Drop Dead Crime: Mystery and Suspense from the Leading Ladies of Murder

by Lisa Regan

  “So you said. What’s up?”

  “Konrad Burson’s having a wrap party at the Devil’s Warehouse set and I’d like you to be there as security.”

  Catriona searched her memory for more information on the film. Production of Devil’s Warehouse took place off the main studio lot, so she hadn’t heard much about it. “Is that the movie about that serial killer? The one who strapped a bomb on his last victim and took out the emergency crew?”

  Sean nodded. “Right. The press called him Pinky.”

  “Because all the bodies they found were missing a pinky finger. I remember now. Yikes. So it’s a slasher film?”

  “Not exactly. It’s told from his son’s perspective.”

  Catriona recoiled, remembering the details. “He made the kid watch, didn’t he?”

  “Yep. Pinky’s dead of course but I met the kid—Mason. Parasol hired him as a consultant on the film. Him and the cop who killed his father.”

  Catriona grimaced. “Awkward.”

  “You’d think, but they’ve become friends. Soto, the officer, saved Mason.”

  Catriona nodded. “I guess that’s true.”

  “Konrad says he’s a good kid, considering everything he’s gone through. He even cast him to play himself.”

  “There’s a marketing stunt.”

  Sean nodded. “I’m sure that had a lot to do with it.”

  “So what do we need to do?”

  “Konrad’s going to run the party on set, like a kind of haunted house, but he tends to overdo things and creepfests like this draw out the weirdos. News has already leaked online.”

  “Leaked via Konrad, no doubt.”

  “No doubt. I told him I’d like to have some people there.”

  “And that’s where Broch and I come in.”

  The patio doors slid open and Broch walked out, barefoot and barechested, wearing his new swim trunks.

  Catriona turned and did her best to keep her admiring eye on the trunks, even as the man’s abs begged to be read like Braille.

  She cleared her throat. “They look good. How do they fit?”

  Broch’s lip curled. “Meh.”

  Catriona glanced at Sean. “Did they say meh in ancient Scotland?”

  He took a sip of his whiskey. “All the time.”

  Broch strode to the steps leading into the pool and walked in with the confidence of Poseidon returning to the sea. Plunging in, he swam underwater to the opposite side, flipped and returned to the shallow end to stand, pushing his wet shoulder-length locks from his eyes as if he were starring in a high-end cologne commercial.

  “I bought some clothes for Broch to wear to the party,” said Sean, seeming less impressed by Broch’s figure. “I assume you brought something for you, like I asked?”

  Catriona nodded as Brochan turned and winked at her, the skin of his muscular torso glistening in the sun’s dying light.

  For the first time that day, putting Broch in clothes was the last thing on Catriona’s mind.

  Chapter Three

  “This place is like a fortress,” said Catriona as she and Broch walked toward the Devil’s Warehouse set. Some of the guests had already arrived and she’d seen paparazzi turned away at the gate. No doubt the air above already buzzed with camera-strapped drones, but the prying eyes wouldn’t see a thing once everyone entered the windowless building doubling as the film’s main stage and party location.

  Broch tugged at his tight-fitting collared dress shirt as if it were trying to kill him. “Ah feel lik’ ahm a haggis tucked in a sheep’s tummy.”

  Catriona’s eyebrows raised. “Sheep eat haggis?”

  “Whit? Na, it is sheep. Ye stuff the heart, liver, ’n’ pipes intae the tummy casing afore ye cook it.”

  Catriona watched as Broch licked his lips at the thought.

  Gross.

  “Haggis is cooked in a sheep’s stomach?”

  “Aye.”

  Catriona grimaced. “Blech. I don’t even want to know what the pipes are.”

  “The pipes, ye ken.” Broch took a deep breath and pointed at his chest. The button nestled between his pectoral muscles popped off and plinked Catriona on the cheek.

  She glanced down and knew there’d be no finding the button. Konrad had strings of lights dangling from the parking lot to the front door of the building, but the illumination fell far short of sufficient for finding buttons in the desert sands.

