by Nic Saint
“I’m not taking anything back. I mean, you don’t even pluck your eyebrows!”
“I do pluck my eyebrows!”
“No, you don’t. Look at that bush. It’s almost as if you’ve got a bird’s nest over your eyes.”
“We can’t all be self-centered and vain like you,” Marisa shot back.
“It’s called having a sense of style and beauty.”
“Girls,” said Mom, holding up her hands like a referee. “Be nice to each other. You’re too old to fight like a gaggle of kids.”
“Yes, behave yourselves,” said Charlene. “Or else you’re out of my show, young lady,” she added for Maya’s sake.
Maya’s eyes widened in shock. “I can’t be out of your show! I just got in!”
“I’m not having any prima donnas in my show,” Charlene stated primly.
“There can be only one,” Dad muttered.
He was right. There was only one prima donna allowed in this family and that was Charlene. She’s the star of Charleneland, the theme park that carries her name, and of her own life. I’ve often wondered when Ryan Seacrest was going to come knocking on our door, offering to produce ‘Keeping Up with the Ruggs.’ With the amount of drama ratings would go through the roof.
Oh, my name is Mia, by the way, and I like to think I’m the sensible one in this crazy family of ours. Together we own and run Charleneland, the well-known theme park located in Sapsucker, California.
I run security at the park, Dad is the technical guy, Mom combines human resources and admin duties, Maya is in charge of entertainment—and dealing with our main star Charlene—and Marisa is our IT and accounting whiz. And not only do we run this park together, for some reason we also live together in the same house. Good thing it’s a very big house. Like, huge.
And just when Maya was about to tear into Marisa again, a large man strolled into our kitchen.
“Hey, Leo,” I said. “What’s up?”
He had that slightly worried look on his face that told me he wasn’t the harbinger of good news. Luitpold ‘Leo’ Shearwood is our chief of security so he reports directly to me. He’s also had a crush on my grandmother for as long as I can remember, though he’s never had the courage to act on it.
“There’s been an accident,” he said in that rumbling baritone of his.
“An accident?” asked Dad, finally putting down his newspaper. “What kind of accident?”
Leo rearranged his features in the requisite look of seriousness. “One of the cast members was shot. He’s dead.”
Chapter 4
While the others finished their breakfast, I followed Leo out. Passing through the living room, I asked him, “When are you finally going to ask her out?”
As usual, he feigned ignorance. “Ask who out?”
“Charlene, of course.”
“Never,” he said curtly.
“Wrong answer,” I said. When he shrugged, I added, “Look, we all know you’re crazy about my grandmother, Leo, and neither of you are getting any younger, so you should just suck it up and pop the question already!”
He gave me a look of shock. “Pop the question?”
“Ask her out! Take her to a nice place and, you know, woo her.”
He grinned. “Woo her.” Then his smile disappeared and he heaved a deep sigh. The kind of sigh befitting a long-suffering suitor. “I don’t know, Mia.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
”She could say no, and I could end up losing her friendship and respect.”
“She won’t say no. For one thing, Charlene loves to be wined and dined. And for another, she likes you.”
”You’re just saying that to make me feel better. Charlene doesn’t even know I exist.”
I laughed. “You’re practically a member of this family, Leo. How can you say that? Of course she knows you exist.”
He gave me a hesitant look. “Does she ever… you know… talk about me?”
“She doesn’t have to. I know how much she cares about you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know…”
”Well, I do. And if you won’t take the first step, I will.”
He looked shocked. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to see a great guy like you pine away in unrequited love?”
A flush of red crept up his cheeks. “You make it sound so… wrong.”
“It’s not wrong. You like her—and what’s not to like? She’s a great old gal.”
At this, he gave me a scornful look. “She’s not old. Charlene will never be old. She’s one of those people that don’t age.”
“In spite of what she would like, Charlene does age, Leo, and if you don’t hurry up, she’ll be gone, and you’ll have missed your shot.”
I would have told him a great deal more on the subject, but the moment we stepped out of the house Leo’s new second-in-command stood hopping nervously from leg to leg.
”Oh, there you are,” he said, flashing a smile. “I thought you’d gotten lost in that big house.”
“Hey, Dylan,” I said. We’d hired Dylan only a couple of weeks before, to help Leo carry some of the heavy load of managing park security. The number of visitors increased year by year and so did the challenge of keeping them safe at all times. Dylan Thornley was an ex-cop who’d been seduced by the better working conditions and paycheck of the private sector. He was blond, blue-eyed and endearingly goofy and everyone in the department loved him.
”Let’s go and have a look, shall we?” Leo suggested, clapping a hand on Dylan’s back. “Did you get in touch with Steve’s folks yet?”
”Sure did, Chief,” said Dylan, eager beaver that he was. “I also cordoned off the area and called the cops. They’re already at the scene.”
”So what happened exactly?” I asked.
“The nine o’clock Main Street gunfight,” Leo explained. “Someone loaded the guns with real bullets.”
