Chapter Twenty Five

Melvah Blenis did what she was born to do. She ruled the universe. She created planets, moved stars, and determined the fates of entire civilizations. With a few taps on the computer keyboard, she could move through time or dim a distant sun. She could give life, take it away, or evolve it into an entirely new being.

She was omniscient, omnipotent, and omnivorous. She was an executive producer.

At least for the moment.

When Brougham returned, after searching the entire lot for Eddie, Melvah was already at Eddie Planet's desk, rewriting his inept pilot script.

She told Brougham that Eddie had left her in charge and to inform the set that a revised draft would be published tomorrow morning. Then Melvah got to work, pitting Captain Pierce and the Endeavor against the shadows.

The scenes just flew out, the story tumbling out of her faster than her fingers could type it. Every word and action was a surprise, written without thought at all. Her subconscious mind was doing all the work. The story was emerging perfectly plotted, every line of dialogue exactly right. It was as if she'd been waiting to tell this story, to do this job, her entire life. She didn't dare stop, didn't dare rest, for fear of ruining the flow.

The phone rang. Melvah ignored it and let Brougham answer the call. Melvah's priorities were in another galaxy. But while her subconscious mind was writing, her conscious mind heard Brougham say:

"How do you spell Zita?"

"I'll take it," Melvah yelled, snatching the phone up before Brougham could argue. "Hello, Zita."

"Melvah?"

"I'm back," she said in a sing-song voice, swiveling in the chair so her back was the Brougham.

"What happened to Eddie?" Zita said.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Guy Goddard." Melvah replied. "The good news is, I'm in charge. The universe has been saved."

Zita tried to keep her voice level and firm. "Melvah, we talked about this."

"This is the first time in sci-fi history that fanfic has become the foundation fic from which the future fanfic will be written," she said. "You realize we're witnessing the birth of an entirely new form of literature? It transcends fanfic as we know it."

"You can't be executive producer of Beyond the Beyond, the business doesn't work that way. Didn't you listen to a word I said?"

"I did, but Capt. Pierce wasn't there, was he?" Melvah said. "He's acting on his own."

"It's the last acting he will ever do."

Melvah felt her entire body tense up. "This is what we've been fighting for, Zita. We both have what we want now."

"I told you how it would be," Zita said coldly.

"So what?" Melvah said. "The universe is what matters."

"The Company is the universe," Zita said. "And Guy Goddard is going to learn that."

Zita hung up.

Melvah set the receiver down and turned back to the computer. Her fingers were poised over the keys, but her hands were trembling. The words wouldn't come.

Of course they wouldn't.

Melvah had made a horrible mistake, Zita made that very clear. The Confederation of Aligned Planets, countless worlds and galaxies not yet explored, were still at risk.

The universe was on the precipice of an evolutionary change, one that wouldn't come without one, last painful sacrifice.

Melvah got up and left, nearly colliding with Alison Sweeney as she ran out the door.

Alison watched her go, then turned to Brougham.

"What was she doing in Eddie's office?"

"She said Mr. Planet left her in charge," Brougham replied.

"Where's Eddie? I need to see him right away."

Kimberly Woodrell, Jackson Burley, and Milo Kinoy were very concerned about how news about more deaths involving Charlie Willis would impact the show. They wanted to meet with Eddie as soon as possible and discuss counter-publicity strategy.

"I don't know," Brougham said. "Last time I saw him, he was on the set with Guy Goddard."

What was Eddie doing with Guy Goddard? If it was for publicity, no one told her about it. "Did he have an appointment with Eddie?"

"No," Brougham said. "We saw him on our way back from the Terrace Room. That was hours ago, and Mr. Planet still hasn't come back. His car isn't in his spot. I've tried reaching him on his cell phone, but there's no answer."

"Who gave Guy Goddard a drive on pass?" Alison asked.

Brougham typed a command on her computer and looked at the screen. "Nobody."

It wasn't the first time that someone got into the studio without a pass, yet she couldn't help feeling that something was very wrong.

* * * * * *

The success of a TV series can be measured by the goodies handed out to the crew.

If a series survives until Christmas, the studio gives everyone a t-shirt or a baseball cap with the show's logo on it. If the series manages to survive the season, sweatshirts, tote-bags or script binders are passed out. After the first 13 episodes of the second season, the crew is rewarded with a show jacket, either in satin or leather. And so it goes.

After a couple seasons on the air, it's possible to arrive at work totally decked out in show clothes and merchandise.

Victor Ratliff never worked on a television series, but most of his celebrity clients did. Although the attorney had the money to adorn himself with designer names, he preferred TV Guide chic.

He showed up at the precinct in a Murder One satin jacket over Armani slacks and shirt, a DreamWorks SKG cap on his head, his notes in a Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman leather binder.

"My client has nothing to say to you," Ratliff said, sitting beside Shari Planet at the interrogation room table. Charlie and Lou sat across from them.

"She doesn't have to," Lou said, "her tits say it all."

Charlie wasn't surprised Shari hired Ratliff. When Charlie was in a similar position, he called Ratliff, too. The attorney had a remarkable record of getting celebrities off, which wasn't particularly hard in LA.

"I'll have that warrant over-turned faster than a hamburger patty at McDonalds," Ratliff said. "It was a blatant violation of my client's fifth amendment rights."

Charlie studied her, trying to put the pieces of the plot together. She was Eddie Planet's wife. It figured. Everything always came back to Eddie,

Eddie Planet probably had her kill Stipe so he could get the show.

