Death in an English Cottage: Book Two in the Murder on Location Series

by Sara Rosett

  “No,” I agreed, trying to remember how messy I’d left the bedroom. Had I made the bed? Left various bits of clothing strung around the room? I was normally a very neat and exact person, but at five in the morning in a different time zone those little habits tend to drop away. I really couldn’t recall what state it was in. I’d barely managed to drag myself from the bed to the shower.

  He was back down the stairs before I’d moved away from the front door. “Quick check here.” He opened the door to the storage area under the stairs. “Looks good.” He passed me, returning to the front door, where he worked his feet into his shoes and shrugged into his jacket. “All clear.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He opened the door, then paused and turned back, his hand still on the latch. “Kate, I really appreciate your…support, I guess. Thanks for not believing the worst about me.”

  “How could I believe the worst about you? You’re thoughtful and kind and you really listen when I talk.” I could tell he was about to wave my words away, but I caught his arm. “No, don’t shrug it off. You’re a good friend. You basically got me the job here—”

  “Which I think you’re having serious second thoughts about,” he inserted, a grin quirking up the corner of his mouth.

  “Elise has given me pause, I will admit that. But I’m not sorry I came. Besides, you stood by me when things got a little,” I waggled my head, “troublesome, shall we say. You didn’t leave me to sort things out on my own last month. You carted me around the countryside and were as invested in finding the truth as I was.” I realized what a serious speech that was, so I added. “And you bring me coffee. All the time, which I really appreciate.”

  The small smile on Alex’s face had grown as I spoke. Suddenly he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. I froze at the delicate touch, immobilized, my mind jumping through impressions—his warm lips, the rough fabric of his jacket under my hand, the rain gurgling loudly along the drain outside.

  He pulled back a millimeter. “Not just friends, I hope.”

  “No,” I managed to whisper back. Somehow the single word came out rough and breathless.

  “Good.” He brushed his lips over mine again, more slowly this time then pulled me close. I melted into him.

  After a while he stepped back.

  “Kate. I—” he stopped and spoke under his breath. “Now is definitely not the time.”

  “What? Now’s not the time for what?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you, but I have to sort out this mess with Quimby first.”

  “Okay,” I said a little uncertainly. “We can talk now…”

  “No, I can’t stay,” he said, and I saw that his breathing was as unsteady as mine. “See you tomorrow, Kate.” He smiled at me before pulling the door open and racing down the steps through the rain.

  I stood there a moment, watching him, not even caring that I was standing in a puddle of water and my socks were getting soaked.

  A knock sounded, and I hurried down the stairs. I had mopped up the puddles near the front door and changed into dry socks, all in a happy haze brought on by that kiss. I shoved the lock open, slid the bolt back, and threw the door wide. Elise stood on the doorstep holding a humongous black umbrella over her head. A blue sedan with dark tinted windows idled on the lane. The day was already overcast, and her umbrella blocked out most of the gloomy ambient light, casting her face into shadow. With only her chin and pale pinched lips in view, there was a definite resemblance to the Grim Reaper.

  “Oh.” I felt my face rearrange itself from an open smile to something more businesslike. “Elise. Would you like to come—”

  “No. I can’t stay, but I felt I should come in person to make sure there was no misunderstanding.”

  An ominous beginning, very suitable for her harvester of death look. I managed to keep these thoughts to myself. “How can I help you?”

  She tilted the umbrella back, and I could see her whole face now, clenched jaw, angry eyes and all. “You’re fired. Do not return to any filming location. If you do, I will have you forcibly removed.”

  For a moment, Elise’s voice faded. Her lips moved, but like that moment during takeoff when you are climbing and your ears go stuffy, I couldn’t hear her. This can’t be happening. I’ve never been fired in my life. I’m a hard worker. My bosses love me. Even at the temporary jobs I’d held while trying to get back on my feet after I had to quit grad school, my bosses had never had one complaint. Then my ears seemed to pop, and sound rushed back in.

