Mascara and Murder (Murder In Style Book 3)

by Gina LaManna

  “What could you possibly want with me?” I asked innocently. “I wasn’t even in town when the murder—sorry, attempted murder—happened. I didn’t see anything. Didn’t do anything.”

  “But you know Ryan.” Cooper spoke softly. “Any chance you feel like telling me a little about him?”

  I hesitated. Shook my head.

  At that moment, June appeared with two teacups filled with black coffee. She set them down, then disappeared and returned seconds later with one large scone.

  “You’ll have to share,” she said, resting two forks on the plate. “Enjoy.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, glancing at the two touching forks as if they were poisoned. “Dig in.”

  “Be my guest.” Cooper raised his coffee and took a sip. “This is my second trip here this morning.”

  I shrugged, then took a knife and sliced off a piece of scone. I took a sip of my coffee, a bite of scone. I studied Cooper.

  “If I don’t talk to you,” I said dubiously, “are you going to make me pay my half?”

  Cooper burst into laughter. “This is not a bribe.”

  “Good,” I said. “Because I don’t have much to say about Ryan.”

  “Okay,” Cooper said. “I just thought I’d check.”

  We sipped our coffee in peaceful silence for a few moments. There was a light chatter around us as the rest of the patrons continued their conversations. I suspected there were a lot of murmured musings about what had happened on set this morning, but I didn’t listen particularly closely because I was trying to convince myself not to care.

  “Fine,” I said, looking guiltily at Cooper. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed it, but I do know Ryan Lewis.”

  “Is that right?” Cooper remarked lightly.

  “I knew him, I should say. Pretty well,” I said. “I mean, we dated.”

  “Ah.”

  “Out in LA. He’s the one that broke up with me for someone else.” I scowled at Cooper. “You don’t seem surprised. You did your homework.”

  “Are you surprised? I’m a cop.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “That, plus you seemed really keen to avoid him,” Cooper said. “Most people in this town would be running toward the set if a movie star wanted to talk to them... not away from it. You know, Ryan Lewis is a big name these days.”

  “Right,” I said. “I know. Too well. You know how he got his start?”

  Cooper winced. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “I helped him,” I said. “But do I even get a thank-you? No.” I shook my head. “I just get called when he’s suddenly a murder suspect. How did he get suspected of murder, by the way?”

  “Attempted murder.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Though,” Cooper revised. “It will be murder if Tennison doesn’t make it.”

  I froze, the coffee cup halfway to my lips. “Is that a possibility?”

  “He’s in critical condition,” Cooper said. “It’s a definite possibility. We should know more by tonight, the doctors think. He was lucky—the bullet didn’t hit any major organs, but it did some serious damage and caused significant blood loss.”

  “As bullets do,” I said dryly. “So did people see who pulled the trigger?”

  Cooper’s eyes twinkled as he glanced my way. “I thought you didn’t want to know anything.”

  “I said I didn’t want to talk to Ryan,” I corrected. “If I’m going to dish on the details to you about my ex-boyfriend, then I think I deserve some details in response.”

  The chief shifted in his seat. “I can’t tell you everything, but most of this will be made public anyway. So here goes nothing.”

  I waited, slicing off another hunk of scone as Cooper swallowed a gulp of piping-hot coffee.

  “I got the call a couple of hours ago,” Cooper said. “They’d just started filming the first scene of the day. The lead actress, what’s her face—”

  “Emma Lou,” I interrupted. When Cooper’s eyes landed on me, I added sheepishly, “I did a little reading up on the movie before it came to town.”

  “Right. Emma Lou,” Cooper agreed. “She was filming a breakup scene with Tennison. Supposedly, it’s a comedic scene with her brandishing the gun around and eventually shooting it in his direction.”

  “Hilarious,” I said dryly.

  “Exactly my thoughts,” Cooper echoed. “Regardless, the gun got pointed at Tennison.”

  “They use set guns,” I said. “Fake props. They’d never use a real gun on screen.”

  “Again, correct,” Cooper said. “Emma Lou claims that she thought it was the prop gun. Is that possible?”

