"I'll find a ride," I said brightly.
"I don't work that way." Mowry smiled. "Good try, though."
Hells, I thought. I didn't come back to this house of horrors just to get sent home with a cop babysitter. "Maybe I should check on Leonard?"
"Look, I'd say I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't appreciate it at all. You're going home in a squad car. And stay there until we figure this mess out."
"How long's that going to take?"
"As long as we need."
Yeah, that's not going to work for me, I thought. "How about a ride to my office instead? Nash is meeting me there."
Mowry folded his arms and studied me. "Fine. I trust Nash."
Lucky was also at the office, and if I got there before Nash, I'd meet him at the resort. I needed words with the other person related to this private movie. After all, Cambria had won Ed Farmer's heart as the scheming, conniving, and manipulative Lady Macbeth. Phyllis Dietrichson had nothing on the Lady.
Lady Macbeth's guilt drove her to sleepwalk, whereas Cambria slept soundly. Too soundly.
I had a feeling someone directed that act behind the scenes.
Twenty-Nine
#FakingIt #StarryNight
I hadn't planned on Nash waiting outside the Dixie Kreme building. He loomed large and formidable on the sidewalk. The cop driving me didn't exit his car. Seeing Nash, he said, "Looks like you're safe," and took off.
I cowered on the edge of the sidewalk.
Nash didn't move. "Where's your .38?"
"It's too heavy to carry in a purse?" The Row's gold bag hanging across my shoulder caught the Dixie Kreme security light and sparkled, drawing attention to my idiocy. "It was a party. I couldn't strap on a shoulder holster over this dress. That'd be gauche. And forget a garter holster. It'd ruin the lines of this dress—"
His eyes rounded, his jaw squared, and he marched forward until he stood above me, nostrils flaring.
I stopped talking.
"I'd like to say I'm happy you got here safely," he growled. "In a squad car, no less. But I'm not happy. Not happy at all."
"I kind of have to go?" I said. Quietly. More to myself than to Nash.
"You 'kind of' have to stop doing this to me." Nash spun to pace the sidewalk. "I can't deal with this. I left an unconscious woman in her hotel room because of you. And then I stood on this sidewalk, not knowing if I should head out on foot to find your dead body. You could have been anywhere between here and Magnolia Circle."
"I should have called? Except I was being questioned by Detective Mowry?"
"Stop talking like that."
"You're making me nervous."
"I'm making you nervous?" He spun back to me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and lifted me to my toes. "I've had about ten anxiety attacks in the last ten minutes."
I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. "I'm sorry? Really, really sorry? But I need to get to Cambria. She's the last link in that chain now that the perp thinks I'm dead."
Nash triple blinked, and his jaw tightened. "You're killing me, kid."
His lips fell on mine. Hard and bruising. Devouring. The hands slipped from my shoulders to slide over my back. His breath stuttered, the lips softened, and he crushed my body against his.
Angry kissing, I thought. This would be totally hot except for Cambria.
Gently, I slid my lips from his and found a spot on his chest to lay my cheek. His heart thudded, and I closed my eyes, committing the beat to memory. The arms tightened around me.
"I have to go," I said. "Cambria."
"She doesn't deserve you dying for her."
"And I don't deserve you." I tipped my head back, gave him a shove, and smiled. "Partner."
He stepped away. "Right. Partner."
* * *
I should have been glad to ride in Nash's truck and not on Lucky. I was more interested in quizzing him on hospital details than enjoying a drive that wouldn't flash my short-skirted thighs to all of Black Pine. "Did you ride in the ambulance with Cambria to the villa?"
"No."
"Did you see them hook her up to all that equipment?"
"No."
"Cambria is an excellent actress. We assumed the doctor was still giving her drugs, but this move might have been arranged to give her more privacy. In Julia Pinkerton, Season Seven, they left her in a hospital coma as a cliffhanger for Season Eight and… What's wrong with you?"
He kept his eyes on the windshield, cranked the wheel, and burnt rubber on the turn into the resort. "Nothing. She could be faking the coma. Obviously, I can't tell when women are faking."
