personal assistant, I understand.”
Dona nodded. “And my friend, too. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.” She reached up and patted her hair into place in a practiced, if vain, gesture that seemed inappropriate, considering the circumstances.
“Do you know why anyone would want to hurt her?” Savannah asked. “Did she have any enemies that you know of?”
“No. Kim didn’t have an enemy in the world. She was a sweetheart.” Dona wiped her eyes with the tissues Savannah had given her. Then she turned those famous green eyes on Savannah. Even though Dona’s eyes were red and swollen, Savannah couldn’t help but be struck by the woman’s beauty. And even though she was past the first bloom of youthful beauty, Dona had the classic high cheekbones, the perfect skin and fine features that would assure that she remained beautiful for many years to come.
Her weight loss was equally obvious. The last time Savannah had seen her picture on the cover of a tabloid at the grocery store checkout, she had been at least fifty or sixty pounds heavier. And while Savannah thought Dona was lovely no matter what her weight, she could see that this drastic drop in size would be advantageous to her career in the ever weight-obsessed Hollywood.
“So,” Savannah said, “if Kimberly had no enemies, why would someone kill her? Somebody must have had something against her if they would—”
“No.” Dona shook her head and blew her nose loudly. “Whoever shot Kim wasn’t trying to kill her,” she said emphatically. “It was me they were after. That’s obvious enough.”
Savannah had already considered that possibility, taking into account the borrowed fur coat and gown, but she wanted to hear what Dona had to say. “Tell me why you think it’s so obvious,” she said.
“She was wearing my coat, my gown, and she was getting into my car. From a distance, she looks a lot like me. And I’m the one who has people mad enough to kill her.”
“Who in particular is angry with you?”
“My former agent and my old boyfriend. I’ve had a parting of the ways with both of them recently. And neither one of them is very happy with me. They’re both pretty infantile when they’re upset about something.”
“I’d call what happened in front of your house today a long way from infantile.”
“I just mean that neither one of them handle conflict well.”
Savannah took a pen and a small notebook from her purse, flipped the notebook open, and began to write. “What is your former boyfriend’s name?”
Dona glanced down at the notebook and a guarded look came over her face. “Mark wouldn’t shoot Kim. He and she were good friends.”
“Yes, but you said yourself that the killer probably thought Kim was you. What’s Mark’s last name?”
“Kellerher. His full name is Mark Lee Kellerher. But there’s no way that he would have done this.”
“Did you break up with him, or vice versa?”
“I ended it, but….”
Savannah began to write in her notebook. “Men hate getting dumped,” she said, “Some guys more than others. It’s one of the most common reasons in the world for a woman to get hurt or killed.”
Dona shook her head. “No, really. You don’t know Mark. He’s a mouse. A total wimp. I was involved with him for seven years, and he never even raised his voice to me. Not even once.” She gave a dry, bitter chuckle. “That’s why I broke it off with him. Let’s just put it nicely and say he was…passion-challenged.”
Savannah thought of all the “quiet, soft-spoken, wouldn’t-sayboo-to-a-goose” murderers she had encountered over the years. In spite of Dona’s insistence to the contrary, she’d definitely tell Dirk to take a good, long look at Mousy Mark.
“And your agent?” she asked. “What’s his name?”
“Miles Thurgood. Now there is somebody you should check out,” Dona said. “He’s furious with me. I fired him a month ago—an action long overdue—and he’s suing me. He’s a vindictive little bastard if there ever was one.”
Savannah scribbled down his name, as well. “Okay. We’ll check him, too. Have you had problems with him before?”
“Oh, please. Nothing but problems. And now that I’ve let him go, he’s determined to ruin me. Somebody keyed my new Jag a week ago, and I’m just sure it was him. I was parked on Sunset Boulevard, having lunch with my new agent. I saw Miles sitting at the bar of the restaurant. A few minutes later, when I glanced his way again, he’d left, and when I went out to my car, I found a long, deep scratch all along the passenger side. It cost me six thousand dollars to fix it, and the body shop still doesn’t have the paint job right.”
Savannah looked up from her note-taking. “Is there anyone else that you’re on the outs with right now?”
Dona shrugged. “Oh, this one and that one. Nothing all that serious. A person in my position has enemies, people who…let’s just say…don’t wish me well.”
“Why?”
“This is a highly competitive business. Some people were very happy to see me out of the spotlight for so long. And they aren’t happy now that I’m ‘back on the market,’ so to speak.”
“That’s too bad,” Savannah said, her voice soft with sympathy. “I’m sure you worked very hard and sacrificed a great deal to lose so much weight. And I’m sure it takes a lot of courage to step back out into that spotlight, knowing how closely you’ll be scrutinized, and considering how unkind some people have been.”
Dona stared at Savannah for a long, long time, saying nothing. Her green eyes searched Savannah’s face with a guarded cynicism that had to come from years of emotional abuse. Then, just as quickly, she softened and even smiled. Apparently, she figured Savannah’s words and intentions were honest and sincere.
“You have no idea,” she said, “what this comeback has cost me. Is still costing me, for that matter. It’s been nothing short of agony. The surgery, the complications that I’m still suffering, the pain and misery of it all. And for what? So that I can fit into a size five again and conform to an artificial standard of youth and beauty? This is supposed to make me a better actress?”
Dona shook her head, covered her eyes and, once again, began to softly weep. “And now this. The price wasn’t high enough before. I sacrificed my health, the simple joys of living that everyone else takes for granted, like eating an ice cream cone. Now I have to pay with my friend’s life? Where is it all going to stop?”
Savannah reached over and put her hand on Dona’s shoulder. She was shocked to feel how thin—bony even—Dona felt beneath the silk robe.
Dona really had lost a lot of weight. She felt so frail, so fragile, as though if Savannah were to simply squeeze, she might break her shoulder.
She agreed with Dona. This was supposed to be better somehow? Becoming a bag of bones was preferable to enjoying the soft, feminine curves that nature gave most women once they entered their thirties and forties?
“I’m so sorry, Dona,” she told her, stroking her shoulder. “But if it’s any comfort at all to you, please know that I’ll help Detective Coulter find the person who’s responsible for your friend’s death. And if you want me to, I can work for you, keep a close eye on you for a while, to make sure that nothing else like this happens.”
Dona nodded, reached up and covered Savannah’s hand with her own. “I want that,” she said through her tears. “I want that very much.”
“Then you’ve got it.”
Savannah smiled—a small, grim smile that added no warmth to the cold blue of her eyes. Oh, she’d help Dona Papalardo, all right.
Catch