“Both guns?”
“Yep. Didn’t matter who shot first. Someone was going to be hit.”
“Who’s the victim?”
“Steve Geyser.”
I nodded. “I remember Steve. Good-looking kid. Young.” Too young.
“He and Garrett Midway were doing their usual spiel. Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Garrett shot first. Steve went down and didn’t get up again. He took a bullet to the head. Death was instantaneous.”
I shook my head. “What a terrible thing.”
“Yeah, they’re both great guys,” said Dylan.
“You know them?”
“Sure. They’re Sapsucker kids. I’ve got a couple years on them but I’ve seen them around. Mrs. Geyser—that’s Steve’s mom—organizes the Sapsucker High bake sale. And his dad and my dad go bowling together all the time.”
We’d reached the golf cart that we used to get around the park and climbed in, Leo wedging his large frame behind the wheel. The cart jerked into motion and we were off at a rapid clip. It beat having to walk the 150 acres that the park comprises, especially since we take hidden passageways that get us everywhere quick, avoiding the crowds.
Not a single word was spoken during the drive. Whenever something like this happens at Charleneland, we take it extremely seriously. Not only because we obviously value the lives of everyone who works here, but because a thing like this impacts the park’s future and everyone involved.
Every single accident is an accident too much, but a deadly accident? And one of our own that ends up dead? That is simply intolerable.
Chapter 5
We arrived at the back of the Rusty Spur, the saloon where cast members change clothes and hang out between gigs. There’s a small break room where they can take a nap, have a bite to eat and watch some TV. There’s also a dressing room, sanitary facilities and showers. From the front, the Rusty Spur looks like an Old West saloon. From the back, it’s a lot less authentic.
We got out of the cart and rounded the building. Ma
in Street—a collection of saloons, barber shop, bank, sheriff’s office, undertaker and assorted stores and eateries—was eerily quiet. Normally around this time the place is buzzing with families and kids enjoying the look and feel of the Old West.
I saw that Blane Jamison had already arrived. Blane is Sapsucker PD. He’s also blond and handsome and there may or may not be something going on between us. I just know he’s a great kisser and an even better detective.
Blane was crouched next to the body of Steve Geyser, who was dressed up like a sheriff, complete with gold star. When we arrived, the cop looked up.
“Hey, Blane,” I said, and held out my hand.
He shook it warmly, then gave it a tug as he rose to his full height.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said with a wistful smile.
“What have we got?”
His smile vanished. “Gunshot wound to the forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground.”
I shook my head. “How is this even possible?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“Do you have the guns?”
”I do. Garrett Midway—that’s the shooter—was so kind to hand them over.”
I stared down at the body. Steve was a great kid. Had been with us for years. He was part of the Charleneland family. And now he was dead.
“Did you talk to Garrett?”
“Yeah, I did. He’s in shock, which is understandable. Swears he didn’t know his gun was loaded with actual ammunition.”
“And Steve’s gun was loaded too?”
“It was. When I told Garrett he was even more shocked. Said they’d been joking back and forth about who was going to die today. It never occurred to him that it could have been him instead of his friend.”
“They were friends?”
“Yeah, they were great pals. No way he would have wanted to hurt Steve.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I stared at Blane, my face grim. “So someone pulled a switch on them.”
“Sure seems that way. Where do you keep the guns in between shows?”
“I’ll show you.” I walked Blane over to the Rusty Spur. I punched a code into a hidden panel next to the front door and the door clicked open.
“You need a code?”
“You do.”
He nodded as we headed inside. The place might look like a saloon from the outside, but inside it looked more like an office: white ceramic tile floors, white walls and low false ceilings with LED ceiling lighting. It was airy and bright in here. A table stood on one wall, comfy couches and beanbags lined another, and a flatscreen TV was bolted into a third.
The dressing room, which came next, was stuffy and smelly and I frowned when a mixture of sweat and stale air hit my nostrils. This space needed airing out. Or a working fan. I walked up to a series of lockers and tapped the first one. It was secured with a padlock. I opened the locker and Blane peered inside.
There was a small box of blank cartridges. I moved to take it out but Blane placed his hand on mine. He took out a plastic glove, then tipped the box into a plastic baggie and held it up, staring at it.
“Any cameras in here?”
“Nope. Never had any reason to install them. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to put a surveillance camera in a dressing room.”
“What about the rest of the saloon?”
“We don’t spy on our own people.”
“Well, maybe you should. Who has access to this locker?”
I thought for a moment. “My staff. Technicians. The cast.”
“How many people?”
I threw up my hands. “Dozens? Hundreds? It’s just a locker, Blane.”
“You don’t change the combination at regular intervals?”
“As far as I know it’s never been changed since we put in these lockers.”
He shook his head, looking deeply perturbed.
I frowned. “So what is this? An accident, or… murder?”
He gave me a penetrating look and I brought a startled hand to my face. “No way.”
“Afraid so. Someone snuck in here and put those bullets in those guns with the intention to kill either Steve or Garrett.”