It sounded good, and Charlie wanted to believe it was true, but it raised a nagging question: even if that was the reason they killed Stipe, what did they have to gain by murdering the new cast?

Nothing.

So Clive Odett did it.

That didn't work, either. Odett may have had a motive to kill Chad Shaw, but Leigh Dickson and Spring Dano were his clients and, as far as Charlie knew, they weren't making any moves to switch agencies.

No, there was a something missing here. And Shari knew what it was, Charlie was certain of it.

Shari stared back at Charlie defiantly. He could almost hear her mind working.

"We got her cold," Lou said. "I can see her bruised boob from here."

"Whatever bruising is evident on my client is a direct result of your excessive use of force when you two barged into her home without a warrant."

While Lou and Ratliff parried, Charlie and Shari watched each other, engaged in a silent battle. He was trying to put the plot together before she found a way out.

"Let's drop the bullshit, okay? We're gonna match the nipple in Stipe's mouth to her," Lou said. "Then we're gonna match his teeth to her wounds. It's as good as a confession. All that's up for discussion now is how long she's going to spend in prison."

Charlie saw something change in Shari's eyes. Actually, he felt it more than saw it. In that instant, he knew she found her escape and that he'd lost.

"It was an accident," Shari said.

"Excuse me?" Lou said.

"Shari, don't say another word," Ratliff snapped.

She shot him a harsh glance. "The detective is right, why make it worse for myself? Conrad and I were having an affair. The revival of the show rekindled our old feelings for one another. We always had a very physical relationship. Once we started again, we couldn't stop. We drove each other wild."

Lou snickered. "You're telling me that you were coming so hard, you didn't notice you were smothering him?"

Charlie stifled a groan. Lou pretty much summed up her entire defense for her. And knowing Victor Ratliff, Charlie figured it would be a successful one at that.

"He liked to bury his face in my breasts," she said. "It was a turn on for him."

"You weren't aware he was struggling?" Lou asked.

She smiled coyly. "Of course I was. I liked it when he squirmed, and so did he."

"You didn't notice something was wrong when he chewed your nipple off?"

She shrugged. "I like it rough."

"You can't get rougher than murder," Lou shot back.

Ratliff cleared his throat. "This is a clear case of involuntarily manslaughter. You'll only compound this tragedy by sending this poor, aggrieved woman to prison. At least that's what I will tell the jury, and they'll agree. I think it's to the advantage of the taxpayers and my client if we work out an agreement that will keep this out of court."

Shari was going to get away with murder. No jury would believe she'd intentionally killed a man with her breast, even though Charlie was certain she did. At worst, she'd get a year in jail, a couple years probation, a book deal and an instant TV movie sale. The sordid scandal would only enhance her career.

Her career.

The back of Charlie's neck tingled. If Stipe's death wasn't an accident, Shari Planet needed a motive, and Charlie just discovered it.

It was a miracle Eddie hadn't been smothered yet himself.

"You must be one lousy actress," Charlie said.

"What do you know about acting?" Shari hissed.

Charlie shrugged. "For one thing, I'm in Beyond the Beyond and you're not. You're so bad, you couldn't get either Stipe or Eddie to cast you. And you were fucking them."

"I'm a terrific actress," Shari's faced flushed with fury, "I've got the Nebula and Hugo awards to prove it."

"Then you must be a rotten lay," Charlie said. "I guess Spring Dano is better at both."

"I am Dr. Kelvin, no one else will ever be," Shari pounded the table with her fist. "The network and the studio think the audience wants a new, young cast. But they're wrong. The fans want us. You'll see."

The fans. All those people dressed up in the same ridiculous costumes as the astronaut who carjacked Odett and the Zorgog who tried to kill Charlie.

And then it hit him, everything coming together all at once.

The assassins weren't in disguise.

Charlie stood up abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Lou asked.

Charlie went back over everything that had happened since he returned from Hawaii, looking at it from an entirely different perspective. Suddenly, he saw the one, important clue he overlooked.

"We need to talk, now." Charlie left the room and waited for Lou in the hallway.

Lou came out, closing the door behind him. "I think we've got her right where we want her."

"Forget about her for a minute," Charlie said. "The night Conrad Stipe was killed, someone else was murdered on the same street. His house blew up."

"Yeah, so?"

"Can you get me the address?"

"What difference does it make?" Lou asked. "I'm in middle of an interrogation here."

"Humor me," Charlie said.

While Lou went into the squadroom, Charlie paced in the hall. Lou came back in two minutes, holding a file.

"The stiff's name was Dermot Elroy," Lou read from the file, "he lived at 190 South Ardwyn."

"What was Stipe's address?"

Lou reached into his pocket for his notebook and flipped it open. He looked up, shocked. "Holy shit. 190 North Ardwyn."

"Someone else wanted Stipe dead, only the killer got the address mixed up and murdered the wrong man," Charlie punched the wall. "Damn it, why didn't I see it before?"

Odett wasn't behind the carnage. And the botched attempt on Stipe showed that Shari Planet wasn't the only other killer out there. There was a third force at work.

Lou glanced nervously at the door to the interrogation room. "Does that mean she didn't do it?"

"No," Charlie said. "She did it."

Lou sighed with relief. "Then what are you so pissed off about?"

"I assumed the murders and the attempts on my life were all connected," Charlie said. "They are, but not by the same killer. They're connected by the show."