It seemed Threads99 was a night owl too.
“Hey,” her online friend typed into the message box. “Good to see you again. Just finished a new project.”
A picture popped up on DeeDee’s screen of a gorgeous woodland scene. The shading, the perfect stitching technique, the nuanced color palette—it took her breath away.
“I love it!” she typed back.
“Thanks,” Threads99 responded. “What are you working on now?”
“Still my appaloosa.” She spread out her work and took a quick photo with her phone, which she uploaded to the site for her online friend to see.
“Not much progress tonight,” she typed. “Too much going on.”
“Wow! That’s sensational!” Threads99 typed back. “Nothing bad going on, I hope.”
Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. She knew Threads99 from the chat room, but that was about it. And while whoever was behind the moniker seemed nice, she was wary about sharing personal information with them. After all, she didn’t know if Threads99 was male, female, wolf, or human. And yeah, maybe Threads99 was the closest thing DeeDee had to a best friend. That didn’t mean she planned to go overboard with personal stuff. Yes, she liked chatting and exchanging pictures of their work, but deep inside, the thought niggled. How pathetic had her life gotten that the only new connection she’d formed with someone in ages was with a nameless, faceless person in an online chat room?
CHAPTER 8
A t work the next morning, DeeDee trudged up the driveway to the Crenshaw mansion. From all the lights and equipment ahead, it appeared filming was once again underway. She snorted. Guess these Hollywood types don’t let some pesky murder stand in their way.
DeeDee flashed her badge to one of the guards near the gates, taking a quick glance around at the crowd still gathered. The protestors were still there, today boasting matching armbands to mark themselves as part of their group. It looked as if someone had thought to bring a large thermos of coffee as well. Many stood huddled together around it, their hands wrapped around steaming cups. They all had on matching dark jackets today too. It seemed the Sunrise Group became more organized each day.
She’d just passed through the gates and headed toward the props trailer around the back of the property to check for any missing stakes when gunfire rang out.
Acting on pure instinct and training, DeeDee pulled her own weapon then crouched near the corner of the mansion. Her gaze darted right, then left, in search of the gunman. But when she looked at the movie set, no one had taken cover. All the actors walked around as though shots hadn’t been fired.
What the—
Slowly, weapon still drawn, DeeDee straightened and shouted, “Get down! Gunfire!”
Several of the crew turned to look at her then laughed.
One of them yelled, “That’s not gunfire. It’s pyrotechnics. You know, fireworks? We use them for the sound and visual effects.”
Heat clawed up from beneath DeeDee’s uniform collar. Right. She clicked the safety back on and stowed her weapon back in its holster. She should’ve known everything around here was fake and frivolous.
Grumbling, she continued toward the props trailer, parked at the back of the house.
The thing was way bigger than she’d expected—more the size of a doublewide and ran the length of two semi-trucks. She walked up the ramp to the inside and found a huge mess. Stuff scattered everywhere, with no rhyme or reason DeeDee could discern. In the far corner stood a petite Fae of indeterminate gender who looked equally disorganized, with their shirt on inside out and bright-green hair going every direction.
“Uh, I’m Deputy DeeDee Clawson with the Silver Hollow Sheriff’s Department,” she said to the Fae, showing her badge again. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”
The props person squinted at her badge then shrugged. “Sure. What do you need?”
“I’m looking for stakes. Do you have any of those around here?”
“Duh. What kind of stakes? We got wooden, metal...” Props went flying as the person dug through a nearby pile of stuff. “Even found a cement one the other day.” As proof, the Fae held the thing up. “This what you want?”
“The wooden ones, actually.” DeeDee wrinkled her nose against the distinct odor of mustiness and garlic in the air. In fact, several large ropes of garlic cloves hung on the wall nearby. She guessed that explained where the smell around the body had come from. It was a movie about vampires, after all, so that made sense. Still, it was a wonder the props master could find anything at all in here. “What other kinds of things do you keep here?”
