I squinted through the darkness, getting my first real close-up look at Lani. Unlike her character, I realized she was much older than I’d thought. Early to midtwenties at least. And by the way her eyes were taking on a wide, feverish look, I could well imagine her playing the crazed Shakespeare heroine.

“I have a masters in fine art,” she went on, “I studied under the finest acting coaches of our time. And what do I get in return? Does anyone recognize my talent? No! Instead, you print stories about that twit Jennifer flashing her boobs!”

“So, you threatened me to make the stories about Jennifer stop?” I asked. I shifted to the left again, closing the gap between me and escape. Just a few inches more. I just had to keep her talking and wait for my opening.

“Exactly. Why should some trashionista get all the press?” Lani smiled, a creepy expression that never quite reached her eyes. “And, to kill two birds with one stone, I framed Jennifer. The first step was making the phone call from her production company’s offices. Of course, I had to disguise my voice, but I was sure you’d be able to trace the call. Then, when no one was looking, I snuck into the hair and makeup trailer and grabbed Jennifer’s hairbrush, leaving strands of her long blonde locks all over your place when I trashed it. Total DNA dump.” She frowned. “Didn’t you find the hair?”

“DNA takes ten days to process,” I said. Then took another tiny step to the left. “Even if the police found it, their lab won’t have results back for another week at least.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s crap. It only takes a couple minutes on CSI.”

“CSI is a TV show.”

She gave me a blank stare, not getting my point. “You were supposed to be freaked into quitting. You were supposed to stop printing those stupid stories about Jennifer.” She frowned again. “Only you didn’t stop.”

“Oops, my bad,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Shut up!” She took a step toward me, waving the gun at me.

I’m no dummy. I shut up.

“When it became clear you were going to be a problem, I went with plan B.”

I hated to ask. “Plan B?”

She nodded again, her sleek hair shimmering a twisted blue in the pastel lighting. “Up the stakes. That’s what my acting coaches always say to do when a scene is lagging. I upped the stakes by framing Jennifer for not only threatening you, but your murder. If Jennifer was arrested, guess who’d be in line as the new star of Pippi Mississippi?”

Personally I had a hard time picturing the show going on without Jennifer. Lani the Loon just doesn’t have the same ring to it. But it was clear this chick had passed sane thought at least one dead body ago.