Ryan stared at me for a beat before opening his car door. His disappointment in my failure to be equally forthcoming was etched across his face. “I’ll see you on set.”
“Looking forward to it,” I responded with a smile he did not return.
He exited the car, then leaned back in. “Oh, by the way, none of the names on that list panned out. Derek remains our only suspect in Monica’s murder.” He closed the door.
“And Jim,” I told the empty car while I watched Ryan walk to his door. He let himself in without a backward glance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Having hit a roadblock investigating Monica’s murder, the next few days passed in a blur with no real contact with Ryan. I knew I found him attractive. I was shocked by how much I missed him. Our limited contact consisted of: me checking in with him after Catherine informed me we had been cast, me asking him if he wanted to rehearse the scenes for the weekend, and his curt responses to my texts. I could read between the lines. He was clearly still upset I hadn’t told him anything about my marriage. At least I’d finally see him tonight, since it would be our first day on the set of Vampire Nights. He didn’t ask for a ride, and I didn’t offer, but he couldn’t avoid me on set.
All thoughts of Ryan and solving Monica’s murder fled on set. I arrived at the house being used for the opening scenes and immediately saw that something was wrong. The degree of excitement and activity was way lower than normal for a first day of shooting. Nothing looked set up yet – no lights, sound equipment, nothing. I placed my bag on the floor of a dining room off the front door and approached Orlando, the young male vampire from the audition, my kitten heels clicking on the laminate floor.
“What’s going on?”
He looked at me for a moment, as though distracted from deep thoughts and was now trying to place me. “Oh, Evelyn! Good to see you,” he gushed, though even this was forced, off somehow.
“What’s going on?” I asked again.
He stared at me. It was obvious he didn’t want to answer my question. I could almost see his brain thinking. He sighed.
“Several of our crew members aren’t here,” he replied vaguely.
“Do they have an estimated arrival time?” I asked this to determine if the shoot would be cancelled, but also to get at what the vampire clearly didn’t want to tell me.
He leaned in closer. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
What were we, in high school? I played along. I leaned in too. “I promise.”
“Derek isn’t here either. A body has been found,” he finished dramatically.
If I had a beating heart, it would have stopped. “A body? Whose? Where?”
“I don’t know,” he answered with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t somebody connected directly to the shoot, but our director, camera guy, and hair and makeup chick, all called in this morning. Apparently, they normally work together, and all three know the woman who was killed.”
This caught my attention. “Woman?”
“Yes, she was beaten to death. Bludgeoned, really,” he said with a level of glee that reminded me how inhumane some non-humans truly could be.
“Why isn’t Derek here? How is he connected?” I tried to ask this offhandedly, but I was keenly aware that Derek was the only suspect in Monica’s murder besides Jim. Could he be connected to this murder too? That would be quite the coincidence.
“I don’t know. All I know is that he got a phone call an hour ago, made a few more phone calls, and then took off after telling me what I just told you.”
I didn’t know what to make of this information. I clearly needed to find out more.
“Has Ryan arrived yet?” I asked, and Orlando didn’t follow my train of thought.
“Um, yeah, he’s over talking to wardrobe.” He waved his hand to indicate somewhere toward the back of the house.
“Thanks,” I told him and headed that way. I stopped short in the doorway of a back room.
Ryan’s auburn hair glowed from the floor lamp behind him. Like fire. Oh, good grief, there I went again, thinking like a romance novel. But, man, he looked good, in a simple pair of jeans and a green t-shirt showcasing his fit body. Our eyes met and for just a moment, he seemed glad to see me, and then a wall crashed down behind his eyes.
Pretending obliviousness, I approached Ryan and the costumer, a short round older male with an easy smile. He gave me the up and down, not lasciviously, but with an eye for wardrobe. He nodded his head in approval at my blond bob, yellow pedal-pusher pants, and daisy accented blouse.
“Hi, I’m Jackson. You must be Evelyn and you are absolutely radiant. Like a ray of sunshine,” he greeted me, extending his hand. He had a strong grip.
“Thank you so much and nice to meet you, Jackson. Please, call me Evie,” I responded. “Hi, Ryan.”
“Hi, Evie.”
Jackson’s head swiveled between me and Ryan; he sensed the tension, I assumed. I jumped right in. “Do you guys know if the shoot is still happening?”
Ryan frowned. “Why wouldn’t it? We were only told there’d be a couple of hours delay. Something about an equipment issue.”
“Oh, I must have misunderstood,” I backtracked with a short bark of a laugh. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
I tuned the men out and they continued their conversation. My mind raced. How could I find out more information about this murder? It wasn’t someone on this set, but someone with a strong connection to the crew. I wondered if Catherine would know.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to make a call,” I interrupted with the quick explanation before I walked to the other side of the room. Ryan’s expression suggested he really wanted to ask me what was going on. I ignored it.
At the other wall, my back to the men, I called Catherine. “Do you have a minute?”
