Again.
"We need to chat," I said to Nash. "I found something. Something big. And I don't mean in size. But that, too."
"What are you doing here?" Cambria sauntered to the couch and collapsed on the spot I had just vacated. "Wyatt is taking over your job."
"Ed Farmer wants me to be your goat." Frustration and dead bodies lent a reediness to my voice. "And I need to talk to Mr. Nash."
"I don't need a goat. I just need a body to reassure the insurance company that I'm on the job. I don't want your body." Cambria turned toward Nash and pouted her lips. "I want his."
I rubbed my forehead. There were too many bodies in my recent conversations.
"Wyatt? You want to take care of this?" Cambria turned her face toward Nash, fluttering her eyelashes. A forced coquettishness which seemed at odds with her talent, making me wonder why she felt it necessary to play that part. It would have no effect on Nash. Cam-Cam wasn't stupid, she should have figured that out by now.
Ignoring Cambria, Nash gave me the "what now" look.
I returned the one that said, "I found a dead guy in a bathtub." Or, hopefully, one that conveyed a similar type of urgency.
"Excuse us a minute." He turned and exited the trailer.
I left my plate and followed him across the parking lot to a picnic table beneath a tree. On the other side of the parking lot, the props crew tested a small rocket. A multitude of people milled about, although no one gave us a second glance.
"Did Cambria tell you anything about what was going on in her cottage?" I asked.
He shook his head. "When I arrived, they had her trying on clothes in an RV. I spent the entire time sitting on a lawn chair. There was a piece of Astroturf surrounded by a plastic white picket fence like this is some kind of trailer park."
"It makes it homey. You do a lot of waiting at hair, makeup, and wardrobe. And if you need special effect makeup, forget it. That stuff takes forever. They like to make your wait pleasant."
He shook his head, signifying his feelings about beautifying work places. "I talked to your friends. Cambria didn't tell them anything either. Did you find Orlando or evidence of a movie?"
A power saw roared into life. I used the background noise to blurt out my tale of room 516. The saw cut off, leaving me yelling, "And he was way too hefty to be a stunt guy."
Nash's eyes widened then narrowed. "In all my years doing private investigations, I've only found one dead body. And that was a heart attack victim when I entered a home to put in a security system."
"I know." I clutched my throat, blinking back tears. "I think there's something wrong with me. They never covered this in therapy."
"It's this Hollywood business that's come to town. The bigger the bankroll, the bigger the crime." He waved at the set. "I knew this was hinky from minute one. And now we're going to get involved in a murder investigation. But at least it'll give the police justification for a warrant to investigate what you originally saw. Maybe to search the entire damn resort. Unless the judge is a stickler about privacy."
"You think the killer is staying in the hotel or villas?"
"I don't know what to think. We don't even have a motive. Maybe that film you found will have something on it.“ Nash paced before the table, kicking clods of dirt. "Any idea for the cause of death?"
"I didn't see any gunshot or stab wounds. Blood on his t-shirt, but it wasn't drenched." I shuddered. "I didn't get a chance to look closely. Just like with the fake Cambria, I knew he was dead. The fact that he was in a bathtub, fully clothed, and not surprised to see me tipped me off."
I swung my legs and considered the thoughts that had previously ping-ponged inside my skull. "Someone looked like Cambria, and now someone looks like me. What if Cam-Cam really doesn't know what's going on? What if she's being set up? Or what if whoever killed her double, really planned on killing Cam-Cam?"
Nash circled back to me and stopped. "So you're saying, Cambria's twin did a home video with Cambria's boyfriend, and Cambria had no idea that someone who looked exactly like her was in her cottage and later murdered because the killer thought it was Cambria? There is no way in hell that kind of coincidence could have happened."
"Maybe that's why they got rid of the body? They realized it wasn't really Cam-Cam."
"More likely, they hid the body after they saw you studying the crime scene through the window and wanted to hide the evidence."
