Praline Murder

by Sandi Scott

  Returning to the original hall, a quick glance showed Lucy and Patty still deep in conversation so she continued down the passage to what appeared to be the master bedroom, where she saw only a woman's belongings. It was clear that Brent and Lucy were sleeping in separate bedrooms. She made a mental note to mention to Luna that the marriage might not have been as strong as it looked from the outside.

  Next, she stepped into a room across the hall to explore what appeared to be a home office. She stopped abruptly and looked around in astonishment. “My gosh,” she whispered, “this looks like, well, like a shrine to Brent.” On a table just inside the door, she found laminated copies of Internet articles describing the man as “super awkward and super sexy,” along with framed photos with the hashtags #BlunderingbutSexy and #BlunderingBrent. Next to the display was a very unflattering picture labeled “Before,” with an unfilled space for an “After” shot. This is kinda creepy, Ashley thought, as she walked around the desk, moved his desktop mouse to see if the computer was locked, and scanned what appeared on the dual screens.

  Hmm . . . Brent apparently didn't log out of anything the last time he used his computer, Ashley mused. I guess his careless approach to security makes it easier for me to look for clues. She had a brief pang of guilty conscience about snooping around the files, but it didn't last long once she realized what she was seeing—Brent's blog. She clicked on “Our Story,” where she found the application video Brent and Lucy had used for the television show—the unedited version. She stepped to the doorway and when she heard Patty consoling a sobbing Lucy, quietly closed the door behind her before settling in the chair to watch the recording.

  As the story unfolded, one thing became crystal clear: This whole thing was definitely Brent's idea; the audition tape shows that Lucy didn't want to have anything to do with it from the start, but she let her husband talk her into it. I wonder how resentful she felt as things progressed? She reached for the mouse to pause the video when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she saw that Ryan was calling, but she let it go to voicemail and finished watching the video.

  When the video was over, Ashley returned to the home page of the blog and straightened the chair she had been sitting in before going back to join Patty and Lucy. After a few more minutes of light chatting, she and Patty said goodbye, telling Lucy that they would check on her again. They both left their home and cell phone numbers, along with the shop's number, and encouraged her to call if she needed anything.

  After a quick stop at the shop to pick up the afternoon's snacks and supper dishes, Ashley and Patty headed back to the mansion. Detective Luna met them in the driveway.

  “Well, did you learn anything useful?” the detective nearly barked at them. “What did you find out?”

  “Grab a tray and help us unload this stuff. We figured your team would need more food even if you aren't letting the crew return. As soon as we've set up, we can talk; that way, everyone else will be busy eating and not eavesdropping.” Ashley did her best not to roll her eyes at the impatient expression on Luna's face.

  Once everything was arranged on the food table, Ashley piled some cookies and savory snacks on a plate and handed it to the detective before following him into the dining room. As they settled near the antique writing desk, Patty followed them, but she stayed close to the door where she could keep an eye on the food but still hear the discussion. She said, “I'll make sure there's plenty to eat, and that no one decides to stand around and listen too closely. This group is nosy, but they can stick their noses somewhere else.”

  Luna smirked, but Ashley stopped him before he said anything. “Don't even think about it, detective; we didn't visit Lucy because we were being nosy—we did it because you needed the help!” He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but, finally, he just shrugged his shoulders, settling in without making a comment about the irony of the situation.

  “Anyway, she was pretty upset when we first got there. We talked for a little while over coffee and sweets, then I went exploring. Before I tell you what I found, Patty, did Lucy say anything useful while I was gone?” Ashley looked over at her friend as she realized that they'd spent the drive back talking about what Ashley found; she hadn't even thought to ask Patty what she learned.

  Patty looked thoughtful, “Well, not really. As you said, she was distressed. After you left the room, she would calm down for a little; then, she'd fall apart again. She talked about meeting Brent, their dating and courtship. Afterwards, she got really sad again when she started talking about a family and a house. There was some other emotion there, too, one that I can't quite describe. She wasn't angry, exactly, but there was something else underneath the grief. I also picked up the sense of a guilty feeling, not that I think she has actually done anything to be guilty—more that she's angry at Brent for getting them into the whole reality television gig and feels bad about being mad.”