She heard the tone in my voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Do you know who was killed last night? Or this morning, I suppose,” I corrected myself.
“I haven’t heard anything,” she answered, which was a disappointment. I filled her in on what Orlando the friendly vampire assistant told me, and she said she’d do some digging and call me back as soon as possible. After disconnecting the call, I turned to find myself face to face with Ryan. I must have really been absorbed in my call to miss his approach.
“What murder?” he asked without preamble, his eyes guarded but not unfriendly.
“I don’t know yet. Someone with a connection to the set.”
“Where’s Derek?”
I knew what he was thinking, but I needed to slow him down. “He’s gone to check on the crew members connected to the person who was killed. At least that’s what I was told,” I amended.
“That’s an amazing coincidence. Derek being connected to two murders.” I heard the accusation in Ryan’s tone.
“I agree,” I responded slowly, “which is why I called Catherine. To try to gather additional intel.”
Ryan smiled at my use of the word intel. Unexpectedly, he reached out to twirl one of my blond curls. “I’ve missed you.”
Hello, left field! “I’ve missed you too.”
“I’m sorry about the other night.”
“Me too. I know you want to know more.”
“I do. But, I don’t want to push you.” His hand caressed my cheek and I leaned into it.
We gazed goofily at each other for a moment and then my phone vibrated, breaking the connection. My cheek felt cold when he removed his hand.
“It’s Catherine,” I told him, receiving the call. He stepped away to provide privacy.
“I have info,” she said gleefully. “Although maybe I shouldn’t sound so happy. A woman is dead.”
“Don’t worry about it. What did you find out?”
“The woman who was killed was Sophie Chase, a cinematographer. Beaten to death in her home last night. No forced entry, though the front door was unlocked. So, she either knew her attacker or at le
ast didn’t feel threatened by him or her.”
“Probably right, Sherlock,” I agreed with a small smile.
I heard Catherine smile through the phone. “She wasn’t going to work on Vampire Nights because she had another gig lined up in LA, but she was tight with much of your crew. Which is why half of them aren’t on set this evening.”
“Human or Other?”
“Human, I believe.”
“Who found her?”
“A neighbor walking his dog saw her front door open and investigated. Found the body in the front hallway, reportedly covered in blood.”
This part of the story bothered Catherine. Even I blanched at the notion of someone being beaten to death. Vampires might have killed for blood in the past. At least the human was bewitched first.
“Any suspects?”
“Ryan’s not gonna like this,” Catherine warned.
I closed my eyes, foreseeing the answer to my next question. “Why?”
“You can’t tell him.”
“I won’t,” though it pained me to make that promise.
“Jim Freeman.”
I gasped and compulsively looked at Ryan, who returned my look quizzically. I turned away and lowered my voice. “Any other suspects?”
“Nope. My source in the LVMPD says an arrest is imminent.”
“He’s already on bail,” I exclaimed and felt Ryan boring a hole in the back of my head. He had to have heard that. I resolutely did not turn to face him.
“I know. He’ll never get bail for this second charge. He’s in jail until the trial – or alternate evidence is found.”
“Don’t remind me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Catherine confirmed another body has been found and is being investigated as a homicide,” I informed Ryan after ending the call.
“And you suspect Jim?”
“He’s a likely suspect.”
Ryan took the news better than expected. Just a simple question. “What do we do now?”
“I’m guessing filming isn’t happening tonight,” I explained. “Time for a field trip.”
After informing Orlando that we’d be leaving – and he didn’t look too surprised – Ryan silently followed me back to my car.
“Where are we going?”
We were zipping along the 215 heading from Summerlin toward Henderson when he asked. I was frankly surprised he waited that long.
“We are heading for the crime scene.”
Ryan laughed. “Of course, we are. Are they going to let us in?”
“Leave that to me,” I said cryptically with a quick glance at his face. He smiled.
I parked across the street from the house. There was no way we’d miss it since it had yellow crime scene tape across the door. I was preparing to work my vampire voodoo on any officers standing watch, but nobody was there. I felt some disappointment. That must mean they already finished gathering their evidence.
Ryan exited the car with me and followed me to the front door. It was dark. I hoped no spying eyes had seen us. I carefully removed the yellow tape from one side of the door frame. It dangled from the other side, and I found the image forlorn and disturbing. I refocused my attention and tried the door. Naturally, it was locked.
“Now what? Are you going to knock it down?” Ryan said this with a laugh, though I noticed he kept glancing behind us and at the neighbors’ houses.
I was in a quandary. I didn’t have magical lock picking skills. I did have the strength to simply break the lock. I didn’t particularly want to demonstrate this in front of Ryan. Gaining access to the house would not be worth the questions it would bring.
“Time for Plan B,” I announced, and strode through the grass. Ryan, startled by my move, hurried to catch up.
We reached the neighbor’s house and I knocked on the door before Ryan could ask what I was doing.
An older man holding a leash answered the door and I was confident I guessed correctly.
