Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels #12) - Gemma Halliday Page 0,48

read about that theory in the tabloids this morning too."

Read about. Wrote. They were similar.

"I'm sure everyone did," Tina said. "It's a very popular magazine."

Blick shook his head. "It's rubbish."

"So you don't think Dog's death was homicide?" Dana asked.

"Of course not," he said, shooting that down. "Unfortunate accident."

"So, you think Dog accidentally added antifreeze to his own energy drink?" I asked slowly.

Blick frowned, stabbing a cucumber with vigor. "Is that how they're saying he was poisoned?"

I licked my lips, glancing at Tina. "It's one theory I've heard."

Blick shook his head. "Well, it's a tragedy. That's what it is. A terrible tragedy."

"Did you know Dog well?" Dana asked, her expression sympathetic.

"He'd been at the network for a couple of years," Blick said, not really answering the question at all.

"And he worked closely with your wife, didn't he?" I asked. "Aunty Mae?"

His fork stabbed so hard at a crouton that it nearly flew across the table. "They worked together. I don't know about closely."

"I've seen the show," Tina said. "They hated each other. It was charming."

"Yes, well, tension is good for ratings." Blick shoved the crouton into his mouth and chewed with gusto.

"Speaking of tension, there was some between you and Dog on the Jeopardy! set, wasn't there?" I asked.

He swallowed quickly. "Who told you that?"

"Oh, you know. Publicists talk," I said vaguely. "But you did argue with him, didn't you?"

He cleared his throat. "Dog was not taking the appearance as seriously as I had hoped he would. At the time, I suspected he was high."

As had I. Only he'd not been so much high as poisoned.

"Quite frankly," Blick went on, "he was making a mockery of the whole thing. After I'd specifically arranged for him to be on the show."

"You're the one who secured Dog a spot on Jeopardy!?" Tina asked.

He nodded. "I thought it would be good publicity for the cooking show." He shook his head ruefully. "I never dreamed it would turn out this way."

Our entrées arrived, and we all fell silent until the waiter had departed. As soon as he left, Blick resumed eating with the same gusto he'd displayed for his salad. I, too, dug into my meal. The scallops were delicious and melted in my mouth.

"I'm curious, Blick," Tina said, swallowing a bite. "If you wanted publicity for In the Kitchen with Aunty Mae and the Dog, why not put your wife on Jeopardy!?"

He barked out a laugh. "Well, if you've seen the cooking show, you know that woman is as dumb as a post. It would have been cruel to embarrass her that way."

A true romantic. I hid my disdain with another heavenly bite of my free meal.

"Did Mae feel the same way? That Dog was the best choice?" Tina asked, eyes gleaming with the glee of a juicy gossip story. Celebrity marriages gone awry were right up her alley.

"Hmm?" Blick looked up from his meal.

"How did your wife feel about Dog representing the show on Jeopardy!?" Tina repeated.

Blick shrugged. "I'm sure she was fine with it."

"Even though Dog was on his way out?" I asked.

Blick frowned at me as he chewed. "Out? Out of what?"

"Weren't you going back to Mae doing a solo show?" Dana asked. "I thought she mentioned something to me about Dog's contract being up and you getting rid of Dog?"

Blick blinked at her like she had just proposed he hire an actress over forty. "Why would I do a thing like that? That man single-handedly turned my wife's show around. Her ratings have never been higher. In fact, we were in negotiations for a new contract for him to do three more years of In the Kitchen."

Dana shot me a look. That wasn't what Mae had told us. Not by a long shot. She'd made it sound like her husband was actively trying to edge Dog out—not reel him in for three more years.

"Is the network planning to do anything for Dog? You know, in his memory?" Tina asked, and I could see her fishing for tomorrow's headline.

Rupert wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, of course. We, uh, have an informal memorial scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. You know, just for his TV family." He paused. "But the press will be there, of course."

Tina nodded, making mental notes. "And what time would that be?" she asked.

Luckily for him—and the rest of the potential mourners—Blick's phone buzzed from the table with an incoming text, and he glanced down at the screen. "Ah, you'll pardon me, ladies. But I have to take