“Anything the crew might need,” the Fae said. “Garlic, silver bullets, coffins, crucifixes. We got ’em all.”
“How about mistletoe?”
The Fae’s shoulders drooped a bit. “Nope. None of that.”
“Okay.” DeeDee pulled out her trusty notebook and jotted down a few notes then peered through the piles and piles of crap surrounding her. Finally, she pointed toward the far corner. “Those look like wooden stakes. Mind if I take a look at those?”
“Go ahead.” The Fae led her over.
Sure enough, they were just like the one used on Tucker Rockwood. She picked up one and inspected it. “Do you use a sign-out sheet when someone takes something from here?”
“Yes.” The Fae zipped back through the piles then returned a moment later with a clipboard. “All props are to be signed out upon removal then signed back in again when they’re returned.”
DeeDee flipped through several pages of signatures, but no one had checked out a wooden stake. Not that she’d expected the killer to make things easy for them, but still. Best to cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s. She handed the clipboard back to the props master. “Is this trailer locked up at night to keep it secure?”
“There’s a standard lock on the door, but we don’t have any high-dollar items, so the production company isn’t too concerned about stolen inventory.”
“Right.” DeeDee made a few more notes, mainly that the place was basically open to anyone able to pick a basic lock and with motive to murder. Finally, she slid her notebook and pen back into the pocket of her brown coat and walked to one corner of the trailer, noticing an abundance of dust bunnies and crud. “Do you guys ever have a problem with vermin? Rats or mice, specifically?”
“No.” The Fae frowned. “Why?”
“So no need for rat poison in here?”
“Nope.”
“Okay then. Thanks for your time.” DeeDee stepped outside again, taking a deep breath of fresh air and glad for the open spaces. Being inside the trailer had felt too claustrophobic for her liking. While she stood at the bottom of the ramp, a woman came up to her. Based on her scent and her overabundance of fluttering layers of silky clothing, DeeDee pegged her as a witch.
“Are you investigating the murder?” the woman asked, holding out her hand. “I’m Sheila. I’m in charge of costumes for the film. I also do all the makeup and hair.”
“Deputy Clawson, Silver Hollow Sheriff’s Department.” Following standard procedure, she shook the woman’s hand then flashed her badge again. No way would a potential witness get away with not testifying because DeeDee didn’t notify them of who and what she was. “Were you acquainted with Tucker Rockwood?”
As Sheila went on to describe in detail how well she knew the victim, DeeDee pulled out her notepad again. Oh, yeah, this gal was definitely a witch. And a drama queen, given the way she gestured wildly with her hands as she talked and her magically perfect makeup. There were times she envied the Quinns and their kin for their enchanted good looks, always perfect no matter what. But then again, no other paranormals besides werewolf shifters had the same connection to the forest and the land, so she supposed it all evened out in the end. Even if her hair still went wild sometimes, despite Gray Quinn’s beauty spell.
Magic would only go so far, after all.
DeeDee scribbled her notes, focusing on Sheila’
s statement once more. “So you were pretty tight with Tucker Rockwood then?”
“Oh, sure. I get to know most of the cast, since I see them every day in my chair to do their makeup and hair. And all those fittings for the costumes. You see the real person during those times. A sort of intimate bond forms. They feel you’re a friend, like they can tell you things they wouldn’t normally tell other people. Lots of gossip.”
“Gossip, eh?” DeeDee looked up from her paper. “And did Tucker tell you his secrets?”
“Well,” Sheila said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she stepped closer to DeeDee. “He had a girlfriend. One of the other actresses. He never told me her name, but he said she was pretty, young, and blond.”
That helped not at all. From what DeeDee could see, at least half a dozen girls running around the set fit that description. She turned back to Sheila. “Do you see anyone here who might be a candidate?”
Sheila gazed out over the set then shook her head. “Not really. Sorry. I’m sure that wasn’t much help, but that’s all I know. I swear.”
