Pie A La Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

to go to UCLA, but she’s not one of those empty-headed girls who think they can become stars without bothering to learn the craft.”
    I wondered if he was trying to convince me or himself.
    Before I had a chance to respond, he said, “I better go back in and check on Celeste. Make sure nobody’s coming on to her.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “I promise we’ll see each other soon, but you understand that I’ve got to spend as much time as I can right now with my daughter?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Until she settles in and learns her way around LA. For one thing, I’ve had to teach her how to drive on our side of the road—she got her driver’s license in England.”
    “It’s all right. Really. I agree that you need to get to know each other.”
    “I love you,” he said, and disconnected.
    “Back at you,” I said to the dead line.

5

    On Friday Liddy arrived at my house at noon. Half a minute later, Nicholas drove up with Celeste in the four-door Maserati he’d bought at an FBI confiscation auction.
    Celeste looked spectacular in a short brown leather skirt, knee-high brown leather boots, and a sleeveless vest that looked as though it was made out of red fox fur, worn over a cream silk shirt. I hoped the fur was faux—there are some that look amazingly real—but I hadn’t known her long enough to ask, nor to share my negative feelings about wearing real fur south of the Arctic Circle.
    As always, Liddy resembled a fashion magazine cover, today in an authentic navy blue Chanel suit, with the also authentic shoes and classic bag.
    For my part, I’d put on my best skirt suit: an apple red lightweight wool that I’d bought when Neiman Marcus had one of its rare sales. The suit didn’t have a famous label inside, unless you counted Neiman Marcus, but Liddy had approved of the color and cut. I admit that I did feel pretty. The first time Nicholas saw me wear it, he said I reminded him of Sister Sarah, the Salvation Army heroine in Guys and Dolls , and that the outfit gave him the urge to undo my buttons. I had batted his hands away and told him to wait until after dinner.
    I didn’t expect any such romantic exchange today. When he got out of the car to follow Celeste up my front walk, he addressed all three of us collectively.
    “You look gorgeous,” he said. “Who’s driving?”
    Liddy raised her hand with the keys to the Range Rover in it. “I am.”
    “I’ve got to go to the paper for a while. After the lunch, do you mind taking Celeste back to my place?”
    “Not at all.”
    He said to Celeste, “I’ll try to get home before you do, but if not, you’ve got a key and your phone and all my numbers?”
    “Yes, I do, Daddy. Don’t worry about me.” She gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
    Nicholas told us to have fun. With some reluctance, he gave us a good-bye salute and got back into the vehicle I called his silver Batmobile.
    Celeste watched him drive away. “He’s going to buy me a car tomorrow. I need one for going to auditions.”
    Surprised, I asked, “Oh? Have you met someone in the business?”
    “Not yet,” she said.
    Behind Celeste’s back, Liddy rolled her eyes. “Then we’d better get going,” she said.
    This year’s Hollywood Film Society luncheon was being held in the main ballroom of one of the most glamorous hotels in Southern California, the Olympia Grand, on Wilshire Boulevard, in Westwood. Secretly, I hoped that this location wasn’t a bad omen, because the last time I’d been in the ballroom, a few months ago, it had been the scene of a murder.
    Liddy turned off Wilshire Boulevard and steered her Rover into the driveway leading to the hotel’s entrance. A few chauffeured Town Cars—Liddy called them “daytime limos”—and a stream of expensive private vehicles were ahead of us, but the hotel’s parking staff was so efficient that we had to wait only a few minutes before she handed her car over to one of the valets.
    A doorman in a dark green uniform coat stood