I didn't want to know what sort of faking he was talking about. "We'll simply check her IVs. They really wouldn't stick her if she was acting. Or would they? Cambria was a huge fan of Method."
"There's a nurse. I didn't leave Cambria completely alone. Although I'm going to feel real bad if that nurse is hurt."
"If the nurse is hurt, I'm going to lose my mind," I said and moaned. "Do you know how many people have died because of me?"
He skidded the truck to a stop and turned toward me. "This is not your fault. Don't say that."
"Thank you." I stretched a hand toward him and stopped when I saw his flinch. I shoved that to a part of my brain I currently didn't need to use. "Are we going to hijack a golf cart?"
He shook his head, put the truck in gear, and bumped the truck onto the golf cart path. "Robin Coxon isn't going to like this, but I'm in too big of a hurry to care."
* * *
Nash parked the truck at the edge of the glen where the path turned, leading to the villas. "We'll walk from here. I don't want to alert anybody."
"Right." I wished I had worn sneakers with the L'Agence.
"Take this. And I don't want to hear 'no.'" He laid a Smith & Wesson revolver on my lap. Black not pink. "You know how to use it, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"I'm not asking to you be Dirty Harry." He grabbed my hand. "You grew up around firearms. Your life is in danger. You're really going to put anti-gun ethics over your life?"
"No, but—"
"Kid, if it comes down to protecting you or Cambria…just don't make me do it." He dropped my hand. "Please take the weapon and defend yourself. Why are you being so difficult?"
"The last time I held a gun…" I pointed to his foot. "Accidents happen. I don't trust myself."
"Oh." He blew out a breath. "Well, the odds are in my favor it won't happen again. Please do this for me."
I picked up the gun. "What about you?"
"I've got these." He pointed to a massive bicep. "And I don't want to hear one of your karate lines."
"Kung fu. But okay." I emptied my handbag and tucked the gun inside.
"It's not going to do any good in there," said Nash. "Put your phone back in your purse and carry the .38."
"You're still limping from the last time I held a gun. I don't have a pocket or belt." I slung the chain strap around my neck and drew an arm through. "Either the phone or the gun stays in the truck."
"Lord Almighty, you're stubborn. When we get to Cambria's place, you check on the nurse. I'll do recon. I want to check the surrounding cottages."
We slid out of the truck and walked the wooded path in silence. I noted Giulio's dark villa and the low lights in five and seven, Ed Farmer and Alvin Murphy's, cottages. Dahlia's villa was further along the path, but I could see a faint light shining through a back window in number eight, John Doe. AKA Leonard Shackleton's.
Singing frogs near the lake covered the sound of our steady footfall. No sound or movement in the cottages. A perfect setting for a Jason Bourne-type thriller. Or another horror movie.
In villa six, the curtains were drawn. A golf cart rested in the parking space. Placing a finger to his lips, Nash motioned me forward. He slipped into the woods to the left, skirting the bedroom wall. I took a deep breath, patted the lump of metal in my purse, and tiptoed onto the porch. No muffin basket and no way to see in the w
indows. Using the key Nash had given me, I opened the door.
The nurse snoozed in a leather mission chair. I gently shook her awake and flashed my Nash Security Solutions business card.
"We're here to relieve you. You can go home now."
She led me into Cambria's bedroom. Sleeping Beauty still lay tranquilly. A bleeping heart monitor sat on the bedside table, and an IV bag hung above her bed.
If this is fake, props to the prop department. I jiggled the bag and tapped the heart monitor.
"Don't do that," said the nurse. "I'll be back early in the morning to check on her. But rest is best. They want her throat and stomach lining tissue to recover."
"Of course," I said. "I'm sure everything will be just fine. But if one of these happens to come unplugged, what would happen?"
"Why would they come unplugged?" said the nurse.
"I'm just wondering if they're connected to some alarm…" Or if they were connected at all.
"Just don't touch anything. Let her sleep."
I followed the nurse to the door and watched her leave on the golf cart. I retraced my steps to stand over Cambria's bed.
