who was anybody and was well thought of — professionally, at least. I haven't met anybody yet who makes any pretense of having liked him.'
“But what kind of mistake could Butch have made that would be that important? He was an apprentice, just a glorified gofer, it seemed to me. Learning the ropes from the bottom up by fetching and carrying.”
Mel gestured toward the window and the scene beyond. 'What kind of mistake? I'd think there'd be about a hundred you could make out there. Just look at all those electrical wires, for one thing. Those look like a disaster waiting to happen.'
“But Jake and Butch had nothing to do with that part of it, did they?' Jane asked. 'What could you do wrong with a prop that would matter?'
“I'm just speculating, Jane. It's my job,' Mel said tightly.
“I know. I'm sorry. But Mel, you saw Butch at my kitchen table. Poor kid was about to faint at the sight of his own blood. Can you really imagine him doing something awful like that to somebody else?”
Mel shrugged. 'Maybe that's what he was really faint about. Nobody saw his 'accident' with the handrail. We only have his word.”
Shelley had been listening silently. Now she spoke. 'Mel, tell us more about Jake's death. Where did he die? Was there a struggle? Did it take a lot of strength?'
“It doesn't look like it took strength as much as luck to slip the knife right between the ribs,' Mel said. 'He was apparently inside the props trailer, bent over slightly, looking into a crate. The blow was probably delivered downward, almost certainly by a right-handed assailant. The blade almost certainly pierced the back of his heart. At least that's what it all looked like at the scene. The lab work may show something else, but I doubt it.'
“So anybody could have done it,' Shelley said.
“Anybody at all,' Mel agreed. 'It was easy and clean. No blood spatters to speak of. No struggle. There was a cleaning rag with blood on it on the ground near the handrail, suggesting that the assailant probably wiped the fingerprints off the knife handle and maybe held it with the rag to jam it into the underside of the railing.'
“I can't picture what you're talking about. . this railing,' Jane said.
Mel grabbed a newspaper off the end table and sketched. 'The stair rail itself is just a thin piece of metal running along the top of the uprights. There's an upside-down U-shaped piece that fits over it to make a smooth handhold. But the underneath part of the U is open. And about the width of the knife handle.'
“But who would notice that?' Jane asked.
“Somebody who was familiar with the trailer,' Mel said. 'Like Butch. But to be fair, anybody might have noticed. If you were going up the steps, holding the knife in your right hand and also steadying yourself with the rail, you might be aware that your fingers were curling into a place about the size of the knife.'
“Why did the knife have to be hidden?' Shelley mused. 'I suppose just because the murderer didn't want to be seen carrying it around. But why not just drop it in the truck?”
Mel shrugged. 'I have no idea.'
“Have you interviewed Butch?' Jane asked, wondering why she was feeling so protective of the boy. She supposed it was because she'd seen an intrinsic gentleness and vulnerability in him. Or perhaps after Mike's bad experience earlier in the day, her maternal instincts were just working overtime.
“Not yet. He's really pretty much of a mess. Scared to death of the responsibility that's fallen on him, he says.'
“What responsibility?' Shelley asked.
“Apparently they only have a few days' filming left and the producers sent word that they don't want to bring in a new property master at such a late date. They want Butch to take over and see it through.'
“—thereby making or breaking his reputation as a skilled expert in his own right,' Jane finished for him. 'Which might have been a motive. I see it in theory, but I don't believe it for a minute. If you'd seen how nice he was to—'
“—your cats. Yes, I know. Speaking of which, isn't that one of them?”
Mel pointed out the window where several people were trying to catch Meow and remove her from the craft service table, where she was browsing through the food.
'That explains the mess in your kitchen,' Shelley said when Jane came back inside with a cat under each arm. She'd carried them through the kitchen where Mel was using the phone and the other long-suffering police officer was still interviewing cast and crew members.
“What does?' Jane dropped the cats and they sat looking up at her expectantly. 'As if I've ever fed them in the living room,' Jane groused.
“The knife,' Shelley said. 'Somebody needed a weapon that wouldn't be missed immediately, so they trashed your kitchen in the hopes that you wouldn't notice it was gone. Which is exactly what happened.'
“Whoever it was obviously has no idea of my housekeeping,' Jane said. 'Even if I had missed the knife, I wouldn't question it. I lose things all the time. And the kids take them for projects.' She paused, thinking out just how to express a thought that was troubling her. 'Shelley, it makes me furious that somebody 'invaded' my house at all, but absolutely livid that they did it in order to get a weapon to kill somebody with. I'm outraged at being made a part of this, even a small part.'
“But you aren't a part of it. The knife was just an object that happened to be in your house.'
“I know that, but I'm still angry. And it's screwed up my whole week. I was all prepared to be the guilty mother and cook a series of extraordinary dinners for my children before going off on my weekend of sin.”
Shelley grinned. 'I hope this weekend can live up to your expectations.'
“But I can't even cook now! The kitchen is full of police.'
“That's fine,' Shelley said. 'Paul's gone and I was going to get Kentucky Fried for my kids. We can just get more and all eat it at my house.'
“I don't know about that. Katie's social studies class watched a horrible documentary about chicken processing and she doesn't consider them politically correct. The only kind she'll eat is 'free range.' That sounds to me like some tough old bird you'd run over in Arizona. I didn't mind veal going out of style; I could never afford it anyway, but I hate losing chicken.'
“Then how about carryout Chinese? Nobody can tell what's in Chinese food.'
“Can I have a whole order of crab Rangoon to myself?'
“To eat, or to apply directly to your thighs?' 'Are we having Chinese tonight?' Mike said from the doorway.
“Mike! I didn't hear you come in,' Jane said as Mike and his younger brother Todd came into the living room and took up positions peering out the back window.
Todd was making repressed jabbing motions. 'We're practicing being burglars,' Todd said. 'What are they doing out there?'
“I have no idea,' Jane admitted. 'How was the movie you went to?”
She regretted having asked this, as she was treated to a blow-by-blow description of the martial artsfilm they'd seen. Todd enthusiastically demonstrated some of the better kicks and punches, almost knocking over her best lamp. Willard loved the performance, but the cats disappeared in the face of the violence and even Shelley tiptoed away, mouthing 'One hour' as she went.
“It was great, Mom!' Todd finished up. 'Is that the kind of movie they're making in the backyard?' 'No! Certainly not.'
“I'm going to go call Elliot,' Todd said. As he got to the doorway, he stopped. 'Oh, yeah. Mike says you're going to New York this weekend. Could you get me some baseball cards? I'll make a list of what I want.'
“Sure,' Jane said weakly. When he was out of earshot, she said to Mike, 'Does he know I'm going with Mel?'
“Sure. I didn't know you hadn't told him yet or I wouldn't have said anything.'
“How'd he take it?'
“Fine, Mom. Don't worry.'
“And you, Mike. How are you taking it?”
Mike smiled sheepishly. 'Well, to tell the truth, I didn't much like the idea at first. My own mom, going off and shacking up with some guy. It didn't seem like a 'Mom thing.' But I didn't pay much attention to the movie this afternoon. I just sat there in the dark and thought about — about Dad and things. I guess it's pretty easy to think
