Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels #12) - Gemma Halliday Page 0,83

were barely holding her parts in. She was mugging it for the camera, sticking her tongue out and flashing a rock and roll sign with her hands.

"She doesn't look anything like little Pippi," Mom said sadly.

"That's the point. She's trying to look grown-up now. She's rebranding. She's Pip," Mrs. Rosenblatt declared.

"What kind of name is Pip?" Mom scoffed. "I liked her better when she was in pigtails."

Mrs. R shrugged. "She wore pigtails in her last music video. Didn't wear anything else, but the pigtails were there."

The contestants began filing out onto the stage amidst applause from the audience. Faux Dad took a position behind the podium nearest to the host, with Pippi in the middle and Angela to the one at my far right. Faux Dad stared straight ahead into the audience. His eyes looked glassy, and his makeup was fading fast.

"Is he okay?" I asked Mom.

She twisted her hands in her lap. "I hope so. He's nervous, Maddie. Even more so than the last time. Hopefully he'll snap out of it once the categories are announced."

The lights blinked, and then the familiar music started to play. Johnny's booming voice sounded over the speakers, announcing, "This is Celebrity Jeopardy! Let's meet today's finalists!"

We all applauded as the camera shifted from Pippi and her radiant smile to Angela and her plastic one then finally to Faux Dad, who looked like he might faint at any moment. Alex Trebek was introduced, and everyone clapped and cheered again.

Mrs. R let out a whistle between her teeth that sent half the second row covering their ears.

"Please, please, let there be questions about hair," Mom whispered.

We held our breath as Trebek announced the categories. Famous Leaders, 1970s Television, Historic Places, Shakespeare, Eleven Letter Words, and Wall Street.

Mrs. Rosenblatt gasped. "Oh no. None of these are his strong suit."

The competition began, and Faux Dad seemed to be having trouble with his buzzer that was reminiscent of Dog's issues in the first round. Angela got the Daily Double, located in the middle of the 1970s Television category.

She gave a sacchariney smile. "Let's make it a true daily double, Alex!"

"Please let her miss," my mother prayed. "She wasn't around in the 70s, was she?"

"She might have been," Mrs. Rosenblatt noted. "All actresses have plastic surgery these days. It's a good thing I've never needed it. I'm betting that she's even older than me."

"Shush!" a woman behind us said.

"This actress is best known for her portrayal of Erica Kane," Trebek read.

Angela practically jumped up and down. "Who is my favorite daytime actress, Susan Lucci!"

Mrs. Rosenblatt groaned. "Typical. From one soap opera queen to another."

When the show went to its first commercial break, Angela was leading with a score of $3,000. Pippi had $2,000, and Faux Dad had a measly $700. Mom was starting to have a panic attack.

"He's so much better than this," she panted loudly. "It's not fair. That Angela Gold must have an extra buzzer or something."

"Put your head between your knees before you hyperventilate," Mrs. Rosenblatt advised. "Your husband has enough to deal with right now besides worrying about you."

"It's still early," Mom's muffled voice came from her lap.

"It is. He has plenty of time to catch up, Mom," I added.

Mrs. Rosenblatt shook her head ruefully. "No. It's over."

My phone vibrated with another text message. I drew it out of my pocket.

And narrowed my eyes as I saw Tina Bender's name show up.

I almost ignored it, but at the risk of another surprise article being printed that day, I swiped to read it.

I have urgent news. Come to Aunty Mae's set. ASAP.

I bit my lower lip. Knowing Tina, this was some sort of trick. After a quick glance at the stage where we were still at a commercial break, I typed a response.

What news? I already read your article??hanks for not sharing

I shoved my phone into my pocket, trying to ignore the niggle of curiosity at what, exactly, Tina might think she knew. And wondering why she didn't just publish it for the entire world to see before telling me.

Then again??aybe she'd found something really big. Like definitive proof of Dog's killer, big. It's possible she was looking to do the right thing. Share with me, and maybe Ramirez and the police, before tipping the killer off in the media.

Or maybe she was just baiting me into saying something stupid to quote in tomorrow's edition.

I held on to that thought as the stage manager signaled that we were almost back. Just as the theme music swelled