“That’s right. Royce turns up at every outdoor shoot and yells at me until I give him an autograph. The whole thing is creepy. Why would anybody want my signature over and over? It’s not as though it ever changes.”
Claud frowned. “I talked to the guys on crew about him six months ago. Is that the same one?”
Presley nodded. “He seemed to drift into the background for a while, but now he’s got my number from somewhere, and he’s been calling through the night.”
“Where’s your phone?” Claud asked, and Presley fumbled for it in her pocket. He pulled open the back and pulled out the SIM card. “That’ll stop him for the moment. Why don’t you take a breather here while I go out and have another word with the security crew?”
As he went outside, Willow frowned and moved closer to the upset actress. “He was at the film set the other day.” She looked up at Trisha. “Do you remember him? The man walked straight through across our picnic rug as though we weren’t even there.”
“Oh, yes. What a horrible person he was.” Trisha turned to Presley, putting a comforting hand on the young woman’s back. “And he was shouting things out to you while you were trying to perform the scene.”
“I hate him. I ignored him at the start of the day, and I thought I’d got rid of him because I didn’t see him after that. At some point, I must have left my phone out on the set because he sent a blank text to his own phone and now he keeps calling me. It’s dreadful.”
“He was at the park yesterday, too.” Willow turned to Reg. “He’s the one who told us off for getting too near the trailers.”
Reg nodded. “That man seems to get in a lot of people’s faces, doesn’t he? I’m sure that Sheriff Wender will be able to sort him out for you.” He gave a short laugh. “The sheriff might appreciate having something easier to handle than trying to puzzle out a murder.”
At those words, Willow gasped. She put a hand up to her mouth while her eyes widened. “You don’t suppose—” She broke off and turned to Trisha who fumbled out her phone, scrolling through the pictures.
“Look,” Trisha said, handing it across to Willow. “Isn’t that the same sneaker as he was wearing?”
Beneath the screens that shielded half the set from view was part of a shoe’s sole. Someone was hiding behind them just before the act that claimed Angel’s life.
“We need to get to the sheriff’s office,” Willow said, turning as she did so. “He has to put out an alert, so someone can stop the man.”
Unfortunately, Claud walked back inside at that moment, showing the group it was too late. With a large knife held to the director’s throat, he was escorted inside by Presley’s number one fan, Royce Shepard.
* * *
“Get the door,” Royce snarled to Willow as he walked inside. The tip of the knife had pierced a pinprick into Claud’s throat, and she wavered on her feet at the sight of the tiny drop of blood. Charley caught her before she could fall, but then ended up in distress as his own reaction set in.
“What’s going on?” Trisha yelled out in fright as the two of them toppled to the floor.
Willow bit down hard on her cheek, willing herself not to faint into unconsciousness. She could feel the rush as her pulse sped up, and a shake worked its way up her legs.
Now was not the time for her weakness to show itself! If she couldn’t keep her wits about her, then it might well end in tragedy for her today.
“It’s the blood,” she whispered, and Harmony nodded, knowing the weakness as well as Willow did herself.
“I need to bandage up that man’s neck,” Harmony stated, striding forward as though Royce wasn’t holding them all hostage. “If I don’t, then you’ll soon have a couple more injuries on your hand.”
Royce appeared so shocked that he didn’t pull away. Harmony had a band-aid prepared in record time and darted forward to stick it on the director’s neck before the fan jerked the both of them away.
“You can look now,” Harmony said in a high-pitched voice, quite unlike her usual calm tones.
Willow turned her head and felt the strength surge back into her body along with a shot of adrenaline. The wound was covered, but the threat to all their lives was still genuine.
How Harmony had mustered the courage to approach the two men, Willow didn’t know. It was a vibrant demonstration of bravery in action and she hoped that her own performance measured up.
“None of us are armed,” Willow called out, “and nobody wants to hurt you. If you put the knife down, you can walk out of here, and we won’t say a word. All we want is for everyone to be safe.”
“No. I’m not leaving here. Not without some recognition of my life’s work. Do you know what it’s like to struggle and strive and work all the hours under the sun, yet never get the slightest reward? Well, I’m here to tell you that things will be different from now on.”
Royce pulled the knife away from Claud’s throat to point it at the assembled group, and the director used it as an opportunity to fall to the floor and tumble out of the deranged man’s clutches. Reg leaped forward, grabbing Claud under his armpits and dragging him out of harm’s way before the fan could recognize what was happening.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Royce shouted. “You’re just going to make everything worse for yourselves.”
“We’re not making things worse, son,” Charley said, stirring from his position on the floor. “It’s you who’s responsible for doing that.”
“I’ll kill the next person to speak,” Royce shouted, wiping the arm not holding the knife across his forehead to clear off the sweat. “How about that?”
“I’ll come with you.” Presley stood, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It’s not fair to hurt all these people when it’s just me you want.”
Once again, the act of bravery astounded Willow. Even though her legs were still visibly shaking, Presley walked a few steps closer to Royce.
