it.”
“Hey, has Woody ever failed when it comes to being
helpful?” Joe asked, getting two dozen eggs out of the
fridge. Judith started to grab them from him, but he
pulled the cartons out of her reach. “I’ll fix these. I do
a better job of it.”
Judith refused to acknowledge that Joe definitely
had a way with eggs. “I’m not criticizing Woody per
se,” she asserted. “I meant that any information he
comes up with—and I’ll bet there won’t be much—
isn’t going to help us in this particular instance.”
“You don’t know that,” Joe countered. “I don’t see
why you won’t sit back and let the police and the studio’s investigators figure out what happened. They’re
pros.”
“You used to be a pro,” Judith shot back. “I thought
you still were with your private detective jobs. But you
don’t seem very involved in this whole, horrible situation.”
“That’s because I’m retired from the force,” Joe said
with obvious resentment. “I don’t have the resources
anymore. Once you’ve been a cop, you realize that
most of the time law enforcement personnel know
what they’re doing.”
Judith didn’t respond, but gave him a skeptical look.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he didn’t have faith in his
ability to work without the backup provided by a fullfledged police staff. Maybe, she thought with a pang,
he didn’t care about Hillside Manor as much as she
did. It was even possible that in retirement, he disliked
the constant parade of strangers going in and out of his
home.
The phone rang as Joe was whisking eggs, green
onions, and slivers of red pepper in a big blue bowl. Judith answered, and somewhat sheepishly wished
Woody Price good morning. Without looking at Joe,
she handed over the receiver.
“Good morning!” Eugenia Fleming’s booming
voice and majestic presence filled the kitchen.
Judith pointed to Joe, who had put one finger in his
ear. He immediately began moving down the hall and
out of hearing range.
“Sorry,” the agent apologized, speaking with less
volume. She was already dressed, wearing a tailored
pants suit with a no-nonsense silk shirt.
“You’re up early,” Judith remarked, trying to be polite. “I usually don’t serve breakfast until eight.”
Eugenia checked her watch against the schoolhouse
clock. “Seven-forty on the dot. I’m a morning person,
which can be a disadvantage in Hollywood. Except for