  Ashley nodded as Patty's words clarified her own thoughts, “Yeah, I got that feeling, too. And you won't believe what I found in Brent's office. His computer was open to his blog and to the unedited version of their application video. There's no question that the whole reality TV thing was Brent's idea. Several times on the video, Lucy tells him flat-out that she doesn't want to do the show because it would make her students and her parents lose respect for her, but he wore her down. By the end of the video, she agreed, but she told him that she wasn't going to do anything that would be humiliating—there was definitely an undertone of resentment. I wonder how strongly she felt about it, especially after Chance turned out to be such a jerk.”

  Ashley then described the “before” picture and all the articles she'd seen.

  Patty walked farther into the room. “That's not the only resentment going on, either. She told me that Brent had changed from her sweet 'dork'—her word—into a vain twit with a tendency toward bullying. She said he got all caught up with the social media posts from women describing him as sexy, despite being such a klutz. He joined the gym and started working out, and criticizing her cooking, saying that they needed to eat better.” Ashley reminded Luna that she'd mentioned a similar conversation on the set.

  Patty nodded, then continued. “Her feelings were definitely hurt, and she felt like he was over-sharing. According to her, they couldn't even have a conversation without it ending up online—even their private plans for the future and personal pictures. Brent even ‘confessed’ to blunders and bloopers from the day's filming. She said she felt like he revealed everything to the public short of inviting the camera crew into their bedroom.”

  As Luna recorded their discoveries in his ever-present notebook, Ashley added, “She said that Brent even took his phone to bed with him to spend a couple of hours posting before he fell asleep. I think that might be why they had separate bedrooms. She told me that one day she left the room in the middle of a sentence and went to the grocery store. When she came back an hour later, Brent hadn't even noticed she was gone. She sounded pretty close to her tolerance limit.”

  Luna looked thoughtful. “So, did you sense that she might have been resentful enough to do something to stop it all? Maybe they were arguing, and she killed him during a fit of passion?”

  Ashley made eye contact with Patty, and they both shook their heads. Ashley replied, “That really isn't how I read it. She didn't seem angry as much as irritated and resigned. What anger I sensed was directed more toward Chance and the show itself than toward Brent. I really don't think she killed him.”

  The detective seemed less than impressed as he slapped his notebook closed. “Well, I can't take ‘seem’ and ‘think’ to the DA; I have to have facts and evidence. I trust your judgment, though, so maybe I'll look a little harder at some other folks.” Sighing, he softened his tone, “Thank you for talking to Mrs. Redstaff. I'll follow up with her, but maybe I'll wait for the medical examiner's report and the results from questioning the other suspects and witnesses.”

  Ashley agreed with his assessment.
“That sounds like a good plan. I'm going to wrap things up, clean up the empty trays and stuff, and head for home. I can't imagine that we'll be needed on set late tonight, and I'm ready for a quiet evening at home.”

  As she started toward the kitchen, Chance came over to where they were standing. “Ashley, Patty—I'm glad I caught you. Listen, we won't be filming as much for a day or two while the police finish up their physical investigation, but I want you to keep bringing food for the deputies and detectives. It's great PR for the show, and I'm sure you can use the publicity, too.” Ashley grabbed Patty's arm as she leaned forward about to give the director a piece of her mind, but he walked away without noticing the reaction.

  “Let it go, Patty; it's not worth getting worked up, and he wouldn't have a clue why you're upset even if you did explain it. He's an arrogant, insensitive idiot, and you're not going to change him. Let's just get out of here.”

  Patty took a deep breath, gave Ashley a sharp nod, and grabbed a couple of empty plates from the food table. The friends headed into the kitchen and were washing the serving dishes and packing away the leftovers when Ashley's phone signaled an incoming text from Ryan. When she glanced at the message her heart climbed into her throat.

