“Alson!”
“You’re boring me,” he snapped, frowning. “I thought you were kinda hot, but you’re just as annoying as your stupid friend. Get me some water or get out.”
At that moment, I had reached my limit. After suffering through the worst break up of my life, I found myself not enjoying the liberation of a girls’ only vacation with my best friend I had hoped for. Instead, I was investigating a murder and surrounded by narcissistic egomaniacs who believed their own press clippings. What made it worse was they wouldn’t budge an inch, even if it could help me solve the murder of their so-called friend.
To add insult to injury, Jon was mad at me, again. It also didn’t help that Heather was under the thrall of some weird shrink who was captivated by the sights and sounds of the small screen. There’s only so much a girl can take. When a spoiled brat, who, by the way, makes more money than I could even imagine and whose life I was trying to protect, decided to treat me like a servant . . . well, that was it. Gritting my teeth, I slapped him across his smug face.
“Hey!” He sat straight up and grabbed his cheek. “You’re gonna pay for that! Tox!”
“I didn’t see anything.” Tox picked up the boards I had dropped and walked away.
“Screw you both,” Alson declared, his hazel eyes flashing with indignation. Pointing his finger at me, he added, “I’m gonna sue you for that.”
“Go ahead,” I challenged, crossing my arms. “If I don’t help you, you’ll be dead before you can even file the papers.”
“Huh?”
“Are you that oblivious?” He blinked. “Someone’s trying to kill you! What happened to Trip this morning wasn’t an accident, and had you actually decided to, you know, show up to work on time, that would’ve been you that died.”
“Whoa . . . you’re saying . . . someone . . . wants me dead?” His eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility for what might have been the very first time. “Why? I’m amazing. Everyone loves me. Have you seen my Twitter account? I have two hundred and fifty million followers.”
“Just tell me who gave you the pills.”
“Dr. Rosie.” He grabbed the remote off the floor. He switched off Tox’s fight. “She said after all that had happened this morning, those pills would calm me down. Worked, too. I feel pretty calm . . . kinda queasy, but definitely calm.”
“That quack gave you L.S.D.!” Tox barked, throwing the boards across the room so hard they clattered against each other. “You could’ve OD’ed!”
“Really?” Alson muttered, switching the channels faster than the satellite could register the feed. “Huh.”
“I changed my mind,” Tox growled, clenching his fists. “Don’t bother looking for another suspect. I’m gonna kill ‘em myself.”
“Hold on,” I ordered, placing myself between them. “We need to think this through. Why would Dr. Rosie drug Alson? I mean, if she wanted to kill him, why not make sure he took enough to die?”
“Maybe she doesn’t know about pills.” Tox still glared at Alson, who didn’t even bother to notice our presence as he continued to flip through the channels.
“No way.” I shook my head. “She’s a psychologist with a clinical background. I’m betting she’s one of those psychologists who can prescribe scripts, too. Tell me, has she ever given anyone that you know of a prescription?”
“I think she did give David a prescription for some kind of pain reliever when he first got that hernia.” Tox nodded. “He didn’t want to go to see a doctor because he was afraid to leave Alson alone.”
“So . . . maybe she didn’t want to kill him.” I began to pace the room.
“Girlie, I’m lost.” Tox scratched his head. “Are you saying the doc busted up the skis and drugged Alson or just drugged Alson? You’re not makin’ any sense.”
“I’m not sure. She could have done both. Zeke did say that he saw a woman by the props this morning. It could have been her. I mean, no one would question her being on set, especially considering how close she is to Nancy . . . but . . . why Alson? Why would she want to kill him? Sure, he’s annoying, but murder?”
“You’re blocking the screen,” Alson declared, waving his hand at me like he was swatting a fly. “Get out of the way.”
“You know, I kinda liked him better unconscious,” Tox muttered. Groaning, he massaged his swollen jaw and flinched. “Hell, if she’s all about the pharmaceuticals, maybe she’ll have something I can use.” He walked across the room and went into her bedroom. A few seconds later, he emerged carrying six vials of pills. “Jackpot!”
“What’d you find?” I asked, meeting up with him beside the table. He handed me a few of the half-filled vials and I read the labels in disbelief. “This is insane . . . these are all tranquilizers. Why would she have these?”
“Beats me.” He shrugged, staring at the two vials in his large hands. Laughing to himself, he handed me one that was almost empty. “Recognize these?”
“Those are the pills that were in the Altoids box in Alson’s room!” I popped the cap and poured a few colorful tablets into my left palm. “This proves she gave him the pills, but it still doesn’t explain why. Why would a clinical psychologist working for a television studio bring tranquilizers and illegal drugs on set?”
“You do know we’re talking about actors, right?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “Her presence on this show has made no sense to me since I first met her. Besides, there’s no logical reason for her to have a vendetta against Alson. I’m still missing something . . . ugh! I know there’s something I’m overlooking here . . . I need to find her. When was the last time you saw her?”
