The Scottie Barked At Midnight (6 page)

She made a mental note to keep a close eye on Dandy and Dondi while they were in her care. It seemed unlikely they'd win the champion of champions title without their original human partner, but she could certainly protect Deidre's dancing doggies from being the victims of any more dirty tricks.

For Dan's benefit, she downplayed the risks. “Even if Deidre was right about the cutthroat competition, it's a big leap from dognapping to homicide. You can't seriously think that someone slipped an overdose of sleeping pills into Deidre's food or drink just to stop her from performing.”

A sheepish grin replaced the look of concern on Dan's face. “When you put it that way,” he admitted, “it does sound far-fetched.”

The next morning, Saturday, Liss loaded two suitcases and a garment bag into her car and drove to the conference-center hotel at the ski resort. Desdemona had been quite specific in saying that only a week of Liss's time would be required, although by Liss's calculations, several rounds of competition remained before one act could be crowned “champion of champions” on
Variety Live.
That made Liss wonder if she was
supposed
to be eliminated on the next show. That was the first question she intended to ask, although she had plenty of others.

After Deidre's death, Desdemona and the dogs had been relocated to a suite. Liss had deposited her luggage just inside the door and shed her winter coat before she realized that Desdemona had a visitor. A man with a genial smile and a full head of silver hair rose from the sofa.

“Roy Eastmont,” he said in a rumbling voice that held the slightest trace of an upper-class British accent. “Master of ceremonies for
Variety Live
.”

Liss took the perfectly manicured hand he extended. The skin on his palm was as smooth as a baby's butt, and about as unappealing to grasp. Although he appeared to be in his sixties, his carriage was as erect as that of a much younger man, and he was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, light blue shirt, and colorful but conservative tie. He stood a little taller than Liss, but under the six-foot mark, and met her curious gaze with eyes of a blue so bright that it did not look natural. Liss supposed there was nothing wrong with wearing colored contact lenses, but that he chose to do so made her wonder what else about him was designed to deceive.

“We were all devastated by Deidre's death,” Eastmont said. “Just devastated. But I am so pleased we won't be losing her act. Dandy and Dondi are fan favorites and have been a sure bet to make it to the finals from the beginning.”

“Yes. The finals.” Liss sent Desdemona a speaking glance before she gave Eastmont her full attention. “I wanted to ask about that. This is a live show, right? So each week, one contestant is eliminated, based on scores given by judges and votes cast by viewers?”

“We record live performances.” Eastmont smoothed one hand over a tie that needed no straightening.

His evasive answer confused her. “I admit I haven't watched the show, but I assume there's a week between each competition. I don't have that kind of time to devote to—”

“Not to worry, my dear.” Eastmont took her arm and steered her to the sofa. When she was seated, he eased himself in next to her while Desdemona took a chair. “I'll let you in on a little secret. The time lapse between episodes is not really a week long. I grant you that we did take a little break to change venues to the ski resort and bring in three new celebrity judges, as is our custom at the halfway point of every season, but we'll be recording all the episodes necessary to reach the finals, together with the finale itself, in which the last three contestants each compete twice, during this coming week.”

Liss tried and failed to make that information compute. “What about the fan component to the scoring? Don't viewers call in to vote for their favorites?”

“They do call in, yes.” Eastmont left Liss to draw her own conclusions.

“Are you telling me that the show isn't exactly
live
after all?”

“Oh, my dear. Very little on television is ever
real.
”

Liss was not pleased to discover she'd agreed to be part of a deception, but she had to admit that Eastmont had a point. There were some days when she even had her doubts about what she saw on the nightly news.

“Desdemona will provide you with the schedule and all the other information you'll require, but there is some paperwork you need to sign up front. We don't pay you, of course, but there are certain legalities.”

His blunt reference to payment, or rather the lack of any, made Liss wonder about the honorarium Desdemona had mentioned and the producers' right to sue for a refund. Were contestants compensated or not? It seemed insensitive to broach the subject with Desdemona right there, but she couldn't help but be curious.

Before she could frame another question, Eastmont reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and brought forth a thick legal-size envelope. It contained a half dozen pages folded together. He spread them out on the coffee table in front of her, revealing that there were four documents in all. He tapped his index finger on the first.

“This is a waiver. We are conscientious when it comes to safety and we don't expect any accidents to happen, but
Variety Live
can't afford to be held responsible if one does occur.”

It didn't bother Liss that she'd have to agree not to sue the production company if she was injured during recording. Such conditions weren't at all uncommon. In fact, the back of every lift ticket sold by the Five Mountains Corporation contained the statement that by purchasing it the buyers agreed not to take the ski resort or its parent company to court if they were injured in an accident while skiing there. Liss hesitated only long enough to be sure she understood all the fine print, then signed.

As she looked over the other documents, which also seemed standard agreements, for all that they were written in legalese, she admitted to herself that Dan had been right. She'd been way too impulsive in agreeing to take Deidre's place. She should have asked many more questions first.

She wasn't going to back out of the deal, but neither would she allow herself to be rushed into leaping before she looked. She ignored Eastmont's restless movements at her side and his frequent glances at his watch and paid careful attention to the convoluted wording. Why, she wondered, was it necessary for lawyers to use a dozen words when one would suffice?

