CHAPTER SEVEN
“Technically, yes,” Desiree said, waving him to the both she occupied. She gestured to the counterman. “Another ham and eggs here. And coffee. A bucket of it, by his look.”
“Didn’t sleep too well,” Casey said as he approached. “Must be because I’m not used to decent beds.”
“You’ll love my place, then.” For the first time Casey realized that Desiree wasn’t alone in the booth. Then her companion turned to face him.
“Cunningham?” Casey said. “You’re Desiree’s friend?”
“I know, I know. It’s a penance,” Cunningham said. “Somehow, though, I still manage to be able to show my face at the Writer’s Club.”
“And where is it written that I can’t be friends with a writer?” Desiree grinned. “Oh, right. It’s in my contract. In fact, it’s boilerplate in every actor’s contract. No hobnobbing with the lower classes. Oh, well. What Jerry doesn’t know about my personal life won’t hurt him.”
“Speaking of personal lives and Jerry, “ Casey said, “do you think he’s the violent type, Cunningham?”
“He sure has a temper,” Cunningham said.
“I once saw him take a swing at a newspaperman,” Desiree said. “But that’s pretty much a rite of passage for men in this town.”
“So he’s not normally the sort to react violently. Yet last night he charged me like a bull, just because I joked that he’d be a better suspect in this murder than me.”
“I have to admit,” said Desiree, “that I was surprised by that.”
“You don’t really think that he did it, do you?” Cunningham asked.
“I’m just starting to ask questions,” Casey said. “I’m not ready to start thinking yet.”
“You should be a studio head,” Desiree said. “They never start thinking.”
“That’d be the life, all right,” said Cunningham. “Instead of which I have to go back to the studio and chain myself to a typewriter. Jerry’s been screaming for more scenes. I have to say, Casey, that stuff you gave me Saturday night is just swell.”
Casey groaned, but Desiree interrupted. “And we have to get out to Glendale Airport. Jerry lost a whole day yesterday, so he’s going to work us to death today, at least as long as there’s light. What are you doing today, Casey?”
“Nothing much,” he said. “Crashing a plane is pretty much it.”
“You’re kidding,” Cunningham said. “I’d love to see that. Maybe I can get away after all. What time?”
“We’re going to take the whole morning getting ready,” Casey said. “It’ll be noon at least before we do it.”
“How does this crash compare with the one you did Saturday” Desiree asked.
“It looks much worse. But I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to do it, and Mitch assures me that I might even survive. If I’m lucky.”
“It’s good that you can joke about it,” she said.
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Shut up and let’s get going. Jeff, if you don’t come out to Glendale, I’ll see that what’s left of Casey gets dropped off at your place when we finish up tonight.” Desiree put some coins on the counter, and Casey followed her out to her roadster for another break-neck drive through the countryside around Hollywood.
Next Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Chapter Six
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