Crimes Most Merry and Albright

by Larissa Reinhart

"They don't care about me."

  "What about the necklace?"

  He kept his eyes on the road. "I won't let anything happen to it."

  Unless Ms. Wonderly got her mitts on him. I didn't trust her one bit. But did I trust Nash?

  * * *

  At the cabin, we moved from room to room, checking for signs of Gentz or his men. They hadn't disturbed much, most of the damage remained in the foyer. Nash hauled the tree outside while I swept up the glass. Daddy's Christmas tree had been ruined, but the rest of the house had withstood HG's men.

  I handed Nash my laptop, then went to my room and changed. From satin and fleece to denim and thermal. A Jil Sander oversized sweater paired with my R13 skinny jeans and Sartore fur-lined ankle boots.

  Take that JJ and your impractical-for-Black-Pine ensembles. One can still rock winter and be warm.

  I hurried into the kitchen where Nash sat at our massive pine table with my laptop. In the short time I'd lived in Black Pine, Daddy's cabin had gone from "theirs" to "ours" in my mind, just like Nash's office. They'd both begun to feel like home. Was this a sign I'd become more Black Pine and less Hollywood? Since moving back, Remi had become a real sister, not just my father's other family. Carol Lynn didn't pretend to be my mother, but we were friends. And although Daddy and I were still trying to resolve our relationship as adult child and father, I cherished this chance to live with him and feel like a family again.

  I wiped my eyes and sniffed. My first real New Year's in Black Pine hadn't been the Hallmark movie of my dreams, but it had certainly been memorable. I glanced at Nash, who frowned at my laptop and typed with two fingers. Felt a rush of warmth for his part in this holiday. Even if it had been by inviting Ms. Wonderly into the mess.

  Would Nash become a part of this family, too? I clasped my hands together, imagining next Christmas with Nash sitting at this table with Daddy's family — I mean, my family — sharing our Christmas turkey and roast beast.

  Nash looked up. "There you are. I texted Ms, Wonderly. I should talk to her. Find out why she didn't show at the Winter Market and Gordon the elf did instead. I'd made a big mistake assuming she'd sent that note."

  As Nash's lips formed Ms. W's name, I felt mine thin. I quickly licked them and tossed away my silly family-around-the-table fantasies. "What did you learn about HG and Manganoid?"

  "Manganoid is the studio trying to do a Warhead Girl reboot. They mentioned you." Nash leaned back, studying me. "There are a lot of photos of you in that outfit."

  "Probably stills from the movie." I felt my face grow warm. "If Vicki's involved, this is the reason. She handled the original contract and had some production rights. When the movie flopped, she dismissed it, but as it grew to cult status, she probably started looking for ways to make her money back."

  Nash peered at the screen. "This doesn't look like a film still. You're surrounded by teenage boys and adults dressed for Halloween."

  The flames licking my cheeks heated my neck and ears. "I had to do Comic-Cons for a few years. Dressed like Warhead Girl."

  "You went out like that in public?" His eyes traveled from the screen and back to me.

  I bit my lip and glanced away.

  Nash cleared his throat. "Anyway, some tech company tried to stop the second movie from being made."

  "That must be HG. But why would he halt production if he loves Warhead Girl?"

  "The story said he thought it would ruin the integrity of the first movie."

  I laughed. "I told you fans could get crazy."

  "He offered fifty million to buy the rights."

  "Holy shmizzles." I stared at Nash. "That must have been what Lamar meant. Fifty million is a lot different than fifty thousand."

  "The man is more than crazy. Do you know HG built an underwater resort? You can rent a room that's basically an inverse aquarium. Costs about a hundred thousand a night, but they're booked for the next twenty years."

  I shuddered. "I think I had a nightmare about that once."

  "By the way, your friends called me." Nash waved the phone. "They've been trying to reach you."

  "Thanks." I grabbed the phone from his hand, slid onto the bench, and dialed Rhonda's number. "Probably checking in about Remi. Let's hope they're sitting on her."

  “Where've you been?" said Rhonda.

  "My phone is currently in a portable toilet. I'm back at the cabin now."

  "Oh," purred Rhonda. "With Mr. Nash? Are you getting cozy for New Year's Eve?"