“Maybe twenty minutes before your new pal beat down the door.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Where do you think?” he retorted, opening one of the vials. “She went with the rest of them to the set.”
“Heather,” I muttered, my heart pounding as frightening thoughts flooded by mind. Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. Panicked, I called Jon. To my surprise, he answered. “Jon?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“Mexico.”
“Seriously—”
“In my room. Maid finally cleaned it, but it still has a rank bleach slash vomit smell. It’s giving me a wicked headache.”
“I need your help.” My plea was met with silence. “Hello? Jon?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you gonna help me?” More silence. “Jon?”
“What’s going on?”
After I filled him in on what I knew, Jon agreed to meet me in the lobby so that we could get to the set to check on Dr. Rosalyn Grace. Tox promised to keep an eye on Alson and call me if anything happened. I grabbed my parka off the broken chair and hurried out of the suite. When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, I found Jon leaning against the wall next to the resort entrance and the security guard seething beside the front desk, his teeth and fists clenched.
“You little—”
“Here,” I called, tossing the pistol magazine at him as I rushed out the front doors. I didn’t look back, but I heard him yell a string of profanities at me that I was certain would have made both the yuppie night manager and half the resort guests swoon. As we made our way down the steep parking lot that led to the slopes, the arctic air grew colder as the sun set lower behind the majestic mountain vista. Shoving my hands deep into my pockets when my fingers became numb, I said, “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Yeah.” Jon shivered as a gust of wind blasted us. His teeth chattered when he added, “Told you I didn’t trust her.”
“Well, you were right,” I admitted. “She definitely gave Alson the pills. He verified that, but I still don’t know if she had anything to do with the accident on th
e set. I wish I knew more about her. I can’t figure out why she would want to harm Alson. She has the means, but motive? I don’t know.”
“I don’t know about motive, but I can tell you what I know about her.” Jon’s breath puffed in bright white clouds.
“What do you mean?”
“Sophie texted me back,” he explained, licking his chapped lips. “Said she got in touch with a friend who works for the IRS and he gave her the 411 on the good doctor.”
“And?”
“First off, her name is Rosalyn Grace Leigh,” Jon began, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. “She graduated from Johns Hopkins University and taught there until about five years ago. Sophie said she then took a job teaching at Quantico and worked there for a year, but then quit and moved out to LA where she was working at some clinic in Burbank until she was hired by the studio for this show.”
“Rosalyn Leigh,” I repeated, frowning. “Why would she change her name?”
“Committed some wicked heinous crimes under the other one?”
“Is that what Sophie said?”
“No,” he shivered. “She was only able to get info based on school and work history . . . you know, stuff people declare on their tax forms.”
“Right . . . so . . . she changed her name and moved across the country.” I thought out loud. “Does that sound like someone running away from something to you? Or from someone?”
“Maybe.” A light snow began to fall. When the powder began to accumulate on his eyelashes and nose, he groaned. “Why is it already so cold here?”
“Focus, Jon,” I instructed, reminding myself to ignore the terrible pain in my own feet as they became as numb as my fingers. “We’re missing something. There has to be a connection here.”
“You mean between her and Alson?” Jon asked, clicking his tongue. “Hmm . . . it could be . . . then there’s always . . . nope. Don’t see one.”
“Okay, well, let’s forget Alson for a minute. Could there be a connection between her and Trip? Maybe she intended for him to get hurt all along.”
“First, why? And second, how? There’s no way she could’ve known he would fill in for Alson that far in advance.”
“Maybe she intentionally made Alson late?”
“Uh-uh.” Jon shook his head. “I was in the room with him. The only person that made Alson late this morning was Alson. Kid sleeps like he’s dead . . . sorry, bad pun. Anyway, if she wanted to off the stunt guy, why drug Alson after the fact? Doesn’t make sense.”
“She had tons of tranquilizers.” I dusted snowflakes off my jacket.
“Maybe she’s a drug dealer.” He rubbed his arms as he continued to shiver.
“Doubt that.” I shook my head as we carefully made our way across the steep, snow-covered asphalt walkway that led to the ski lifts. “But, leaving a prime job at Quantico to work for some random little clinic . . . that makes no sense. She couldn’t be making much of a salary there and I doubt she’s making much here.”
“You’re joking, right? Working for one of the highest grossing movie studios in the country?” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, money’s no object here.”
“I guess. You know, anyone that would do this . . . I mean, sabotage a film set twice in one day and risk everything . . . not just the money or security, but I’m talking hard time . . . she must’ve had a serious vendetta against someone here,” I mused. “Question is . . . who?”
By the time we reached the ski lifts, the snowfall had become so heavy I could barely see five feet in front of me. Jon, for his part, had begun a familiar, exasperating discourse that I doubted would end until the snow did. While his complaints were annoying and the weather was beyond freezing, I was grateful for the sudden snow because for whatever reason, Mother Nature was on my side. This front bought me some much needed time. The resort employee manning the lift that led to the Serenity trail, however, did not share my positive outlook.
“This trail’s closed,” he yelled out over the wailing winds.