“Good evening, sir. I’m friends with Sophie Chase from next door and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions.”
The man squinted at me. “Are you a reporter?”
“No, sir. A friend. I’m trying to find out what happened.” I opened my eyes wide and faked like I was struggling not to cry. I felt like a heel, but it worked.
“I’m Joshua,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake. “I’m the one that found her.” His face clouded at the memory, less than 24 hours old.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” I commiserated.
“She was so young. So friendly. She always had a nice word for Baxter.” He held up the leash. “My Basset Hound rescue. I was about to take him for a walk.”
“We don’t want to hold you up. Do you mind if we walk with you?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Ryan and I waited at the door while Joshua moved into the house and returned with Baxter on a leash. Joshua locked the door and then the four of us started walking down the street. I could tell Joshua was a bit hesitant yet wanted to help Sophie’s friend.
“Would you mind telling us what you told the police officer?”
“I don’t see what it can hurt,” he agreed. “Baxter and I were returning from our walk late last night. We normally go around this time, but I had been delayed at work, so it was closer to 11 p.m., maybe even closer to midnight. I don’t remember exactly.”
“That’s okay,” I assured him.
“I didn’t notice anything when I left the house, but when I was returning, I saw that the door was open.”
“If I may interrupt, did you not notice anything when you left because everything looked normal, or because you didn’t look in that direction?” This distinction was important because it could establish a timeline for events.
“The cops asked the same question and I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t really paying close attention. I would never have thought it would matter, you know?” He sounded so sad not being certain that I felt bad asking him to relive it.
“That’s okay, Joshua. Every little bit helps,” I soothed him.
“I approached the open door – and I saw it from the street because light was coming out the door, which doesn’t happen if the door is closed,” he added. Ryan and I nodded understanding. “I knocked on the door and called out Sophie’s name. I didn’t receive a reply. I’ve lived next door to her for years and I’ve never known her to leave her door open. I had a bad feeling, so I decided to enter.”
“Did you consider calling the police?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Joshua admitted. “Even though I had a bad feeling, I had nothing really to base it on. And I know how busy Metro is. I figured, this was that one-off where she thought she closed it but she didn’t.” He shrugged. “When I walked in, she was right there.”
I heard him swallow and his heartbeat increased. “She was on the floor. There was blood everywhere. Under her, on her, on the walls. I went to her, to check for a pulse, you know? There wasn’t one. She was dead.”
We walked several steps in silence before I spoke. “This may be an odd question. Do you remember if her skin felt warm or cold?”
“That’s not odd, the police asked the same thing,” Joshua responded. “Her neck felt cool. That was part of how I knew she was dead, even as I was checking for breathing and a pulse.”
He shuddered, and I touched his hand for support. He looked at me gratefully.
“I have another odd question,” Ryan interjected. Joshua looked at him. “What did it smell like?”
“Funny you should ask that. In addition to the smell of the—” he paused, “blood, there was another smell. It smelled like the outdoors.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan followed up and I knew the path he was charging down.
“I distinctly remember after calling 9-1-1 and waiting for the police to arrive that I thought I smelled the outdoors. I wondered if Sophie ha
d gotten a new scented candle. She loved those things.”
“Could the smell be described as woody?”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Joshua allowed with a slow nod of his head.
I saw the triumphant look on Ryan’s face and knew exactly what he was thinking. I focused on Joshua. “Is there anything else you saw, heard…or smelled,” I added, “that you think could be useful?”
Joshua thought for a moment. “No, that’s everything. That’s what I told the police. Well, except for that bit about the smell,” he contradicted himself. “They didn’t ask.”
“That’s okay,” Ryan assured him. “You can always call them tomorrow to let them know if you think it might be important.”
Joshua looked at us for guidance. “Do you think it’s important?”
“I’d call,” Ryan told him decidedly. “Let the police decide if it’s important or not.” Joshua nodded.
By now, we had walked the loop of his neighborhood and were approaching my car and Joshua’s house. I indicated the Fiat.
“This is us,” I explained. “We’ll let you get back to your evening.” I took one of Joshua’s hands in both of mine. “Thank you so much for talking with us.”
“You’re welcome,” he responded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Ryan and I said in unison. Joshua smiled. Ryan and I exchanged wry glances.
We remained standing next to my car watching Joshua lead Baxter home. Once the older man was safely inside, we entered the vehicle.
“That tells us everything we need to know.”
“It does?” I responded cautiously. I had more information than he did.
“Well, yes. Didn’t you hear what Joshua said? He smelled that woody smell. The same as Jim reported.”
“And from this, you’ve concluded that Derek is the killer?” I asked the question to buy time. I wouldn’t lie to Ryan, but I promised Catherine I wouldn’t tell him Jim’s arrest was imminent. Heck, it might have even happened.
Ryan gave me a look. “Um, yes. Haven’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “Or do you agree with Catherine that Jim is the killer?”
Paranormal Talent Agency Omnibus Page 15