“You already know they called me, don’t you?”
My blatantly calling him out surprised him, but he recovered so quickly, I wasn’t sure I didn’t imagine it. “I do.”
“How do you know they already called?”
“I have my ways.” A deflecting answer, though true. He shrugged, signaling this part of the conversation was over. Fine, let him have his little display of power.
I smiled sweetly. “Then, I guess our conversation is concluded. They’ll call me with details for the first day of filming. Thanks for stopping by.” Heart still racing, I pointedly looked down at the paperwork I had been shuffling when he arrived. Two can play this juvenile game.
To my surprise, Alex chuckled softly. “I guess so. Until next time, Catherine.” I heard his chair move when he stood. I snuck a peek to watch him walk to the door, admiring the shape of his rear again. At the doorway, he stopped and turned, catching my lustful staring.
His smile broadened. He said nothing about my faux pas. “It was lovely as always to see you, Catherine.”
My face flushed with embarrassment. “You, too, Alex. Have a wonderful evening. We’ll be in touch soon with the production details.”
“I hope so.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
And so, it was less than a week later that I found myself on set, watching the crew set up for the first scene of the Las Vegas shoot. Why do people like to shoot in Vegas? The Strip, of course, and this production was no different. We were outside the Bellagio to film sequences with the famous synchronized fountains as the backdrop.
Lights were currently going up all around a coned off section of the sidewalk. A couple of security guards stood at each end, directing curious tourists to go around. A middle-aged man with a slight paunch and a clipboard hurried past me.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?” His eyes remained on the clipboard, though he had quit moving forward.
“I’m looking for Mia Fynn. The producer.”
Now he looked up and squinted.
“She’s expecting me,” I amended. “Catherine Rodham, talent agent with Peterson Talent.”
He seemed to vacillate for a moment and then with an almost imperceptible shrug, gestured toward the fountain railing. “She’s over there. Long green hair. You can’t miss her.” He hurried away and I scanned the group closest to the railing. Sure enough, he was right. You couldn’t miss Mia. Long green hair pulled into a high ponytail accented her amazing cheekbones. Based on those around her, she was average height or shorter, and very thin, wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. I strode over to the join the knot of production staff.
“Excuse me, Mia Fynn?”
The brightest green eyes I’d ever seen met mine with a questioning look.
“I’m Catherine Rodham. You’d said I could pop by.”
“Give me one minute.”
“Of course.”
I stood and watched her address a few more prep issues and then she turned to face me full on.
“Welcome to the set.”
“Thanks for letting me crash. Since my office is the baby in town, I want to meet more people in person. Put faces to names.”
“Always a good idea in this business,” she agreed. “I like to be on set for at least the first day of shooting, to see where the money has been going.” She grinned. “Let me introduce you around.” We spent the next ten minutes talking to various small groups of people. Mia, true to her word, must have introduced me to every person on the set. We approached a group of actors and my breath caught. This did not go unnoticed by Mia. She glanced at me and then back at the group, nodding knowingly.
“You’re Alexander Moore’s agent, correct?”
I was glad it was nighttime. Maybe she wouldn’t see my neck flush.
Mia laughed, the sound like delicate wind chimes, and put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s a looker, that one.”
“Mmm-hm.”
We had reached the group. In addition to Alex, there were two women and one other man. They were all good-looking actors, around my age I speculated, and dressed to the nines. Apart from Alex, one of the young women was adorable – straight out of the 1920s with a blond bob, fair skin, dark red lipstick, and even wearing a flapper dress. I shook everyone’s hands, noticing that while Alex’s was warm, the flapper woman’s was cool.
Alex’s eyes found mine and everything retreated. We were the only two in the universe. I distantly heard Mia tell me to visit for however long I wanted, and the actors to be ready in five. Then she and the group scattered.
“It’s good to see you,” Alex’s voice washed over me.
“You too. You look wonderful.”
He truly did, in a dark brown pin-stripe suit and white shirt, open at the collar.
“What are you doing on set? I didn’t think agents usually came out.”
“They normally don’t. I’m trying to meet as many people as possible.”
“Makes sense.”
A conversational lull left us standing alone in the crowd, me shifting my weight back and forth.
“Do I make you nervous?”
I stopped moving and gaped at him. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. You seem nervous around me.”
I waved off the comment. “I’m probably just cold and still trying to adjust to my surroundings.”
He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the absurdity of my explanation. I silently thanked him.
A production assistant saved me by yelling instructions.
“Break a leg filming,” I offered for a goodbye.
Alex gave me a mock salute and turned away. I watched the final preparation for the first scene of the night, again pondering my insane reaction to this man.