I did not want to think about that. But there it was. "Oh my God. So they hired a fake me? Because they're going to kill me and Mini Me will take my place? Surely she can't mimic me that well? It's like Stepford Wives all over again."
Nash planted his hands on his hips. "I'm going to ignore that and chalk it up to spitballing. I need to call Mowry and tell him about your body."
"Please stop calling them that." I took a deep breath. "And please don't tell Mowry I found him. I don't want to involve my probation officer. That's a lot of red tape, and possible jail time I'd like to avoid. And Giulio doesn't want to be involved either."
"Not sure I can do that, but let me tip off security at the resort first. They'll call it in. Black Pine PD will send Mowry since he was involved earlier." Nash stroked his chin. "No idea who it was?"
I shook my head. "But we should Google Orlando just to be sure. Maybe they needed a heavy-set stunt man. I'm sure he'll be the prime suspect. I want to know what he looks like. Why didn't I Google him earlier? What's Cam-Cam doing with a murdering stuntman?"
We both turned to gaze at the rows of trailers.
"She needs to talk," said Nash. "Enough of this 'I'm a star' bullshit."
"It's a half-hearted act anyway. She either needs to try harder or not at all."
He rubbed his scar. "Give a thought as to why you have a double and why she’s allowed on the resort even if you're not."
I sucked in my breath. "Shiz. That's got to be Vicki." No, she was focused on Cambria. Theodore? I'd been giving him fashion reports every time we talked. But now that Nash stopped looking like I disgusted him, I didn't want to explain Theodore and The Maltese Falcon shop. I'd take care of Theodore myself.
But what was Theodore doing? Playing detective in the fake office? With a fake detective who looked like me?
Nash rocked back on his heels. "My mind immediately went to Vicki instead of Stepford Wives, but that's just me."
"I need to see a person about a thing." I hopped off the table.
"Before you go wail on Vicki, let's get Cambria to talk." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Get your head in the game. You let Cambria and Vicki and all these other jokers shake you up every time. You don't need their approval. You're no longer an actress. Or whatever you call what you were."
"I was—" I stopped. "Okay. You're right. Renata, my therapist used to say…" I could tell he didn't care what Renata said. But both Nash and Renata were right. "It's time to stop feeling bad about my life and start living it."
"You don't do a pity party, I'll give you that." He squeezed my shoulders. "Cambria has no choice but to talk. We're going to spell it out for her. She'll know she's in trouble. We can use that."
"Right." My skin felt tingly. Which might have been from excitement. Or from Nash's giant man-paws resting on my shoulders.
"Anything else we can use? Did you see anything in that hotel room?"
“Other than the film can, no. And that might be nothing, although you usually don’t see real film in this digital age. Giulio also found a bunch of movie stills in a suitcase. But I got distracted by the dead guy, and then we took off."
"The police will confiscate everything." Nash rubbed my shoulders. "It wouldn't surprise me if they bring Cambria in for questioning. We'll use that, too."
"Oh no," I said. "Poor Cam-Cam."
"She's a suspect, Maizie. Don't forget, she could have killed these people."
"Right. Except I don't think she did. Cam-Cam's a lot of things, but I don't think she's a killer. When I knew her, she was very focused on her career."
>
"That's what the folks say about the neighbor kid when they find out he's a serial killer." He studied my face. "Sorry. You okay, kid?"
I nodded. Searching my eyes, he gave my shoulders another squeeze. The moment stretched without awkwardness, a real feat for me. Afraid it would end, I held my breath.
Even with eyes the color of melted glacier water, his hands certainly warmed my shoulders.
In fact, my skin felt scorched. Trickles of liquid fire raced down my back and spread, simmering and fizzing, like molten lava ready to erupt.
"Are you okay?" My voice sounded breathless, and I gasped, hoping to cool off the mounting pressure.
His hands slid down my back to my waist and rested there, but he seemed unaware. His eyes hadn't left mine. I could see the concern that had been masked earlier by his annoyance.
