Read Online Murder at the Academy Awards (R): A Red Carpet Murder Mystery by Joan Rivers, Jerrilyn Farmer - Free Book Online Page A

for God’s sake.”
    “Exactly,” Diana slurred. “She pulls that stunt right before the awards. James was livid. Says she’ll never do another picture for Interscope.”
    I recalled that Halsey had never agreed to do any pictures with Interscope, ever.
    Diana went on, “Such a publicity whore.”
    Bitch.
    I didn’t point out who, in fact, the whore was and just smiled. This town. Diana swirled away in her happy little bubble.
    My little Judith Leiber bag began to rattle and vibrate. Cell phone. On the display, a phone number with a British prefix and area code.
    My Sir Ian.
    “Hello.” I tried to cup my hand over one ear to dampen the sound of a few hundred Hollywood celebrants, but I could hear just the faintest of voices. I spied a hallway that led to the kitchen and figured I might find less crowd noise in that direction. “Hello, darling?” I tried again.
    “Maxine, my dear, can you hear me?” came the deep voice. “I’ve had a bloody time reaching you. You never think to consult the list of missed calls on your mobile. So what is a poor fellow to do but keep calling?”
    Sir Ian McBride and I had been “dating” for almost a year. While he lived in England and I traveled from coast to coast in the United States, we still managed to clock a great deal of time together. I was always booking work trips overseas, and he had many reasons to come to New York, as his business of buying gems and selling them to the world’s wealthiest jewelers kept him hopping around the globe. Although dating a man in the diamond business may sound too good to be true, our relationshipwas much more valuable than mere gifts. I’d found a man whom I not only adored but was also a terribly good friend.
    “Hello, yes, I can hear you perfectly. I’m at a party, Ian,” I said.
    “Yes, my dear. Of that I am completely aware, as is most of the world. You look marvelous, by the way. I’ve been watching you on television all morning, haven’t I?” With his clever array of live satellite feeds, my dear Ian had obviously been able to follow my movements around town from the comfort of his flat in London, where it was currently tomorrow morning. I noticed a big screen off to my left replaying a video clip of my arrival with Drew at this very party only moments before. Ian, seven thousand miles away, probably noticed it too. “I must say, Maxine, I was more than a little surprised to see you arriving at the big Vanity Fair party. Aren’t they the bastards who continually try to keep you out?”
    “In the past, yes, true…” One of the things I adored about Ian was his fabulous business savvy. A brilliant man, he told me wonderful and daring stories about trading diamonds all across Europe and Africa, and over time I had shared some of my professional victories—I hate to brag—and some of my most bitter defeats. With his businessman’s habit of keeping careful score of those who have bruised me, he hadn’t quite mastered the art of Hollywood amnesia so necessary to finesse the tricky ins and outs of doing business here. Sometimes it’s better to forget all the names on one’s enemies list. If one survives in this town for any amount of time, it can be a long list. I put on a hearty tone to my voice and said, “We’re all friends again. Everything’s fine.”
    “Max, darling.” His voice had the sound of a man who knew me too well. “Did you bash into that crazy magazine party?”
    “It’s crash, Ian. And, no. Of course not. I was asked in. What do you think I am?”
    “An American,” he laughed.
    Three waiters, all clad in dark vests and striped ties, passed by on their way to the kitchen.
    “I am just a bit worried about you, that’s all. My media people managed to arrange a live feed of Glam-TV, and I watched your show. It was all going marvelously well, my dear, but then what on earth happened with that girl, Halsey?”
    The question of the evening.
    “My God, Maxine. You’re lucky she was wearing any