In the great room at Pepper Plantation, Polly, Tim, Placenta, and Detective Archer clinked their cham pagne flutes together. "Cheers! To Polly Pepper, the egalitarian!" Tim proclaimed. As you always said, 'Be nice to the little people in Hollywood, because eventually they'll be running this town.'"

Polly "hear-heared." She turned to Tim. "Party time!"

"Ugh," Tim sighed. "I figured this was coming."

"Next Sat.u.r.day," Polly continued. "Something utterly amazing to celebrate Lisa being released from that smelly Beverly Hills Gulag, and Steven taking her place. Oh, and Shawn, and Seymour Tallowschmid-whoever he is-getting my career back on track."

"I've actually been playing with party theme ideas for a couple of weeks," Tim confirmed. "Catherine the Great Caterer is on board. I've already met with the mayor. He's a.s.signed the DWP to flush out your hole so our guests can go down there and play 'What's My Phobia?' I'm thinking ... maybe secret closed-circuit TV coverage down there. We can sequester our chums, like John Travolta and Zac Efron. Large-screen monitors will show everyone else how well they dance in the dark. Oh, and maybe my silver foxy idol Anderson Cooper and Placenta's fave, Daniel Craig. They've all got a ton of talent that's hidden from all but the National Peeper National Peeper. It would be a scream for the other guests to watch!"

Polly smiled and raised her gla.s.s to her son. "A hole is only as good as the people who fill it."

"That's what I always say." Placenta clinked her gla.s.s against Tim's.

Polly said, "We have tons to celebrate! I solved a couple more murder cases. That cute kid from J.J.'s office-by the way, I think he's son-in-law material-wants me to do another TV show. Lisa Marrs is free from jail. Steven Benjamin is facing a lethal injection. Officer Sandy is strapped to a bed in the lockdown ward at Cedars. Hollywood is still for dreamers!"

Placenta cleared her throat. "I have to know one thing. When did you send that chip of Steven's tooth to a DNA lab?"

Polly smiled. "You're a maid. Can't you tell the difference between a grain of Uncle Ben's converted rice and a chip of someone's bicuspid?"

Placenta shook her head and smiled.

"What about Steven Benjamin starring in his own home surveillance footage?" Tim asked. "You're in our sights twenty-four-seven. When did you have a chance to get to Mayday and check out their coverage of Steve's property from the night of Thane's murder?"

Polly shrugged and took another sip of champagne. "No one ever gives me credit for being a great actress!"

"A great con artist," Placenta said.

"Another bluff?" Tim guessed.

"Whatever. I deserve an Oscar for playing the role of the Grand Inquisitor tonight," Polly said. She turned to Detective Archer and purred, "What prize do I win for being so amazing and talented and glowing with star shine?" She smiled.

He smiled.

Tim and Placenta faked yawns.

"I guess I'll be setting another place at the table for breakfast," Placenta said as she took one last swallow from her gla.s.s. She leaned over to hug Polly good night.

Polly reached out and affectionately caressed Placenta's cheek. "Celebrities, like Anne Hathaway, are manmade," she said. "Stars, like me, are G.o.d G.o.d made. You, my dear, are a saint." made. You, my dear, are a saint."

"In other words, better than ... but not as good as." Tim mocked his mother's attempt at tribute and helped Placenta to her feet.

"There's nothing wrong with Limbo!" Polly hissed.

Placenta shook her head and bade good night with a pat to Detective Archer's head and a peck to Tim's cheek. "Purgatory is more like it. But at least I'm in an exclusive Zip Code," she said, and walked out the door.

Books by R.T. Jordan

REMAINS TO BE SCENE.

FINAL CURTAIN.

A TALENT FOR MURDER.

SET SAIL FOR MURDER.