  "I wouldn't say cozy. We're still working on the case. But everything's fine. Tell Remi I'm at the cabin and it's all good." I didn't want to freak them out by telling Rhonda about the hostage showdown in the Dukem Inn. Or worse, let it slip to Remi who might feel she had to save me. She already saw me get into a car with Gentz. Nash had reassured her I was fine when he dropped Remi off at Tiffany's.

  Nash glanced over his shoulder. "Did you hear that?"

  "What?" I held my hand over the receiver.

  "Sounded like something, maybe in the garage. I'll check it out." Nash pushed off the bench and strode across the kitchen to the garage door.

  "How's Remi?" I hopped up from the bench. Poised to run, I kept my eyes on the door Nash had left open.

  "Just fine." Rhonda paused. "The thing is, we locked her in the bedroom. With food, drinks, and a tv. We were worried about her getting out again after that sleeping in the bed trick. We also shoved a table in front of the door. This was a harder babysitting assignment than I thought…"

  "No, that's fine," I said absently and my attention on the door to the garage. "As long as she's safe."

  Nash returned from the garage and shrugged. I released the breath I hadn't realized I held and sat down.

  "But there's the dogs…" continued Rhonda.

  "I'm sorry about the Jacks. They have a lot of energy."

  "We put them in the room with Remi, I hope that was okay. They behave so much better with her. Haven't heard a peep from any of them for a while, so I think it was the right thing to do…"

  The phone clattered. "Girl," said Tiffany. "Those dogs ate all our Rice Krispy treats. And they got in the fridge and ate my Swiss Colony cheese and sausage sampler. It was in the damn deli drawer."

  "Wow," I said. "I knew the Jacks were smart, but I didn't—"

  "Wait," said Tiffany. "Rhonda looks guilty."

  "I didn't know you were saving that," Rhonda called from the background. "But I needed something other than Sour Patch Kids."

  "I put out a veggie tray," said Tiffany. "That should've balanced out all that candy."

  "The dogs ate that," yelled Rhonda. "Who knew they loved broccoli so much?"

  Nash's phone beeped. "Hang on." I glanced at the screen and read the text, "Meet me at my room. Alone." My chest tightened. Why was she always trying to meet him alone? And how did he know her hotel room?

  I placed a hand over the phone's receiver and crossed my fingers over the screen. "Nash, Wonderly wants to meet us at her hotel room."

  "Good." Nash snapped the computer shut. "We should get out of here, anyway. Gentz will be looking for you."

  "I've got to go," I said to Tiffany. "The dogs will listen to Remi. But it sounds like you've got it under control. I can't thank you enough. It's imperative that Remi keeps away from me. At least until…the police arrest some people."

  Nineteen

  #Wonderlied

  I didn't ask when Nash had learned Ms. Wonderly stayed at the newly built Black Pine Lodge in room 112. She’d told him. Sometime. But I gathered at an earlier time. Which, for a client, was totally normal. I guess.

  The Lodge had a similar alpine vibe to the Dukem Inn, except the wooden beams and plaster were real and not concrete. The views from the balconies were Black Pine lake and mountain, not a parking lot. The rooms opened to an indoor courtyard, featuring a large fountain and a Christmas tree that was not purple and leaning against a pool fence. The beautifully decorated tree stood fifteen-plus feet high, next to a massive stone fireplace. />
  "This is a little different than the Dukem Inn." We stood in the glass vestibule, taking note of our surroundings. A vent blew hot air on my boots and caused my hair to flutter in staticky strands. "JJ and Gentz should have checked other places. Although Black Pine Lodge does look booked up."

  "The Dukem is appropriate for criminals hiding from the law. Ms. Wonderly is not a sociopath." Nash pursed his lips and moved forward, so the doors slid open and we were assaulted with “YMCA.”

  The song. Not the club.

  "Looks like they're having a rocking New Year's party," I said, instead of a snide remark about the wonderful Ms. Wonderly. In my book, "not a sociopath" shouldn't top a list of positive qualities. However, I didn’t think Nash heard me over the sounds of the party, which was just as well. Jealousy didn't make for thoughtful observations.

  Nash strode without hesitation to room 112. Or at least, that's how it looked to me. Upon knocking, the door cracked open, then widened.