  “…hired you on Alex’s recommendation, but you’ve put the cast and crew—the whole production, really—at risk. I can’t have that. I’m sure you understand.”

  “No, I don’t. What happened today was not my fault.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No,” I said, incredulously. “How could it be my fault?”

  She blew out a breath through her nose. “You’re American.” Even speaking the word seemed to pain her. “Your country has that strange fascination with guns.”

  “But I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Nevertheless, I have made my decision. Mary will see that you receive payment for the days you…worked, if we can call it that. I imagine you spent most of them mooning around after Alex.”

  I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. The unfairness of her accusations…sure I was interested in Alex and there was something between us, but we’d done our jobs. “That’s unfair. Alex and I have always behaved in an appropriate manner.” Thoughts of the kiss rushed into my mind, and I felt my cheeks heat. “On the set,” I added quickly, then raised my chin. What was wrong with me? Romance on a film set wasn’t forbidden. It was common, practically a rule. If there wasn’t flirting and romance, then that would be weird.

  Elise ignored me, her gaze ranging over the exterior of the cottage. “I understand we’re also paying for your lodging because there was some sort of snafu at the inn,” she said in a tone that indicated she thought I’d fabricated the broken pipe at the inn. Her attention snapped back to me. “Your cushy ride is over. The production won’t pick up another day of this rental.”

  She whirled away and went down the steps. I raced after her, splashing through the path, my socks absorbing the water. I gripped her shoulder. “Wait.”

  She shied back from me, and I quickly pulled my hand away. At the rate she was going, she’d have the constable here in moments and accuse me of assault.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you,” she said, her words automatic.

  “Yes, you do. You really do. Why? Sure, the production had to close down early today, and I’m sorry that happened, but if you look at it objectively, you have to admit that I didn’t cause that. I was the victim in that situation. This is about something else. From the moment we met, it’s been clear you can’t stand me.” I felt the rain soaking into my hair, plastering it to my forehead and pressing my shirt to my shoulders and back, but I waited.

  The raindrops thumped onto her umbrella in the silence, then she drew in a breath. “People should rise on their own merit,” she said tightly.

  “I agree,” I said, puzzled.

  Elise let out a snort. “That is quite rich, coming from you.” She turned and stalked away.

  I dodged around her and gripped the gate. I held it closed, blocking her path. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  She gave an impatient shake of her head. “Women like you make me sick. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Do you know what I had to put up with when I was your age? How many groping hands I had to fight off? How much harder I had to work than the men who were my contemporaries? I wasn’t part of the old boys’ club. I had to fight and work doubly hard to get where I am today. Women like you, who use your looks and your youth to rise through the ranks, disgust me. We needed an additional location scout and manager, so I hired you, but that was before I heard how close you were to your old boss, how you raced out
here at the first sign of trouble for him. And now you’re cozying up to Alex. I hope he knows what he’s getting himself into.”

  She pushed by me, whipped through the gate, and got in the car. I was so stunned that I didn’t move. The gate fell back and hit me on the hip as the car accelerated away.

  I turned and slowly went back to the cottage. I felt as if I’d just experienced one of those jolting earthquakes that sometimes rocked through California, jiggling the earth and making me reach out blindly for something solid to hang on to. I squished inside the cottage and leaned against the door, water streaming off me. “Well, my life is in shambles,” I muttered.

  By the time I’d showered, changed, and cleaned up the floor again, I’d moved from shock and denial into anger that focused my attention. Elise was wrong. Completely wrong. She didn’t know me, but she’d made up her mind about me. I couldn’t do anything about that. So, first order of business was a job.

  I had to work. During the last few years, I’d focused on helping my mom get on her feet after the divorce and paying off student loan debt from my short-lived time as a grad student. As a result, my saving account balance was low—and that was looking at it optimistically. I had used a large part of my savings to purchase my airline ticket, thinking that I’d make it back up working on the documentary, but I’d probably only earned enough during the last few days to purchase a meal in coach on my return flight.

