Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (most read book in the world .txt) 📕

sculptor, her strong Native American heritage, how she competed for Miss Teen USA representing her home state of New Mexico, how that led to modeling jobs and a few local commercials before she followed her boyfriend, an aspiring screenwriter, to Hollywood, how he dumped her after they arrived, how she struggled getting acting gigs, almost becoming homeless and was living out of her car before scoring a guest spot on the One Day at a Time reboot, how that led to other jobs, but nothing as high profile and potentially career boosting as this lead role in Palm Springs Weekend.

Poppy, hoping her oral history was finally coming to an end, opened her mouth to excuse herself so she could go get made up for her first scene, but the girl continued talking unabated. “I can’t tell you what a big break this is. I auditioned the first time around, and not to toot my own horn, but I nailed it. I thought I had it in the bag. Hal loved me, Netflix loved me, I was packing my bags for Palm Springs, but then my manager called with the bad news. They decided to go with a name. Danika was a big social media star with millions of followers. How could I compete with that? I was so crushed. But it’s funny how things work out.”

“Funny?” Poppy asked warily.

“I don’t mean funny, funny, it’s tragic that Danika died and all that, but I always knew deep down inside that this part belonged to me. From the moment I first auditioned. Even after Danika got cast and the film started shooting, I couldn’t accept that I was not going to play the role . . . and then . . . well, it worked out in the end, like it was supposed to. . . .”

Poppy stared at Joselyn, wondering if she had any idea how awful she was coming across, so callous, as if a woman’s murder was just a fortuitous stepping-stone to her ultimate goal of becoming a movie star.

Joselyn must have noticed Poppy’s and Matt’s horrified expressions because she efficiently erased her smile and said with a dash of false compassion, “But poor Danika . . .” Then her megawatt Farrah smile was back. “Anyway, it’s nice meeting you both. I’m really looking forward to working together.”

And then she bounced away, still commanding the admiring stares of the mostly male crew setting up the next shot.

“Man, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on for a moment there, and then she started talking,” Matt said, shaking his head.

Poppy could not help but be reminded of that old actor saying, “I would kill for that part,” which in this case she suspected might not be just an old saying after all.

Chapter 35

Poppy made her way down the aluminum steps of the makeup trailer, her face freshly painted and her hair fussed over and sprayed firmly into place. In one hand she clutched a rolled-up copy of her script and in the other her phone, pressed to her ear as she waited, on hold.

Finally, a woman came on the line. “Bear Valley Community Hospital, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, hello, I have been trying to reach Sam Emerson’s room, but he hasn’t been picking up.”

“Who?”

“Sam Emerson,” Poppy said, louder.

“Hold on.”

She heard computer keys clicking as the receptionist typed. “I’ll connect you now.”

“No! You don’t understand. I have been calling the room and there has been no answer—”

The receptionist was suddenly gone.

The line rang and rang.

Still no answer.

Poppy sighed, frustrated. She hung up and called the hospital again.

“Bear Valley Community Hospital, how may I direct your call?”

Poppy couldn’t tell if it was the same woman as before. This one’s voice sounded like it had a faint Southern accent. She was going to have to assume this was a whole new person and she would have to start all over again.

“My name is Poppy Harmon. My boyfriend, Sam Emerson, is a patient in your hospital. I have been calling his room, but there has been no answer and I’m very worried—”

“What’s the name again?”

Poppy sighed. “Sam Emerson.” Then she added quickly, “Please don’t transfer me to his room, no one is there to pick up. He had a very serious heart attack, and I am worried he’s not in his room in bed and—”

“They may have taken him down for some tests,” this more helpful receptionist suggested.

“Can you check for me, please? I want to be sure nothing’s wrong.”

Silence.

Poppy could feel the woman’s annoyance coming through the phone.

“Hold please,” she said abruptly, then got off the line.

Someone tapped Poppy on the shoulder.

It was Timothy, the PA. “Hey, Poppy, we’re going to need you on set in five minutes.”

“Thank you, Timothy.”

He trotted off, and Poppy stood, phone still clamped to her ear, waiting impatiently, working hard to not allow her mind to go to a worst-case-scenario situation.

Sam was going to be fine.

Back to normal in no time.

Or a new kind of normal.

She heard some kind of a scuffle happening on the opposite side of the makeup trailer. Voices murmuring. She lowered the phone and was about to wander around to see what was going on when a nurse came on the line.

“Are you the one trying to find Sam Emerson?” Her voice was much kinder, more accommodating, understanding.

“Yes, he’s not in his room.”

“That’s because he terrorized the nursing staff until he was allowed to take a walk outside.”

“That sounds like Sam,” Poppy chuckled.

“He should be back in his room in about ten or fifteen minutes.” The nurse’s calm, serene tone put Poppy immediately at ease.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And just so you know, the doctor delivered some good news today. Mr. Emerson might be discharged on Thursday depending on the results of his EKG tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful,” Poppy said, relieved.

The fracas on the other side of the trailer was getting louder, more intense. Poppy pushed a finger in her free ear to drown out the noise.

Before hanging