“Lights, camera, action!” A smattering of laughter indicated everyone knew this wasn’t usually said. Mia grinned at the director and I smiled. The production was underway. I shook my head and called it a night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sitting on my balcony, sipping the most delicious of café mochas, I almost missed the newscaster’s melodious voice telling Las Vegas that the next story would be about the latest salacious murder in Sin City. The words filtered through my brain, the coffee nearly came out my nose, and I lost interest in the mountain view I’d been enjoying.
I tripped over the door frame entering my condo but made it to the couch in time to clearly hear Elizabeth Addison sadly inform viewers that a third actress had been found dead of unidentified causes. I clutched my coffee mug so hard I thought it would break.
“Viewers may remember that this makes the third unexplained death in as many months in the entertainment industry here in Las Vegas.”
I stopped listening. A series of photographs were shown of three beautiful young blond women; I barely paid attention to them either – my eyes were glued to the words at the bottom of the screen:
Big Budget Bombshell – Major Star’s Film Delayed by Murder.
I sent people to that set. Panic rose. They started filming last week. I didn’t recognize the poor young woman who had died, thankfully, though who knew what this would do to the production timeline. Wow, that sounded harsh and indifferent, even in my head. I gave myself a physical and mental shake.
“Time to focus,” I announced to Momma. “If only I knew what I should do first.” She unhelpfully meowed.
The universe responded and my cellphone rang.
“Catherine Rodham speaking,” I answered when my caller ID did not show a number I recognized.
“Catherine Rodham of Peterson Talent Agency?”
“Yes?”
“This is homicide detective Jacob Dawson, investigating a death on the set of John Doe.”
“Homicide?” I squeaked out the question. “The news said it was an unexplained death.”
“Yes, ma’am, at this time the death is considered unexplained.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “How c
an I help you?”
“We are trying to confirm who was authorized to be on the set in the past week and we understand your agency sent several actors. Is that true?”
“Yes, we sent six. I can provide you their names and contact information when I go into the office later.”
“Call the number on your caller ID and ask for me directly. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“You’re welcome.” I disconnected the call, feeling weird about the formality connected with death.
Momma meowed.
“I’m going to talk to my six actors myself to find out if they know anything,” I responded. She meowed again. First, I wanted to check in with Mia.
“Hey Mia, it’s Catherine Rodham.”
“Hi, Catherine. What can I do for you?”
I heard the strain in her voice. “I understand the production has been halted for the moment.” I left the why unspoken, since of course she knew. “Do you need a break? Maybe get a cup of coffee,” I improvised.
She let out a deep sigh. “That would be fabulous.”
CHAPTER NINE
Makers & Finders Coffee was a locally-owned coffee shop walking distance from the condo. I already knew they had an awesome Mexican spice latte that I adored. Mia arrived about ten minutes after me, her green hair again in a ponytail, lines of tension around her eyes. She waved and joined me at the table. A waiter came by to take her order. Based on her quick response, she was also familiar with the coffee shop.
Mia breathed in deeply, eyes closed, before focusing on me. Her amazing eyes sparkled, though the worry was obvious. “Thank you so much for the invitation. I needed this.”
“You’re welcome. I can only imagine.”
“I love producing films, and I understand sometimes things happen, but sheesh. An apparent serial killer hit my set,” she muttered.
My eyes widened. She spoke the truth. “The press is saying they’re still just unexplained.”
Mia chewed on her lower lip. “You know that would be a mighty big coincidence.”
“True. And I spoke to a detective on the case,” I spoke softer, glancing around. Nobody was paying us any mind.
“How did that go?”
Her curiosity was normal, but I sensed something under the surface. I watched her carefully as I answered, explaining it was a simple conversation and he would be interviewing my actors. She deflated somewhat with my not-too-exciting answer. I wondered what she was expecting. I turned the conversation. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Deflection. Interesting. “What do you think about the murders? You really think it’s a serial killer.”
Mia regarded me for a moment before answering. “Yes, I do.”
“Do you have an idea who it is?” I didn’t believe she did, though she was clearly hiding something.
“No, I do not,” she answered slowly, breaking eye contact.
That was a complete lie. My heart sank at the thought she might be involved somehow. I doubted she was the killer, but she knew something. “Have you spoken to the police yet?”
She shook her head. “My people have. I haven’t yet. I was barely on set after the first night making sure everything started smoothly. I’m a producer, not a director,” she added with a hesitant smile.
“I plan on speaking with my actors who were on set. I’ll be sure to let the detective know if I learn anything.”
“Playing junior detective?” There was no malice in her voice, only tiredness.
“Something like that,” I agreed with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will work out,” I assured her, though I had no basis for my confidence. She undoubtedly knew that, but reached out to squeeze my hand.
“Thank you. The director was told we’d probably be clear to start by the end of this week.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Hopefully it’s smooth sailing from here on out.”
“Hopefully,” I agreed. After a few more minutes of idle chitchat, we ended the coffee. I left with a sense that something important was unsaid. Or something I missed, perhaps, but no idea what.
