by Gina LaManna
But he looked pretty nice, sitting there. He wore jeans and a black button-down shirt with the top button undone. He wore a simple black watch, and on his waist, of course, was his weapon and badge. The whole picture looked like it could be in the movie set just down the street.
“This morning?” Cooper prompted. “If you could give me a rundown of the events that got us here, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure,” I said. “Well, I brought Matt coffee around... eight or so. You can probably ask him for a more specific time.”
“You were up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said shyly. “Lots on my mind.”
Cooper smiled slightly, but he kept his gaze on his notebook.
“Anyway, after coffee with Matt, I found Ryan waiting for me on my doorstep. He begged me to come to the hospital with him.”
“Did he say why?”
“He wanted to talk to Tennison,” I said. “I think Ryan’s desperate. He was hoping Tennison might have some idea of who switched out the gun. You know, assuming it wasn’t Ryan.”
“I see.”
“We came here—”
“Together?” Cooper asked. “Part of the investigation. Not a personal question.”
I rolled my eyes, but I obliged. “I followed him in my car. Then Ryan went to talk to the nurse to see how Tennison was doing.”
“Is that when she told you he’d died?”
“Well, no,” I said. “That was later.”
“Where were you while Ryan was talking to the nurse?”
“Not with him,” I said, remembering the magazine with my ex-boyfriend’s face on it. “I used the restroom then waited in the lobby. Thumbed through some magazines.”
“How long was he gone?”
My back stiffened at the note in Cooper’s voice. “Oh, no. I see where you’re going with this, chief. And that’s not accurate. There’s no way Ryan snuck off and killed Tennison while I was powdering my nose.”
“Powdering your...” Cooper shook his head. “Never mind. I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just trying to get the facts straight.”
“Your tone is suggesting things,” I said warningly. “And I don’t love it.”
“First my eyebrow, then my tone,” Cooper said. “I’ve got a lot going against me.”
“You’ve got plenty going for you, too,” I said, then realized how lame that sounded. “You know, your other eyebrow, for example. That one’s not so skeptical. And sometimes your tone is decent.”
Cooper gave me a half smile. “That’s almost sweet. What happened when Ryan returned?”
“He said we had to wait for the nurse. He told me...” I racked my brain trying to remember exactly what Ryan had said. “I think he said the nurse would come get us when Tennison was awake.”
Cooper jotted a few things down.
“What are you writing?” I asked. “What did I say?”
Cooper tipped the notebook so I couldn’t see it. “We’re almost done here. What happened next? Did the nurse come get you?”
“Yes, a woman named Carrie,” I said. “She took us into an office—not this one but one similar. She told us that Tennison hadn’t made it.”
“What happened then?” Cooper asked it as if he knew the answer.
I watched him. Finally, it dawned on me. “You talked to Carrie. She told you that Ryan went a little bit... off on her.”
“A little.”
“He was just shocked,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Cooper said. “But do you want to know how I got here so fast?”
“Now that you mention it, I am curious.”
“Carrie called me when she went into the room to check on Tennison Daniels. Rather, she called 911. Because all the cords had been unplugged in Tennison’s room.”
“What?”
Cooper raised his gaze to mine. “Someone wanted Mr. Daniels dead. Badly. And he might have been murdered right under your nose.”
Chapter 10
After I wrapped up my interview-sort-of thing with Cooper, I found myself in the waiting room once more, holding my cup of Styrofoam coffee and looking anxiously at the room that held my ex-boyfriend and my current almost boyfriend. The awkwardness was too much to bear.
I dumped the remainder of my sludgy coffee into the trash and hightailed it out of the hospital, more grateful than ever that I’d made Ryan drive separately. I hopped into my car and headed back toward June’s café where I was angling to get a muffin to help soak up the coffee sloshing around in my stomach.
Unfortunately, traffic was so backed up on Main Street that I was forced to turn off the main drag and take side roads back to my house. I parked in my driveway, changed into more sensible flats—baby-blue cuties—and began the walk to June’s. When I arrived, however, I found her café just as packed as Main Street.
I elbowed past a throng of people I didn’t recognize as I fought my way to June’s counter. June stood behind the register, looking completely unfazed by the circus in her little coffee shop. Her helpers, however, looked completely overwhelmed as they bussed plates, glassware, and leftover food from the tables, like their lives depended on it.
“Good morning, Jenna,” June said. “What’ll it be today? The special scone?”
“I think a muffin,” I said, looking up at the menu. “That’s more squishy, right? Will it soak up some anxiety?”
“Absolutely,” June said without missing a beat. “I should technically recommend the blueberry muffins since that’s our namesake here, but I personally think the cranberry-orange muffins do a better job of soaking up worries.”
“Done,” I said. Then as an afterthought... “I’ll take two. And a large coffee. Better make that decaf.”
“Two should do the trick,” June concurred. “What’s on your mind, buttercup?”
I glanced around at the throng behind me waiting to order. “I really don’t want to hold you up.”
