Rocky Road & Revenge

by Erin Huss

  Jack picked the box of feet off the ground. "Fine. Come with me to the back room, and I'll show you the setup."

  Following a man who specialized in dead bodies to a back room didn't seem like a good idea.

  But I did it anyway.

  Except when Jack said they had a surveillance system, I was expecting one of those setups you see at Costco. This thing was straight out of an episode of CSI: Cyber. Let's not forget the array of all things death inside the office, plus a few Oscars, an Emmy, and various other awards. I sat down behind the screens and wiggled the mouse. It asked for a password, and I looked up at Jack.

  "Crap," he said.

  I typed in crap. Didn't work.

  "I meant crap, I don't remember the password."

  Oh. Obviously, Lilly inherited her keen intellect from her mom. Honestly.

  Good one, Cambria.

  In my defense, the surrounding limbs reduced my faculties. Gross.

  Jack took the mouse from me and tried a few passwords while I excused myself to go call Tom. His voicemail answered after only one ring. "Tom, it's Cambria. I'm so sorry, but I don't think I'll make it home by 6:30, and, if I do, I can't go out tonight. Amy is in trouble. It's a long story. But we're going to see if the police can meet us at her apartment later. Could you call me when you get this, please? Or just come by. I think she's going to need legal counsel. OK, bye."

  I walked back into the room and found Jack playing solitaire on the computer.

  "No luck?" I asked.

  "Sorry. We're going to have to wait for Chuck to get here."

  Great. I reached into my bag and pulled out a business card, grabbed a pen from the desk, and wrote my cell number on it. "Here's my information. If by some chance Chuck returns tonight, could you call me?"

  Jack took the card and looked it over. "You're a property manager?"

  "I manage a building off Sepulveda."

  "Really?" He flicked the card. "Interesting. That's a decent area."

  "It is. We have a one-bedroom available, if you're interested." Was there ever a wrong time to rent an apartment?

  I guess one could argue this moment wasn't right, being that my best friend was being framed for murder and I was surrounded by fake dead bodies. But I had one vacancy, and Jack appeared gainfully employed.

  "I'll keep you in mind." Jack took out his wallet and slipped my card in. "What kind of trouble is your friend in?"

  "The life-in-prison kind."

  "She's lucky to have a friend looking after her."

  "Agreed."

  Jack walked me to the front. I kept my eyes straight ahead and away from the zombies in the corner.

  Guess I won't be sleeping tonight.

  I pushed open the door and left. Amy was right. Someone had gone through a great effort to be sure she was occupied during the murder, at a location she'd never reveal, without an alibi—and they had planted the keys in her car. We had to tell Chase before any real cadavers entered the picture.

  I slowed as I approached my car. It was empty.

  Lilly and Amy were gone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  See also: Nurse

  "Lilly!" I called out, turning around. "Amy! Where are you?" I pulled on the car handle. The door was unlocked, and Amy's phone was on the seat.

  Panic clumped in my throat. She'd never leave her phone! "I'm such an idiot. Why do I think I'm a freaking detective? Why didn't I tell Chase that Amy was hiding behind my door, scared, and trust the process? Trust the system!"

  I was about to call 9-1-1 when I heard Lilly shouting for me. I whirled around. Lilly and Amy walked down the dirt embankment, hand-in-hand. Lilly had a giant Slurpee, blue lips, and a smile of pure delight across her face. I barely registered Amy and ran to hug Lilly.

  "Where were you? I nearly had a heart attack," I snapped at Amy.

  She had her wallet clutched in her hand and a frog face on. That was what my grandma Ruthie used to say when any of us cousins were about to throw-up. Why are you so frog-faced?

  "We walked to the gas station on the corner." Amy rubbed her stomach. "Lilly had to pee."

  "Lilly had to pee," I repeated in horror. "You took my child into a gas station bathroom?" I rummaged through my bag, pulled out a package of wipes, and began de-germing Lilly. "Do you know what you can catch from a dirty bathroom? Streptococcus, Staphylococcus, E. coli, and shigella bacteria, hepatitis!" According to Lilly's pediatrician, I spent too much time on WebMD. Lilly held out her arms one at a time, still sipping her Slurpee, used to her neurotic mother.