"You've had it rough, Maizie. I keep forgetting I haven't seen what you've seen. Then that Baloney character abandoned you at a crime scene." His eyebrows quirked and knitted together. "I'm sorry I've been hard on you. You've been doing your best."
"It's Belloni, not Baloney."
"Not in my book." His lips pursed, softening the rigid lines of his face. "I can't believe he just left you there. I always thought he was an ass, but that really takes the cake. After dressing you up like a two dollar— Well, it took all my strength not to knock his teeth out."
"It's fine. I didn't want to get recognized on the resort, and I'm used to wearing costumes. On Julia Pinkerton—okay, rule number one. But Giulio is a product of his environment, just like me."
"Not like you. Not like you at all." His jaw hardened. "I keep telling you, you're not like them."
But wasn't I? "You don't really know them."
"But I know you."
Holy shizzolis. My heart hammered and I feared a case of oncoming flop sweat. “It's my fault that we're in this predicament."
"I agreed to it, didn't I? I was just ticked about the situation."
I did a quick reflective check. I was awake. This was not a dream. And Nash was not only acting nice (while setting fire to all my lady parts), he also wasn't rebuffing my advances. Or were they his advances? "Who are you?"
He chuckled. "I just feel bad I left you with Baloney. Twice I've failed you."
"Come again?"
"Instead of going together, I sent you to Cambria's alone and you saw…an alleged corpse—"
"Alleged?"
"We still haven't found the victim yet. And I left you with Baloney, and you found another—"
"About to be unalleged corpse."
"I don't think that's a word. Anyway, this is on me. And I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry. You're right. I haven't been training you like I should because I don't want you around…"
"Oh."
"Okay, I like having you around. Maybe too much. It just takes some getting used to is all."
"Oh."
"Dammit."
Oh. My. God.
I tried my best to cut off my thoughts, but there they were, zipping around my head like surfers at Malibu, fighting for spots on a big curl. Nash admitted his feelings for me. Sort of. If "dammit" counted as feelings. He was gazing at me and dragging me closer — by now, I think he realized where his hands had landed because they were running all over my back — and as God is my witness, he was going to kiss me.
Finally.
Finally!
I pressed myself against him, thankful that I had taken time for a sink bath and makeover in the Cove's bathroom. My lips parted and I breathed in his very male scent of Acqua di Selva and frustration-induced sweat. Tipping my head back, my ponytail tickled my shoulders.
This was our moment. In the parking lot of the Pine Hollow set. But who cared? It's a story we'd share with our children. Daddy and I had our first kiss after Mommy found her second corpse.
Wait, why were my thoughts going there? Startled, I opened my eyes.
Nash looked like I felt when Carol Lynn served baked potato casserole. That no-holds-barred "I'm going to devour you no matter what the cost" look.
I shivered and took a deep breath, mashing my breasts against his chest. He uttered a low, soft growl. Dipped his head.
The volcano erupted. Every nerve in my body sang "Hallelujah."
(The Andy Grammar version).
"Maizie."
I closed my eyes and pretended I hadn't heard Leonard Shackleton's bark. Grasping Nash's — bulging! — biceps, I drew him closer. And Nash wasn't backing off. I'd hungered for this moment since I first saw him (half-naked) in his office and begged him to mentor me (after he'd finished dressing).
His lips fell against mine, but now they weren't mashing mine into oblivion or attempting any kind of tongue play. They were mumbling curses — new ones, but mostly interesting mashups of old standbys — and his hands had slid back to my shoulders. For a long second, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Dammittohell," he muttered and paused. "I'm sorry. It's no good."
"What in the hell are you doing? We need you now. Why aren't you with Cambria?" Leonard Shackleton's voice grew angrier.
I wanted to scream, "Shut up, Leonard. What's not good? What. Is. No. Good? Me? The non-kiss? Leonard Shackleton?"
Nash wrenched his face away, then his body. "Is there a problem?" he said to Leonard. His voice had fallen a few octaves, and he spun me before him to face Leonard. One hand rested on the back of my neck, and the other awkwardly patted my shoulder.