*****
“Thank you for coming in,” I ushered out actor number five robotically. So far, nobody saw or heard anything even remotely suspicious. I informed them they would be contacted by Detective Dawson and if they told him what they told me, it’d probably be perfunctory.
Despite the coffee with Mia earlier, I was tired.
Only one actor left to see. I didn’t need to look at my sheet. I knew who it was by the flush creeping up my neck.
“Alexander Moore is here,” Cherie announced five minutes later.
I had sufficiently calmed my hormones down in those few minutes so that I greeted Alex like an agent should.
“Alex, thank you for coming in on such short notice.” I indicated he could sit in the chair across from the desk.
“You said that it was connected to a death?”
“Did you see the news this morning?”
Alex shook his head.
“An actress who had been on the set of John Doe was found dead.” I managed to say this with almost zero tremor in my voice. Or so I thought.
Alex immediately rose from the chair and came around the desk. Startled, I rose to match. We stood close enough that I could smell his aftershave (which was quite nice). He put his hand gently on my shoulder.
“Are you okay? Did you know her?”
I was taken aback from his unexpected display, so different from the borderline cocky flirtation he normally demonstrated.
“I’m okay,” I finally uttered. “No, I didn’t know her,” I further assured him, surprised still by the genuine reflection of concern in his eyes. I placed my own hand over his hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly. “Thank you for asking.”
We stood like this for a long moment. Were we basking in the warmth? I don’t know, but I realized, for that moment, I wasn’t thinking salacious thoughts about him. And then I was. I took a half-step back and indicated he could retake his seat. He mirrored my smile before doing so.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Am I a suspect?” He laughed to be sure I knew he was joking and I chuckled in response.
“Should you be?”
“Absolutely not.”
I waited for my intuition to tell me if he was being truthful; yes, but incomplete. I frowned.
His face became serious. “What happened?”
“The police don’t know. They confirmed that the young woman died an ‘unexplained death’,” I said, finger quoting the key piece of information. “I called some of my fellow talent agents and learned her name was Cindy Matthews.” I watched his face for signs of recognition with the name. “Did you know her? Speak to her on set?”
“I don’t recognize the name; I might have spoken to her without knowing it. What did she look like?”
“She was Caucasian, early- to mid-twenties, long blond hair and blue eyes.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t think I even remember seeing her. Was she there at the same time I was?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Did you see or hear anything outside of the ordinary?”
“No. I wish I could be more help. Do the police have any idea at all how she died?”
“They told me no, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t hold something back.”
“True.” He frowned. “Do you know when the movie is going to restart?”
“I received word the delay will only be a few days since the death didn’t occur on the set. I believe you’ll go back by Friday.”
Alex smiled widely and my heart gave a little flutter. “That sounds great. I look forward to resuming.”
I stood suddenly, startling us both. “I’ll let you get back to your evening. Thank you again for coming in, Alex.” I walked around the table to properly escort him out.
Except Alex didn’t make
a move toward the door and I nearly walked into him standing next to the chair.
“Excuse me?” I asked in confusion.
A look of uncertainty alighted on Alex’s face and he leaned in to hug me. I responded, holding tighter than I expected to, resting my head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re okay and that, sad as it is anyway, you didn’t know the woman,” he whispered into my ear.
“Thank you,” was all I could respond. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t fully get a read on this guy, but he seemed sincere.
We separated less awkwardly, two people supporting each other.
“I’ll see you later, Catherine.”
“I look forward to it, Alex.” This time I gave the saucy smile and flirtatious inflection. His grin widened and then, like a flash, he was out of the office.
Who’d have thought a sweet guy was underneath that posturing exterior?
CHAPTER TEN
I stared at my reflection, admiring the view. I’m not really that vain. I actually tried to clean up for this. After three blessedly murder-free weeks, production wrapped on John Doe. And, as is customary in the entertainment world, they were holding a wrap party. As in ‘that’s a wrap’ and we’re celebrating the successful completion of shooting. I was invited by one of the actresses from the Agency who had appeared in the film and by Mia. I hadn’t been to a wrap party since New York City. I got dolled up.
Taking advantage of my height, I chose a floor-length body-skimming red satin dress with a plunging neckline and backline. Normally, I don’t show so much skin, but what the heck, it was a Vegas party! I decided to leave my blond hair long and loose; I hoped I presented a great combination of fancy and casual. If I didn’t, that was okay too. I liked it.
My cellphone alerted me that my Lyft driver was one minute away from the building. I rode the elevator to the ground floor and walked out of the building at the exact moment the Honda coupe indicated on the phone arrived. Perfect timing.
The car pulled up to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. One that would normally be a crazy financial extravagance. After waiting for a month to get a reservation, of course. I reminded myself that being even loosely connected to Hollywood had its privileges and walked into the lavishly decorated place.
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