Blake’s grip on me loosened slightly. “What did you say?” Confusion washed over his hard features.
“That’s yours and Savannah’s song,” I said. “I know because it’s saved on your favorite playlist, and I’ve seen your face whenever it comes on.”
“Who are you?” Blake asked again, softer this time.
“Who else in the world would know what songs make you feel sentimental?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Blake said, but he had let go of my arms. “Natalie? You knew mine and Savannah’s song?”
I shrugged. “I notice things.”
“That is…” His voice trailed off as his eyes roamed over my face.
“Weird?” I supplied.
“No,” Blake said. “It’s… hot. You know me well, don’t you?” He laughed. “I can’t believe it’s you, and you’re in my ex’s body.”
Benjamin had gone quiet, but he was still squirming around the purse, trying to get a better view.
I smiled awkwardly. “Surprise. It’s me. I mean, I guess you can ask me something only I would know the answer to just to—”
Blake cut me off with a kiss that was equal parts heat, passion, and comfort.
My mind went blank as I allowed the warm fuzzy feelings of the kiss to travel all through my body. “What was that for?” I whispered against his lips.
“Just checking that it really was you,” he whispered back. “And because I wanted to.”
“Natalie!” The high-pitched whine of Benjamin’s poodle voice pulled me out of the kiss. “Stop fraternizing with the neighbor and focus! Look to your right.”
It was then that I noticed the rapid-fire of clicks coming from somewhere very close. I looked over my shoulder and saw the last person in the world I wanted to see—Roger Spitz.
And he was getting Blake and I from every scandalous angle.
“Blavannah is back!” The greasy man with the huge camera whooped as he punched the air. “Smile for the camera, Love birds. And Lulu, too!”
Blake jabbed his finger at Roger. “Get out of here before I call security,” Blake spat. “Unbelievable. Your cousin dies and you’re out taking pictures like nothing’s wrong? What kind of soulless, money-grubbing con artist are you?” He stepped in front of me, using his body to block me from Roger’s view. “I can’t believe he’s still hanging around stalking celebrities. We need to look into that guy’s alibi.”
12
Thankfully, Roger did leave, but the damage had already been done. He now had photos of Savannah and Blake making out on the movie set, and I was sure I’d see them somewhere in future issues of celebrity gossip magazines. I quickly filled Blake in on my plan to go undercover, not like I was doing that great a job so far, and he told me he’d do most of the talking during the interview.
I timidly stepped back into the makeup trailer and tried to play it cool. “I don’t know what you heard out there, but Blake and I—we have history. It’s complicated.”
Tina leaned against the wall, examining her nails. “You mean the making out that just happened?” She smiled and shook her head. “I heard, and I saw. Did you not notice the windows? Oh sweetie, I saw that whole thing.”
I saw down on the stool and set down my purse. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” I said.
“That’s a first,” she said, then she went to the other side of the trailer to plug in a curling iron.
Benjamin hopped out of my purse and gave himself a good shake. “That was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life.”
I mouthed, Don’t be so dramatic.
“Next time you feel the urge to be inappropriate with the neighbor, please put your purse on the ground, so I have somewhere to throw up.”
“How is that inappropriate?” I whispered. “We’re sort of dating.”
“You are Savannah,” he said. “Please try to stay in character next time, if only for my sake. I refuse to be your furry accessory all day without having some kind of breakthrough on this case.”
“Your sacrifice is duly noted,” I whispered. “But it’s hard to take your threats seriously when you look like a children’s stuffed animal.”
Tina walked over and stood in front of me. “Did I just witness you having a conversation with Lulu?”
“Guilty,” I said.
“Just yesterday, you were making fun of Blake’s lodge manager girlfriend for walking around babbling nonsense to her dog, and now you’re doing it?” She began smearing cold, thick lotion on my face with quick, expert strokes.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice of me,” I said.
“Last time I checked, you’re not a very nice person, but I love you anyway,” she said, with a teasing grin.
I noticed she moved around me in a way that kept her out of the mirror’s reflection. She always seemed to keep it trained on me.
Maybe it was because I was the one getting my makeup done, or maybe it was because she was the shapeshifter.
She reached for another mystery bottle of colored cream and used a sponge to smooth its contents along my cheekbones and under my chin. “You know I’m your friend, so it’s my job to call you out when you cross a line, and I’m just going to say it. You’ve got to move on from him.”
“Who, Blake?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she said, running her tongue along her upper lip a she carefully applied an arc of eyeliner on each of my eyelids. “You and Blake are not good for each other, and he’s supposedly involved with that Natalie woman. Here’s some tough love for you—stop chasing after Blake, stop using his brother to make Blake jealous, stop mixing business with pleasure. Come on, Savannah. You know better.” She rummaged in her makeup box and pulled out a set of fake eyelashes. “Look down,” she said, before adhering them to my eyelids with god knows what.
“Maybe I really like Dean,” I said. “Maybe I’m not using him.”
Tina snorted. “Sure, he’s gorgeous, and I know you’re into the vampire thing, but you and I both know it’s just a fling.”
My eyes flew up to meet her’s as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “Vampire thing?” I asked, testing the waters.