  "You're not alone. But that's okay, I guess," said Ms. Wonderly in her breathy, Marilyn Monroe-ish voice. She wore a cropped white hoodie and matching leggings. Without a hint of muffin top, I was sorry to see.

  "Glad to hear it," I said, striding inside. The room had a king-size bed, sofa, and flat-screen. No plaid or German food in sight, but there was a fruit basket. I checked it for a card and not seeing one, turned back to Ms. Wonderly. "Frankly, I'm surprised to see you here. You have a habit of not showing when you said you're going to be somewhere. At the Winter Market, you sent a kid with a message to meet us at the office at five, and then you didn't even show there."

  "A man approached me and told me to stop asking about the necklace. I got so scared I didn't go to the Winter Market." She looked at Nash and, I swear, fluttered her lashes. “I didn’t know about the office.”

  “Thanks a lot for bailing." I placed my hands on my hips. "And if we'd been earlier, that might have been us lying on the floor."

  "Lying on the floor?" she squeaked.

  "Sit down, Ms. Wonderly. You look pale,” said Nash. "Miss Albright, I think I should explain."

  "You’ve got to help me." Wonderly pulled Nash down on the bed next to her. Even though she had a perfectly good sofa. "If they killed someone, they'll be after me next."

  "No one was killed, Ms. Wonderly." Nash's voice gentled, "Don't worry."

  "They were knocked unconscious, though," I said. "That's pretty bad. His head was bleeding."

  "Miss Albright," said Nash. "Maybe tone it down a notch."

  "I'm so frightened. What if someone tries to kill me?" Wonderly leaned toward Nash. "What am I going to do? Can you protect me?"

  "You’ve got to be kidding me." I threw my hands up. "I’m the one who has the necklace. Why would anyone kill you?"

  "Miss Albright," hissed Nash. "Let me handle this."

  I waved a hand at Wonderly. "She didn't even show up at the office. She sent someone else to get killed."

  Wonderly teared up. "I didn't—"

  From inside Nash's jacket, the metallic tones of his cell phone sang. Jerking his phone from his pocket, he glanced at it. His jaw tightened, making the scar on his chin whiten. He rose from the bed and sauntered to the bathroom, speaking in hushed tones.

  "Who’s your boss? Why the big mysteri-o act? You couldn't come up with anything better than Wonderly? You're no Mary Astor, by the way. You're not even a good Bebe Daniels," I said. "Let me tell you something, you might have this big galoot fooled, but not me. You either work for HG, Manganoid, or Vicki. By the way, Ms. Wonderly gets arrested at the end. You're on my list, lady."

  "I don’t know my employer." Fat tears cascaded down Wonderly's face splashing on her winter white leggings. Hells, she even cried prettily. "I’m really scared. I didn’t think it was going to be like this at all."

  Two could play this game. I found my inner noir snark to better face her femme fatale, passive-aggressive vulnerability. "You better tell us. Or it’s lights out for you, too."

  "Lights out, Miss Albright?" Nash stood behind me.

  I spun around, feeling my cheeks warm. "Who was on the phone?"

  "Mowry." His jaw worked. "Ms. Wonderly…"

  "I’m calling the police," sobbed Wonderly.

  "Mowry is the police," I said. "They're looking for Gentz, as we speak. The man who held me hostage."

  "Hostage?" She gasped and sprang from the bed.

  “Don’t worry. They’ll find him." Nash held his hands out. "We know where they're staying."

  "They're probably long gone from there," I said. "They're not stupid."

  "Miss Albright," said Nash in a choked voice.

  “My agent didn’t say this was going to be dangerous," cried Wonderly. "I thought it was a weird audition, but they said I’d get a bonus if I could convince you to give me the necklace. I needed that money, but this is crazy."

  "Now Ms. Wonderly," said Nash. "Calm down. I won't let anything happen to you."

  "How can you? Hostages and attacks?" She bounded past us. "I'm not sticking around."

  "But we need to know who—" The door slammed before I could finish.

  "Dammit," said Nash, shoving past me to chase after Wonderly. He jerked the door open, and a scream ripped through the buzz of the party. "Sumbitch."

  I raced after Nash who had pushed through the throng of people standing before the fountain. A man had hopped in and was helping Ms. Wonderly stand. Her white workout clothes had shrunk around her. Without a fat roll in sight. She looked like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, slicked-back hair, red lipstick, and all. The crowd cheered as she stepped out of the fountain.