“Okay. Thanks for your information.” DeeDee waved as she headed for the gate, thinking about Rockwood’s widow and the napkin with the lipstick stain. It was time to talk with the widow.
CHAPTER 9
O n the way to Rockwood’s rented home down the street from the Crenshaw property, DeeDee checked in with Owen via the squad car’s onboard wireless Bluetooth. “Hey, boss. Wanted to let you know I checked out the props trailer. They had wooden stakes like the one used on the victim, but no record of who might’ve checked it out.”
“Figures,” Owen said. “You find out anything else?”
“Yes. I talked to the costume lady, and she said Tucker had a girlfriend. I’m heading back to talk to the widow again now.”
“Great.” The sound of shuffling papers echoed through the line. “I talked to Rockwood’s lawyer right before you called. He said the wife stands to inherit everything, including collecting on her husband’s two-million-dollar life insurance policy.”
“Sounds like motive for murder.” DeeDee pulled up to the curb in front of the rented home. It wasn’t nearly as large as the Crenshaw place but still huge and luxurious. She cut the engine and clicked open her seat belt.
“Sure does,” Owen said. “Be careful, Deputy.”
“Will do, sir.” DeeDee ended the call then headed up to the front door.
Laura Rockwood answered on her third knock. She looked a bit less shell-shocked than DeeDee expected after what Owen and Dex had described the day before. From what she could tell, the woman was in her midforties but had aged well, her face unlined and her hair thick and dark brown.
No lipstick, DeeDee noticed. She made her standard introductory spiel, including badge.
“What can I do for you today, Officer?” Laura Rockwood asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, ma’am. But I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if you have a moment.”
Laura gestured for DeeDee to come inside then closed the door behind her before leading her into a tastefully decorated living room filled with beige tones and lots of natural wood trim. “Would you like some coffee or water?”
“No, ma’am. I’m fine. Thanks.” DeeDee took a seat on a leather sofa that most likely cost more than her entire house. “I’m sorry again for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Laura took a seat across from her in a stylish leather wing chair. “What else would you like to ask me about?”
“Right.” DeeDee pulled out her notebook again, a tad disconcerted at how much the widow seemed to have recovered from her grief in one day. Yesterday, Owen and Dex had described her as overwrought and in shock at the loss of her husband. Today, she seemed sad and restrained but otherwise fine. DeeDee flipped back to the notes she’d taken from her colleagues’ interview with the widow the day before. “You told the officers yesterday that you weren’t concerned when your husband didn’t come home Tuesday night. Why was that again?”
“Well, as I said, they do a lot of shooting at night on these horror films, so I was used to Tucker coming home at all kinds of odd hours. As I said to the other officers, when he did come home in the middle of the night like that, Tucker usually slept down here in the den to avoid waking me.” Laura clasped her hands in her lap. “So when he didn’t come home the other night, I assumed it was because things had run late again on the set.” Laura’s lips turned downward into a frown that didn’t mar her Botox-injected forehead. “It wasn’t until I didn’t see him the next morning that I started to worry. But even then, I just assumed he’d gone back to the set early and that he’d call me later to check in.”
“Okay.” DeeDee jotted down the information. “Do you know anyone who might want your husband dead?”
Laura shrugged. “Tucker was the kind of outspoken guy who tended to rub some people the wrong way. I don’t know anyone who disliked him enough to kill him, though.”
While she continued to make notes, DeeDee checked out her surroundings again through her lashes. No mistletoe spotted, plus she wasn’t sneezing or itching. “Do you have a problem with mice here? The place sat vacant for a while before you and your husband rented it. Have you hired an exterminator or put out traps or rat poison?”
“No.” Laura sounded astonished by the idea, and DeeDee bit back a laugh. Given their high-dollar lifestyle, most likely the only mouse these folks had encountered was named Mickey.
She closed her notebook and sat back, keeping her attention focused on Laura. “The sheriff received a call from your husband’s attorney this morning. He said you’ll stand to inherit everything, correct? Seems like that would be an awful lot of money.”
