“The police think it was a follow-home robbery of some sort. She had plans with friends for brunch but didn’t show up on Saturday. They thought it wasn’t a big deal. No one went over there until late yesterday afternoon. One of her girlfriends found her body.”

“So she was killed during a robbery? Was there a lot of stuff taken?”

“The police are trying to figure that out now. She was a petite thing—she obviously wasn’t a match for the guy who did this to her.”

“I know you were excited about all the possible new stuff with Chloe. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve looked terrible. I wondered what it could possibly feel like, to be dating someone who was murdered. I’d seen plenty of those shows on Court TV where the families talked about losing someone they loved, telling their story by rote for the camera in a southern-twanged monotone. They were usually southern-twanged because an incredibly high percentage of murders that ended up on those shows occurred in Texas and Florida. When I questioned my producer friend who worked on Forensic Files why so many of the show’s murders seemed to happen in the south, she just shrugged and said, “Because crazy people live there.”

I slightly enjoyed watching Steve as he fumbled with the production schedule for Flesh and Bone’s latest episode, his hands a little shaky from too much morning coffee and his bad news. I wondered when he’d heard. In spite of being late, I felt good, and I hoped I wasn’t coming across as too perky.

Steve sensed my mood and I wondered if he was wondering if I knew about him and Chloe. I wondered if Chloe ever told him about Dave. Steve’s eyes flashed up from his papers, and he held my gaze. I smiled warmly back. Was this our exchange? Our agreement to continue in silence? I noticed his hands still trembling as he tried to be nonchalant. He met my eyes and gave me a tight smile.

“You don’t have to worry about being sorry with me,” he said. “We’re just fucked. We had two days’ shooting left on this episode, and now we’re going to have to recast and rush the re-shoots into production. This show is important.”

His personal concern for Chloe had quickly been replaced with his on-with-the-show efforts. The cool, pragmatic producer was thinking how this would affect the bottom line. You gotta love Hollywood.

“This is going to cost us a lot of money. I’ve got to find out from the network if this is coming straight out of our budget or whether our insurance will cover us.”

“Do you think she was into drugs?” I asked.

“I don’t have any idea.” He shrugged. “None of us here really knew her. It’s possible, I guess. Why do you ask?”