“We can’t cook any faster,” June said with a shrug. “They can have patience. I own this place, don’t I?”
“Why are there so many people here?” I asked. “I couldn’t even find a parking spot.”
“You must not have read Franny’s article in the Blueberry Lake Times.”
“I guess I missed it.”
June gave me a look that said she wasn’t fooled.
“Okay, I don’t get the Blueberry Lake Times,” I admitted. “I had to choose between that and Cosmo, and...” I waited a beat. “It’s Cosmo.”
“They’re shooting a big scene for the movie today,” June said. “They have spots for walk-ons. You know, people in the crowd. Waitress Number One. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.”
“The biggest claim to fame Blueberry Lake has is the annual talent show,” June said. “And Stacy Simone picks her favorite to win it every year. Talk about a popularity contest. Aside from that, we’ve got the high school’s production of Les Mis, which they do every year. And each person gets four roles because there aren’t enough actors to go around. This is everyone’s real claim to fame.”
I remembered Matt hinting at as much earlier that morning. I didn’t have to wonder if the potential escape of Ethel Louise Schroeder from the nursing home had something to do with one of the coveted roles.
“Well, if nothing else, I hope it helps your bottom line,” I said. “Seems like you’re buzzing.”
“We are,” June said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little buzzy, too. Would that have anything to do with the fact that you’re dating Cooper?”
“W-what?”
June’s eyes twinkled. “I know these things. I can see it in a woman’s eyes when she’s in love.”
“I’m not in love.”
“Do you want to be dating Cooper?”
I was a spluttery mess as June handed me my decaf coffee.
“That’s what I thought,” June said. “I’ve thrown a third muffin into your bag. Soak up some of those pre
-first-date jitters.”
“Pre-first-date...”
“I know Cooper has reservations tonight over in Butternut Bay.”
“He does?”
“I suppose that might’ve been a surprise,” June added, looking annoyed at herself. “Can you pretend to be surprised when he takes you there?”
“Uh, okay.”
I grabbed my coffee and bag of muffins, wondering—not for the first time—how the eighty-year-old woman running the coffee shop knew more about my love life than I did myself. Then, I reasoned, I didn’t care all that much. If Cooper and I went out and had dinner together, everyone would know. There was no such thing as a secret in this town. Even if we went all the way to Butternut Bay for dinner.
A quick glance around the café told me that there were no places available for sitting even if I’d wanted to stick around. But I was way too buzzy, as June had said, to stay in one place for more than a few seconds. Plus, it seemed like all the action was migrating toward the end of Main Street where the camera crews were currently setting up for the big shot.
I strolled down Main Street and tried to sneak past my mother’s shop without her seeing me. It didn’t work. So when she started waving, I picked up the pace and hid behind my cup of coffee.
“Jenna McGovern!”
My mother’s voice had the magical power of mom voices everywhere. It rose over the din of everything else going on in Blueberry Lake and cuttingly made its way directly to my ears.
“How dare you not tell me about your date tonight?” she called. “I have to find out that my daughter is in a relationship from Ethel Louise Schroeder?”
I slunk across the street, trying to maintain a sense of anonymity as I hid behind my coffee cup and muffins. It didn’t work, but it temporarily made me feel better. Like when children close their eyes and believe nobody else can see them. Like that.
“Hello, Mom,” I said, once I reached her side. “Thanks for shouting the details of my life to the entire town—and then some.”
“Apparently, you’ve already done that.” My mother crossed her arms. “Were you avoiding telling me about your date with Cooper because you thought I would boast?”
“Boast about what?”
“Winning the bet,” my mother said. “I called it from day one. I was the original Team Cooper.”
“There’s no team anything,” I said. “And that was supposed to be private. It happened, like, five minutes ago. I don’t know how all you people found out.”
“Is it serious?”
“I’m not having this discussion now,” I told my mother. “I’m busy.”
“You have to be at work in an hour. How busy can you be?”
“Busy enough that I have an hour and a half of errands to do in the span of sixty minutes.”
“Fifty minutes,” my mother said. “Don’t be late. Especially if you’ll have to duck out early for your date.”
I started to roll my eyes, but something my mother had said stopped me in my tracks. “Did you say Ethel Louise Schroeder told you about my date? How did she know?”
“I don’t have the answer to that.”
“I thought she was in the nursing home.”
My mother’s eyes flicked down the street as a guilty expression appeared there. “Technically, she should be.”
“Matt was worried about that,” I said with a sigh. “Can you point me in her direction? Matt told me she might break out.”
“A dinner date with Cooper, but a breakfast date with Matthew?” My mother raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I haven’t won the bet just yet.”
“We’re just friends, Mom.”
“So, I have won the bet?”
“Goodbye.”
“I’ll see you in an hour, sweetie.”
I left my mother behind as I set off in the direction of the movie set. This time, I made it without further interruption. However, once I made it, I found Matt and a few other firefighters, who’d been roped in to helping with production, had set up a barrier around the trailers and the scene.
