Wanting Sheila Dead(83)

“The men who killed him weren’t Christians,” Coraline said. She was finding it hard to breathe. She was finding it hard to talk.

“Nobody’s a Christian if you don’t like what they do. I know how that works,” Sheila said. Then: “Those camera people in that room have got less than three minutes. Then I’m going to start pulling the plug.”

She leaned over Coraline until Coraline could smell the mint on her breath. “I really hate you people, do you know that? You can’t mind your own business. And you’re idiots.”

Then she straightened up and went away. Coraline did not notice where.

The foyer felt very hot, and she wanted to cry.





3


Grace Alsop noticed Coraline crying on the stairs, but she didn’t stop to ask what it was all about. Coraline’s makeup was running. She’d either have to run back upstairs to fix it, or allow herself to be filmed as a mess. Grace had already put Coraline down as somebody who was going to be leaving early. There had been the incident with the T-shirt yesterday, and now there was today, and the tears.

Janice was hopping around, trying to calm her nerves by chattering nonstop. Grace thought Janice might always chatter nonstop.

“I heard Alida say that it could have been on purpose,” Janice said. “You know, that thing with the T-shirt. Coraline could have worn that T-shirt on purpose because she knew she’d be disqualified from the challenge and get to stay here while we were all out, and that would mean she could meet that girl and kill her.”

“She couldn’t know she would be barred from the challenge,” Grace said. “And she couldn’t have known that about the T-shirt, either. I don’t remember Sheila Dunham ever caring about logos before.”

“Ivy says it’s a legal thing,” Janice said. “You can’t use other people’s logos on your show without their permission. It’s a—it’s a trademark thing.”

Grace was fairly sure Janice had no idea what a trademark was.

“Anyway, that’s what Alida said,” Janice said. “I’ve got to admit, I don’t much like Alida. She’s angry all the time, and she really thinks she’s special. I’m glad I don’t have to room with her like Mary-Louise.”

“Mmm,” Grace said.

Suzanne was just coming out of the living room, looking flushed. If Janice hadn’t been talking so much, Grace would have been able to hear how the interview was going.

“I wonder what they’re going to ask us about in there,” Janice said.

Grace was about to tell her that they would ask her anything they thought she wouldn’t want to answer, but she didn’t have a chance. Olivia Dahl had come out into the foyer and called her name. Grace got up and smoothed down the sides of her skirt. She was wearing a suit, the kind of suit she had worn to her serious job interviews. It did not matter that she hadn’t gotten a job.

The living room was a complete mess of wires and lights and cameras. Grace threaded her way through them to the middle of the room. The furniture had been rearranged a little to place two wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. There was a fire lit there, too, although it did not seem to be putting out any heat. There was a fireplace in almost every room of this house.

One of the wingback chairs was occupied by a small blond woman Grace vaguely recognized from one of those E! “news” shows. She ran the possibilities through her head, but couldn’t come up with a name. Sheila Dunham was sitting just past the cameras on the couch. None of the other judges were there. Grace was beginning to realize that the other judges were almost never there. Deedee Plant seemed to be kept on ice somewhere to be brought out only for elimination panels and group powwows like the one last night. Now there was somebody who couldn’t have killed that girl last night: Deedee Plant was so plastered so much of the time that she couldn’t aim the liquor into a glass, never mind a gun at anybody.

Olivia Dahl was back. She shooed Grace into the empty chair before the fire. The fire really was not emitting any heat. It had to be a gas fire, or something else artificial. Sheila was leaning far forward on her chair.

“My God, you look like a dyke,” she said. “Are you a dyke? Is that what we haven’t figured out yet?”

“If you’re asking if I’m a lesbian,” Grace said, “the answer is no.”

“You’re the one who went to Wellesley, aren’t you? That’s still all women. I thought all those places were full of dykes.”

Olivia was looking at her clipboard. “You’ve got the notes there,” she said to the small blond woman. “She’s going under the name Grace Alsop—”