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hiding out inside?” one aggressive TV reporter demanded, shoving a microphone toward the man.
    “I really cannot answer your questions.”
    Molly pushed her way through the crowd until she reached the door. Michael was one step behind her. He leaned down and spoke quietly to the manager. Relief spread across the man’s face. “Yes, yes, at once,” he said, turning a key in the door.
    Before they could enter, a reporter from the morning paper tugged Molly to one side. Though he looked as if he’d been awakened from a sound sleep and had grabbed the nearest rumpled shirt from the laundry basket, she recognized him from the mug shot that always ran with his Sunday column.
    “You’re with the film office, right?” Ted Ryan said. “Mrs. DeWitt?”
    Molly nodded.
    “Can you get me inside?”
    “And have the rest of these guys accuse me of playing favorites? I don’t think so. I’ll try to get all of you whatever statements you need from anyone connected with the film. I can give you one myself on behalf of the film office.”
    “Fine. I’ll take that at this point. I’ve got another twenty minutes to file. After that, anything I get will have to wait for the Monday paper. I’mready to try climbing up the fire escape. I think my photographer’s already halfway up to Veronica Weston’s floor. Is she in there?”
    “As far as I know.”
    “Are the police going to arrest her?”
    At a warning glance from Michael, Molly modified her response to a politically correct “You’ll have to ask the police that.”
    “What about you? What did you see at the scene? I hear she and Kinsey have been at each other’s throats ever since shooting started. Any idea why?”
    Molly shook her head. “Look, the only thing I can comment on for the record is that the film office will do everything in its power to cooperate with the authorities to see that the killer is identified and brought to justice.”
    “Come on,” Ryan cajoled. “You can do better than that.”
    “Not and keep my job. Let me get inside and see if I can get someone from GK Productions down here to make a statement, okay?”
    He motioned toward Michael. “What’s he doing here? He’s from Metro homicide. Is he on the case?”
    Molly could just imagine the headlines: METRO CALLED IN TO BAIL OUT BEACH POLICE .
    “No,” she said hurriedly. “Absolutely not. Sergeant Jenkins is in charge.”
    “Then what’s O’Hara doing here? It’s his kind of case, isn’t it? High profile. Politically sensitive.”
    Michael overheard the question and apparently guessed the direction of Ted Ryan’s thoughts.“Can’t a guy go out with a pretty lady without you trying to make something of it?” he inquired lightly.
    He stepped closer and slid an arm around Molly’s waist to lend credence to his comment. Molly shot an incredulous look in his direction. She did not, however, pull away the way any sensible liberated woman might have under the circumstances.
    Ryan looked skeptical, but he stepped aside to let them get into the hotel. “Make it snappy,” he pleaded, glancing at his watch. “I’m desperate.”
    “Aren’t we all,” Molly muttered under her breath as she considered why she had permitted Michael to get away with such a sly innuendo about their relationship. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to consider the implications. The elevator ride to Veronica’s floor was mercifully short, allowing minimal time for introspection.
    Veronica, wearing ice blue satin lounging pajamas with a plunging neckline, opened the door of her suite. She was clutching a tall tumbler of vodka. Molly could fully understand now exactly why Greg had cast her. She would fascinate any man old enough to distinguish between sexy glamour and the mere physical attractiveness of youth. It was pretty much like comparing rare vintage wine to grape juice. The source might be essentially the same, but only a fool thought they tasted alike.
    The dazed expression on Michael’s face told