  She simpered, then caught sight of us and screamed.

  The people facing her turned to look at us. Nash and I backed away.

  "She's probably safe enough here," muttered Nash. "I'll call Mowry and tell him to send someone over to sit with her."

  "Oh," I groaned. "I feel terrible. An audition. No wonder she was acting so weird in the office. She thought there was a camera. Rookies never turn their backs on the camera.”

  "What are you talking about?" said Nash. "What camera? We wouldn't invade our client's privacy like that."

  Poor guy, I felt sorry for him, too. "She's an actress. I told you Wonderly's a character. Actually, the femme fatale pretended to be Wonderly in The Maltese Falcon to get Spade to take on the case, then he learned she was an actual femme fatale. Our Wonderly thought she was being filmed."

  "What?" Nash closed his eyes. "Shit. Vicki."

  "I'm sure. She probably hired Gordon and Wonderly. Wonderly was for you and Gordon for me."

  "Why?"

  "Well," I drew out the word. "She probably knew you had a type. The helpless female victim. And for me, she probably knew Gordon would scare me into giving up the death necklace. Although if she knew what a bad actor Gordon was, she wouldn't have hired him. He must have auditioned well."

  "I meant, why would Vicki want the necklace?" growled Nash. “And why do you think my type is helpless females?"

  Inside his jacket, the phone rang again. He glanced at the phone, shoved it at me, and stalked toward the front doors.

  "Hello?" Pulling the phone to my ear, I watched Nash stomp into the vestibule. My stomach churned and bubbled up to grip my heart. Feeling guilty, I turned my back on the doors and looked for Ms. Wonderly. Someone had given her a towel and a glass of champagne. She didn't look in a hurry to change or dry off.

  The man who rescued her also didn't look to be in a hurry for her to change or dry off.

  "Why won’t you pick up?" said Rhonda.

  "It's Nash's phone and we've been a little busy—"

  "Put your case on hold for a minute. The dogs—"

  "The dogs are a pain I know, but—"

  "No, it’s your sister," said Rhonda. "When we went to check on her, the dogs got excited, jumped against the door, and kept pushing it closed. When Remi wouldn't answer, we went outside and around to the back of the house. The screen from th
e bedroom window was on the ground."

  "What are you saying, Rhonda?" My breath hitched.

  "Remi's gone again. We don’t know for how long. Or if someone took her."

  Twenty

  #Oddjobed

  I almost dropped the phone but gathered myself to reassure Rhonda that we'd find Remi. Taking shallow breaths, I ran toward the front door. Under the lodge's overhang, I scanned the parking lot for Nash's truck. The Silverado had been parked in front. Or at least, I thought it had. But there was a Lexus filling that space.

  He wouldn't have left me. Nash wasn't one to storm off in a pique. Anyway, I had his phone. I jogged into the parking lot and spun around, fighting tears. This was panic. I couldn't afford to panic. I'd forgotten where he parked because all I could think about was Remi.

  Remi was missing. Remi had run away to save me. Or she'd been kidnapped.

  Ujjayi breaths, Maizie. I'd pass out with all this hyperventilating and that wouldn't help anyone. But now was also not the time for yoga.

  Taking a deep cleansing breath, I turned and walked through the sliding doors, back into the lobby. “The Macarena” boomed from giant speakers. Cheers and whistles emerged from above the music. On a table, Ms. Wonderly danced with her rescuer while a hotel employee waved at them to get down.

  All's well that ended well, for Ms. W, I supposed.

  But not so well for my sister. Or me.

  I needed Nash pronto. He'd help me find Remi. I stared at the phone in my hand, looked up, and shrieked. Gentz smiled at me and took the phone. He handed it to Oddjob, who stood behind him.

  "Hello, Miss Albright," said Gentz. "We're out of time. I've come to fetch you."

  My mouth opened and closed. I darted a look at the front desk. Empty. Of course. The desk clerk was too busy trying to get Ms. Wonderly from dancing on tables. Behind me, the party raged, too loud and crazy for anyone to notice us.

  "You're quite easy to track," continued Gentz. "Kind of sad for a private investigator's apprentice, isn't it?"

  "I'm still learning?"