Free 3 Malled to Death by Laura Disilverio Page A

officers, the office seemed unusually quiet when I entered it minutes later. Joel sat alone at the dispatch desk. He hastily closed a magazine when I came in and pushed it aside. Coco was in her office, I assumed, from the faint noises drifting from that direction.
    “What’s that humming sound?” I asked, plunking the sub sandwiches I’d brought for lunch on the empty desk and sliding one to Joel.
    “Thanks. Sewing machine,” he said with an expressive look.
    “Oh, no.”
    He nodded grimly. “Oh, yes.”
    If Coco was occupying herself by sewing up a uniform prototype when there’d been a murder in the mall, I was ready to give up on her. I unwrapped my sub and the delicious fragrance of pickles, vinegar, and tuna salad made me salivate. I bit into the sandwich, realizing I was starving. Joel started on his chips and for a short time only the sounds of crunching and chewing broke the silence.
    “Is it true your father—Ethan—used to be a plumber?” Joel asked.
    “Wherever did you hear that?”
    Sheepishly, he drew out the magazine. Ethan smiled from the cover, his crisp hair overlaid with large type that read:
FANtastic Movie Mag
.
    “You don’t believe the garbage they print in there, do you?” I asked.
    “So he wasn’t a plumber?”
    “I think he filled in for a sick friend at a home repair store for a week, and worked in the plumbing department,” I said. “Believe me, you do not want Ethan messing with your plumbing.” I had vague memories from when I was only three or four, before Ethan made it big, of him trying to hook up a dishwasher and flooding the kitchen, which meant we got to eat at Dairy Queen for two days in a row. I’d ridden on his shoulders on the walk home, dripping ice cream into his hair. The memory almost made me tear up.
    “So the rest of this isn’t true, either?” Joel opened the magazine and read from an article in the middle. “‘Ethan Jarrett has the reputation, rare in Hollywood, of being a devoted family man. He’s been married to the former Brenda Atherton for over thirty years and friends report the couple is still going strong. One unnamed acquaintance said they’re as committed as storied Hollywood legends Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward.’”
    “That much is true,” I said.
    “What about this bit where he had an alien encounter on Mulholland Drive after finishing that movie where he played the spaceship captain?”
    I shot him a look. Licking a forefinger, he turned the page where grainy photos showed Ethan on a beach somewhere, and the facing page had an article about Anya Vale and
Mafia Mistress
. “She’s a hottie,” Joel said wistfully, caught by the star’s sultry gaze. “It says here she turned down the opportunity to star in the new Kenneth Branagh flick to make
Mafia Mistress
. Keira Knightley got the role Anya was up for, it says, and ‘Hollywood insiders who’ve seen the unedited film think she’ll get an Oscar nod.’” Joel looked up from the page and waited for me to comment.
    “Ethan’s movie will make more money,” I said. Although he’d rather have an Oscar than another twenty million dollars, I knew.
    “It’s not about the fame and money for her,” Joel said, defending his crush. “This interviewer says ‘Anya Vale wanted the opportunity’—”
    “Please, Joel,” I interrupted him. “I learned when I was ten that those magazines make stuff up at will. That’s when they reported that I had Down syndrome and that my parents were keeping me hidden from the public because they were ashamed of my condition. Actually, I had mono and had to be homeschooled for half a year. Groups that lobbied for people with disabilities called for a boycott of Ethan’s movies.”
    “Okay,” Joel conceded. “I see your point. But do you think you could get Ethan to sign this for me?” He slid the fan mag across the desk and I stopped it with my hand.
    “Sure.” I took a long slurp of my iced tea, and asked, my argument with Ethan