  “Some of the fake guns are pretty realistic,” I admitted. “And Emma Lou’s sort of ditzy. Let’s just say if she can find the right side of a knife to butter her toast, it’s a good day.”

  “So you know Emma Lou.”

  “Not closely. I styled her earlier in her career,” I said. “For the Golden Globes. She showed up with two different shoes to the event. To the Golden Globes! I had to lend her my heels.”

  “I see,” Cooper said. “Well, during the scene, she was brandishing it about as the script dictated. But when she pulled the trigger—theoretically—the gun fired.”

  “Yikes,” I said. “She must feel awful.”

  “Unless she was intending to do it,” Cooper said. “Which is one obvious option.”

  “Too obvious,” I said. “And also stupid. But sort of smart. Emma Lou’s not that smart. Did you interview her?”

  “Of course,” Cooper said. “She seemed very torn up.”

  “As I’d expect someone to be if they accidentally shot someone.” I shuddered. “Can you imagine?”

  Cooper ignored my question. “If Emma Lou didn’t bring the gun on set and shoot him on purpose, then that means someone else swapped it out.”

  “Still seems a bit weird,” I said. “I mean, very dangerous. It could have gone off and killed anyone.”

  “But she was supposed to fire the gun toward Tennison,” Cooper reiterated. “That was very clear. Written directly into the script—I saw a copy of it myself. Not to mention, if someone purposefully swapped out a stunt gun for a real weapon, I doubt they’re all that worried about accidental casualties.”

  “Yeah, but the chances are that whoever swapped the gun out was there,” I said. “Who else has access to the props other than the cast and crew?”

  “It could’ve been a prop person, an actor not in the scene, etcetera. Someone hiding away in their trailer.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But none of this answers how you’ve pegged Ryan as your main suspect.”

  “I talked to the prop guys,” Cooper said. “The one in charge, Harrison Anders, claims he doesn’t know what happened. He says he placed the stunt gun in the car—where it belonged for the scene. His assistant confirmed it.”

  “He’s positive the gun wasn’t already switched out?” I asked. “I mean, he’s sure that it was the fake gun he put in the car?”

  “Positive,” Cooper said. “He’s familiar with guns. He claims he would’ve known the second he picked it up if it wasn’t right.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Someone swapped the gun out of the car, then. Which makes sense—there’s the smallest risk of being discovered that way. The fewer people handling it, the fewer people who might notice the switch. This way, it went straight into Emma Lou’s hands.”

  “Who didn’t notice.”

  “Right. As we already covered, I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear she’d never seen a real gun before. And even if she had, the chances she would’ve noticed—in the heat of the moment—are slim. The lights, camera, action.” I shrugged. “It’s a lot. It’s intense. She’d have been trying to remember her lines and be caught up in the fake fight. Although the fight was fake, it would have felt real, felt heated. That’s what good acting is after all.”

  “Fair,” Cooper said. “That’s what brings me to my next point. The only person th
at anyone saw go to the car before the scene started filming was Ryan Lewis.”

  “Ah.” An uneasy feeling slid into my stomach. “I see. You think it was Ryan who switched out the gun. Ryan who wanted Tennison dead.”

  “It’s possible,” Cooper said. “I’m exploring all possibilities. And I have three eyewitnesses. Their stories all match up. They all claim they saw Ryan go to the car and open the door a few minutes before the scene started.”

  “Did Ryan say why he did that?”

  “No,” Cooper said. “He didn’t say. That’s when he said he wanted to talk to you.”

  “Sounds like he needs to talk to a lawyer.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Cooper said. “Right now, he’s clamming up. He has called a lawyer, but he’s still maintaining that he wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I hate to pry into your past, Jenna, but can I ask you something?”

  I looked into Cooper’s eyes. “Honestly, Chief, I wish you wouldn’t. I’m just getting over everything that happened in California. I’m happy to be here in Blueberry Lake. I just want to mind my own business for once. A task that seems impossible in this town.”

