The first thing I did when I got back to the office was head straight for Allie’s desk. Only to find out she was taking a late lunch. I hoped she enjoyed it. Because there was a distinct possibility that meal would be her last.

It also served to remind me I hadn’t eaten yet either. Cal offered to go get us sandwiches again, and I plunked down at my desk.

Max’s head popped up over the top of the partition. “That you, Bender?”

“Hey, Max.”

“I got that obit typed up that you wanted,” he said, handing me a sheet of paper.

I took it, scanning the highlights of Mrs. Carmichael’s obituary. Apparently she’d been crowned Miss Venice Beach back in the forties. She’d owned two racehorses, one that had come in fourth in the Kentucky Derby in the sixties. She had penned a romance novel in the eighties that even sported Fabio on the cover. She’d been widowed three times—by a plumber, a car salesman, and a window washer. She’d been a certified scuba diver, had a pilot’s license, and a black belt in judo. And, according to Max’s fine reporting skills, she’d been the very first person to ever play Mickey Mouse at Disneyland.

Immediately a deep sense of sadness hit me. While she’d been a pain in the butt as an old woman, I’d had no idea of the kind of life she’d led before Palm Grove. I suddenly felt sorry that I hadn’t taken the time to find out until now.

“That work for ya?” Max asked.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I handed the sheet back to him.

I turned my watery-eyed gaze back to my computer screen, forcing the lump from my throat. Focus. I had work to do. And sitting here feeling guilty wasn’t going to help Mrs. C. at this point.

Trying really hard to believe my own pep talk, I booted up IMDB and focused on finding out who else had been in Pines’s picture with Mullins.

The Internet Movie Database has all the info on every movie or TV show ever made. Plot, production status, cast, crew, and every agent associated with it. It’s a huge network of who’s who in Hollywood. You know that you’ve truly made it in this town when you have your own entry on IMDB.

I plugged in the name of Pines’s last film and came up with a page that held the meager plot, a movie poster, and list of participants. Pines, of course, and a handful of other crew whose names I didn’t recognize. Mullins was listed, as was the kid who’d played his son and allegedly posed for Pines. But as I scanned the names of the rest of the cast, one fairly jumped out at me.

Jennifer Wood.