  911 – Dizzy's missing!

  CHAPTER SIX

  As she hurried to her car, Ashley dialed Ryan's number. “C'mon, pick up, pick up!” she shouted as she jammed the key into the ignition and cranked the engine.

  After what felt like an eternity, she heard Ryan answer, “Ash, where are you? I've been trying to reach you for a couple of hours.”

  “Ryan, what happened to Dizzy? Where is she? What's going on?” The words poured from her like a dam bursting.

  “Slow down, Ash—breathe!” Ryan sounded frazzled. “Diz and I were both ready for a break, so we went for a walk on the beach. She was splashing at the edge of the water, snapping at little fish, and barking at the hermit crabs. All of a sudden, something in the grass caught her attention, and she took off in that direction, along one of the small bayous. I chased her as far as I could, but I got bogged down in the marshy area; I couldn't keep going, you know, because of the 'gators and stuff.’”

  “Those same 'gators and stuff' could attack Dizzy, too, and she doesn't know enough to avoid them.” Ashley was furious. “I can't believe you didn't keep following her.”

  “Hon, I'm sorry, really sorry. I know I screwed up. I should have kept Dizzy on her leash when she bolted, I shouldn't have stopped following her. I'm really sorry, but I'm sure she'll come home when she gets hungry. She's a smart dog; she'll find her way home soon. I know she will.”

  Ashley took a deep breath and tried to tamp down her anger. “I can't just wait around for her; I have to do something, to look for her. I'm going to drive around the area and call her.”

  Ryan agreed, “And I'll go back and stay near the house, in case she returns. I'll call you if she does. I wish I could reach out and give you a big hug. I'm so sorry. We'll find her; I promise we'll find her.”

  Ignoring the speed limit as she turned into her neighborhood, Ashley didn't find reassurance in Ryan's words. “You can't promise that, Ryan,” she snapped. “You don't know that's going to happen.” She ended the call before he could respond.

  As she drove around the neighborhood, Ashley noticed several news trucks pulling into town. She realized that the word of Brent's death must have gotten out and that things related to the show and the murder were about to get both crazy and complicated.

  Several videographers were recording what she assumed was “B roll” shots for voice-overs to be added later while one field reporter was recording a melodramatic account of Brent's death, Chance Fortune, and the reality show.

  I can't believe they're exploiting this man's death, she thought, and they're going to be all over the place, causing all kinds of drama and trouble. At the least, it's going to be impossible to get into the restaurants and stores until they all leave. So annoying! Suddenly, a new thought struck her. Hmm . . . if they're wandering around shooting on location, they can help me look for Dizzy; they'll cover a lot more ground than I can on my own. How can I convince them to help?

  She stopped the car and walked over to one of the reporters. “Hi,” she called out. “Are you here about the death at the haunted mansion TV set?”

  “Yeah,” the reporter replied, already sounding bored with the topic. “Do you know anything about it?”

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “I'm one of the caterers for the show. I work with Chance Fortune on the set every day. Right now, I'm looking for my missing dog. I don't suppose you've seen her? She looks like a black lab mixed with a hound—her head looks almost like a basset hound, with those floppy ears, but she's the size and color of a Lab.”

  The reporter looked completely unimpressed. Before he could walk away, Ashley added, “I'm sure Chance would appreciate your helping me find her, too. She goes to the set with me most days. Just today, Chance was talking about how special, how one-of-a-kind, she is. I'd bet he'd be happy to talk to anyone who helped me find Dizzy and get her back home safely.”

  The reporter looked a little more interested. “Do you think you could get me an exclusive interview with Fortune? Because we're kind of busy here, but I guess we could look around while we're working, if it was worth our time.”

  “Oh, I'm sure he'd talk to you out of appreciation; he's good about things like that. Let me show you a picture of Dizzy.” She pulled up her favorite shot of the silly dog and showed it to the crew. After giving them her home and cell phone numbers, she got back in the car and drove a few more blocks, calling out Dizzy's name through the open window. Each time she saw another news truck, she stopped and had the same conversation with the crew. She only hoped that more than one crew didn't find the dog at the same time. She'd promised exclusive interviews all over town.

