good brioche? Buy the diamond-studded bra from Victoria’s Secret?” He paused to blow a bubble with his gum, then added excitedly, “This is what America wants to know. What America deserves to know. The big question facing our nation: If you don’t care what’s on sale at the drugstore, which brand of toothpaste do you buy?”
I smiled. Only Andy could make it a matter of national urgency whether Cassie used Colgate Total or Crest Tartar Protection. But his enthusiasm was catching. I kind of wanted to know myself.
“Cassie turned you down?”
“Nope. She liked the idea. But Roger threw a fit. He said he had too much dignity to allow that kind of attention. If she wanted a rich guy with no class, she should have married Donald Trump.” Andy’s eyes twinkled. “That argument alone would have gotten me a twenty share.”
I laughed. “Do you know much about Roger?”
“We did some research on him,” Andy said. He looked toward his door, and as if on cue, Dawn Rose came in. Come to think of it, she really had taken the cue. Her cubicle was within earshot, and she’d been listening avidly from her desk.
“The background on Roger,” she said, handing him a folder. “I pulled it just in case you’d need it.”
The girl got extra points. It couldn’t be easy staying a step ahead of Andy—or even a step behind.
“Thanks.” He quickly flipped through the pages as Dawn walked out again.
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
Andy shrugged. “All that’s interesting about him is the dollar signs. He earned a fortune in investment banking, then started a hedge fund that made him seven hundred million in one year. He paid off his first wife big and they divorced amicably. From everything I see, they still say nice things about each other. He moved to LA and played the playboy for a while with starlets. Second wife, a model from Brazil, lasted two years. Had a solid prenup there and got off easy. Then Cassie.”
“Kids?”
“Two from wife number one.”
“Maybe the kids wanted to get rid of Cassie to protect the inheritance.”
Andy consulted his notes. “Teenagers. At boarding school in Switzerland.” He slapped his thigh and grinned again. “See? This Roger’s a piece of work. He would have been great TV. Who sends their kids to B.S. in Switzerland?”
“B.S. meaning boarding school?”
“B.S. meaning I wonder what this guy’s full of.” He turned a page. “Anyway, forget the inheritance motive. Their mom got the kids ironclad trust funds in the divorce.”
“Still, there’s always revenge,” I said. “If my husband dumped me for a twenty-seven-year-old, I like to think my kids would have the courtesy to kill her.”
Andy nodded. “I know you’re joking, but that’s the thing. Who’d kill Cassie? Everybody and nobody. Everybody because she was rich and made people jealous. And nobody because—” He paused. “Well, because outside of TV land, murder is serious.”
Andy put down the folder and started playing the pinball machine. Neon lights flickered and the machine bing ed. But Andy Daniels, the genius behind World’s Worst Ways to Die, turned away with a sigh. He seemed as puzzled as a kid who’s spent too much time with video games and now can’t understand why real life doesn’t have a P LAY A GAIN button.
“If you’re pissed at her and you really want to teach someone like Cassie a lesson, you plant a nasty story in the Star . You don’t—”
“Kill her,” I said, finishing his sentence.
Andy shook his head. “Geez, somebody killed her. How do you like that? On a TV show, I’ll do anything. But real life should be different.”
Andy went back to his exercise ball, this time lying across it and closing his eyes. I had the feeling I’d lost his attention for now. I turned for the door, then paused, wanting an answer to just one more question.
“How come Cassie lasted only six months with Genius Productions?” I asked.
Andy seemed to flinch but didn’t
I smiled. Only Andy could make it a matter of national urgency whether Cassie used Colgate Total or Crest Tartar Protection. But his enthusiasm was catching. I kind of wanted to know myself.
“Cassie turned you down?”
“Nope. She liked the idea. But Roger threw a fit. He said he had too much dignity to allow that kind of attention. If she wanted a rich guy with no class, she should have married Donald Trump.” Andy’s eyes twinkled. “That argument alone would have gotten me a twenty share.”
I laughed. “Do you know much about Roger?”
“We did some research on him,” Andy said. He looked toward his door, and as if on cue, Dawn Rose came in. Come to think of it, she really had taken the cue. Her cubicle was within earshot, and she’d been listening avidly from her desk.
“The background on Roger,” she said, handing him a folder. “I pulled it just in case you’d need it.”
The girl got extra points. It couldn’t be easy staying a step ahead of Andy—or even a step behind.
“Thanks.” He quickly flipped through the pages as Dawn walked out again.
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
Andy shrugged. “All that’s interesting about him is the dollar signs. He earned a fortune in investment banking, then started a hedge fund that made him seven hundred million in one year. He paid off his first wife big and they divorced amicably. From everything I see, they still say nice things about each other. He moved to LA and played the playboy for a while with starlets. Second wife, a model from Brazil, lasted two years. Had a solid prenup there and got off easy. Then Cassie.”
“Kids?”
“Two from wife number one.”
“Maybe the kids wanted to get rid of Cassie to protect the inheritance.”
Andy consulted his notes. “Teenagers. At boarding school in Switzerland.” He slapped his thigh and grinned again. “See? This Roger’s a piece of work. He would have been great TV. Who sends their kids to B.S. in Switzerland?”
“B.S. meaning boarding school?”
“B.S. meaning I wonder what this guy’s full of.” He turned a page. “Anyway, forget the inheritance motive. Their mom got the kids ironclad trust funds in the divorce.”
“Still, there’s always revenge,” I said. “If my husband dumped me for a twenty-seven-year-old, I like to think my kids would have the courtesy to kill her.”
Andy nodded. “I know you’re joking, but that’s the thing. Who’d kill Cassie? Everybody and nobody. Everybody because she was rich and made people jealous. And nobody because—” He paused. “Well, because outside of TV land, murder is serious.”
Andy put down the folder and started playing the pinball machine. Neon lights flickered and the machine bing ed. But Andy Daniels, the genius behind World’s Worst Ways to Die, turned away with a sigh. He seemed as puzzled as a kid who’s spent too much time with video games and now can’t understand why real life doesn’t have a P LAY A GAIN button.
“If you’re pissed at her and you really want to teach someone like Cassie a lesson, you plant a nasty story in the Star . You don’t—”
“Kill her,” I said, finishing his sentence.
Andy shook his head. “Geez, somebody killed her. How do you like that? On a TV show, I’ll do anything. But real life should be different.”
Andy went back to his exercise ball, this time lying across it and closing his eyes. I had the feeling I’d lost his attention for now. I turned for the door, then paused, wanting an answer to just one more question.
“How come Cassie lasted only six months with Genius Productions?” I asked.
Andy seemed to flinch but didn’t
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