Murder in Real Time

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  I raised my palms in the air. Finally, someone as lost as me.

  “It’s a show on the Educating America Channel,” Claire explained. “A lucky group of people get to travel the world, learning about different customs, food and art. The producers give the contestants a new challenge in every city and one player wins. Someone else gets sent home. You know the drill.”

  I shook my head. Nope.

  “Come on. You’re a counselor. An observer of human behavior. You should love reality television.”

  I shrugged. “I never got into the whole reality television fad. I think it’s all rigged.”

  She gasped. Again.

  Sebastian chuckled.

  “Agree to disagree then,” I said. “So, what’s the point? What do they get for doing this?”

  I looked from face to face. Mayor Hayes shook his head in clear disappointment. Mrs. Moore’s dazed expression said her thoughts were miles away. Sebastian squinted at Claire.

  Claire huffed. “They get to travel the world. Live in luxurious homes and eat the finest cuisine. Discover countries steeped in history and tradition.”

  “What do they win?” Sebastian asked.

  “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

  My jaw dropped. “Holy crab cakes. Where do I sign up? That’s ridiculous. I bet I could win the Chincoteague challenge. What’s the challenge they’re doing here?”

  The mayor shifted his weight. “They aren’t doing a challenge here. Fargas and I arranged for them to film their big Halloween special on the island. Adrian let them rent his place. We’re remote enough for the crew to have privacy. We’re down to year-round islanders for the next six months. Once the show airs, we’ll get a second wind of tourism and maybe some airtime on a national news show. It sounded like a win-win situation. I’d be remembered as the mayor who put this town on the map.”

  I groaned. I didn’t want Chincoteague on the map any more than it already was. I liked it fine the way it always had been. “Oh no.”

  “What is it?” Sebastian wrapped his fingers around my elbow.

  “The guy taking pictures. I bet he was the same guy who took a picture of me when I lifted my shirt earlier.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Claire hummed. “Paparazzi.”

  “I bet he knew Rick was here. When his death hits the internet, this place will be flooded with people.” I pressed my forehead to Sebastian’s shoulder. “We just said goodbye to the birders last week.”

  The mayor shuffled his feet like a little tap show. “Commerce.”

  I lifted my eyes to his. “Did you leak the location?”

  “What? No. Of course not.” He patted his lapels and averted his eyes.

  “Really? Because news like that would bring a lot of looky-loos and reality show stalkers.” I cocked my head. “They’ll all need a place to stay and food to eat. Mayor Hayes?”

  The mayor fumbled for words, blowing the same syllable over his lips. His gaze bounced around the perimeter, now filled with onlookers. “I-I-I-I...”

  Sebastian stepped forward. “Where were you around seven fifteen?”

  The mayor’s eyes fluttered. “I-I-I was at the office.”

  “Can anyone confirm that?”

  Mayor Hayes stepped back. “Am I a suspect?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I’m just gathering facts. Only a handful of people knew Mr. Fitzgerald was here. I’d like to account for the whereabouts of those people.”

  “I see.”

  I moved to Sebastian’s side. “Wife? Secretary? Were you on the phone or on the internet? Those logs can show where you were.”

  Sebastian dropped a stern look my way. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Yes!” The mayor clapped his hands once. “I traded emails at my desk for more than an hour.”

  “Could one of your correspondents be a hit man?”

  Sebastian snorted.

  “No! I emailed a few select journalists and well-respected names in the media.”

  Here we go. I clucked my tongue. “How’s Fargas supposed to solve a murder if the town is teeming with chaos and reporters snooping around?”

  He guffawed. “I didn’t know this would happen. How was I to know there was a murder going on?”

  Fargas lumbered off the porch with Adrian at his side. Fargas stopped behind Claire and addressed Sebastian. “No prints. We dusted everything and found nada.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Light switch?”

  “Just Adrian’s and Rick’s prints there.”

  Interesting. The killer wore gloves and worked in the dark. “It was premeditated.”