  She sighed.

  “Now you’ve done it. I told you not to flex. Sean underestimated your peckage there.” She pointed a finger at his massive pectoral muscles.

  He huffed and nearly blew another button. “Ah didnae flex, ah breathed. Pipes ur lungs.”

  “Well don’t breathe anymore.” Catriona paused to fold down the edge of his shirt to hide the missing button. “We’ll go with the sexy deep V tonight. Hopefully that look is in this particular five minutes before Hollywood fashion changes again.”

  He grinned, his gaze tracing the curve of her tight-fitting dress. “Ye keek bonny this forenicht.”

  Catriona self-consciously shifted the bodice of her dress. It seemed she’d underestimated her own peckage as well.

  “Keek isn’t a word, it’s look, but thank you. Now keep your mind on the job.”

  She heard him mumble to himself. “Is tae a word.”

  They approached a young man standing at the door and he raised his tablet.

  “Name?”

  “Catriona Phoenix and Brochan... er...” She’d forgotten they’d yet to christen Broch with a surname. He only knew himself as Brochan when he arrived. Since then, they’d discovered he was Sean’s real son, so she guessed Sean had used his own last name when adding them to the party list.

  “Brochan Shaft.”

  She heard it the moment the words left her lips.

  Oh no.

  The young man squinted at her. “Broken Shaft?”

  She winced.

  I just gave him the worst porn name ever.

  She should have known Sean didn’t give Broch his stupid last name. When Sean arrived from the past, nearly thirty years before Brochan, he’d been questioned about his last name in a room with the poster for the movie Shaft hanging on the wall. He’d panicked and said his last name was Shaft. He’d lucked out. Sean Shaft sounded acceptable. But Brochan Shaft—

  “—tenstein,” she added, pretending she hadn’t finished. “Brochan.”

  “Brochan Shaftenstein?”

  She dropped her head into her hand. Oh my god. This keeps getting worse.

  Catriona took a deep breath and decided to start from the top. “Look, we’re security from the studio. Just let us in.”

  The doorman tapped his tablet. “You’re not on the list. I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.”

  Catriona dug through her evening bag for the badge identifying her as Parasol Pictures security. With the exception of her phone, the badge and lipstick were the only things she’d been able to fit in the child-sized purse. In the end, she’d had to strap her gun to the inside of her thigh to keep it from showing beneath her condom of a dress.

  The doorman peered at the badge. “I don’t know. You’ll have to talk to Mr. Burson. Step aside.”

  Catriona was about to tear into the power-mad young man when a booming voice cut her short.

  “Catriona!”

  Director Konrad Burson appeared on the threshold behind the doorman, arms raised in welcoming, his round belly leading the way. The doorman stepped aside, clearly perturbed his tiny bit of authority had been stripped.

  Catriona smiled. “Hey, Konrad.”

  Nice timing. She stuck the tip of her tongue out at the boy and his expression darkened.

  “Here to save me from myself?” Konrad asked hugging her.

  “Somebody has to.” She motioned to Broch as Konrad released his anaconda-like grip on her. “This is my new partner, Brochan.”

  Just Brochan.

  Konrad thrust a hand toward Broch. “You’re a bi
g one. Ever do any acting?”

  “Na.” Broch shook his head. Catriona had tried to slick back his shaggy locks with some hair gel she’d left at Sean’s years earlier, but his motion sent wavy strands tumbling front and back. It only made him more handsome, which didn’t seem fair.

  Konrad waved for them to follow him. “Come on in. The party’s about to start.”

  Catriona and Broch trailed Konrad to a large room set up as a dining hall with two enormous set tables in the center. If Henry the Eighth had walked in and taken a seat at the head of the table, Catriona wouldn’t have been surprised.

  As they entered, a slight, dark-haired young man lingering at the end of the table turned to watch them. Judging by the scraggly hair on his chin, Catriona guessed him to be about eighteen, though his diminutive size made him seem much younger. She recognized him from pictures she’d seen online while researching Pinky’s history.

  Konrad headed toward him as if she were magnetized.

