Done to Death by Charles Atkins Page A

calling out directions from behind him. Her attention was suddenly pulled by a woman’s voice.
    â€˜What the hell is going on? That’s an LPP truck.’
    Lil turned and faced a rail thin blonde girl in a clingy black dress, followed by a broad-shouldered young man in a charcoal gray suit. Her immediate thought was there must be a funeral. This was a cemetery after all.
    â€˜What’s a film crew doing in Grenville?’ The woman grabbed the man’s arm. ‘Did you know about this?’
    Lil couldn’t hear his response. She recognized the girl as Rachel Parks. The man she wasn’t so sure of, either her boyfriend or her brother. Based on how she was hanging on his arm, she suspected the former. In general, spotting celebrities around Grenville was not a big deal. Quite a few movie stars, writers and Hollywood producers kept homes in this part of Connecticut. Often it was an attempt to give their children a normal childhood. The schools were top notch, and by and large people didn’t bother them.
    Rachel Parks looked at Lil. ‘Do you know what’s going on here?’
    â€˜Yes. I’m Lil Campbell,’ she said. ‘I am so sorry to hear about your mother.’
    To her surprise the man answered. ‘Thank you.’
    â€˜So what’s going on?’ Rachel asked.
    Despite the girl’s black dress and severe ponytail, Lil got no sense of grief. Not from the girl. The man on the other hand looked green. ‘You’re Richard Parks?’ she asked.
    â€˜Yes.’ He turned to his sister, who seemed fused to his side. ‘I have no idea, it’s something that must already have been in production. Maybe Mom wanted to do another piece about country living.’
    Lil was pulled by the hollow sound of his voice. ‘I can tell you what I know,’ she offered.
    â€˜Please,’ Rachel said, her green eyes wide.
    Lil wondered what a more seasoned reporter would do, and was also struck by how much Rachel’s eyes were like those of her famous mother. A real reporter would start snapping pictures , she thought. I can’t do that. ‘They’re filming the pilot for a reality show.’
    Richard Parks stared across the cemetery. His gaze fell on Ada and the crew members. He looked at Melanie and squinted. ‘Who’s the producer?’ he asked.
    â€˜Barry Stromstein.’
    â€˜Where is he? I don’t see him.’ Richard said. His jaw was tight.
    He sounded pissed, and Lil wondered what kind of hornet’s nest was being kicked. ‘I think he’s meeting with the mayor to try and push through some permits for the filming.’
    â€˜My goodness, Lil Campbell,’ Rachel said, ‘you really do know a lot about this. And that would be because?’
    â€˜You see the hostess?’ Lil asked.
    â€˜You mean the old lady in the black dress? She’s sweet.’
    â€˜I think so,’ Lil said, and something about hearing Ada called old made her blurt, ‘She’s my girlfriend.’
    â€˜Really?’ Rachel’s eyes widened. She looked at her brother, who clearly wanted to get out of there. ‘Girlfriend as in … I love you, you love me?’
    Lil found herself fascinated by this thin − almost to the point of cadaverous − young woman. Something about her was simultaneously engaging and off-putting. Then again, she was the one who had offered the information. And, as her curmudgeon of an editor had correctly stated, you have to give to get . ‘We’ve been together for three years, but friends for a lot longer than that.’
    â€˜Fascinating … and right here in butt fuck Connecticut. I wonder if Mother knew.’
    Lil recoiled at the vulgarity. Rachel was beautiful, but the angles of her face were a bit too sharp and her smile seemed brittle, as though applied like a layer of make-up.
    Richard stared straight ahead. ‘Don’t.’
    â€˜Things have a way of