  I sent a text to Marci, my old office manager, telling her things had changed and asked her if she knew of anyone looking for a location scout. She texted back immediately. In meeting. Will call later. Leon asked about you?!? Will shake the trees, see what I hear.

  “Eww.” I cringed. Leon Bettis with his groping hands and roving gaze was exactly the sort of guy Elise had described earlier. Working for Leon was dead last on my list. I would be willing to do quite a few other jobs so that I didn’t have to work for him, despite his status as Hollywood’s up-and-coming location manager.

  I plopped down on the uncomfortable couch and settled my laptop on my crossed legs. My search for flights revealed that the first flight that I could afford to L.A. left next week. It was a non-returnable fare. The difference between the airfare leaving within the next day or so and the one next week was significant. The fare next week would still take a huge chunk out of my available credit on my credit card, but I could swing it. Probably. If I got home and got some work, even some freelance stuff lined up quickly. I would actually save quite a bit of money by staying in England for a few more days. Maybe I could work a deal with Beatrice to do some sideline photography work for her in exchange for staying in the cottage for a few more days. I’d become fairly handy with the camera in the last few years. Maybe Parkview Hall needed a few beauty shots for brochures or for their website. Even if that didn’t work out, I’d still be better off leaving next week. The difference between the ticket prices was that large.

  I hovered the curser over the purchase button, going back and forth over what was best. I needed to work. No, correction. I had to work. The odds of me stumbling into another location scouting job here in England were slim, especially if Elise spoke to anyone else about me. My best odds of getting work were in the States, but that kiss…it had been quite a kiss. Full of potential.

  That Louis Armstrong song, A Kiss to Build A Dream On, flitted through my mind. At the dentist’s office where I’d put in so many of my hours at my temp job, we’d had a heavy rotation of Big Band, Swing, and early Rock and Roll pumped through the office sound system. I circled the cursor on the screen, which made the BOOK SEATS button highlight and fade.

  If I went back to California, things between us could still develop, but beginning a relationship on different continents just didn’t seem the best way to start things off. And I did want to give it a go with Alex. I really did. Despite Quimby’s warnings and the mess Alex was mixed up in right now. He was genuine and sweet and he made me laugh. The first two qualities were hard to find, but of all the guys I’d dated recently, I couldn’t think of one who made me laugh.

  I looked away from the laptop screen to the front window. Tulips were pushing up through the earth, and a branch of one of the rosebushes bent toward the ground, each tightly furled flower bud, dripping with rain. The pile of burnt debris from Lilac Cottage, now soaked and soggy, still sat at the curb.

  Everything hinged on Quimby’s investigation. I was pretty sure how Alex felt about me—that kiss had left little room for doubt—but until the death of Amy Brown was sorted out, we’d be entangled in that. Quimby’s ever-closing circle around Alex meant that Alex had to focus on that, not on what was happening or what might happen between us. Being a murder suspect meant that everything else slipped right down to the bottom of the priority list.

  Okay, then. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought as I minimized the flight search. I’d spend the next day, doing everything and anything I could to help Alex clear his name. He had helped me when things got rough. I would do my best to return the favor. If I’d made no progress, I’d book the ticket tomorrow. Hopefully, the price wouldn’t go up in the next twenty-four hours. I resolutely pushed away the surge of anxiety that thought brought on and opened a new window on the laptop, determined to figure out what connection Amy Brown had with Nether Woodsmoor that didn’t involve Alex.

  Chapter 13

  WHAT WAS THAT AWFUL THUMPING noise? I struggled out of a deep sleep and shifted from my back to my side, then reflexively put out a hand to grab my laptop as I felt it shift and begin to slide off my stomach. I wiggled up onto my elbow and looked around. I’d stretched out and fallen asleep on the couch. My Moleskine notebook sat on the floor beside a plate with crumbs from my hasty sandwich dinner. I’d closed the curtains when the sun went down last night, and they were still closed against the darkness now. I checked my watch. Five-thirty a.m.