  “Catriona, Broch, this is Mason Lang.”

  Mason smiled and held out a hand to shake. As Catriona took it in her own she felt the nub of a missing digit. Watching as he moved to shake with Broch, she saw the boy’s pinky was missing.

  He caught her looking and held up his right hand.

  “Dad needed a spare,” he said with a chuckle. Catriona could tell he’d used the line before to break the tension. She imagined it had to be difficult for Mason, knowing people knew him as the son of a monster.

  “I thought he always took the left?”

  Catriona felt her face twitch.

  That might have been rude.

  Mason smiled. “You did your homework.”

  She shrugged, grateful he hadn’t been offended. “It’s my job.”

  “They’re security,” explained Konrad.

  “Ah.” Mason turned to him. “Can I tell her?”

  “Go ahead. I’m going to greet the guests.” Konrad leaned to Catriona. “This is one of the secrets we’re revealing in the movie. You’ll love it.”

  She nodded and returned her attention to Mason. “If it’s a secret you don’t have to—”

  Mason ignored her. “My mother was missing her right pinky. Childhood accident.” He touched the nub of his own finger. “Dad took the left from his victims because they weren’t quite her.”

  Catriona squinted one eye. “So it was kind of... romantic?”

  “I guess in a way.” Mason shrugged. “Only family loses the right.”

  He said it as if it were a point of pride, which Catriona imagined the boy’s sick father had tried to convince him it was.

  She felt terrible for probing. “I’m sorry. It must have been hard, reenacting what he put you through.”

  Mason shook his head. “Cathartic, really. Helped me get my head around things.”

  “Really?”

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but Dad seemed like a pretty normal dad to me, most of the time. Believe it or not, he was a nice guy.”

  “He murdured eight wummin,” mumbled Broch, taking a goblet of red wine from a tray carried by a passing server.

  Catriona tried to surreptitiously elbow him in the ribs, and he struggled to keep his glass from sloshing. “Whit? He did, dinnae he?”

  Mason chuckled. “No, no, you’re totally right. Of course. I meant, except for when he was doing terrible things, he was a nice guy to me until the end. Boring even.” He reached into his pocket with his left hand and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he withdrew a photo of a pudgy, balding man, smiling. A tall man holding a golf club stood in the background.

  “Is that Brooks Koepka?” asked Catriona, zeroing in on the man in the back. While she didn’t watch a lot of golf, it seemed every time she visited Sean he was watching, and she’d come to recognize many of the top players.

  Mason’s expression registered his surprise. “Good eye. This was taken at the US Open tournament. He was so happy to go... watched it from the moment it started until the end. He went to every event he could.”

  “Brooks won that.” Catriona opened her eyes wide, shocked she’d recalled such trivia. Clearly, Sean had sucked her into watching more events than she’d realized.

  Broch leaned down and peered at the photo, nodding. “Golf.”

  “You know golf?” she asked before realizing it would seem an odd question to a person unaware of Broch’s time-jumping past.

  Broch scoffed. “We invented it.”

  “You, personally?”

  The big Scot rolled his eyes.

  She returned her attention to Mason, who’d already slid the photo back into his wallet. “So your dad did boring dad things like go to golf tournaments.”

  “And then he murdered wummin,” mumbled Broch, as he craned his neck to catch the eye of a server with a tray of mini quiches.

  Catriona grimaced and Mason laughed at her discomfort. “It’s okay. Really. I’m used to it. Don’t get me wrong, I know Dad was a monster. I keep that photo to remind me of his other side, when my thoughts get too dark.”

  “People are complicated,” said Catriona, watching a short, stocky man approach them.

  “Who do you have here?” asked the man, slapping a hand on Mason’s back, his eyes never leaving Catriona’s cleavage.

  “Hey, Sal, this is Catriona and... uh—” Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

  Broch’s hand enveloped Sal’s as he sidestepped to interrupt the man’s death stare on Catriona’s chest. “Brochan.”

  Catriona watched Sal wince as Broch squeezed.

  “Quite a grip you got there,” said Sal.