“It’s a trick,” he shouted, pointing the knife in Presley’s direction now. “I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve ignored me for years and suddenly you’re ready to run away with me. I don’t know what you think you’re doing but stop right there.”
“Well, if you don’t want this young lady to come along with you, what do you want?” Thera Bourne stepped forward, tilting her head in the direction of the young man. “We can’t help you reach your goals if none of us know what they are.”
“You’re trying to trick me.” Royce pointed the knife at Thera, then at Presley, before shifting back to Thera again. He took a step back, putting his other hand up to the side of his head and screwing up his eyes. “I killed someone for you,” he shouted to Presley. “I murdered someone so you could be the star of the show and you didn’t even say thank you.”
“How was I meant to know you’d done it,” Presley yelled back while, at the same time, Thera shouted, “Exactly how did killing our sound man advance her career?”
The stunned fan glanced from one to the other. He took another step back, then two steps forward. The confusion on Royce’s face alarmed Willow. With him in such a state of agitation, he might literally do anything.
“I’m sure you thought you were doing the right thing,” she said in a soothing voice. She also stepped forward, forming a line with Thera and Presley on either side. “After all, if only you’d targeted Miss Walsham correctly, then Polly would have been able to take over the entire agency. She’d be running the whole show.”
“That’s it!” The man seemed overcome with excitement for a second. “That’s right. I knew Polly would never get the chance on her own. Look at what happened when the director tried to get her a few extra lines. They were shot down in seconds with threats of contracts and lawyers. Anyone could see she’s meant to be a bigger star than she is. I only wanted to give her a little helping hand.”
“And that’s what you did, isn’t it?” Willow tilted her head to one side, trying to paste an expression of innocence onto her face, though half h
er features seemed to have frozen in terror. “You tried your best to help. It didn’t work out the way you planned, but if Thera is locked up for the crime, then it can still all come together.”
The man’s eyes darted to Thera for a second, then he glanced back to Willow with a puzzled expression. “But the sheriff released her.”
“I know he did.” Willow shook her head as though the entire situation pained her. “Some of those lawyers got involved and twisted things but all it would take is a little birdie in his ear, telling him how things should be, and that could all swing back again.”
Royce’s brow furrowed as he tried to keep up with Willow’s words. She didn’t know if she was saying the right thing or placing her beloved performer in even worse danger. If only she were reading words off a script and knew everything would work out alright. How much simpler that would make life all around!
“I grew up with the sheriff,” Willow confessed. “We were at school together, and he still has a lot of respect for my opinion. I’m happy to have a quiet word with him if that’s what you want. I’m sure that working together, we can get the investigation to point at the right culprit to fit in with your plans.”
In case Royce had forgotten, Willow jerked her head toward Thera as she spoke. “He’s already held her overnight in a jail cell while investigating her more fully. The sheriff would never do that to a television star unless he was pretty certain she was the one who committed the crime. It will only take a nudge.”
The fan nodded along, seeming to buy into the narrative wholeheartedly. Willow kept her eyes fixed on Royce’s face while her feet slid her one step closer across the room.
“I could back up your story,” Charley offered, joining in with Willow’s dangerous game of make-believe. “It’s no skin off my nose to put one over on the sheriff. Why, he once held me on suspicion of murder, and I thought I’d never be set free.”
“Me, too,” Reg said, stepping forward. “That sheriff put me in a jail cell when I did nothing wrong. I’d be happy to back up any story you want to tell him.”
“But guys—” Thera looked across in panic. Willow couldn’t tell if the woman understood that they were fibbing to gain some ground with the hostage taker, or genuinely believed they’d turned on her.
Still play-acting, Willow held up a hand to cut her off. Her own eyes never wavered from the crazed fan. “We should get down there right now if you want our help. The sheriff only works a half day on Saturdays.”
Willow held her breath as she waited to see if the ploy would work. If only Royce would turn his back, she was close enough to rush him. With Charley and Reg behind as back up, she just needed a tiny break in the man’s concentration to make a move.
Royce hesitated. He pointed his knife at Willow, then tipped the blade in Thera’s direction again. “I don’t know—”
“Well, if you don’t want our help…” Willow crossed her arms and tipped her nose up in the air, as though offended.
“Sure.” Royce held out his hands to grab onto the opportunity before it slipped away. “We can go now. In fact, I’ll—”
He turned toward the door, and Willow launched herself across the remaining distance between them. Her shoulder hit Royce in the lower back and drove him forward so that his head smacked against the wall. She struggled to keep her balance but lost it, falling heavily to one knee.
Just as Royce rallied, Charley was there to put the deranged fan into an arm-lock. He spun the man around to face the room, holding him secure while Reg forced Royce’s fingers from around the handle of the knife.
Only when the blade had dropped to the floor and been kicked away, did Willow scramble to her feet. She ran to Thera, giving her a hug before pulling back and looking her in the face. “I’m so sorry I said all those awful things. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” the woman said through chattering teeth. Willow turned to her side to see Presley looking like she was about to keel over. Harmony rushed to catch her on one side while Claud got the other. Together they helped the young woman safely back into a seat.