“What exactly are you implying, Deputy?” Laura’s brown eyes narrowed. “Do you think I killed my husband for his money? Because I can assure you there was no need for me to do that.”
“Why?”
“In case you haven’t gotten that far in your investigation yet, my maiden name is Bickford.” Laura laughed. “My father was the president of Fisher Pharmaceuticals. I have more money in my trust fund than Tucker could’ve ever earned in a lifetime. If anyone was going to be killed for their fortune, it would’ve been me, Deputy.”
All righty then. Still, that didn’t leave Rockwood’s widow completely off the hook just yet. Jealousy could also be a powerful motivator. DeeDee tried another tactic. “I was over at the movie set earlier, and there were quite a few rumors circulating about your husband and his possible extracurricular activities with some of the other actresses. Were you aware of his affairs, Ms. Rockwood?”
The widow’s expression shifted from cold and aloof to dark and stormy. “Fine. It’s true. I knew Tucker had a girlfriend on the side. And she wasn’t the first, either.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
“Ha!” Laura snorted. “If I tried to off Tucker every time he took up with some new tramp, he would’ve been dead a long time ago, believe me. I was used to his dalliances. And much as I hate to disappoint you, Deputy, I didn’t kill him. I have an alibi. I was at Moon-Morning Yoga yesterday when the death occurred. Like I said, it wasn’t me.”
That yoga class took place at three a.m. Not unusual in a town full of paranormals, with some of them only able to go out under cover of darkness. The class was popular, and even DeeDee had thought about going several times with Nia. In fact, plenty of businesses in Silver Hollow catered to their residents’ odd hours.
“How do you know your husband’s time of death?” DeeDee asked. The coroner’s report hadn’t been released yet.
“Yesterday, the other officer mentioned Tucker’s body was found after sunrise. He also said my husband appeared to have been dead for two or three hours before he was found. I did the math. Why? Have you gotten that information back?”
DeeDee compressed her lips. As far as she knew, Ursula still hadn’t pinpointed an exact time of death. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that, ma’am. We
do know he was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Laura’s smooth tone rose slightly. “The officers yesterday said he was stabbed.”
“That too.”
“Oh dear.” Laura wrung her hands, some of her previous hysteria apparently returning. “I hope you don’t think I poisoned poor Tucker. And then stabbed him? What kind of sick person could do something like that then go skipping off to a yoga class?”
Who indeed. Unblinking, DeeDee watched Laura Rockwood dissolve into tears. She took a deep breath for patience, allowing the other woman a moment to collect herself before continuing her questioning. “Can anyone verify your location at this yoga class, ma’am?”
“Yes.” Laura gave a mirthless laugh. “Unfortunately, this person also hates me. It’s the woman I suspect is Tucker’s new girlfriend, Gina Presti. We aren’t the best of friends, for obvious reasons. We even had it out at the yoga studio that morning before class started.”
“Really?” Out came the notebook again. There were lots of notes to jot down now. “Can you spell this Gina’s name for me, please?”
Laura did so while DeeDee’s mind raced ahead to her next steps. If this new girlfriend was in class with Laura, then that gave them both the same alibi. To corroborate their shared alibi, she needed to call Ursula once she got back to the station and see if the ME had an updated, more accurate time of death for the victim or time the victim was moved. Maybe Gina and Laura argued while one was coming and the other going, and the exact time would rule one of them out. Or neither of them. Then again, Laura had made it sound as if her husband wasn’t the most popular guy in the room. Maybe someone else killed him.
Or maybe Tucker Rockwood demanding more money from Caine Hunter had been the last straw. Then again, the protestors had complained Tucker verbally abused them. Perhaps he’d finally crossed the line with the Sunrise Group and they’d turned rabid. She finished writing down all her theories then focused on Laura again. “Any idea of your husband’s itinerary on the day of his murder?”
Cry Wolf (Silver Hollow Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) Page 5