  Catriona gasped realizing the identity of the man currently having his hand broken by Kilty. “You’re Salvatore Soto, the officer who...” Catriona’s voice faded and she glanced at Mason. It felt indelicate to finish her sentence.

  “The cop who shot my dad and saved my life,” said Mason, once again gallantly breaking the tension. Catriona couldn’t help but be impressed.

  Soto pulled his hand from Broch’s grip and threw his arm around Mason, grinning. “Just doin’ my job, kid, just doin’ my job.”

  “Your ankle seems to have healed well,” said Catriona, nodding at Soto’s feet.

  He flashed a dimple in his right cheek. “You can’t keep me down.” He winked and stared into Catriona’s eyes as if they were the only people in the room.

  Catriona thought she heard a growl rumble in Broch’s chest.

  Seemingly oblivious to Broch’s ire, Soto raised both hands, as if urging a crowd to silence. “It was crazy. There I was, creeping down that dark, dark hallway. Razor wire to my left. Razor wire to my right. I heard this weird sliding noise behind me and poing! there goes my Achilles.”

  Catriona winced. The cartoonish noise Soto used to describe having his tendon severed didn’t help make the image in her head any less horrific.

  Soto pantomimed shooting a gun. “That’s when I fell, firing where the pain came from.” He shrugged, his perpetual grin failing him for the first time since his arrival. He waved his hand and muttered the rest of his tale. “Then that horrible stuff with the bomb outside.”

  “You were lucky,” said Catriona.

  Soto nodded. “I only wish my partner and the others had been so lucky. I just want to tell their story now. That’s why I’m here.”

  An awkward silence fell and Mason scanned the now-crowded room. “Well, I guess I better mingle. Nice to meet you both.”

  Soto sprang back to life as if someone had flipped his happy switch. “Me too.” Soto took Catriona’s hand in his own. “Nice to meet you.” He glanced at Broch and held up an index finger, warding off a second handshake. “You too, big guy.” With a final wink at Catriona and a slap on Broch’s arm, he headed into the growing crowd with Mason.

  As soon as they left, Catriona flipped her wrist to smack Broch in the chest with the back of her hand.

  “Behave yourself, will you?”

  “He likes ye,” said Broch.
r />   “Who? Mason?” He’s just a kid,” said Catriona, knowing he’d meant Soto.

  “The wee man. I’ll tie him into a Celtic knot.”

  Catriona laughed. “That’s pretty funny. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything. He’s a hero.”

  Broch grunted.

  A commotion rose behind them. Catriona turned in time to see the doorman stumble forward and sprawl to the ground as if someone had pushed him.

  Two men dressed in what looked like black, unmarked SWAT uniforms closed the doors behind them. One spread his legs, standing sentry. The other held up an M16 rifle.

  “Everybody, listen up!”

  Chapter Four

  Broch took half a step toward the gunmen and felt Catriona touch his arm.

  “Don’t,” she murmured.

  “We’re going to spend a little time together tonight,” shouted the larger of the two armed men over the din of the confused crowd.

  Broch’s jaw clenched. “Fall back in tae the crowd.”

  Catriona glanced up at him as if he’d grown another head and he knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Ah dinnae want ye getting hurt,” he grumbled.

  Catriona’s voice lowered to a hiss. “I was doing this job before you were even in this century.”

  Broch couldn’t help but smirk. He loved Cat’s fire, though it did complicate how he was going to stop the armed men at the door...

  “Hey,” one of the men snapped, waving a gun at them. “You two, shut up.”

  “Oh you,” Catriona waved a dismissive hand at the intruder. “I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

  The man’s face twitched, his shock at her reaction to his threats rendering him dumb.

  His partner’s attention pulled to Catriona. “Lady, he’s serious—”

  Catriona kicked off her heels. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let another man boss me around—”

  “Hey! Are you hearing us?” The first man took a step toward them.

  Catriona ignored him and glared at Broch. She tugged on his sleeve.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  She winked with the eye the uniformed men couldn’t see from their vantage.