  “That’s a very impossible task,” Cooper agreed. “Nobody warned you before you moved here? You thought your life was public in Los Angeles? Those gossip rags have got nothing on Beasley’s knitting club.”

  “I heard my name,” Mrs. Beasley called from a seat near the door.

  “I know,” Cooper called back. “Mind your own business, Mrs. Beasley.”

  “I changed your diapers, Cooper Dear,” Mrs. Beasley called back. Then she added, “Chief.”

  Cooper turned his grin toward me. “Can’t hide anything here.”

  I was also smiling. “Yeah, but it’s different. Mrs. Beasley loves you.”

  “I know it,” Cooper said. “And, Jenna, you’re a part of Blueberry Lake now, and we’ve got your back. I wouldn’t be here, asking you these questions, if it wasn’t important.”

  I sighed. “What is it that you want to know, exactly?”

  All signs of a smile disappeared as Cooper leveled his gaze on me. “You know Ryan Lewis better than anyone else involved in this case. If you tell me nothing else, I need to know this: Do you think he could have killed someone?”

  I considered for a long, long time. This was my chance at revenge. To get back at the idiot who’d broken my heart, dumped me very publicly and rudely for another woman, and shattered my life in Los Angeles. It would be easy for me to bad-mouth him and tell Cooper Dear exactly how awful he was. Would I be justified? Maybe. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how much I wanted to, I knew that I couldn’t do that to anyone.

  “No,” I said, blowing out a huge breath. “I mean, I could be wrong. Maybe he’s changed, but the Ryan Lewis I knew wouldn’t have killed anyone. I mean, not like this—not cold-blooded. When we were dating, he wouldn’t even squish spiders. I’m not saying he’s the most kind-hearted guy I know, but he wouldn’t have the stomach to kill someone. And, besides that, he wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t do that.”

  Cooper nodded. “Obviously, I still have to follow every lead, but I appreciate your input.”

  “It’s annoying,” I said. “Having to defend the guy who ruined my life.”

  “Did he, though?”

  Cooper Dear stood and winked at me. He threw a twenty onto the table, then waited for me to stand. “Because he happened to make life a little better for the rest of us over here in Blueberry Lake.”

  Puzzled, I followed Cooper out of the café.

  “You, Jenna,” Cooper said, turning to grasp my hand in his. “Letting you go was his loss. My gain. Our gain,” he corrected quickly.

  I stood stock still. Cooper Dear was many things, but sentimental wasn’t a word I’d have used to describe him. Tough, maybe. Annoying and stubborn and manly and strong and very, very handsome. But not sentimental.

  “Your mouth is hanging open,” Cooper said with a side-eyed glance in my direction. “It shouldn’t be a surprise that we like having you around.”

  My head was still spinning as we made our way back in the direction of my mother’s shop. At the door to Something Old, Cooper paused. His hand came up to my shoulder, and he leaned inward toward me.

  “Thanks,” he whispered into my ear. “I appreciate you trusting me.”

  I couldn’t move. I was convinced he was going to kiss me, the way he was just lingering like that—all close and warm. He smelled of fresh aftershave and foresty cologne, and it gave me the shivers.

  “Jenna!” A voice called from behind me, interrupting whatever moment might have transpired. “Finally. Jeez Louise, you live in the middle of nowhere. Thank goodness you have internet here in the boonies, or my poor cab would’ve gotten lost when we zoomed past the last Target two hours ago.”

  “Thirty minutes,” I corrected. Then I mustered a nicer response. “Cassidy! It’s good to see you.”

  “Yes, yes, darling, you, too.” Cassidy stomped toward me—not because she was angry, but because the shoes strapped to her feet were platform wedges that rose nearly six inches off the ground.

  Cooper backed away, just barely escaping an unfortunate toe-crunching incident as Cassidy elbowed her way in front of me. She leaned in and gave me two airy cheek kisses.

  “Well, nice to see you, too,” I repeated, fanning the scent of strawberry perfume and bubble gum away from my face. “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up.”

  “No problem.” Cassidy chomped down on what I could only imagine was three huge pieces of watermelon-flavored bubble gum. “Is this guy an extra? Movie cop? Cutie pie, that’s for sure.”

