K Is for Killer

and do anything I want."
    "You don't make a living from the acting?"
    "Oh. You saw the film," he said. "I hardly made a dime, and it never went anywhere, which I must say was a relief. Think of the irony of getting famous as Russell, when I'm really Cherie at heart."
    "I just talked to Joe Ayers at his place. He says he sold his company."
    "Trying to turn respectable, I'd imagine." He raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. His expression suggested there was no real chance of that. Foundation gone, he took a cotton ball and soaked it with skin toner. He began to wipe off the cold cream and any remaining traces of makeup.
    "How many films did you make for him?"
    "Just the one."
    "Were you disappointed it was never released?"
    "I was at the time. I've realized since then that I don't care to capitalize on my 'equipment.' I despise being male. I really hate all the macho posturing and bullshit, all the effort it takes. It's much more fun being female. Sometimes I'm tempted to do away with 'it,' but I can't bear to have myself surgically altered, as endowed as I am. Maybe an organ donor program would be interested," he said. He waved a hand airily. "But enough of my tacky problems. What else can I tell you about Lorna?"
    "I'm not sure. I gather you really didn't know her that well."
    "That depends on your frame of reference. We spent two days together while the film was being shot. We had an instant rapport and laughed our tiny asses off. She was such a kick. Kinky and fearless, with a wicked sense of humor. We were soul sisters. I mean that. I was heartbroken when I heard that she had died, of all things."
    "That was the only time you saw her? During the filming?"
    "No, I ran into her maybe two months later, up here shopping with that piggy-looking sister."
    "Which one? She has two."
    "Oh, really. I can't remember the name. Something odd, as I recall. She looked like an imitation Lorna: same face, but all porked out. Anyway, I saw them on the street down around Union Square, and we stopped to chat about nothing in particular. She looked spectacular as ever. That's the last I saw of her."
    "What about the other actress, Nancy Dobbs? Was she a friend of Lorna's?"
    "Oh, gawd. Wasn't she the worst? Talk about wooden."
    "She was pretty bad," I admitted. "Has she done other films for Ayers?"
    "I doubt it. In fact, I'm sure not. I think she just did that one as a lark. Someone else had been hired and opted out at the last minute. Lorna had her pegged. Nancy was terribly ambitious, without the talent or the body to get very far. She's one of those women who'd try to screw her way to the top, only no one would have her, so how far could she get? What a dog." Russell laughed. "Actually, she'd have screwed a dog if she'd thought it would help."
    "How'd she get along with Lorna?"
    "As far as I know, they never had any kind of snit, but privately each felt infinitely superior to the other. I know because they both took to confiding in me between takes."
    "Is she still in the city? I'd like to talk to her."
    Russell looked at me with surprise. "You didn't see her tonight? I thought you must have talked to her at Ayers's little soiree."
    "What would she be doing there?"
    "She's married to him. That's the point, isn't it? All during the shoot, she really flung herself at him. Next thing we heard... wahlah. She was Mrs. Joseph Ayers, noted socialite. It's probably why he dumped the porno flick. Imagine that getting out. He calls her 'Duchess,' by the way. Isn't that pretentious?"
    "Was there ever a suggestion that Joe Ayers's relationship with Lorna was other than professional?"
    "He was never involved with her sexually, if that's what you mean. It's really a bit of a cliché to imagine these guys are out 'sampling the merchandise.' Believe me, his only interest was in making a buck."
    "Lorna's mother seems to think her death was related to the film somehow."
    "Possible, I suppose, but why would anybody kill her for that? She might have been a star if she'd lived. As for those of us who worked on it, trust me, we got along. We were all so grateful for the opportunity, we made a point of it," he said. "How in the world did her mother find out?"
    "Somebody sent her the tape."
    Russell stared at my reflection in the mirror. "As an expression of condolences, that's in poor taste," he said. "You'd have to wonder at the motive."
    "Ain't that the truth."
    I went back to the motel, feeling wide awake. By two in the morning Santa Teresa has shut