“We’re not here to ski, we’re here for the show.”
“Got proof?” he challenged, dusting the snow off his bright-red parka and crossing his arms. I felt around my pockets, but to my horror, I couldn’t locate the ID badge Heather gave me.
“I lost it?” The resort employee raised his bushy, snow-covered eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Seriously! I’m here with the crew. He is, too. Jon, where’s your badge?”
“You mean I was supposed to wear that?” Glancing at the resort employee then at me, his green eyes widened with understanding. “Oh. My bad.”
“Listen, sir, I promise you that we’re allowed on the set.” Pointing at his Walkie Talkie, I added, “Call them and tell them Jordan James and Jon Riché are here. They’ll tell you we’re allowed. Please. Call them.”
“Sorry, lady,” he shook his head. “That’s not my job. All I know is this is a closed set and unless you’ve got access passes, you’re not going up.”
“We could go back and get my pass,” Jon offered, his teeth chattering. “I wouldn’t mind defrosting.”
“Jon, there’s no time! We’ve got to get there ASAP,” I snapped as the snowfall began to slow. Glancing up at the darkening, gray sky, I added, “As soon as the sky’s clear, they’re going to start filming. They’re gonna film tonight no matter what. We’ve got to get there before anything else happens.”
“Well, what do we have here?” I turned around at the sound the voice, a silky voice which had become both familiar and unsettling over the past twelve hours. Covered in a light blanket of snow that left her flawless features glowing in the dim light was Dr. Rosalyn Grace. She stared at me with the same curious smile she wore when we first met as she inquired, “Going my way?”
22
“What—what are you doing here? I thought you were on the set.”
“Oh, I was,” she smiled, her pearly-white teeth gleaming as she brushed her blonde hair behind her ears with careless grace. “But . . . well, I felt I needed to take a little walk. It’s quite cold up there. I suppose I’m not very good in this climate. I am a California girl, after all. It’s all right, Dom. They’re with me.”
“Dr. Grace, you know I’m not supposed to let anyone up without proper ID.” Winking at me, she sauntered up to him, exuding more seduction in her eyes than I possessed in my entire body. She touched his arm. “Couldn’t you make this one tiny exception?” she pouted. “For me?”
“Well . . .” Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t refuse the power of her eyes. Sighing, he lifted the safety bar and nodded at us. “Just don’t tell anyone, all right?”
“It’ll be our little secret.” She squeezed his arm as she climbed aboard. Sitting to the far right side of the chair lift, she smiled at me. She tapped on the silver thermos in her hands with her long fingernails. “Coming?”
I glanced at Jon, but he offered no insights. Taking a deep breath, I walked past the resort employee and climbed onto the lift beside her. Jon sat next to me. We pulled the bar down as the chair began its slow ascent towards the heavens. Sitting there, I found for the first time in my life that my mind went blank.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what prompted Rosalyn to help us gain access to the set. If she were the culprit and had any intention of sabotaging the set again, her actions here would be not only counterproductive, they’d be insane. Regardless of her generosity, the little voice inside my head told me not to underestimate her and to never let my guard down. The higher we rose, the colder it became and the remnants of the brief snowstorm made its way down the mountainside in lazy flakes.
I watched one particular snowflake make its graceful descent, the fluid, peaceful motion the complete juxtaposition to the jarring thoughts festering in my mind. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t realize we had reached the peak until Jon elbo
wed me, asking aloud how we were supposed to get off without skis or snowboards. Before I had a chance to respond, the chair began to slow its pace to just above a crawl. When we reached the summit, we hopped off and I realized I had been at this same location this morning, except under much happier circumstances.
The memory was bittersweet to recall, despite my not having any real connection to Trip. A life lost at any age is terrible, but for someone so young to die under such tragic circumstances made it twice as sobering. Rosalyn, unaffected by my silent concerns, climbed aboard the awaiting snowmobile, but paused when she realized we weren’t beside her. Tilting her head to the left, a small smile crept across her face. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” I nodded, glancing at Jon. “In a minute.”
“Are you sure you want to wait?” She flipped her blood-red, cashmere scarf across her neck. “I only ask because it’s getting dark. It may be another ten minutes before the next snowmobile gets here. They say a person could freeze in less than an hour once the sun’s gone down.”
“It’s okay. We’ll wait.”
“All right.” She glanced down at her silver thermos and added, “Well, don’t be too long. It’s supposed to be quite a show. At least, so I’ve been told.”
As she walked away, I stared at her in stunned silence. I couldn’t tell if her words were foreboding or for humor. Shivering as another icy breeze whipped up, carrying with it billowing torrents of frozen, white powder, I ordered my brain to find a connection between Rosalyn and this case. I could place her both on set and in the hotel around the times of the incidents. I knew the pills came from her, but I still couldn’t find a logical motive for her wanting to harm either Alson or Trip. In my career, I had never faced such an elusive suspect and my inability to figure this out was driving me crazy.
Bitter Retribution Page 23