  "I washed her hands. She's fine." Amy leaned against the hood of my car and crossed her arms over her belly. "Did you ask about the cameras?"

  I walked the pile of wipes to the trash can under the lamppost, dropped them in, and dusted off my hands. "Yes, I did. Here's the good news. They don't have cameras out here, but they have an impressive surveillance system inside the Cadaver's store."

  Amy's mouth dropped open. "Why is that good news? I didn't go inside. They were closed."

  "There's a good chance they got at least one shot of you outside the front door. Also, the studio has been closed for a month. Also, it's a porn studio. Also, you're right. Someone is trying to peg Jessica's murder on you. Also, it's time to call—"

  "Don't say it."

  "Avoiding the police is not going to end in your favor, Amy. Just tell Chase exactly what happened. Plus, they may already have a lead. Do you know a Michael Smith?"

  "I know, like, seven Michael Smiths." She threw her hands up and paced. "We went to high school with one. What does that have to do with anything?"

  Ohhh!

  Right. Michael Smith. That was why the name sounded familiar. Last I'd heard he lived in Fresno and sold solar panels. Probably not the right Michael Smith.

  Amy shoved her torso into my car and dug around in my glove compartment. "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "I'm looking for a pen and paper." She pulled out a red crayon and a Verizon bill. "This will work." She laid the bill on the hood of my car.

  "Do I even want to know what you're doing?"

  "Thinking." Amy scribbled on the blank side. "Spencer does this. He writes out his thoughts. It helps him process faster. It's, like, a doctor thing."

  "You realize you're not a doctor."

  "Quiet! I'm thinking."

  I tapped my foot. This was ridiculous, and I was growing impatient. "So what have you come up with so far?"

  She didn't answer.

  I read over her shoulder and rolled my eyes. "Mexico? You're going to flee to Mexico? That's what you've got?"

  "We could go there and wait for this whole thing to blow over."

  "What do you mean 'we'?"

  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lilly raised her hand. "I want to go to Mexico!"

  "Not forever. Just like a spontaneous vacation," Amy said. "We'll say we had the trip planned and play dumb." Amy let out a moan, clutched her stomach, and folded in half. The hat on her head fell to the ground.

  "There are way too many we's in that plan." I picked the hat up and tossed it into the car. "You can doodle all you want on a piece of paper, but you know the best thing to do is talk to the police. We both know that's what's going to end up happening. Let's get it over with."

  Amy drew in a deep breath through her nose. "I can't go to jail."

  "They have STDs there," Lilly offered, as if this were a good thing.

  "Why don't you wait for us in the car?" I told her.

  "Can I pretend to drive?"

  "Go for it."

  "Best day ever!" She climbed in and laid on the horn.

  I placed a hand on Amy's bony back. "I know you're scared, but Jessica was murdered, and you may have knowledge that could help find the killer. I already left Tom a message to meet us at your apartment so you two can discuss your legal obligations."

  The lamppost above us flickered on and reflected off Amy's nose piercing. I could now see just how frog-faced she was.

  "Let's go." I slipped my h
and around Amy's tiny waist. "You can lie down in the back seat, and we'll stop at the store and get something for your stomach."

  "Like an Ativan?"

  "I was thinking more along the lines of peppermint tea or Pepto-Bismol."

  "Eh. My idea is better."

  "You don't want to be loopy when you're interviewed by the police."

  "I don't?"

  "No." I was steering her to the car when a black sedan raced around the corner and screeched into the parking lot. Amy and I grabbed hold of each other and jumped up on the trunk of my car to avoid being hit. The sedan slid to a halt, positioning itself diagonally behind my car, blocking us in.

  OK, now I'm frog-faced, too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  See also: Interpreter

  Chase stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. I clutched my chest and waited for my heart to jump back on rhythm. If I didn't have a heart attack before I was thirty, it will be a miracle.

