Free Docketful of Poesy by Diana Killian Page A

Congo, Grace
Kelly in Monaco, Audrey Hepburn in Rome.”
    “But isn’t this just a little, cheap, made-for-cable
film?” Not that I wanted to belittle the filming of my own
real-life adventures but…well…wasn’t it?
    Roberta gave me an odd look. “It works out nicely for
you, doesn’t it? For you and for Peter?”
    “Well…yes.”
    “Then I wouldn’t worry about it. The head of Kismet
Productions has decided this could turn out to be a commercially
successful project after all. He’s willing to pump a lot more money
into it. That’s great news for all of us.”
    I’d assumed Roberta was the head of Kismet
Productions. Apparently not.
    She caught sight of Miles coming in the side
door.
    “Miles!”
    A momentary flash of irritation crossed the
director’s weathered face, but then he walked toward us with a
rueful smile. Mindful of Roberta’s earlier comment, I studied him
curiously. Miles Friedman was not exactly handsome, but he was
certainly attractive in a well-lived way. Medium height, stocky but
muscular, very fit. His eyes were a light, striking green in his
tanned face.
    “I know what you’re going to say, Robbie. I don’t
need to hear it right now.” He turned to me. “Hey there, Grace.
Roberta gave me the good news last night.”
    I must have looked blank because he said, “About you
agreeing to join our project. The news about Walter was a shock, of
course.”
    “And this is Peter Fox,” Roberta said shortly.
    “The man, in the flesh,” Miles said cheerfully,
shaking hands with Peter. “What do you think of our fair city?”
    “Smog, traffic, concrete buildings: its charms are
nearly irresistible.” Peter was smiling, but there was no question
he meant what he said. True, he had only seen a few of the charms
the city had to offer, but if it had crossed my mind that we might
spend part of any future together in the States, I gave the idea up
then.
    “Hey,” Miles began. “We’ll get together one night and
—”
    “Miles!” called Pammy. “Places, people! Time is
money. Miles, we need you on the set now.” The plump, red-haired
assistant director moved off, listening intently to one of the
technicians.
    Miles excused himself. Peter indicated he would stay
to watch the filming, and with a dark look I followed Roberta, who
was gesturing a little impatiently. “Of course it’s a tragedy about
Walter. So young, so talented.” Roberta sounded like she was
reading from a script. And not a very good one. The speech was
clearly for the benefit of the rest of the cast and crew. “It must
have been horrible for you.”
    More horrible for Walter, I thought. I said mildly,
“It was pretty awful.”
    “And they didn’t find the driver?” The cat’s-eye
glasses turned my way.
    “Not that we’ve heard. And I suppose we would have
because we’d have to testify at any trial.”
    Roberta hesitated, and then asked, “Do you think
there’s any possibility that it wasn’t an accident?”
    I stared at her. “Why would you suggest that?”
    Roberta appeared to be fascinated by the filming
going on across the long-echoing room. “Well, murder does seem to
follow you, doesn’t it? Walter was a pain in the ass, but I can’t
see anyone finding him so annoying they decided to kill him.”
    “Well, people may find me annoying, too, but
hopefully no one’s decided to kill me.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of you so much as him.” Roberta
indicated Peter with a nod of her head.
    For a moment we both observed him—and observed Tracy
muffing her lines and giggling his way. I said, “Peter’s trip was
on impulse. I don’t see how anyone could have known he was
here.”
    Still not looking at me, Roberta smiled. “I notice
you don’t argue that someone might want to kill him.”
    “He’s made enemies.”
    “Haven’t we all?” Roberta did face me then. She
smiled. “But some enemies are more dangerous than others.”
    *****
    Peter and I were booked to fly out Sunday. I was
packing my