Swept Up (Maid in LA Mystery #4)

by Jacobs, Holly

  “When?” Tiny asked.

  “Tell us everything,” Peri commanded.

  “While Cal and I were waiting for Charlie to finish the interviews at your house, I realized that life was short and I didn’t want to be without him, so—”

  “Wait, are you telling me you finally made your engagement official at a murder scene?” Tiny asked.

  I nodded. It seemed romantic at the time, but when she put it like that, it didn’t.

  The engagement news took some time to play out. Peri and Tiny were already discussing my wedding plans. I shot Cal a help-me look. He just shifted closer to Jerome and Sal.

  Cowards.

  “Really, we all need to get some sleep,” I said.

  They both did stop, much to my surprise.

  Tiny hugged me. “I’m so sorry that you’re in the middle of something like this again. This shouldn’t have happened to you. It was your night. The press is going to have a field day.”

  I groaned. “They definitely are.”

  “Don’t come into the office,” Tiny continued. “Theresa and I will manage everything there. And when you get calls, we’ll take names and numbers. You should probably think about talking to someone in the media. Throw the press a bone. And maybe you can make find a way to make the press work for you. I’ve been reading JD Robb’s series, and her heroine has one reporter friend she works with all the time. Maybe you need to cultivate a reporter.”

  I didn’t plan on being involved in another investigation after this, so I didn’t need to cultivate anyone.

  But I said, “That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll talk to Charlie and see if there’s someway I can use the press coverage to help the investigation.”

  Sal hugged me next. “Don’t do anything illegal, and if you do, don’t get caught. But if you do get caught, call me immediately and don’t say anything until I get there.”

  I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

  Peri and Jerome went to bed in Hunter’s room.

  Cal and I were finally alone in the living room. I waved my glittery ringed hand at him. “No second thoughts?”

  “About marrying you or about working on this with you?” he asked.

  “Both or either,” I said.

  “No doubts at all.”

  We sat on the couch and he wrapped his arm around me.

  It felt like coming home.

  I stared at the white-board.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever do this again. Dick and I were discussing what I should work on next. I wanted to try my hand at writing a romantic comedy.”

  Cal didn’t laugh or say anything about romantic comedy. Instead he snored softly.

  I’d gotten used to that as well this last year—his snoring, not his falling asleep mid-conversation.

  I twirled the engagement ring on my finger.

  It felt right.

  I looked at the man sleeping on the couch next to me. He felt right.

  He’d asked me to marry him on Christmas the year we met…in August. That was fast. I’d married fast once. And while I’d gotten three wonderful sons from that marriage, it hadn’t lasted.

  I’d been afraid to trust the feelings I had for Cal.

  It was over a year since he’d asked, and this summer we’d celebrate knowing each other for two years. And I realized that it wasn’t the amount of time that made me feel confident that saying yes to marrying Cal was the right thing to do…it was Cal himself.

  I loved him so much, and I felt confident he loved me, too.

  He was taking time from work to help me figure out who killed Mellie.

  For the first time, we were going to work together.

  And that felt right, as well.

  I leaned down and kissed his forehead. He woke up and pulled my kiss lower, to his lips. “Come to bed,” he said, his voice all Sam-Elliotty with sleep. “We’ll work on this after we’ve had some sleep.”

  I didn’t argue.

  I followed the man I loved—the man I was going to marry—to bed. I’d start interviewing people who were at the party myself after I got some sleep.

  After-I-got-some-sleep was three hours later.

  Jerome and Peri were still in bed. So was Cal.

  I was wearing a pair of sweats, and a sweatshirt that Peri had made up for the cast of Steamed. It had a picture of Cilla in a French maid’s outfit, her well-manicured fingers clutching a feather duster. The caption read, Cleaning is Murder on a Manicure.

  I studied the three-page guest list. I knew my family and friends wouldn’t kill a fly and had no motive for murdering Mellie. I started crossing them off.

  When I was done I looked at the much shorter list. The people who were left were mainly the cast of the movie and the caterers from Honey’s restaurant, Psst.

  If you’d asked me before the Mortie Award Ceremony who I thought was capable of murder, I’d have said Mellie—hands down.

  Without a doubt.

  She was a megalomaniac. She hated that she was playing a secondary character. She really hated that Cilla had been cast to play me.

  Basically, she didn’t seem to like much…other than herself.

  Unfortunately, Mellie couldn’t be the murderer. And though I was pretty sure anyone else in the cast would have liked to have killed her more than once, I didn’t honestly think they had. But while I’d take my family and friends off my suspect list, I didn’t feel I knew the cast well enough to simply remove them.

  So I kept their names in my suspect column.

  But that gave me a much shorter list.

  Detective Charlie’s pool of suspects was going to be much larger than mine because he couldn’t immediately eliminate my family and friends. I thought that might give me a better chance of catching the murderer.

  Granted, my crossing people off my suspect list like that wasn’t logical. But I wasn’t a real detective. I never wanted to be a real detective. So I didn’t care if my method was logical. I didn’t care if it was procedure. I didn’t even care if it made me ditzy. I just wanted to find out who killed Mellie. And I was sure that everyone I’d crossed off my list hadn’t done it.