For good reason, I noted, seeing the throng of looky-loos pressed right up to the fences. Matt stood along one side with his arms crossed. I was just about to head his way to see if I could sweet talk my way through when a voice called my name.
“There she is,” Cassidy said, standing on the steps to her trailer and waving in my direction. “Jenna, come here! We need to ask you something.”
“Oh, I—” I glanced around, but I was stuck between a woman in a wheelchair and a man with a cane who looked precariously balanced. “I’ll, uh, come to you.”
Slipping my way out of the mess of people, I made my way to the edge of the barrier. Matt had heard my name called and edged his way over to where I was trying to get through.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked lazily. “Nobody in, nobody out.”
“She’s allowed in,” Cassidy called from behind him. “Let her in. She’s our stylist.”
Matt looked at me, a skeptical expression on his face. “You didn’t tell me you took a job with the production team.”
“I—yeah,” I hedged. “It’s new. You’re looking at the newest stylist for...” I searched my brain for the name of Ryan’s production company but came up empty. “The movie,” I finished lamely.
Matt gave me a wry smile, but he stepped aside and let me pass. “You’re lucky you’re sweet.”
I slipped passed him and scurried over to Cassidy. “Wow, thanks,” I said. “I was beginning to think I’d be stuck out there with everyone else. I was hoping to talk to you.”
“I was hoping to talk to you, too,” Cassidy said. “Emily Jones quit!”
“Who?”
“Emily Jones.” When Cassidy glanced at my face and found that I still didn’t react, she rolled her eyes. “The stylist. Fine, she’s not as well-known as you were. Okay, fine. This was, like, her second gig ever. The point is that she’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“She drove up to the Michigan airport and freaking flew back to LA!”
“I’m assuming you mean the Minneapolis airport,” I muttered, but at the confused look on Cassidy’s face, I waved a hand. “Never mind.”
“We need you.”
“I don’t think I can manage that,” I said. “I have a job.”
“What’s your job?”
“Well, I’m helping out at my mother’s shop—”
“And your mother can’t find someone to help out for a week while we shoot?” Cassidy asked. “What does she do?”
“It’s a thrift shop.”
“Okay, right. Like anyone shops at those things.”
“They do, actually, and—”
“We’ll pay,” she said bluntly. “With a job like that, you can’t make much.”
I didn’t feel like divulging the fact that money—or lack of it—was sort of a concern of mine at the moment. I had bills to pay, a house to repair, and a greenhouse shop that I was aiming to get up and running. I couldn’t do any of those things without an infusion of cash. Unfortunately, working at my mother’s thrift shop was just not sustainable long term. If I wanted to take a real run at seeing if I could turn Green’s into a thriving business, I would need to think bigger. I would need—”
“Five grand,” Cassidy said.
I went silent. “For a week’s work?”
Cassidy misinterpreted my question as disappointment.
“Fine, seven grand,” she said. She took one more glance at my face. “Ten grand, and that’s as high as I can go.”
I tried not to look like a fish gulping for air. “For a week of work?”
“Two weeks,” she said. “At that rate, you’ll have to stay for the full thing. Long hours. You’ll belong to the production crew around the clock. It’s not an easy gig.”
The excitement was already beginning in my fingers and toes. First, that amount of money would be life changing for me. I’d pay off all my credit card debt from those darn shoe sales th
at’d sucked me dry. Then I could get a few things done around the house that needed updating. I could funnel whatever was left into my business and have a little savings left over.
My sense of amazement had stunned me into silence, and that gave me an edge. It made it seem like I wasn’t interested, when in reality, I wanted to grab the offer by the horns and sign my name in ink. Or blood. Whatever would get this contract done faster.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll do it—on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m allowed to bring in clothes from my mother’s thrift shop, and she gets a credit on the movie.”
“Fine,” Cassidy said with a flick of her wrist. “You start now.”
“Okay, where do I—”
“Emma Lou needs to be dressed for today,” Cassidy said. “Casual but cute for this scene. I’ll get you a script later, so you can get started on the rest of her looks. See if you can find something here. Emily took all her plans with her and left us with a real mess. She even took some of the clothes.”
“That’s not a problem,” I said, letting myself into the trailer that Cassidy and Emily had shared. The trailer that would now be partly mine for the duration of filming. “Give me a few minutes.”
As I worked, Cassidy took a seat on her makeup chair and watched me. “Do you think you’ll come back?”
“Back?”
“To LA,” Cassidy said. “I mean, look at you. Two seconds into the job, and you’re in heaven. It’s written on your face.”
“Really?” I looked in her direction and gave a smile. “I suppose you have a point. I do love it. I just... my home is here now.”
“Pity. Seems like it wouldn’t be as fulfilling styling Cats for the high school production.”
“Les Mis,” I said. “They do Les Mis every year, I guess.”
Cassidy made a sound in her throat.
“Why did Emily quit, anyway?” I asked. “Seems like she had a pretty good gig going, especially if she was just getting started in the business. It’s hard to say no when you have something like this to put on your résumé.”
“She wouldn’t have a résumé if she ended up dead.”