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Roger have been sneaking around together. They put it at two-to-one that you killed Cassie. YouTube has a video of you and Roger dancing at some fancy party last week. Lousy footage, probably from a cell phone. But still.”
    “Geez, Ash, is that how you write a history paper?” asked Grant. “From GossipGrrls? When your teacher said to write about the storming of Paris, she didn’t mean Hilton.”
    “Thank you, brilliant brother,” said Ashley snarkily. She stomped over to the refrigerator and took out a plain yogurt. “Oh, by the way, CNN says the police are calling Molly ‘a person of interest.’”
    The kitchen got suddenly quiet.
    “Molly is interesting,” Grant said loyally.
    “I don’t think they’re referring to her profile on eHarmony,” Ashley said with a snort.
    Molly struggled to her feet. “I have to get to my office,” she said shakily. “I’m doing a screen test this afternoon with a young actress for an indie flick. Daniel Craig’s coming in to work with her. James Bond.”
    “Ooh, I love him,” Ashley said, briefly impressed. “Tara and I saw Casino Royale three times. Best part was that scene in the shower where he kisses the girl’s fingers. Sooo sexy.”
    “Daniel’s got everything,” Molly agreed, recovering slightly. “Those blue eyes that bore right through you. Face so craggy it should be on Mount Rushmore. Never lets down his guard. He’s so cold it’s hot.”
    Ashley dipped her spoon into the yogurt and slowly swirled it around. “No way he shows up at Molly Archer Casting this afternoon. No way.”
    “Why not?” Molly asked. Her normally porcelain skin seemed flushed and blotchy and a little tic fluttered under her left eye.
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Molly, don’t you get it?” asked Ashley, sounding a little too much like a character from Mean Girls . “You’re poison in Hollywood now. Whether you poisoned that girl or not, you’re poison.”
     
     
    I spent much of the morning furious that my daughter had been catty, crude, and rude.
    And much of the afternoon fuming because she’d also been right.
    Just before noon, Daniel Craig’s agent contacted Molly to say 007 couldn’t do the screen test.
    “When should we reschedule?” Molly asked.
    “Maybe never,” the agent said bluntly. “He has an aversion to arsenic.”
    Molly called me and reported the news. “James Bond is afraid of me,” she said despairingly. “He can outlast torture and terrorists, but I’m too dangerous.”
    “Bring back Sean Connery,’” I said. “He’d be willing to die another day.”
    “Sean Connery wasn’t Die Another Day. That was Pierce Brosnan.”
    “Fine. My point is that most people in Hollywood aren’t totally judgmental. They’re willing to live and let live. Or Live and Let Die.”
    “Roger Moore.”
    “Who lost his Licence To Kill, I believe.”
    “Not him. Timothy Dalton.”
    “You remember everything. You’re still the best casting agent around.”
    “Right now it doesn’t matter. I haven’t heard ‘yes’ in so long I might as well be Dr. No.”
    “For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together. Daniel Craig may be the world’s sexiest spy, but he’s just one client.”
    “If only it were just him. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing this morning, and none of it good news. Producers are flipping me off faster than burgers on the Fourth of July. Studio heads are acting like I have bird flu. ABC pulled the plug on a pilot I’d already started casting.”
    “ABC’s owned by Disney,” I said. “They’re a Mickey Mouse organization, so of course they’re acting daffy. The hint of scandal scares them. When Rupert Murdoch cancels, I’ll worry.”
    The next day, Rupert Murdoch cancelled a contract for Molly to cast a FOX sitcom. I was officially worried.
    “Forget cops and courts—I’ve been convicted on the Web,” Molly said.
    She decided to close her office for a few days, hoping the rumors would recede. But instead the situation got