  I recalled fighting off yawns as I made notes while searching various social media for Amy Brown, a nearly endless task, and thinking I really should go to bed, but Amy Brown was extremely active on social media and the information available on the web is endless. The constant loading of prior status updates, old posts, and ancient tweets had lured me on until well after midnight.

  The pounding noise came again. “Kate, are you in there?” The heavy door muffled Alex’s voice, but I could still hear the edge of worry in his words.

  I stood, pushing my twisted and matted hair out of my eyes as I went to the door and wrenched it open. A faint glow from the horizon silhouetted Alex and Slink as they stood on the step. Alex had on a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his shirt was stained with sweaty patches. Slink’s sides were heaving, and her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth. Between breaths, Alex said, “Kate. I was worried. You didn’t answer your phone.”

  I patted my pockets. I usually had my phone somewhere on my person, but I didn’t have it with me at the moment. “Sorry. Um…” I looked around and spotted my tote bag on a chair in the front room. “It’s probably buried in my bag, still on vibrate.”

  “No, that’s fine. I was just worried. You know, with everything that’s happened.” He reached up and used the back of his arm to wipe his forehead. “I took Slink for a quick run before I have to leave.” At her name, Slink looked up at him with adoring eyes.

  Normally, sweaty guys were a major turn off, but there was something about the way his shirt clung to his chest and abs as his muscles flexed with his movements that made me completely lose my train of thought. I brought my gaze up to his face. It was hard to tell with the light behind him, but I was almost sure his eyes were twinkling at me.

  I cleared my throat. “Right. Yes. Thank you for checking on me. Doing fine.” I gestured toward the couch, then became aware that my shirt was bunched up and twisted halfway around my waist. I pulled it straight. “I fell asleep, doing a bit of research.”

  “Well, you better get moving. We need to leave in fifteen. Can you make it? Wait, of cours
e you can. I remember how fast you got changed that day we met.” He was backpedaling, moving down the steps to the path as he spoke, letting Slink’s leash out. “I better hurry or you’ll beat me.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  He checked his watch. “Well, we can do twenty, but that’s pushing it. After yesterday, we have a lot to do.”

  “No, I mean I can’t go with you.” I stepped onto the porch. “Elise fired me yesterday.”

  He stared at me a moment, his forehead wrinkled like I’d spoken in a foreign language. “But she can’t do that. We need you.”

  “Apparently not. Or at least, Elise thinks you can do fine without me. I put the cast and crew as well as the production at risk.”

  “That’s insane.”

  I leaned against the doorframe. “Between you and me, she doesn’t like me. She was looking for a reason to fire me. Getting shot at was the perfect excuse.”

  “But that’s not right. You were the victim.”

  “She doesn’t see it that way.”

  “Well, if you go. I go.”

  I closed my eyes briefly. “I appreciate that, but you need the job, right?”

  “Only if I want to pay my bills.”

  “I thought so. Stay with the production. Don’t make an enemy of Elise. She has clout, doesn’t she? She could make your life miserable, if she wanted to.”

  “Yes.”

  “So don’t get on her bad side by taking mine. Go to work. I can go back to the States, find something there, if I have to.”

  Alex wound the leash around his palm. “What about…”

  “Yesterday afternoon?” I couldn’t help but smile at him as I motioned back and forth between us. “That thing?”

  He smiled back. “Yes, that thing. Personally, I enjoyed it and would like to pursue more of it…see where it goes.”

  “Me, too. I don’t want to leave, but I may have to. I have bills to pay, too. But it won’t be for a few days, at least. In the meantime, I’m focusing on what I can do here to help you get Quimby off your back.”