I believe that you did speak with the deceased this morning at seven. In the outgoing log of her cell, there was a call to your cell number. But it appears that you were also at the theatre around the time of her death. Eyewitnesses place you there at around eight twenty-five.”
    “Wait a minute!” Sharon begged. “The fact that my cell phone was at the theater means nothing! I must have left it there yesterday.”
    “We also have another bit of evidence, Miss Fletcher.”
    Sharon slumped into her chair. “My Emmy,” she said.
    “It has blood all over it,” Collins said. “When the lab results come back, I’m confident that it will match the victim’s blood type. Miss Fletcher,” Detective Collins said, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Karen Richards.”

Chapter 5
    G ossip in Hollywood travels faster than an Internet search for “Dead wives of Robert Blake.” Polly and Tim and Placenta were stunned when they received a text message on Tim’s cell phone from the precocious little kid with the role of young Patrick in the show. They read the news of the arrest of Sharon Fletcher and collectively gasped in disbelief. The fact that Sharon was a soap star made the arrest the main headline for every media outlet around the globe. From E.T. to Anderson Cooper 360 to the Huffington Post, the story was big news, and gave Polly Pepper and the Galaxy Theatre’s forthcoming production of Mame more publicity than Tour de France cyclists shooting up with prohibited testosterone. The notoriety made Gerold Goss equal parts ecstatic and smug. The day after Sharon Fletcher’s arrest, Gerold called for a full cast meeting—in lieu of a much-needed rehearsal.
    Polly and her cast, minus the accused murderer, assembled onstage at 9:00 A.M . While waiting for their artistic director to arrive, each visited the site where Karen’s body had been discovered. They all clucked clichés about the good dying young, and the theater having lost a shining beacon. Finally at nine fifteen, a stern and self-satisfied-looking Gerold Goss waddled onto the stage holding a black leather notebook. He took Karen’s reserved seat at the head of the long reading table.
    Silence filled the theater as the imposing Goss, wearing an extra-large Hawaiian shirt that did nothing to conceal his girth, and revealed thick hairy arms and tufts of dark fur climbing from his chest up to his throat, silently stared into the eyes of each cast member. After a particularly long look at Polly he announced, “What’s done is done. There’s no time to waste on the past. Our show opens in ten days and I’m taking over as director. It’s time to get comfortable with being uncomfortable!” He cleared his throat. “I’m making a few casting changes.”
    The assembled group began to murmur. Gerold continued. “I’m not the callow and spineless Karen Richards. I didn’t agree with a number of her casting choices and now I have the authority to mold my cast into a Broadway-caliber production of Mame .”
    Polly raised her hand and before being granted the floor she said, “With all due respect, Mr. Goss, I haven’t kept up with second-tier