  "How'd you find us?" I asked him. "Wait…did you put a tracker on my car?"

  Chase gave me a look. "No. I'd never put a tracker on your car. We followed you."

  "We?"

  Hampton stepped around from the passenger side and adjusted his pants like he was a sheriff and this here was his town. "What are you ladies up to?"

  Amy and I shared a glance. Lilly laid on the horn, and the two of us jumped off the trunk of my car, still holding on to each other.

  Chase shook his head. "Someone better tell us what's going on, or I'll arrest you both."

  "On what grounds?" I demanded.

  "Obstruction of justice."

  "OK!" I turned to Amy. "Are you going to tell them, or should I?"

  Amy took a deep breath and grimaced. "If I talk too much, I'll barf."

  "Fine." I distanced myself from Amy. "On Monday, Amy received a call from a blocked number by a woman claiming to be the assistant to EJ Ryder. EJ produces If Only." Chase despised the show, mostly because it appeared the protagonist would end up with the baby daddy, not the cop. "The assistant told Amy to meet EJ Ryder here. But when Amy got here, both the studio and Cadaver's Caverns were closed. She waited around for a few hours then went home. When she heard about Jessica Wilders' murder, she was concerned because she had no alibi. We stopped here to see if they had cameras, which they don't. Cadaver's does, but I don't have the hacking skills required to check the footage from Monday night." I looked at Amy. "Am I forgetting anything?"

  "The key."

  Right. "She also found Jessica's assistant's keys in her car, and she thinks someone planted it there to frame her. She also drank a bottle of essential oil, thinking it was vodka, which is why she's so green."

  "Anything else?" Chase asked.

  "I think that's a fair synopsis of the situation."

  Chase nodded to Hampton. Hampton nodded back and walked into Cadaver's Caverns.

  "You two are something else." Chase ran a hand down his face. "Where are the keys?'

  "I have them." Amy pulled the keys from her pocket.

  Chase heaved a sigh. Not a sigh of relief. More of a frustrated, why-didn't-you-call-the-police-when-you-found-the-keys, thanks-for-putting-your-fingerprints-all-over-it, I-literally-can't-do-anything-with-this-now, type of sigh. He pulled on a pair of gloves, took the keys from her, and read the tag.

  "That's her address alright," Chase said. "We've been looking for these."

  "I think it should be noted that any smart killer wouldn't have left incriminating evidence on their backseat for all to see," I said. "It obviously was a plant."

  "Not all murderers are smart," he said.

  "Good point."

  Hampton returned and nodded to Chase. Chase nodded back.

  "There's no footage of you walking outside Cadaver's on Monday night," Chase said to Amy.

  "How do you know?" I asked. "Did you talk to the owner, Chuck?"

  "Hampton was able to access the security cameras. He has hacking abilities. "

  "I called the owner," Hampton said.

  "There was no footage of the front door? Was it erased?" I asked. "How can you have an entire warehouse of expensive movie props and no cameras angled at the front door to see who comes in and out?"

  Chase shook his head. "No. The camera wasn't positioned in a way that provided a clear picture of the outside."

  "You got all that from a nod?" I asked.

  "Yes." Chase held the keys out to Hampton.

  Hampton slipped on a pair of gloves, took the keys, and went to the trunk to put them in a bag.

  "When was the last time you drove your car?" Chase asked Amy.

  "Yesterday, when I came home from the studio. Around 5 PM."

  "Are you sure it wasn't in there yesterday?" he asked.

  Amy hugged her middle. "I'm sure…I think…I don't know."

  Helpful.

  "When you filmed with Jessica on Monday, did she appear upset?" Chase asked.

  Amy snorted. "Upset? Try a royal—"

  "Bleep!" I said and jerked my head toward Lilly, who was still at the helm of my car "driving."

  Amy closed her eyes as if a curse-word alternative were written on the back of her lids. "Fine. She was being a witch. More so than usual. At one point Lance pulled her aside and tried to comfort her. She was mad about a fundraiser the two did together over the weekend. I'm not sure what happened, but I overheard them talking about it. Something about security guards and relatives? You should talk to Lance."