Did Tina Price know about the supernatural aspect of Wolf Mountain, too?
“Personally, I’m not into that stuff,” Tina said nonchalantly. “I’m not letting fangs anywhere near me.” She shook her head. “I did learn a juicy piece of gossip when I was doing makeup for that sexy British guy.”
“Oh?” I assumed she was talking about Liam since he was one of the few Wolf Mountain residents without a southern accent.
A wicked grin played on her lips. “He’s a werewolf.”
“Really?” I snuck a look at Benjamin to see what he thought of all this. She knew about werewolves, too? Didn’t anyone know how to keep a secret about here?
“Yup, that explains why he’s so easy on the eyes. So if you’re even in need of some werewolf blood, we’ve got another hookup.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “What do you use it for?”
Tina pulled her hand back and tipped her head to the side as she stared at me. “You’re joking, right?”
I hesitated. “Yes, joking,” I said weakly.
Tina laughed. “You’re being so weird today. You’re the one who got me into that stuff way back when. I’ve been putting it in my protein shakes every morning for the last eight years. My skin has never looked better.”
“Oh.” I tried to hide my shock that this woman was using werewolf blood as some kind of beauty treatment.
Hollywood people were so weird.
“And you want to know something even juicier?” Her face lit up with a conspiratorial smile.
“Always,” I said eagerly.
She leaned forward. “Well, you know that redhead who runs the diner? She’s his girlfriend, and apparently, she has no idea her boyfriend is a werewolf. I guess her family and friends have been using memory dust on her for years. He says he’s worried about what it’s doing to her mind.”
“How’d you find out all of that?” I asked.
“I just knew what questions to ask. You know me—I’m good at reading people, and I’m even better at getting them to spell their secrets. Everyone always has a tell when you’ve hit on something sensitive. I spend all day staring at people’s faces and I see things. Plus, we’re on Wolf Mountain. This place has a million monster legends associated with it. I’ve seen Blake’s movies. I’ve heard the rumors that he pulls from his life experience.”
“But it’s just stories,” I said airily.
“Come on—we know werewolf blood is a thing and that the man’s brother is a vampire. What other crazy things live on this mountain?”
And that was my in.
I took a deep breath. “Do you think maybe the producer’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“To be honest, I don’t care one way or another. I know that sounds harsh, but good riddance.” Tina touched my chin, centering my face. “Hold still,” she said. “Unless you want lipstick all over your teeth.”
I did as I was told while she applied a striking shade of red to my mouth. I decided to trust my instincts and take a shot in the dark. “He was kind of a womanizer, huh?”
Tina laughed, moving around to the back of my stool. She ran her fingers through my hair, gathering it up so it hung down my back. “That’s putting it lightly. I still get nightmares from that wrap party where he straight-up propositioned me and basically forced me to kiss me with the vile mouth of his.”
I watched her face scrunch up in disgust as if she was reliving the moment over in her mind.
“And you know how the rest goes.” Her mouth tightened. “I wanted to press charges, but it was my word against his.” She grabbed a brush and started running it through my hair, each stroke rougher than the last. She seemed to be getting worked up. “I heard he was inappropriate with Lenny, too, a couple weeks ago. He made some comments to her. but you know Lenny. She’s an assistant. She’s not in a place in her career where she can rock the boat.”
“Remind me—how long ago was it when Tom Nelson sexually harassed you?”
She pursed her lips. “Three years, and I’ve got to tell you, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of that man.”
A three year vendetta? That might have been a motive.
I needed to hear her alibi, and I wanted to see if someone would be able to confirm it. I liked Tina. She was smart and seemed like a straight-talker—at least to her friends. I really didn’t want her to be the killer.
“Did you have a good time at the party last night?” I cringed at how dumb I sounded, but I didn’t have much time left. She was already putting away the brush and getting out the hair spray.
“Oh, I had a blast.” She heaved a big sigh and smiled with her glossy lips. “But I left a little before intermission. I had to be on set early this morning.”
“Were you with anyone?”
She gave me a funny look. “Why do you care? Is this an interrogation?”
“No, I’m just checking,” I said breezily. “I feel like it’s important that no one’s out here alone right now. You know, with everything that’s happened.”
She nodded. “It would have been smarter to leave with someone, but I didn’t want to be waiting on anyone. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. But even so, it was probably still an accident. It was dark and he fell off a cliff—at least that’s what I read online. If you ask me, it sounds like karma.”
Benjamin whined and I noticed he was pawing at the door.
I knew he was saying something, but I couldn’t understand him with that squeaky new voice of his.
“Oh, sounds like Lulu’s getting antsy.” She stepped back from my stool. “All done.” Tina gave my hair a spritz with hair spray, and admired her work. Then she checked the time on her phone, “And not a moment too soon. You’re supposed to be on in twenty minutes.”
I gathered up my purse and the yapping Benjamin. When I opened the door, I walked right into a very anxious Lenny Holmes. She had her phone in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other.
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Hurry up. The camera crew is already set up. Also, head’s up, your extracurricular activities with the director are already going viral on social media.”