  I sent Honey a text and asked for a list of everyone who’d catered the party.

  But frankly, they weren’t high on my suspect list. Why? Because they didn’t know Mellie well enough to have a motive. I mean, I’d spent most of my adult life working in a service industry. I’m sorry to say there are a lot of people like Mellie, but most self-involved people didn’t notice service people. We were invisible to them. It’s hard to annoy someone so much they want to kill you if to you they’re invisible.

  I was leaning toward someone in the cast.

  And that was awful because other than Mellie, I’d liked everyone in the cast.

  I pulled up the movie credits on Net Movie Database and rolled the sweatshirt cuff around in my fingers as I stared at the cast list. Most everyone, while nice to me, hadn’t come to my house. Cilla and Dylan had. Cilla spent a week trailing me after she’d signed on to play me in the movie. We’d become close.

  Her husband, Dylan, was cast as Big G. Despite the fact they were actors, they hadn’t put on airs. They seemed like a normal, happy couple. The kind of married couple Cal and might hang out with once we were married. I reached for the ring on its chain and then realized it was on my finger now.

  I’d start thinking about the wedding after I solved this case.

  When I’d investigated Mr. Banning’s case, I’d been anonymous. No one noticed another maid or caterer.

  When I’d investigated the stolen paintings, I hadn’t been exactly anonymous, but I’d had Dick as my sidekick, playing an insurance investigator.

  And my Christmas mystery? I’d had access because everyone knew me.

  Now, I was going to talk to people as myself…with Cal. There was no anonymity. Everyone knew me, and everyone I was going to interview would know exactly why I was there. And someone I was going to talk to—someone I’d met, and potentially liked—wa
s going to be the murderer. They’d have every reason to lie to me.

  So maybe the trick was going to be talking to everyone, taking detailed notes and then figuring out whose story was different. I thought of all the cop shows I loved to watch. I thought about books from Trixie Belden to Nancy Drew.

  In cop shows, suspects generally said too much. They didn’t wait for a lawyer. Instead, they thought they could lie their way out of the charges.

  Lies.

  Lies always caught up with people. Liars goofed up and forgot part of their lie, or made the lie so elaborate it stuck out in the sea of generalities.

  Cal came up behind me, leaned over the back of the chair and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “I can hear you thinking,” he murmured by my ear.

  I turned and looked at my fiancé. “Are you really going to help me?”

  He nodded, then leaned down and took my hand in his. “I love how this looks on your finger.”

  “I love how your hand looks on my hand.”

  Yeah, we were very, very sappy. Almost embarrassingly so. But I didn’t plan on mentioning it to anyone. He sat down and we went all new-fiancé-mushy for a few more minutes.

  Finally, demushed, Cal asked, “So what were you thinking about when I came in?”

  “I was thinking that my advantage this time is I don’t have to be a cop. I don’t have go by the book…I don’t even have to acknowledge that there’s a book. I’ve completely eliminated most of Detective Charlie’s suspect list. People I’m absolutely positive aren’t capable or have no motive to kill Mellie.” I waited for him to tell me that’s not how it was done.

  “The cop part of me says that anyone is capable of murder, given the right circumstances. That’s why when someone dies, we look to their spouse, or the people close to them for both the murderer and for the motive.”

  I started to protest, but Cal held up a hand. “If someone hurt your boys?”

  I had to acknowledge he was right. “Fine. You’ve got a point, but—”

  He interrupted. “Despite the fact I have a point, I’m with you. I think our friends and family can be moved off our suspect list, or at least moved way to the bottom. Mellie was an obnoxious woman. No one liked her. But not liking someone isn’t enough of a motive for murder. I’m sure it wasn’t your family or Tiny or Peri, Jerome….” He started naming all our friends and family and basically eliminated everyone I’d already eliminated.

  The fact his list of non-suspects matched mine so perfectly made me all weak in the knees. “If we didn’t have a murderer to find, I’d take you to bed right now and share my hidden stash of Poptarts with you.”

  “The boys moved out, so why do you hide them?”

  I gave him a look, and he threw up his hands and shot me an award-winning innocent look. “Hey, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to steal your Poptarts.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who got into the Pringles by lifting the paper seal, taking most of the stack, and then putting the paper and then plastic lid back in place? Like you said, the boys are in their college dorms, so they can be ruled out as suspects.”

  “I—” he started.

  “When I went to get the Pringles the only thing left in the container was crumbs.”

  He laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I harrumphed him.

  “Why don’t we both take half of the didn’t-do-it list and start making calls. Let’s see what they remember. What they saw. General for most of the night, and as specifically as possible for the time between when Mellie arrived and when she died.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  We both went to work and only slowed down when Peri and Jerome came down and left to go out for dinner.

  “We won’t be home till late,” Peri said. “I thought you and Cal would be busy with the case.”

  And we were.

  As we worked our way through the lists, I learned something about investigations that I hadn’t learned my first three times round…grunt work is boring.

  I soon fell into a pattern of questions.

  Did anything at the party stand out for you?