  Everyone looked at me. No one spoke for a long beat until Fargas placed a hand on Mrs. Moore’s shoulder. “Do you have someplace else you can sleep tonight? We’re bringing a team in from the mainland to comb over the grounds, but they won’t get here for another hour and they’ll be at it most of the night. We’ve moved the other couples to Miss Holly’s Inn for the remainder of their visits.”

  She nodded without making eye contact. “I can stay with Mrs. Tucker, I think.” Her eyes glossed with barely tamped emotion.

  Mayor Hayes wrapped an arm around her shoulders and addressed Fargas. “I can drive her if I’m free to go.”

  The sheriff nodded. “We can talk tomorrow.”

  “So, this is why you don’t have any place to stay?” I asked Adrian. “You rented your house to a reality show?” Who did that?

  “Yep.”

  Sebastian pressed his palm against the small of my back and watched Adrian with appraising eyes. “You’re the richest homeless guy I’ve ever met.”

  “I think you mean the coolest.”

  “Nope. I meant homeless. You can’t stay in my room now and you loaned your house to a reality show.”

  Adrian looked at me for help. “I have to stay with you now. I’ve got no place to go.”

  Sebastian pressed his palm tighter to my skin. “Homeless.”

  “Okay,” Adrian conceded. “We can talk about this later. You’re in cop mode. I get it.”

  Claire whispered into my hair. “You sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

  I pulled in a shaky breath. “Who was the woman? You called her Anna?”

  Claire rubbed my arm. “Yeah. She was on the show.”

  “Oh.” Was that allowed? Did Hollywood allow fraternization between hosts and contestants?

  Sebastian set his mammoth hands over his trim athletic hips. “Claire and Adrian seem to know a lot about this guy and his show. They might be a resource to get you started.”

  Fargas’s eyes lit up. “You’re a fan of The Watchers?”

  Claire’s head bobbed. A cheesy smile spread over her face. “Yes.”

  “Me, too.”

  Adrian slapped Fargas’s shoulder. “You want to order pizza and hash this out?”

  “I’ve got to get to the station. Frankie’s fielding calls until I get there.” He looked at Claire. “Can I drop you somewhere on my way?”

  “I’d love that. Patience?”

  Fargas looked at me.

  “Yeah, okay. Go with Fargas. Sebastian can drop me on his way to the station, too.”

  Adrian lifted his cell to one ear and ordered a pizza to be delivered to my apartment. “Let’s meet at your place in thirty, roomie.”

  I smiled at Sebastian, who didn’t return the sentiment. Lucky for me, it wasn’t the time to argue about where Adrian slept. Sebastian had slipped into special-agent mode the minute he heard the word “bodies.” He’d spend the night with Fargas at the station or back here at the crime scene. This was what he did, and he was the best.

  Fargas opened the passenger door on his cruiser, and Claire dropped inside.

  I climbed into t
he Range Rover. Sebastian shut the door and leaned on the open window frame. “What’s that about?” He slid his eyes toward the cruiser.

  If I only knew.

  Adrian squeezed his head in beside Sebastian’s. “Pizza’s on its way. I’ve got to run home.”

  Sebastian straightened to his full height. “Why?” He positioned his right hand over his sidearm. Men and their subtle threats. Freud would have a field day with these two.

  Adrian smiled wide enough for his dimple to cave in. “I’ve got The Watchers seasons one through four on Blu-ray.”

  He jogged to his Jeep and climbed in. What a nut.

  Sebastian rounded the hood and folded his long body behind the wheel. “Man, that guy’s impossible not to like and it drives me crazy.”

  Amen to that.

  Chapter Three

  When Sebastian and I climbed out of the Range Rover at my place, Claire and Fargas were lingering on the sidewalk.

  Fargas’s low tenor mingled with Claire’s higher-pitched whispers. He shook his head. “I doubt the cast knew about Rick and Anna. They’d have written that into the script for sure.”

  Claire tapped her little green clutch against one palm. “I don’t know. I mean, everyone on the internet message boards thought Rick was sleeping with one of the girls. I always assumed it was Elisa.”

