Free Death of an Orchid Lover by Nathan Walpow Page B

more years of tedious life experience behind her, she was wonderful. When we finished the scene, I told her so.
    “You helped a lot,” she said.
    “No, I—”
    “Stop it, Joe. I don’t know why you quit. Can we go through it again?”
    “Okay. You want me to do anything differently?”
    “No. You’re fine. You’re perfect.”
    We did the lines again. I was able to raise my head from the script a bit more, give her more eye contact. When we were done she said, “Can I tell you something?”
    “I guess so.”
    “You’re already better in this scene than the actor I’m working with in class.”
    “I can’t believe that.”
    “Believe it. I mean, he has the lines down, and he knows the blocking, but I’m really getting more out of you than I ever do from him.”
    We went through it twice more, then took a break. We discussed her motivations in the scene, and then we were off onto pacing and nuance and back story.
    We started up again, and ran the scene until a warning light went on in my head. Danger, Will Robinson, point of diminishing returns approaching. It always happened; you’d do a great run-through, but the next would be slightly less satisfying, and after that nothing useful would come out of the rehearsal. Eventually you’d both give up, and sit around munching pretzels and badmouthing people.
    So we tried a time or two more, but it was pointless. Out came the pretzels. Laura began telling me about some of the plays she’d been in since I’d known her before. It was time todeal with what I’d come there for. “Have the police been by lately?”
    She seemed startled that I wanted to discuss Albert’s murder. “A couple of calls to clarify things, but that’s it.”
    I nodded. For a guy who wanted to ask a bunch of questions, I was having trouble deciding which ones to ask. “So how did you and Albert get together?”
    Monty the cat materialized in her lap. She stroked him absentmindedly. “When I met him at an orchid club meeting, I thought he was a big bore. Talking about his hybrids all the time. But one day he talked me into coming up and visiting his greenhouse. Then I stayed for dinner. It all happened rather quickly. I think we were both surprised.”
    “You do make, keeping up the Neil Simon theme here, an odd couple.”
    “You’re speaking of his appearance.”
    “He was a fair amount older than you.”
    She shook her head. “I know what you mean. He was a big man. Fat.”
    “But that didn’t bother you.”
    “No. He cared about me.” She pointed at a miniature orchid sitting on a windowsill. It had a dozen tiny orange flowers. “And he showed me beautiful things.”
    “Did you ever hear about any business dealings between him and Helen and David Gartner.”
    “Helen? And David? Gartner?”
    “Yes. You’re friendly with Helen, having dinner with her and all. I thought she might have told you something.”
    “No.” She was looking down at Monty, and he up at her with a big contented cat smile. “There’s nothing.” She glanced, too casually, at her watch. “Look what time it’s getting to be. I’ve got a movement class at two.”
    “It’s not even one.”
    “It’s in Santa Monica. You know what traffic is like.”
    She stood, I stood, Monty jumped to the floor. Laura got some clothes from her closet and went into the bathroom, shutting the door partway behind her. “Look on the coffee table,” she called out a moment later.
    “What am I looking for?”
    “The orchid society’s newletter. It’s cerise. You can’t miss it.”
    It was far more elaborate than what my cactus club managed to get out, twelve pages, nice fonts, pretty pictures. “Okay, I’ve got it, now what?”
    “There’s a meeting tonight. The address is on the front page. Maybe you can go.”
    I found the meeting notice. 857 Iliff Street in Pacific Palisades. One of the cactus people lived on Iliff. Nice area.
    “Maybe I can.”
    She emerged a minute later wearing her leotard. She saw