"Cam-Cam, you got yourself into a big ol' mess, didn't you? You never could do anything simply. On the JP set, I remember the director telling you to 'just have fun with the character.' You gave him sixteen versions of 'having fun.' Dude, if you wanted to release a sex video for the publicity, it only takes an iPhone and one click on Youtube. Why do you have to make everything such a production?"
The monitor beeped. Cambria's eyelids fluttered, but her face remained relaxed. In acting classes, we're taught to move our eyes behind the lids to fake sleeping. I wondered if yanking her plugs and rolling her out of bed would wake her. But if she were really drugged to recover from the poisoning, I'd hate to have that on my conscience.
"Except I already have all these dead people on my conscience. Do you? You should. You've jeopardized your career and the careers of everyone on Pine Hollow. Millions of dollars at stake. No wonder you're playing possum."
I lifted her hand. She had a monitor wrapped around one finger. I dropped the hand. It flopped back to the bed. The monitor bleeped.
Maybe she was still drugged.
"This role isn't fitting for you, Cam-Cam. You like a strong female lead, not the damsel in distress. Who are you protecting? Or hiding from?"
I watched her lidded eyes roam, then turned away. Skirting the area where I'd seen Stella's body, I chose a tight path between the bed and window and tried Nash's favorite thinking method.
"Ed Farmer loses his film and his bond if you're kicked off the movie. Leonard's publicity budget will take a hit if your dirty movie's found out. And he might lose his director and the funding if the investors want to retaliate. Dahlia, on the other hand, benefits by your bad publicity. Unless it tanks the movie."
Before making my turn, I pulled back the curtain and squinted into the dark, searching for Nash. No Nash.
"Then there are your people. They have a lot to lose by your screw up. Weren't you getting net and gross points? They don't usually make those contracts for upcoming stars. Your agent must be good. Alvin impressed Vicki, and that's hard to do." I dropped the curtain and faced the bed. "Where did Vicki go? And Giulio? Why would they fly out without telling me? Were they scared?"
The front door opened and shut.
"I'm in here, Nash," I called.
"How is she?" said Ed Farmer.
Whipping around, I teetered in my heels. My hand caught the purse swinging in a lopsided arc. I popped the clasp but left the strap hanging around my shoulder. My right hand gripped the gun inside the purse. I pushed open the bedroom door with my left. Taking a deep breath, I assumed a Julia Pinkerton mental attitude. What my director liked to call "tough girl in a tight spot."
Much better than "scared woman afraid to shoot the wrong person."
Striding forward, I met Ed in the living area and closed the bedroom door behind me. "What are you doing here, Mr. Farmer?"
"Checking on Cambria, of course."
"How did you get a key to her villa?" I moved to the window, pulled back the curtain, and peered out. Classic "cabin in the woods showdown" stance. It had an LA Confidential climax vibe.
"The door wasn't locked."
"Like hell," I said.
"Really," said Ed. "You want me to show you?"
Ed wasn't following the bad guy role well, but I wasn't switching characters just yet. "Mr. Farmer, what happened at the police station?"
"It's a mix-up. We straightened it out."
"Likely story." With my hand in my purse and my sight fixed on Ed, I moved to the door. Keeping my back to the wall, I fumbled for the door and pulled it open.
Someone had taped over the bolt.
"Craptastic." I picked at the tape and ripped a nail. "Oh, come on."
Someone was determined to have access to Cambria. Like Ed Farmer?
Resuming Julia's headspace, I closed the door. "What did you tell the police?"
"I had to explain my whereabouts at specific times over the last few days. I called my assistant to help with that. Understandable though. These deaths… I'm sure they're checking everybody's alibis. It's interesting, isn't it?"
"Interesting? It's horrible."
"Not the deaths. The police procedure." He pulled a sketch book from his pocket and flipped through it. "Let's see. First I rode in the back of the patrol car, then I had my pockets emptied and searched. I was fingerprinted. Oh yes, and I sat in a holding cell for a short time. Great for research. I imagined myself the hardened ex-con, accused of a crime I didn't commit. How would I prove my innocence?"
I groaned. He was working on his next script.
"Mr. Farmer, what did you tell them about Cambria? And Dahlia?"