My heart beat a steady drum against my chest and my breath came a little quicker and a little shallower. “We’ve got a murderer on the loose?”
“Looks that way.”
“A murderer targeting… our cast members?”
“Your cast members or Charleneland itself. Have you or your family received any threats lately?”
“No. Not that I can recall. I would have to check with Leo.” I fixed him with an intent look. “Isn’t it possible that this is a prank gone wrong? Maybe whoever put in those bullets didn’t know they were…” My voice faded away when Blane shot me a weary glance. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound very likely.”
“No, it doesn’t. Garrett told me the script said he was to shoot first, so it seems probable that Steve was the intended victim here.” When I heaved a groan, he added, “Let’s take another stab at Garrett. Maybe there was some kind of beef between Steve and one of the other extras.”
Chapter 6
We walked back out onto the street. The coroner had arrived and was examining the body, his team taking pictures and collecting evidence. Leo handed them the gun and Blane did the same with the box of ammunition.
I gazed at the crowd that had gathered beyond the yellow crime scene tape.
To my surprise, people were snapping selfies, chattering excitedly, and seemed in no way shocked or appalled by what had just happened.
“Are they… excited?” I asked, not hiding my astonishment.
Blane grimaced. “They probably think it’s all part of the show. Like, a new attraction that you guys cooked up this morning. They’ll want to tell their friends how they were the first to enjoy it. Post the pictures on Instagram.”
“Someone should tell them this is real, not just for show.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Blane said. “The moment word gets out someone was actually shot and killed, there will be a panic as people head for the exits.”
“We have to find out who did this, Blane. This happened on my watch.”
“I have a suggestion.”
I looked up, and saw a slight smile trembling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re asking me out on a date, Blane,” I said in a low voice.
His eyebrows shot up into his fringe. “Why? Would that be totally inappropriate? Yes,” he quickly added before I could respond. “You’re right. That would be inappropriate. Which is why I wasn’t asking you out.”
“You weren’t?” I asked, and couldn’t hide a slight disappointment.
“No. I wanted to invite you to join me in this investigation. You know this park better than anyone, and you know your staff. I’m just a stranger here, and so teaming up seems like the best way to deal with this crisis.”
“We’re having a crisis, huh?”
“How else would you describe this?”
”You’re right,” I said, my eyes trailing over the body of Steve, who was now being transported into the waiting ambulance. “Won’t your boss mind?”
“It’s not like this is the first time we’ve teamed up, Mia. Chief Render won’t mind if I can convince him that this is the way we’re going to see results.”
“Okay. If you’re sure it’s fine with him, I’m game. Though I’m not sure where to start.”
“Like I said, let’s have a chat with Garrett. If we’re lucky he’s the guy we want, and this whole thing was just a stupid prank gone terribly wrong.”
I waved at Leo, who came over on a trot. “Where’s the other shooter?”
”In my office,” Leo said. “Dylan wanted to lock him up in a holding cell but I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. I know the kid. He’s not a killer.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said.
Chapter 7
Garrett jumped up from his plastic chair the moment we entered Leo’s office. We were in the security compound, which is located in an old settler house, close to the entrance to the park. Garrett was a big guy, with a round blotchy face. In spite of the fact he’d been sitting here by himself for the past half hour, he looked sweaty and extremely agitated.
“What happened?!” he shouted. “How is Steve? Did you save him?”
When he saw the grim expressions on our faces, he sank back into the white plastic chair, which creaked under his bulk. “Oh, no,” he muttered, his eyes wide and fearful. “He’s really dead, isn’t he? Steve is dead.” He gulped. “And I killed him!”
I took a seat on the edge of Leo’s desk while Leo lowered himself into his swivel chair. Blane glanced around, studying the schematics of the park that decorated the walls. He held up his hand when Dylan, who’d tagged along, made to follow us into the office, then closed the door so we had some privacy.
“Tell me exactly what happened, Garrett,” I said. I was going to add, ‘and don’t leave anything out, no matter how small it may seem,’ but this was no time for levity. A man was dead, and we needed to figure out what happened.
Garrett raised his hands helplessly. “I explained everything to Mr. Shearwood. Me and Steve just did our regular routine—the one we’ve been doing all month. Ten shows a day. I was Doc Killer, and he was Sheriff Jack Wayne, just like always.”
”You’re always Doc Killer?” asked Blane.
“Yeah. It’s typecasting, I know, but Maya told me Doc Killer is the most interesting part anyway, so I don’t mind.”
Yeah, Maya would say that. The fact of the matter was that Steve Geyser was a handsome young guy, and exactly what people would expect when they thought of an honorable and incorruptible lawman. Garrett? He was born to play a killer, in spite of the fact that he was the gentlest soul I’d ever met. He once accidentally shoved a visitor and turned himself in, figuring he’d get fired. Like most of the cast who’d been with us for years, he was like family.
“Did you ever play the sheriff, Garrett?” Blane insisted.