“I suppose I’d better call the sheriff for real,” Willow said. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to know the county doesn’t need to send in support.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Get into place, people,” Claud Hale called out to the assembled cast and crew. “We’re counting down, ten minutes to action.”
As he shouted the direction, Willow felt her throat constrict a tiny bit. Her big moment was hurrying toward her at the speed of a freight train. Although she knew for sure that nothing terrible would happen, she still felt intensely camera-shy.
A silly fear, considering that her original career, albeit short-lived, had been as a model. Still, some things never changed, even with familiarity.
“Are you all set, dear?” Claud called out to her and Willow nodded. She thought the term of endearment was probably due to him forgetting her name rather than an apt description of his feelings.
“Woo-hoo. Knock ‘em dead, Willow!”
She squinted against the sunlight and saw her friend Harmony waving a colored streamer. With the sun behind her, it was difficult to see her properly, but the shape and voice were so well-known to Willow that there could be no doubt.
She waved back, and the whoops of encouragement intensified. When they went off the scale, Willow burst out laughing and most of her nerves dissipated in a second.
The watching crowd stood behind a thick rope with security guards monitoring them for aberrant behavior. Although many of the same men had been present on the day that Willow and Trisha had come into the park, expecting to have a pleasant day and instead bearing witness to a tragedy, their placement front, and center felt different.
The insurance company man had insisted on the changes before signing off on the locals being allowed nearby to watch at all. Although Willow was glad that her friends could bear witness to her acting debut, she also carried a heavy feeling of regret in her heart that the circumstances had changed.
But now wasn’t the time to wallow in such maudlin thoughts!
Willow closed her eyes for a second, reciting the few lines she’d been given over and over in her head. She wanted to be perfect, not because she was pursuing a career in the art of acting, but so she didn’t annoy her favorite star.
Finally, her cue came.
“Can I help you with something, Miss?” Willow called out.
Thera Bourne looked over, the costume and makeup artists having completed the transformation to turn her into Miss Walsham from head to toe. “Yes, I rather suppose you can. Did you see who left this candy wrapper behind in the grass?”
“What kind?” Willow peered at the ground, not having to act out the struggle to see where Miss Walsham’s cane was pointing. “I saw a man eating a chocolate bar earlier, one of them with the bright yellow packets.”
“No, that’s not the one. Can you think of anyone else?”
Willow gave a laugh and shook her head. “Not me, Miss. I had my head stuck in a book. That’s why I came out to the park on such a beautiful day in the first place.”
“Oh, well. Here’s my card if something more occurs to you.” Miss Walsham handed across the beautifully engraved cream card with her name in gold lettering. Willow had a spot in her family photo albums that would suit it perfectly.
“And cut!”
Claud came across to shake Willow’s hand. As he heaped praise upon her performance, she blushed and felt a ridiculous urge to curtsey. “Thanks for the opportunity. You don’t know how much it means to be in your show.”
“Well, I hope you do know how grateful we are for all you’ve done,” Claud said, with Thera smiling and nodding alongside. He excused himself a second later and strolled across the park to yell at some of the crew.
“You really were fantastic,” Thera said. “It’s not everyone that nails their performance on the first try.”
“Thank you. It was my pleasure to be part of this.”
&
nbsp; “It’s our honor to have you act in our little show.” Thera’s expression turned more serious as she leaned forward. “You’ll see it when the program airs, but we’ll dedicate this episode to Angel Strickland.”
“That’s perfect,” Willow said. “I’m sure his family will appreciate the thought.”
Claud called for everyone to get into place for the next scene and Thera gave Willow a quick kiss on the cheek before running over to the next set. After a second spent starting after her, Willow turned and walked over to join her friends.
“That was fantastic,” Harmony squealed. “I know I don’t usually bother with this show, but you can bet your life I’ll be watching this episode.”
“I hope everyone in the country watches it,” Willow said. “After all, Miss Walsham Investigates is the best thing on TV.”
Chapter One
Willow Foxglove walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes and wishing she hadn’t left her mobile phone on the sofa the night before. Its incessant beeping informed her far too shrilly that a text message awaited her perusal.
Given it was still an hour until opening time, Willow had been hoping for a ten-minute snooze to ease her into the new day, but the infernal chirping of the phone put paid to that.
“If you keep this up, the next time Charley’s over I’ll have him put you on mute,” she grumbled under her breath. Her far-too-old-to-be-called-a-boyfriend didn’t face the same struggles with technology as Willow did. He could press buttons on her smart phone with confidence as to what would happen next. A feat she longed for but couldn’t seem to acquire.
After pressing the only physical button the phone possessed, Willow stretched it out to her full arm’s length to read the message. If her eyes didn’t self-correct soon, she’d need to invest in a set of reading glasses, something she would have done long ago if it weren’t for her vanity. Either that or Willow could try wishing for longer arms!
“I won’t be in work today. I’ve arranged for someone to cover for me. Tiffany.”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 33