will?” Consuela gestured toward Hortense with her chin. “She’s dead.”
“And that’s the point,” Bernie said as she grabbed the conversational ball. “We have to call the police.”
Estes scowled. “Of course we will. We have to. But let’s think about the show.”
“I think we should think about Hortense.”
“I never said we shouldn’t. All I’m saying is that there are big bucks tied up in this show. I’m just trying to protect everyone’s investment.”
It always comes down to money, Bernie thought as Consuela said, “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
Estes made a face. “Save your sanctimonious act for someone else.”
Bernie could see Consuela bristling. “Sanctimonious act? How dare you?”
“Easy,” Estes said, but before he could say anything else, Pearl Wilde tapped him on the wrist. He turned to face her.
“Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?” she asked him.
“Just a minute,” Estes told her as he glanced around the room.
He looks relieved that he has something else to talk about, Bernie reflected as Estes’ eyes lit on Eric Royal.
“Eric, can you answer Pearl’s question?” he asked him.
Eric Royal gestured to the sink. “Under there.” Then he laid the back of his hand on his forehead. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “I told her not to bake those cookies. I told her there wasn’t time. But Hortense insisted. She was like that. I told her I’d go check on them. But she said no. She’s always having to do everything herself. And now she’s dead,” Eric Royal concluded.
Unlike Brittany Saperstein’s, all that Eric’s performance lacked, Bernie thought uncharitably, was some glycerin tears and a swoon onto the floor. But it wasn’t fair to compare them, because Brittany wasn’t even trying. Bernie watched Brittany looking around the room. Her eyes went everywhere but to Hortense.
“Estes is right. We have to think about the show,” Brittany said.
“How can you think about that at a time like this?” Eric demanded.
“Oh, come on. Be honest. Everyone is,” Brittany said as the sounds of “Disco Duck” floated out of her handbag.
“Those things should be outlawed,” Estes growled.
Interesting, Bernie thought as Brittany opened her bag. Very interesting that Brittany had had the presence of mind in the middle of the pandemonium that the explosion had caused to bring her bag along with her. That spoke of a pretty cool character or preknowledge.
Estes made a grab for Brittany’s handbag.
“I’m going to throw that thing out.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Brittany told Estes as she pulled her bag away.
“Then shut that thing off!” Estes bellowed.
Bernie was alarmed to see a vein under Estes’ left eye getting bigger. She hoped he didn’t have a heart attack. Two dead people in five minutes would be a little much.
“Just a sec,” Brittany said as she fished around inside her pocketbook. Finally she found her cell. “Mommy can’t talk right now,” she said into it. “Mommy is busy dealing with a dead person. Well, I’m not sure this one will go to heaven. No, Josefina will take you to the party. Bye, bye, sweetums.” And she clicked off. She was just about to put it back in her bag when Estes grabbed it out of her hand.
“I’ll give it back to you after the show,” Estes told Brittany.
“If there is a show,” Bernie countered as Brittany grabbed her phone back from Estes.
She clutched it to her chest. “Of course there’s going to be a show,” Brittany said.
Bernie gestured toward Hortense’s prone body. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
“No, I’m not. Haven’t you heard that thing about the show must go on?”
“I’m not sure that saying applies to this situation,” Bernie said. She was just about to tell her why when, out of the corner of her eye, Bernie noticed that Pearl was making her way to the sink. She watched Pearl open the cabinet doors.
“Pearl, what are you doing?” she asked her.
Pearl glanced over her shoulder. “Looking for something to clean the walls, of course. And the floor.”
“Of course,” Bernie said. Wouldn’t that be everyone’s first thought? “Don’t do that. The police won’t like it.”
Estes lifted his hands in supplication, dropped them to his sides, and looked up at the ceiling. “Why, dear God, does everything happen to me?”
“I think it happened to Hortense,” Bernie pointed out.
“Hortense is no longer among us. I am,” Estes shot back.
“Precisely my point.” Bernie turned her attention back to Pearl. “Pearl,” she said in the same voice she imagined she would use on a recalcitrant small child. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave the walls alone.”
Pearl straightened up. Bernie noted that she had a roll of paper towels in one hand, a bottle of spray cleanser in the other, and a look of steely determination in her eyes.
“I think Top Job would be better, but this will do.”
Bernie wanted to say, “Don’t do it,” but before she could get the words out of her mouth, Pearl walked over and let loose with a spray of cleanser on the wall. “I prefer high-gloss paint for cleaning purposes, but semi-gloss does just as well, don’t you think?” she asked Bernie. “Thank heavens this room wasn’t painted with flat latex. For a while, Hortense was thinking of using a flat yellow latex in here, but I managed to talk her out of it.”
“Really,” Bernie said. She didn’t know whether to be fascinated or appalled. “You have to stop,” she told Pearl. “You have to stop what you’re doing now.”
Pearl gave her an exasperated glance.
“But I can’t just leave it like this,” she protested. “Hortense would be immensely displeased if I did.”
“The police will displeased if you don’t,” Bernie told her.
Jean La Croix waved his hand around the room. “But this is … how you say … so ugly.”
Bernie gestured at the blood-splatter pattern on the wall. “Would it be better if it were attractive? Something you could make into a new wallpaper pattern?”
“That is a horrible thing to say,” Jean La Croix huffed.
“You’re
