The Body in the Cast Read Online Free PDF Page B

couch, and walls that must have been newly painted, since the smell of the stark white paint filled the air. The only thing hanging on them so far was a large calendar. He had a window, though, and a basket of fruit.
    Her mother had been the one who was hot to do the movie and was being totally spastic about how lucky Caresse was to work with Maxwell Reed. Caresse herself wasn’t so sure about the project. To begin with, the script sucked, a real downer. She’d even tried reading the book but couldn’t get past the first page. Her taste in literature ran more to Sweet Valley High, but she knew it wouldn’t make a major motion picture. She tried to quell the feeling that accepting this role might not have been
the best career move by concentrating on the fact that she would be acting with big names for a big name. Caresse looked over at her mother, who was gazing at the director with open adoration. Caresse felt sorry for her. She needed a man. Caresse wouldn’t be surprised if the last time Jacqueline had had sex was when she’d conceived her daughter—with whom, Caresse didn’t know. It was the one thing Mom would never discuss.
    But definitely Jacqueline wasn’t getting any. Not that Caresse was anxious for some old fart to enter their lives and start telling her what to do. She’d trained her mother to know her place, and truthfully, Mom didn’t really understand the Business.
    Enough was enough. Caresse Carroll turned on her famous smile, tossed her shining hair away from her face, and interrupted Max’s convoluted explanation. “Don’t worry, Mr. Reed, I know all this stuff. See you in March.”
    â€œCall me Max,” he replied, and the meeting came to an end.
    Evelyn had not said a word—not even good-bye.

Chapter Two

    Crime is for the iron-nerved …

    Until the call went out for extras, Aleford wasn’t sure what it thought about having all these movie people around. There was some surprise at finding neighbors who had affected an attitude of only mild interest now camped out so as to be first in line. But this place had been resolutely claimed by one of the most uninterested of all, Millicent Revere McKinley.
    â€œMaybe she needs the money. The pay is astonishing,” related Pix, who had rushed to Have Faith’s kitchens to report the news.
    â€œSure, like Imelda needed shoes,” Faith retorted. “She just wants to be where the action is, like most of the rest of Aleford, and the greater Boston area, from what I hear.”
    â€œWell, how often does a movie get made in our own backyards? I’d try out myself, except I get stage fright painting scenery.”
    â€œWhy don’t you reconsider my offer? Then you’d be on the set every day behind the scenes.”

    â€œBut, Faith, how could I possibly work for you? You know what I’m like in the kitchen.”
    Pix’s family was used to having emergency microwaved frozen dinners whenever something inexplicable happened to the tuna-noodle or hamburger casseroles that composed the normal Miller bill of fare.
    â€œI keep telling you. You wouldn’t have to do any cooking. In fact, I wouldn’t let you do any cooking. I have other people to help me, most especially Niki.” She waved toward her assistant, who was covering a stack of paper-thin sheets of phyllo dough with a damp towel to keep them from drying out while she spread melted butter lavishly over the one in front of her. “What I need you for is that steel-trap mind of yours—bookkeeping, ordering, counting forks and napkins.”
    Pix’s face was contorted by a mixture of emotions: Could she? Should she? Would she? She fidgeted about on her long, shapely legs. Pix was an attractive woman with short brown hair, but she tended to downplay her natural gifts with drooping skirts and ancient pullovers.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she promised.
    â€œNo,” Faith said