  I looked to where she was staring at Cooper and cleared my throat. “Actually, this is Chief Cooper Dear. Head of the police department for Blueberry Lake.”

  “That’s sweet.” Cassidy turned her attention back to me. “Now, fill me in on the deets. Who got murdered?”

  Chapter 5

  I steered Cassidy away from my mother’s store after Cooper bade us a hasty goodbye. Cassidy seemed eager to fill up on gossip, so I led her in the direction of the movie set.

  I was trying to tell myself that my actions weren’t because I was curious about what was happening on set. Or because I wanted a peek at what was going on at the end of the street. Or because I was feeling a little bit bad for my ex-boyfriend. But even I didn’t believe any of that. From what Cooper had told me, we were dealing with a bizarre and very confusing series of events that’d led to the shooting of an actor. It wouldn’t hurt to just peek quietly into the scene and satisfy my innate sense of curiosity.

  “Hi, everyone!” Cassidy shifted one bag higher on her shoulder that, I realized as I looked closer, held a live Yorkie inside. The little dog yipped a greeting along with his owner. “I’ve arrived! And, of course, this is Jenna McGovern. I’m sure most of you know her—the best stylist in all of LA! Er—well, wherever we are now. Where are we, again?”

  “Blueberry Lake,” I muttered, thinking that my quiet entrance had been the exact opposite of quiet. “You’re in Blueberry Lake.”

  “Right. Well, all right, then.” Cassidy looked around, frowning at the somber scene before her. “Jeesh. It’s not like someone died.”

  “Well...” I hesitated. “Tennison is in critical condition.”

  “Right, right,” Cassidy said. “Come with me to my trailer. Fill me in.”

  I followed Cassidy to a small trailer at the end of the line of other, larger trailers. Once outside of it, she frowned. She glanced at the other trailers. Then frowned deeper.

  “There must be a mistake,” she said, waving her hand through the air. “My trailers are normally three times this size. How am I supposed to fit all my makeup chairs, brushes, and blushes in here?”

  “Right. I’m not sure.”

  Cassidy led me inside her trailer and offered me a seat on a stool before a mirror. The makeup artist then took a seat on a bench along one side. She had to swat an array
of costume jewelry out of her face, and I had to tuck a dressing robe away so it wasn’t falling on my head.

  “It’s freaking cramped in here!” Cassidy opened a window and shouted outside. “How am I supposed to share these quarters with the stylist? I sure hope Emily doesn’t bother me. I hope someone is getting me a bigger trailer out there.” She pulled her head back inside. “Sorry about that.”

  I waved away the persistent robe-tie that was tickling my neck. “Oh, it’s cozy. Don’t worry about it.”

  “So Tennison is almost dead,” Cassidy said. “That’s sad. Who shot him?”

  I filled her in on as much as I felt comfortable telling her. When I finished, Cassidy plunked her chin onto the palm of her hand and leaned forward, considering.

  “That’s weird,” she said. “All of it is weird. And, I mean, it’s extra sad, considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “Tennison was all about Emma Lou,” Cassidy said. “I mean, they never got together as far as I know. Emma Lou is way too... much for him. She’s a lot.”

  “Yeah, gotcha.”

  “But Tennison had a crush on her,” Cassidy said. “How much would that suck to be shot by the woman you wanted to date?”

  “Very unfortunate,” I agreed. “Very unfortunate to be shot by anyone, really.”

  “I suppose,” she said. “But if it was an accident—well, someone put a real gun there, right? Do they know who did it?”

  “No,” I said. “But I guess a few people saw Ryan go to the car beforehand. They’re wondering if he might have... done it.”

  “Oh, honey.” Cassidy bit her lip. “Are you okay?”

  I was more concerned about Cassidy’s lip, to be honest. It was such a huge lip, thanks to her Botox injections, that I feared it just might pop if she bit down any harder. When I tore my gaze away, I shook my head.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve moved on from Ryan. I live three thousand miles away.”

  “You wouldn’t take him back?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Ryan’s dating someone else.”