“We don’t know about Dirk,” Bill replied. “Do we
have proof?”
On the sofa, Joe stretched out his legs. “Only the
coke dust my bride discovered in the downstairs powder room and traces I noticed in the bathroom Angela
and Dirk used after they commandeered Bruno’s room
last night.”
“But that could have been only Angela,” Bill
pointed out.
“What about the bathroom Angela and Ellie shared
the first night?” Judith inquired of Joe. “Did you notice
anything in there?”
Joe shook his head. “It could have been cleaned up,
of course.”
Judith persisted. “The night that Dirk roomed with
Ben, they had access to Bruno’s bathroom, because it’s
the largest and it’s shared by Rooms Three and Four.”
“Nothing there, either,” Joe responded. “Angela
may not have wanted to haul out her stash while she
was sharing a room with Ellie. They don’t like each
other much. Ellie might have lorded it over Angela
somehow. Haven’t we figured that Angela used the
bathroom on this floor to do coke?”
“That’s right,” Judith allowed.
“What else?” Bill asked, impatient with the latest
digression. “We’re talking image and reputation here,
remember.”
“Ellie’s too young to have much of a past,” Judith
noted.
“Chips,” Renie declared, “is too good to be true.”
“Do writers care what people think of them?” Joe
remarked. “Dade, at least, gives off I-don’t-give-adamn signals.”
“All writers are weird,” Renie said. “That’s why
they’re so difficult to deal with.”
Judith was staring at Renie. “Why do you think
Chips is too good to be true?”
Renie shrugged. “Isn’t he always telling you those
endearing stories about his wholesome youth in the
Midwest? Mother and apple pie—literally.”
“It was chicken pot pie,” Judith said, but Renie’s
comment caused her to wonder. “Could we check him
out on the Internet?”
“Probably,” Renie replied.
He pointed to the circle that represented Dirk Farrar.
“The worst thing about Dirk—from an image standpoint—would be to find out he was gay. He’s Mr.
Macho on the screen.”
“Can’t we rule that out?” Joe inquired. “He was
banging Angela.”