"Yes, for one, someone's supposed to be with Cambria. Two, she hit her emergency button. Three, an ambulance is about to arrive. What the hell have you two been doing?"
At Leonard's number two, Nash had taken off, jogging toward the trailer.
I was left searching for a reason for number one.
Sixteen
#SheisNOTaASuspect #OopsSheDidItAgain
"What? Why? When?" I scrambled, trying to make sense in an oxygen-deprived brain. "It's only been like a minute since we left."
"It only takes a minute to overdose, Maizie. I thought you knew these things."
"Overdose? On what? I checked her trailer and her villa. There's nothing more than Snickers bars—" Cambria was going to kill me for ratting that out. "Nothing she shouldn't have. It's all protein shakes, oxygen water, and juice infusions."
Leonard's eyes glittered. "Then it was on her."
Oh, God. He was right. I didn't search Cambria. She could have almost anything on — or in — her body.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "We stepped out for a minute to conference. About her other problem. The dead body double problem."
"Didn't look like a conference to me." He strode forward, his voice booming. Around us, the set crew stopped in their tracks to watch us. Somewhere above us, a rocket exploded. "It looked like two horny teenagers getting it on in a parking lot."
He was right. How utterly mortifying. "There's something important you need to know, Leonard. It's about an issue of alleged victims. Actually, there are two victims now, and only one is alleged. I found another—"
"I don't care about that now. I only care about pumping Cambria's stomach and not letting any of this leak to the press." Leonard ran a finger inside his collar. "I called our lawyers and PR. God, what a disaster. Ed's going to lose his mind."
"I'm really sorry. But I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation. What I'm trying to tell you—"
"What a disappointment." He glowered. "I don't know what I was thinking trusting something this big to you. I thought at least your boss could handle this, but he's one potato in this poky town. What could I expect? I should have let the insurance company handle this."
Evidently, the mention of victims wasn't making an impression on Leonard. Maybe I should return to calling them bodies. "We should probably get to the hospital. We'll talk more after we get the news on Cam-Cam."
"Huh?" Leonard blinked. "Yes, right, Cambria. You can ride with me."
"That's okay. I'll catch a ride with Mr. Nash."
&nbs
p; "Like I trust you with him." Leonard crossed his arms and barked a short laugh. "I think we're going to let him stay with Cambria. That's what she prefers anyway. You'll stick with me."
Oh, great.
* * *
In Leonard's hired Escalade, Ed Farmer joined us. And Dahlia Pearson. She was "so concerned." I scrambled to get the seat in the back, which Dahlia insisted on taking. Then I scrambled for shotgun, but Ed had already taken the passenger seat. I was stuck sitting next to Leonard.
Of course.
Agent Alvin rode in the ambulance, disappointing Ed who had hoped to stick with his star.
Nash took his truck alone, disappointing me.
While Ed fretted about Cambria, Dahlia Googled overdoses and treated us to anecdotal Reddit comments about near-death experiences.
"Dahlia, I don't think that's helping," I said. Ed Farmer's foot hammered the Escalade floor. The entire SUV shook with his nervous energy. "Maybe look up local treatment plans instead. But keep them to yourself. Silent reading."
"Do they even have those in Georgia? Like licensed therapists?"
"I'm pretty sure the state of Georgia licenses their doctors, Dahlia."
"What about an acupuncturist? I had a friend who totally treated her addictions with acupuncture and goji berries." She looked up from her phone. "Of course, she had a strong will to beat the addiction."
Ed's foot hammering crescendoed. The Escalade revved to match his impatience.
I turned in my seat. "Dahlia, sweetie, your director is going to have an aneurysm if you don't stop."
"He's kind of obsessed with Cambria," she whispered.
"I noticed," I whispered back.
"Have you seen his office? He storyboards with full sketches of her," she murmured. "Everyone else is a stick figure except for Cambria. She's not even illustrated. It's like a mini portrait in each scene. She looks like one of those Renaissance pictures."
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