  Did you see Mellie come into the party?

  Did you see her talking to anyone?

  Did you talk to her? If so, what did she say?

  Did you see her go upstairs?

  Did you see anyone else go upstairs?

  Did you hear or see anything unusual?

  I used a different variation of the first question at the end of the interview thinking that as they talked maybe it would remind them of something else…something that could be important.

  The questions varied slightly and their order varied, but that was the gist of it.

  I asked myself those same questions.

  Did anything stand out for me?

  Yes. The fact that so many friends and family showed up for me. My family and Lottie came all the way from Erie. The boys came from their college campuses.

  Did I see Mellie come into the party?

  No. The first time I noticed her she was talking to Jonas Miller. He’d played Cal in the movie. Sean, the director, was thrilled when Jonas signed on. Jonas had made quite a name for himself in blockbuster movies playing villains. This was a made for TV movie, not even a network movie, so having him in a lead role was huge. Don’t get me wrong, I love The HeartMark Channel. But this wasn’t a move up for Jonas. It wasn’t even a lateral move. It was a move down.

  I’d asked him why he took the role. He’d been sweet when he said, “It was a hell of a script, and this was the first time someone offered to let me play a hero. I’d like to know how that feels.”

  I liked Jonas. I didn’t know him well enough to cross him off my suspect list, but I liked him enough to want it not to be him.

  Did I see or hear anything unusual?

  I’d seen Peri and she’d told me she asked Cal to ask Mellie to leave. I’d been pleased because I didn’t want Mellie at the party—a party for my friends and family.

  Cal had admitted he might have been one of the last people to see Mellie alive.

  “How’re the interviews, Quince?” he asked from the doorway.

  “Do you think we can find another white-board? I want to put together as much of a timeline as I can. I thought about a spreadsheet, but I think a white-board timeline would be more effective.”

  “Sure. I’ll go get it, then we’ll enter info and brainstorm.”

  Cal ran to the store to buy another white-board and Dick dropped in.

  My writing mentor had become a very good friend. He hugged me close. “Quincy, I’m so sorry something like this ruined your big night.”

  I hugged him back. “Thanks.”

  “I feel guilty,” he said as he took a seat in my kitchen.

  He looked guilty. As if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Why would you feel guilty, Dick?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

  “Because I’ve had calls all day. No one wants to bother you, so they all went through me and Deanne. They want to know if you’re looking into who killed Mellie. I told them all exactly where they could put that question. Mellie Adams was an awful woman. I only met her twice, but everyone in town knows how awful she was on set. But it seems macabre to be so excited about capitalizing on the woman’s murder.”

  “I know. That’s how I feel, too.”

  He reached across the counter and patted my hand. “Just walk away from this one, Quince. You’re a talented writer, a great mom, and a wonderful business owner. You don’t have to have amateur detective on your list of accomplishments. The other two times were flukes. And don’t you worry. Deanne’s telling everyone to leave you alone and not hound you. And I’m…well, I wanted to stop in and see if you need anything.”

  I took his hand and led him into the living room. “Tell me what you remember.”

  He sighed. “You’re not going to stop.” It was a statement, not a question.

  I shook my head.

  He said, “Well, a
nother reason it took me this long to come over is I was drunk last night. I fell asleep in on the couch in Jerome’s study. I don’t remember much after that, except….”

  “Except?” I prompted.

  “I’d gone to the bar but realized I couldn’t handle another drink, so I went into the study to try and clear my head. The den was right next to where Peri had them set up the bar, so it was easy to get there and collapse. I had this really strange dream. Lady Gaga was dancing with Pink. Lady Gaga said, “I know what you did. You can have anyone that you want, just not him. Leave him alone. I won’t tell you again.”

  “Lady Gaga and Pink?” I laughed.

  “Yes, then Pink said, You’re a fool and stormed away.” He paused a moment and said, “They both had very deep voices.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad you put that drink down.”

  “Me, too. I canceled my meeting and went home and crashed. My head’s killing me now, and I can’t imagine how I’d be feeling if I’d kept drinking.”

  “So do you remember anything else?”

  Dick shook his head. “The next thing I remember is Cilla shaking me awake and telling me that the cops where there and no one had seen you or Cal. I was afraid.…”

  He hugged me. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And I came here to tell you to stay out of this. I know, I was excited when you investigated the art heist, but Quincy, there’s a murderer on the loose, and I don’t want you messing with it.”

  “But Dick, how can I not? Everyone I love was at that party. That means, everyone I love is a suspect in the cops’ eyes. Even you.”

  For a moment he was surprised, as if the thought he was a suspect hadn’t occurred to him. Then he said in a very shaky voice, “You’re my friend, Quincy. I don’t want to have anything happen to you.”

  “And I don’t want anything to happen to you or any of my other friends, so—”

  “I’ll tell Cal,” he threatened. “If you won’t listen to reason, I’ll tell your future-fiancé and he’ll.…”

  I waved my ring finger at him. “There’s no almost anymore and you don’t have to tell Cal—”

  The door opened and Cal came in. I could see the giant white-board on the walkway. “Want to give me a hand.”