  Finally, night descended so dark Ashley couldn’t keep looking, so she headed back to her little cottage. Ryan was waiting on the front porch, but she was still angry with him for losing her dog.

  “I'm sorry, Ryan,” she sniffed. “I need you to go home tonight. I know it isn't totally fair, but I can't talk to you right now. Just go for now, please?”

  For a minute, Ryan looked like he was going to argue with her, but, finally, he nodded and said, “Okay, I get that. I'll call you in the morning. If Dizzy isn't back by then, I'll help you look some more.”

  After a quick shower and a change into cotton sleep pants and a tank top, Ashley wandered into the kitchen. Worrying about her dog killed her appetite, but she knew she needed to eat something to keep up her strength. She found some taco meat in the freezer and popped it into the microwave. While it thawed and reheated, she chopped some lettuce, red onion, bell pepper and tomatoes and tossed them with some leftover corn and black beans from the refrigerator to make a salad. Putting the taco meat and some crushed corn chips on the top along with grated cheese, Ashley finished the feast by stirring together a little ranch dressing and homemade salsa. Picking up a glass of iced tea, she headed to the living room to curl up on the couch and turn on the TV to find out what the news reports had to say about Brent. After realizing that they didn't have any new information, she snapped off the set, washed dishes, and headed to bed.

  Totally exhausted by the events of a very long day, Ashley fell into bed, expecting to fall asleep quickly, but she couldn't get comfortable without Dizzy at her feet. Her mind wouldn't shut down either, flashing between memories of Dizzy and thoughts about the murder. Ashley remembered when Dizzy first came to live in her cozy cottage. “Ashley, this is Sarah,” said the late-night phone caller that brought Dizzy into her life. “I'm sorry to call so late, but we need your help. Are you still interested in fostering rescue dogs for us?”

  “Sam?” Ashley remembered being too groggy at first to recognize her veterinarian friend's voice. Then, as she woke more, “Oh, Sarah! Yeah, sure—I'd love to help. What's going on?”

  “I can't really tell you all th
e details,” her friend had said. “We're still investigating the whole thing, but we have a litter of mixed breed puppies in need of placement. Could you take one of the females just until we can find her a permanent home? The shelter is full right now, plus you know I think the dogs thrive better when they don't have to spend long periods of time there.”

  “Sure,” Ashley had replied. “I can be there in about 10 minutes.” She dressed quickly and headed to the Seagrass Animal Shelter, where she instantly fell in love with the silly little dog. Her friend had watched them for a minute, smiling.

  “I don't think we'll need to search very hard for a home for this little girl,” Sarah was confident. “I do believe this one's found her new mama!” Ashley laughed and agreed, then took the supplies the shelter staff had gathered and her new companion home. Over the next day or two, she learned that the dog was very loving, but a bit addlepated, as Ashley's grandmother would have said, so she decided to call her Dizzy; it just seemed to fit.

  Tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep, Ashley thought about Ryan helping her train Dizzy to find lost keys and small items, like flash drives, around the offices at Smith Corp when they worked together. She thought about how Dizzy always seemed to like the men she encountered more than the women, but how loyal she was to Ashley. She fought back both tears and giggles as pictures of Dizzy trying to curl up in her lap popped into her mind. The silly dog didn't quite understand that she was just too big to be a lapdog.

  Finally, Ashley decided she wasn't going to get to sleep, so she decided to see if she could make any progress on the case. She started in the kitchen, brewing up a pot of HEB Cafe Ole Houston Blend, her secret favorite coffee blend. Inhaling the scrumptious scent of pecan pralines and coconut was almost as good as noshing on comfort food. She checked the freezer and found some scones she'd brought home when they were left over on the set. While she waited for them to thaw in the microwave, she grabbed her laptop and set it up on the tiny breakfast table.