  “Elisa has a boyfriend. He attends all the red carpet events with her.”

  My mind wrestled with the night’s information. Maybe there was a bright side. These murders seemed pointed, intended for this man and woman. The job was done. The killer was probably already back on the mainland establishing his alibi and distancing himself from the scene of the crime forever.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fargas, reality television. Red carpet events. Really?”

  Claire huffed. “Everyone watches some kind of reality television.”

  “I don’t.” Sebastian and I spoke in unison.

  Fargas smiled. “You two must have a guilty viewing pleasure. Watching trash television is part of our culture. Like Taylor Swift music and online shopping.”

  Sebastian folded his arms. His lips twitched. “Taylor Swift?”

  Fargas shuffled his feet on the loose gravel. His attention moved to Claire. “I better get to the station. Frankie’s got her hands full, fielding calls and managing worried neighbors.”

  Claire nodded. “Good night.”

  Fargas turned to Sebastian with an expectant look and dawdled near his cruiser.

  “Be there in a minute.” Sebastian took my hands. He crouched to meet my eyes. “You going to be okay here?”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah. Go. Fargas can use all the help he can get. If reporters are onto this already, the island will soon be a madhouse.”

  Sebastian laced his fingers with mine, trapping me. “Did you say you lifted your shirt earlier and someone took a picture?” His dark expression sent chills down both my arms. “Flashing is illegal here, you know. They have a name for it and everything. Indecent exposure. I have legal grounds to arrest you.” His dark eyes traveled over my shirt. The corner of his mouth lifted one cheek.

  “I wasn’t flashing.”

  He squared his shoulders. “Is there or is there not a camera on this island in need of confiscation?”

  “There is,” Claire said.

  Sebastian’s jaw ticked. He’d had his share of run-ins with the press, following undercover busts. Reporters were on his short list of people to avoid. Paparazzi were equivalent to parasites in Sebastian’s book. Now that one had a picture of my popped button and stuffed tummy, I didn’t disagree.

  I turned toward the little blue hatchback crawling down my street. “Oh, look! Pizza.” The lighted pony on top wore a black Stetson hat and four matching boots. Pony Pizza delivered anywhere on the island in twenty minutes or less.

  Sebastian tipped the pizza kid and kissed my forehead. “I’ll find that camera. Meanwhile, no more flashing...until I get back.”

  Claire followed me up the steps to my apartment and waited for Adrian to arrive before she headed home. He made up the couch, dug into the pizza and started season one of The Watchers. I skipped the pizza and went to bed. This sort of publicity would bring chaos to the island. Not the anticipated crowds of summer vacationers or the scheduled tour bus loads of birders in the fall, but an unprecedented, unregulated stream of people vying to get the scoop, land a hot story or take a selfie picture at the scene of the crime. I worked the blankets up to my chin and prayed I was wrong.

  * * *

  Sunlight drifted through my window and settled on my eyelids. I pulled a pillow over my head, but it was too late. Scents of fresh coffee coaxed me to my feet, despite my better judgment. Waking at six fifteen was for fishermen, joggers and yoga enthusiasts. A perk of undercover counseling was sleeping in. No one ever dropped by to talk about their problems before lunch.

  The couch was empty. No sign of Adrian, except the fresh pot of coffee on my countertop. Scents of soap and shampoo mingled with rich coffee in the air, saturating every inch of the apartment. I inhaled. My lungs filled with brisk and comforting aromas. Adrian was never a lay-in-bed guy. He’d started his days with a jog and a shower since middle school. For two years, he’d been the shortest kid in our class, and he hated it so much he decided to get fit to compensate. Soon, the taller, skinny guys were overlooked. Adrian’s solid frame drew every girl’s eye. If that wasn’t enough, he grew four inches one summer and already had the physique to go with it. It was a wonder every guy in school didn’t hate him. Anyone else, maybe, but no one disliked Adrian.