13
The interview was not with some entertainment reporter like I’d expected. In fact, the reporter doing the interview was a regional news correspondent I’d met during my days of working at the Atlanta PR firm.
The tables in the lodge dining room had been pushed to the side and cameras were set up in the center of the room. Hot, bright lights beamed down on me and I could feel sweat droplets forming on my brow as I shifted in my chair. There were two other chairs—one was for Blake and the other was for Debbie Lopez, a posh, sharped-eyed reporter in her forties.
I’d seen her on the news in the past. She was a well-spoken, fair women, but entertainment was not her department—Lopez was a crime reporter.
Lenny slipped past the cameras, grasping a compact of powder and a makeup brush. She bent close to me, brushing my nose and forehead—for the millionth time—with powder. “Are you feeling OK?” she asked. “You’re sweating more than usual.”
“I just don’t understand why the studio is making me do an interview with someone who typically reports on crime.”
Lenny’s eyes flicked over to where Debbie Lopez was sipping a bottle of sparkling water and reviewing something on her tablet. “At least this means she’s probably not going to ask you about your relationship with the director. Just smile, and say what we planned—that Tom was a shining light in Hollywood, a true artist, and your thoughts and prayers go out to his loved ones.” She stepped back, getting a full look at my face. Then she snapped the compact closed. “You’ll do great.”
I looked over to where the teeny, fluffy white Benjamin sniffed around, weaving between the camera crew, probably keeping an eye out for clues. Being a cute toy poodle was helpful right now. I doubted the crew would be as willing to let a hulking, slobbery Rottweiler roam backstage.
I turned back to Lenny, forcing a smile. “Thoughts and prayers. I got this.” I gave her a thumbs up.
“Break a leg,” she said, backing out of the shot.
Blake was hastily tucking a fresh button-down shirt into his pants. Then he accepted a suit jacket from Tina Price, who had made it over her after doing my makeup. Blake shoved his arms through the sleeves and yanked at the lapels. He turned to someone who sat behind a camera. “We going soon?”
The man gave a thumbs up and pointed to the chair beside me.
Blake sat down beside me and gave me a reassuring smile. I wanted to say something to him, but the sound lady was already clipping a microphone to my shirt. Blake and Debbie got microphones as well, and soon, we were all sitting primly in our chairs ready to go.
The set went silent as the camera began rolling.
Debbie Lopez looked right into the camera and spoke in that calm, authoritative voice that reporters tended to use on the air. “I’m here with horror filmmaker, Blake Elliot and leading lady, Savannah Silver to hear their response to this terrible tragedy that happened last night at a local festival. Blake, how do you feel about moving forward with the project in light of producer Ted Nelson’s death?”
Blake leaned forward and spoke in an equally authoritative tone. “It is a tragedy, and it has affected everyone working on the project in different ways. We’ll take a break from filming for a short period of time to allow everyone time to grieve, but the general censuses on set is that we want to finish the film on schedule. Tom Nelson loved movies more than almost anyone I know—particularly horror movies. Devil’s Charade II was a project Tom was passionate about, and it will be dedicated to him. We can’t bring him back, but we can honor his legacy by seeing his vision for this movie through.
Wow, I thought. Bravo, director man. That was one slick answer. Who knew that Blake could handle himself on live television like a seasoned PR manager?
“And your thoughts, Savannah?”
I folded my hands in my lap and offered an empathetic smile. “I’d like to echo what Blake said. Ted Nelson was a shining light in Hollywood, and he will be missed.”
“Thank you, Savannah.” Debbie said, something sparking behind those non-nonsense eyes of hers. “Will you comment on the rumors that Tom Nelson’s death was actually a murder?”
I felt my pulse speed up, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would keep the answer short and sweet. The worst thing you could do when a reporter was asking hard-ball questions was to panic and start rambling.
“The local authorities have ruled Tom Nelson’s death accidental. As with any high-profile death, there will be speculation. It’s important right now to rely on facts, not rumors.”
Debbie nodded. “These rumors seemed to stem from a bizarre cell phone video that was leaked to the media about an hour ago.”
I forced myself to keep a poker face even though inside I was completely freaking out. Someone leaked the video? I supposed I should have seen this coming. A murder on a movie set was just the kind of case that would garner national attention. Someone would have paid top-dollar for that footage. I still didn’t think Ace would do something like that, but if someone had gotten a hold of his phone—perhaps a shapeshifter impersonating his girlfriend Meredith—all bets were off.
Debbie went on. “The video appears to show you, Savannah, kissing Tom Nelson. The most curious part of the video is when you appear to morph into Tom Nelson’s late wife, Janet Nelson who watched Nelson stumble off the cliff.”
Blake jumped in. “To me, that proves the video was a fake,” he said. “A video like that could easily be made by any high school with access to Adobe Creative Suite. And I’m absolutely disgusted that someone would go through the trouble of turning this tragedy into some kind of controversy or conspiracy. Tom Nelson’s death was an accident. Just because Wolf Mountain is being used as a movie set doesn’t mean it’s Disneyland. This is the wilderness, and there are inherent risks that come with the unique scenery.”
Starstruck Witch Page 9