Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (famous ebook reader .txt) 📗

Poppy’s eyes pooled with tears as she came across photos of the three victims: Sherie from the Bronx, a warm smile, gorgeous afro, and smooth chocolate skin; Theresa from Port St. Lucie, Florida—freckled face, long brown hair, a twinkle in her eye; and then there was Linda, the only one Poppy ever had any personal contact with, a beautiful blonde with a fluffy haircut popularized by Heather Locklear, who had the envious distinction at the time of starring in not one but two hit TV shows on ABC, Dynasty and TJ Hooker. Poppy could not help but think, If they had been lucky enough to survive, where would they be today? It was such a travesty that their lives had been so cruelly snuffed out.

Another fact kept insidiously creeping into Poppy’s mind, and she simply could not shake it. She had for years buried the “what if” scenario, refusing to tell anyone how close she had been to becoming victim number three of the Pillow Talk Killer instead of Linda Appleton.

It had so disturbed her, so rocked her to her core, that just the idea of revisiting the sequence of events had always been too traumatic for her. But now, unfortunately, having been the one who had found Danika dead in her trailer, Poppy could no longer ignore it.

Staring at those pictures, those three young, beautiful women in their prime on her computer screen, Poppy seemed to slowly drift away and slip back in time to that specific moment in her life, arguably a high point. She was single, on top of the world, banking fifteen grand a week on a top twenty–rated network TV show, featured on the cover of TV Guide magazine during that month of July with her impossibly handsome co-star Rod Harper, playfully chewing on his necktie and beaming into the camera while he smiled lovingly at her. Her life was far from perfect. When was anyone’s life ever really perfect? But it was a heady time, and she was enjoying a dizzying height of success. Which was why what unexpectedly happened one steaming hot night a week after the Fourth of July in the City of Angels would suddenly change everything.

Hollywood, California

July 11, 1985

Poppy casually thumbed through her dog-eared script as she sat in the makeup chair while Dolly, a perky, blond zaftig woman fond of bright pink lipstick and a matching bow in her hair finished adding a little blush to her cheeks. It had been a long day and she was relieved they only had one more scene to shoot before the company wrapped for the day.

“I hear Linda and Joan are fighting again,” Dolly announced breathlessly.

“Oh, yeah?” Poppy said, half-interested. The rumors of feuding between two of TV’s top stars, Linda Evans and Joan Collins of the megahit prime time soap Dynasty had become old news, but Poppy didn’t want to appear rude and not engage with the excitable, gossipy Dolly. “What’s got them going this time?”

“Well, my girlfriend Connie works over there in the wardrobe department and apparently yesterday they were shooting another one of those catfight scenes. Seriously, how many of those can they do? A pillow fight, thrashing around in the lily pond, it’s getting old. Anyway, yesterday during rehearsal Linda jabbed Joan in the eye and she finally put her foot down and stormed off the set and threatened to quit the show if Linda wasn’t fired, as if that would ever happen. Joan stewed in her dressing room the whole afternoon and they had to rewrite the entire scene. Aaron Spelling even had to come down to the set to play peacemaker.”

“I’m glad we don’t have that kind of drama on this set,” Poppy said.

Rod could be a handful sometimes, showing up hungover on occasion after partying too hard the night before and sometimes feeling the need to assert his masculinity by demanding he be allowed to perform his own stunts even after he tore a ligament by insisting he do a jump off a moving car himself, but other than that there were no misbehaving divas to contend with on Jack Colt. For Poppy’s part, she was just happy to have a regular acting gig and had no desire to cause any trouble. When she was on the set she was in her happy place. But they did work her hard, and today she was anxious to go home and sink into a luxurious bubble bath in the Hollywood Hills guest house she was renting.

“Eyes up,” Dolly instructed.

Poppy looked toward the ceiling as Dolly applied some mascara while humming her favorite song of the moment, Madonna’s big hit “Material Girl.” Dolly stepped back and inspected her work, then moved aside so Poppy could get a good look at herself in the mirror.

Dolly tapped her chin with the eyeliner as she placed her other hand on her hip. “Well, hello, gorgeous.”

“I look tired,” Poppy moaned.

“They’ll fix it in post,” Dolly cracked.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one day they could actually do that?” Poppy said, laughing.

The door opened, and another blonde breezed into the trailer. Tinseltown was teeming with blondes, a few even natural, but this girl had very dark roots so she was probably not among the minority. This girl, Pam, was jaw-droppingly beautiful and seemed very sweet even though she was playing the guest role of a hardened, heartless criminal by the name of Bloody Mary, who had shot two guards while breaking her murderous boyfriend out of prison.

“Are you ready for me yet?” Pam asked.

“Perfect timing, I’m just about done with Poppy,” Dolly said. “Come on in and take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Pam said, smiling as she sat down in the chair next to Poppy. “Have you all seen the new James Bond movie yet?”

“No, I haven’t had time,” Poppy answered. “What’s it called?”

Pam began fluffing her own hair. “A View to a Kill.”

“I saw it,” Dolly sighed. “It was long. But Grace Jones was