  "You haven't heard?" Hampton said.

  "Heard what?" I asked.

  Chase heaved another sigh. It was a bad-news-was-soon-to-follow type of sigh.

  Hampton might be able to read Chase's nods. But I knew his sighs.

  "This afternoon Lance Holstrom was found dead in his home," Chase said.

  I gasped.

  "Multiple gunshot wounds."

  I gasped.

  "It wasn't pretty."

  Lance Holstrom played Frank Darling, Lola Darling's current and ex-husband—it was gripping television. He had lush blond hair, artificially bronzed skin, and pouty lips—what he was known for. I'd never met Lance. Amy had said he was a multitalented and gracious actor, and now he was dead.

  What a lousy week for Hollywood.

  Amy freaked. "Can someone please tell me what the hell is happening? Is there a crazy murderer on the loose, killing off the entire cast?"

  Neither Chase nor Hampton answered.

  Comforting.

  Amy bit her nail beds. "So someone broke into Lance's home and began shooting?"

  "The killer didn't break in," said Hampton. "He opened fire from outside."

  That was worse. I pictured Lance sitting on his couch, watching television when bullets blasted through the window and…ugh…having a vivid imagination is both a curse and a blessing.

  Mostly a curse.

  Lilly honked the horn and waved. We all waved back, and she went back to driving.

  "We've put the entire cast on high alert," Chase said. "We're working with the network to up security, and I've arranged for you to go to a hotel."

  Amy rubbed her stomach. "Which one?"

  "I think the network booked you at the Ritz downtown. We'll take you now and finish our interview there," Chase said.

  "I suppose that's OK." Amy perked up a little. "Give me a minute. I need to call Spencer and"—she hiccupped into her fist—"vomit."

  Hampton rolled his eyes. "Celebrities," he said under his breath.

  Amy grabbed her phone from the passenger seat and hustled to the trash can under the lamppost.

  I smacked Chase on the arm. "A freaking five-star hotel? Why didn't you say that when you came to my door? I just walked into a museum of body parts!"

  "I knew you were lying to me, Cambria. I played along to see what you two would do. If you'd told me the truth, this would have been done an hour ago."

  I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn't sure. Chase made an excellent point, and I had no retort, so I crossed my arms.<
br />
  Lilly laid on the horn.

  Amy barfed.

  Hampton picked at his back teeth.

  Not exactly how I pictured spending my birthday.

  Chase wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me aside, further out of Lilly's earshot range. "There's a killer out there taking out his victims, execution style. Why would you get yourself involved?"

  I yanked my arm free. "Because I thought my best friend was being framed, and she was."

  "You need to stay out of it, Cambria." He grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look him in the eyes. "I mean it."

  "But—"

  "No buts." He cut me off. "Stay out of it. This has nothing to do with you."

  Nothing to do with me? He's got to be kidding me. "Amy is my best friend," I reminded him.

  "I don't care. But I will arrest you if I think you'll interfere."

  "You just want to put me in cuffs."

  He arched an eyebrow. "This is true."

  "You're hot when you're all detective-y."

  "You're hot when you're not inserting yourself into a murder investigation."

  "Fine." I surrendered, and Chase released my face. "But do you think Amy is really a suspect? Or in any danger?"

  Chase shoved his hands into the front pocket of his slacks, his signature stance. "Avoiding us didn't exactly help her. But whoever killed Jessica and Lance knew what they were doing. We're not dealing with an amateur. But that is not for public knowledge."

  I pretended to zip my lips.

  "It's best she stays at a place where we can better keep an eye on her," Chase said. "And where she'll be away from you and Lilly. I do have a patrol going by your apartments every thirty minutes, so don't worry if you see a squad car there."

  "I thought you said this has nothing to do with me?"

  Chase put a hand on my shoulder. "It's for my peace of mind. I want you and Lilly safe. So please don't go looking for trouble."

  "If you want your mind to be at peace, you could put me up at the Ritz. I'd be more than happy to make that sacrifice."