  I poured a second cup of coffee, wrenched my hair into a knot and went to my room. It didn’t look as if Sebastian had come home during the night. I yanked on some soft jeans with an old shirt from our FBI softball league. I’d bring Tasty Cream coffee to the police station and score some girlfriend points with my overworked crime fighter. I finished cup number two and set it in the sink. My coffee was good, but nothing beat Tasty Cream coffee.

  I poured a saucer of creamer and set it on the stoop outside my door. A little gray poof ball posing as a kitten lived there. I called him Freud. Freud wasn’t waiting for me as expected. I tilted my nose to the sky and sucked in the air. No wonder he wasn’t there. Something nearby smelled like heaven. Normally, island mornings smelled of stale coffee, salt and brine, but today, oh gracious...I drifted down the stairs like Fred Flintstone on a whiff of brontosaurus stew.

  My feet planted on the bottom step and I gripped the railing. Throngs of people filed in and out of the Tasty Cream. Food trucks lined the crowded streets. Groups of people in The Watchers shirts, toting cameras and paper plates of food, wound past my apartment.

  A woman with red-rimmed eyes headed my way. The hood on her jacket covered most of her face. She leaned forward, arms wrapped around her torso. She stopped a few feet away from me. From her expression and body language, she was either coming off a long crying jag or some sort of narcotic.

  I formed my most encouraging smile. “Hey. Everything okay?”

  She ran a wrist under her nose. “I don’t know. I mean, no, something is really wrong on this island. Why do people keep dying?” Her voice dissolved to a whisper on the final word.

  “Have we met?”

  She turned her eyes to mine briefly. “I’m Dawn.”

  “Hi, I’m Patience.”

  Dawn turned away from me, watching the traffic back up. A soft sniffle drifted from her hood. “I know who you are. What do you think about the murders? Do you think the killer’s still here?”

  A very good question. One I hoped I was right about. “No. I think whoever did this left to create an alibi and won’t ever come back.”

  Dawn wiped her cheeks. Her hood bobbed a fraction. “I worry. I have anxiety.” A long gust of breath escaped her. “People sc
are me. I thought moving here would help, and it did for a while.” She laughed. “No crime. The travel agent, real estate agent, mayor and the internet promised. No crime. I guess everything changes.”

  My heart ached for her. I understood fear more than I cared to admit. “Listen, those B&B murders weren’t about the island. Considering the victims, it was more likely a crazed stalker than a hometown maniac. I don’t think there’s someone dangerous living among us. Most importantly, none of these crimes were about you. They weren’t random. They were all pointed, and you’re way outside their target. You’re safe here. The last few months...” I stopped to gather my thoughts. The last few months had been a nightmare. How could I pretend they weren’t? “I grew up here and I came to visit plenty while I lived on the mainland. These last few months of crime aren’t normal for us. This will pass. We’re safe. You’re safe.”

  Dawn turned her gaze on me, a flicker of hope in her eyes.

  She was at least five years younger than me, maybe closer to ten. I cringed internally at the realization a grown woman could be ten years younger than me. I shook it off. Thirty is the new twenty.

  “Do you think I’m crazy for worrying so much I cried myself to sleep last night?”

  I shook my head. “No. Fear is real and it’ll trap you if you let it, but if you use it wisely, I think fear helps us make smart decisions. We should be anxious sometimes. We’re designed that way. A healthy amount of fear keeps us safe.” Not me, of course. I ran headlong into insane situations. Fear wasn’t my problem. I had a much more dangerous affliction: curiosity.

  Dawn tugged the strings of her hood. “Like when we avoid dark alleys and never park beside utility vans with no windows.”

  “Right.” Always avoid creepy kidnaper vans.

  A little smile formed on Dawn’s lips. “Yeah.” She nodded. “So, you’re saying pick my nightmares and they can keep me safe.”

  “Well.” I didn’t say nightmares. “I think it’s smart to be vigilant. Being aware is the best way to stay safe.”

  “No one’s coming to kill me?”

  “Nope.” Probably not. Hopefully not. I pursed my lips.