Soap Opera Slaughters Read Online Free PDF Page B

accepted it without thanks. A good ten minutes elapsed, and neither of us said a word to the other. Once or twice our eyes met, only to slide away to some unimportant object or spot on the wall. I felt like having out the Harry business, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring it up during the deep freeze. Hilary just might hire someone else out of spite.
    Lara finally reemerged from the bedroom.
    “Well,” Hilary asked, “did you get through?”
    The actress nodded, passing a hand across her forehead. There were temporary creases there that the news of Niven’s death had brought. She looked a little pale and in need of a friend. I rose and steered her to the sofa.
    “What’s that?” Lara asked, indicating our half-empty glasses.
    “Bombay martinis. Suitable?”
    “Thanks, Gene.” Her voice was a little hoarse. I fought the urge to put my arm around her shoulder. I wasn’t sure if the impulse stemmed from a desire to comfort her or rile Hilary.
    I contented myself with mixing another drink and closing Lara’s fingers around the glass before sitting down beside her.
    She took a long, numbing swallow. Then she leaned back, eyes closed, and spoke. “I have to be on the set an hour earlier tomorrow morning. It’s going to be hell till they hire a new head writer.”
    “But aren’t you three weeks ahead on tape, like you said at the mall?” I asked. “Won’t that be enough to take up the slack?”
    “To replace Ed? No way. If a writer’s good enough to be a head writer, he’s already working.” Draining her glass, she requested a refill. While I mixed another, Lara mused. “We’ve got about five weeks’ grace. Besides fifteen shows already recorded and the five to be taped this week, the office will be copying and distributing next week’s scripts to the cast starting late tomorrow or Tuesday. Beyond that, Ed may have given Tommy one or two episode synopses to work on, but production—”
    “Tommy?” Hilary interrupted. “The snotty twerp?”
    “Uh-huh. Tommy Franklin, l’enfant terrible— literally—of the midday mellers. He’s our only episode writer now. Ed used to do two thirds of the dailies himself.” As she spoke, Lara absently smoothed and resmoothed the green tweed of her skirt over her crossed left leg. It was almost a caress.
    “Maybe they’ll promote Franklin to head writer?” I said.
    “Tommy? Not bloody likely. Ames’ll probably have to ask him to rough out a few synopses from what’s left of Ed’s ‘Bible,’ but that’ll be strictly stopgap. Ames can’t stand Tommy. He’d never willingly hire him.”
    “Sure about that?” Hilary asked.
    “Mm-hmm. For one thing, Florence can’t stand Tommy, either. If there was ever any question of it, she’d find a way to put a stop to it. She has little tidbits on everyone, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use them if her part was threatened.”
    “Is that how she’d equate Franklin becoming head writer?” I asked.
    “Oh, yes. He’d love to do her in, and she knows it.”
    The conversation lagged. Hilary fished the olive from her glass. Holding it between index finger and thumb, she put it to her lips and sucked out the pimiento, a habit of hers that drives me crazy. The look she gave me then informed me she was well aware of it, and tant pis.
    She turned to Lara. “You realize your early call tomorrow may have been forced on Ames by the police? You might have to answer a lot of questions.”
    “Oh, God.” A long pause. “Well, I can’t tell them very much, can I? I was out of town with you.”
    “True.” Hilary, apparently determined to get on my nerves, repeatedly tapped her forefinger against the rim of her empty glass, each time producing a hollow ping. “True. But you can’t avoid talking about Ed and Florence.”
    “I suppose not” Lara’s smile was rueful “Now that Ed’s gone, I’m practically the only one left Flo has to talk to.”
    Hilary did not reply.
    Again leaning her head upon the sofa, Lara