"I admitted my dalliance with Dahlia." He adjusted his glasses. "I promised to rewrite some of her scenes. And give her a bigger role in my next feature."
"That's what Dahlia wanted? More lines? Not the lead in Pine Hollow?"
"God, no. Dahlia knew she had a better chance for a supporting actress nomination. Best actress is much more competitive. Dahlia's got some great physical endurance scenes in Pine Hollow." He frowned. "She slept with me to get me to rewrite the comedy bits. No more of that. I learned my lesson."
"Would Dahlia do anything to protect the film?" My voice rose in excitement, and I coughed, deepening it back to tough girl. "Like murder?"
"Murder? Dahlia won't kill a spider. She runs a rescue shelter for hedgehogs and exotic mice. But she had no issues seducing me." He stared at the floor. "Maybe I encouraged her? I'm weak. How could I do this to Cambria?"
"I'm sure the guilt is eating you up, but I'm more concerned with motives for murder." His obsession was getting on my last nerve. I found it easy to turn up Julia Pinkerton's high school snark. "It's not like Cambria's been that loyal to you. You must know what she's done."
"Cambria's certainly devoted herself to the character."
"Her character?" Keeping half-turned toward Ed, I returned to the window and peered out into the dark, searching for Nash. Shouldn't he be back by now?
I glanced back at Ed. "I actually don't know anything about her character. Except she lives on a mountain and is super buff."
"Ellie May's a prostitute. At least at the beginning of the movie. White trash. But when aliens invade, she uses strength of character and her mountain knowledge to lead a group of hillbillies to defend their land. That was my pitch."
"A hooker?"
Ed Farmer nodded.
"Just how was Cam-Cam devoted to the character?"
"Cambria hired an exotic dancer to give her lessons in the art of seduction. She held a big party at a club to showcase the dancer's talent. All for the cause of destigmatizing prostitution. That was a media feeding frenzy. Misinterpreted, of course. I told Leonard we could bring those media clips back to work in our favor after the release. It'd redeem poor Cambria and draw more attention to the film."
&n
bsp; "She wants to legalize prostitution? It objectifies women."
"Cambria thinks it shouldn't. She feels if it's legal, prostitutes could break the chains of enslavement to pimps." He shrugged. "Cambria was actually the one who came up with the idea of using the media clips later. She's very savvy."
My fingers slid from the .38, and my purse bounced hard against my hip. I didn't need the gun. Ed Farmer wasn't believably playing the villain. And gripping a gun in my purse made my hand cramp. "What kinds of scenes does Cambria have in this movie? Of the adult variety?"
Ed raked his sandy brown mop. "She has several romantic scenes. One that will give us rating trouble if we're not careful. As a prostitute, those scenes are hot. We have a body double lined up for certain shots. Cambria's very modest."
"She's too modest to do a love scene but wants everyone to support prostitution?" I sighed. "Any plans to use leaked videos of the love scenes for publicity?"
"Oh no, that'd be lewd. Playing a prostitute is totally different. They're sympathetic. A classic vulnerable character."
"Have you met a real hooker?"
"We didn't actually have any in advisory roles." He moved to the bedroom door. "Can I see Cambria now? I need to check on her."
I ran to block him. "Ed, go home. Get to your villa and lock the door. If anyone wants in, pretend you're asleep."
"Can you explain the rationale for this behavior?"
"Someone you know has been killing Cambria's study buddies. That's my rationale. I have an idea who it could be, but I could be wrong, so I don't want to say. I need you to hide from everyone connected to Pine Hollow to be safe."
"You have a hunch." Behind his glasses, his eyes grew large.
"I don't like that word. It makes me sound like I'm back on Julia Pinkerton."
"I don't care." He grabbed my shoulder and jerked me away from the door. "Cambria. I'm coming."
I lunged after him. With the flat hand of my hand, I slammed the door. He flung an arm out, hitting the side of my neck. I crashed against the wall. My purse fell to the floor.
Ed darted for the door and bolted through. "Sorry," he called. "So sorry." The lock on the bedroom door clicked.
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