The second paper was a contract. She'd be agreeing to show up, in costumes supplied by the
Variety Live
costume department, at both dress rehearsals and performances through the finale, as required, or pay a penalty. The dates were listed—less than a week, as promised. The third document she agreed not to give any interviews that hadn't been preapproved by the publicity department and agreed to participate in “standard postproduction publicity.” Finding nothing that set off alarm bells, Liss scribbled her signature on both documents and picked up the fourth one.

“A confidentiality agreement?”

“That's right. Standard practice in the industry.”

She didn't know if she believed that claim or not, but what was clear was that
Variety Live
didn't want behind-the-scenes details leaking out either before or after the shows aired. Since she had no intention of providing fodder to supermarket tabloids, Liss signed her name.

Eastmont scooped up the papers, stuffing them back into their envelope. Once again, he glanced at his watch, after which he rose from the sofa and headed for the door, talking as he went. “I fear I must leave you ladies now. I have a meeting with the camera crew. You can introduce yourself to your competition, Ms. Ruskin. All the rooms on this floor are occupied by contestants and production staff. The hotel manager was very good about that. The resort at Five Mountains is providing us with free accommodations and the use of the ballroom in return for the excellent publicity they'll get from having us record the show here. Ms. Amendole, I wish you a safe trip. We'll send flowers.”

The door closed behind him on the final word.

Liss looked at Desdemona. “Are you going somewhere?”

Head bent, Desdemona toyed with the ring she wore on the middle finger of her left hand. The fit was loose, and the stone, a garnet so large that it nearly covered her knuckle, slid easily around and around. “I'm leaving shortly to take my mother's body back to Ohio. The funeral is scheduled for Monday.”

Liss could have kicked herself. Of course the other woman wasn't going to stick around just to show her the ropes and answer her questions. Still there was one she had to ask. She'd been in the suite for at least fifteen minutes and hadn't seen hide nor hair of the two Scotties.

“Where are Dandy and Dondi?”

“Valentine offered to take them for a walk and keep them while I packed.”

“Valentine?”

“Valentine Veilleux. The photographer.”

Liss remembered the calendar she'd seen when she'd returned Dandy to Deidre. Iris, the magician's assistant, had mentioned that the same photographer had been hired to take pictures for a
Variety Live
calendar. “Is she staying here in the hotel?”

“She has a room on this floor, but she works out of her RV. She lives in the thing year round and uses it to get from job to job.” Desdemona rolled her eyes. “I can't imagine being confined in such a cramped space. I'd go mad inside of a week.”

Doing a good imitation of a jack-in-the-box, Desdemona sprang up from her chair and made a beeline for the connecting bedroom. A moment later, she reemerged dragging a bulging suitcase. She was strong for such a skinny female. Somewhere in those sticklike arms there was real muscle. Two more large bags followed, no doubt containing Deidre's belongings as well as Desdemona's.

Liss collected her own luggage and transferred it to the bedroom before asking, “Do you need help getting all that to the lobby?”

“Parking lot,” Desdemona corrected her. “Mother had a rental car. I'll return it when I get to the airport.” She looked around, checking to see if she'd forgotten anything. “I've left you all the supplies you'll need for the dogs. Food. Toys. Pee pads.”

Catching sight of the expression on Liss's face, Desdemona led her into the bathroom to show her where a forty pack of this last item had been stored. The package had been opened, and about a quarter of the pads were already gone.

“This is the best invention since sliced bread. They're sold as aids to house-train puppies, but they're ideal for small dogs, especially if you need to leave them alone for any length of time, or if the weather is so brutal that you don't feel inspired to take them outside to do their business.”

Liss had the uncomfortable feeling that, like disposable diapers, doggie pee pads would survive intact for decades, clogging up landfills, but she had to admit that she could see how such a thing might come in handy. “It's too bad dogs can't be trained to use a litter box,” she said. “What do you do with the used ones?”

“Heavens! I don't know.” Her tone said she didn't care. “Now, these are the plastic baggies Mother used to pick up solid waste when she took the dogs for walkies.”

“Wonderful.” The snide note in Desdemona's voice bothered Liss more than the prospect of cleaning up after Dandy and Dondi.

“Here's their special food and the vitamins they take daily.” Desdemona opened a cabinet in the kitchen area. “Have you ever given a pill to a dog?”

“I assume you manage the same way you do with a cat—open mouth, insert pill, close mouth, rub throat.” A rueful smile accompanied the explanation. More often than not there were two more steps—“pick up pill after cat spits it out” and “repeat steps one through four as many times as necessary until the cat actually swallows the pill.”

“Whatever works.” More and more clearly as she spoke of the Scottish terriers and their supplies, Desdemona's expression showed her distaste for everything to do with them. “Be careful,” she warned Liss. “The little devils have very sharp teeth.”

“Most animals do. Where is that schedule Mr. Eastmont spoke of?”

Desdemona produced a standard conference registration packet and handed it over. A quick survey of the contents, while Desdemona collected her coat and a scarf from the closet and located her shoulder bag, showed Liss that the material was missing one crucial piece of information.

“I don't see a list of contestants.”

“Does it matter? You'll meet them soon enough.”

“It would be helpful if you could tell me what you know about the competition before you go.” She seated herself at the small desk in the suite's living room, picked up one of the hotel notepads and a pen carrying the Five Mountains Ski Resort logo, and waited.