by Louise Lynn
When Gina didn’t seem obliged to make conversation, I cleared my throat. “Congratulations on your engagement,” I said.
“Thanks.” Gina smiled, rubbing my hands in a suffocating lotion, and it was the first time I had seen her smile.
“I saw Adam on the set of that mermaid movie and he told me about it,” I explained. “He’s super happy, isn’t he?”
“It was supposed to be kept on the down low,” Gina said, her olive complexion darkening. “But I’m sure you know Adam and that big mouth of his.”
“Ivy certainly does.” I glanced at my sister, who was enjoying having her nails buffed and the stylist chatting away with her. “He also mentioned you were on set, too. Were you visiting Sanjay? His makeup skills are amazing!”
Gina glanced up at me from under her clogged, blue mascara. “You know Sanjay?”
I nodded. “Yes. I was catering the set and happened to step in to play a tiny role. Sanjay painted the fish scales and they looked crazy authentic.”
Now, Gina’s expression seemed to soften. She began to buff my nails, then smoothed each nail bed with a fingertip, this time gently. “His work always amazes me. It’s a shame the movie won’t be going ahead,” Gina admitted, giving me an opportunity to probe.
“It is. It’s horrible to think what happened. I mean, to think some crazy murderer is walking around San Bas while a married couple are now being put to rest.”
I was certain their funerals would be soon.
Gina shuddered. “Yeah. I was there the night Mary died” she said. “I’d only gone to see my friend and apologize to Mary for the mishap with her hair.”
“What happened?” I asked softly. “I thought her hair looked lovely.”
Gina opened the nail polish and slowly began to paint, concentrating on my nails. “I’d used the wrong hair dye on her by mistake and she had an allergic reaction. I fixed everything free of charge, obviously, but that wasn’t enough. She claimed I did it on purpose because she dumped my fiancé. Please. As if I’d let Adam’s leftovers bother me. Anyway, I did sort of lash out at her in the makeup trailer for that, but that’s why I went to apologize.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Gina. We all make mistakes.”
“Say that to the vile reviews she left on my website. Her hair was supposed to be pink. I tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t see me that night, so I ended up in Sanjay’s trailer. One piña colada too many, and the rest is history.”
I’d heard about people blacking out when they became over intoxicated. Could Gina have attacked her, and she hadn’t known about it?
Looking at Gina, nothing about her screamed ‘crazed murderer,’ but I knew not to be too trusting.
Looks could be deceiving.
“How did you get home? I mean, if you got so drunk.”
“A wheelbarrow,” Gina smirked, dipping the brush back into the bottle. Her engagement ring glittered in the lights. “Adam came and got me. That’s when we bumped into some of the movie people having a juicy lover’s spat.”
“What? Who?”
The other stylist burst into laughter. “Oooh, Gina told me about that crazy girl. They must’ve been having some serious fun at a party,” she said, and I quirked an eyebrow.
Gina rolled her eyes. “They’ve been here not even a week, and the amount of liquor I’ve watched them buy across the street is sickening. Never mind replacing actors. They’ll need to start replacing their livers soon.”
“What about the lover’s spat?” I asked, my neck stiffening with unease.
“Oh, that.” Gina dipped the brush back into the bottle and grinned. “This muscular brunette was practically falling all over this cute guy with killer dimples and some kind of accent, but he totally friend-zoned her and said something about checking on Quintessence. When she saw me stumbling through the parking lot, she started screaming that we were trespassing. She nearly attacked Adam,” Gina said, painting the last of my nails. “She’s lucky Adam held me back.”
My breath hitched in my throat.
It couldn’t be … could it?
A strong brunette. I knew a woman who fit that description, and the dimples and accent were all too obvious.
Was that Sandra with Michael?
Chapter Eighteen
It was our first day back at Maritime after officially leaving the movie set catering business to the professionals.
My heart was heavy and not only for the senseless killings, but also because the murderer was still on the loose. And neither we, nor the police, were any closer to finding out who the actual culprit was.
Still, it was nice to be back in my familiar shop even if I didn’t have a shiny new kitchen to show for my absence.
"Good to have you back," Maggie White said with a wide grin, as she came in for her usual morning fare. The marine biologist’s hands were calloused as usual and her dark eyes lined with gentle crow’s feet.
"Glad to be back. Remind me never to agree to a movie set catering gig again," I said as I readied her usual tea.
Maggie snorted. "Tell me about it. They need to start cleaning up the mess they made too. Sea creatures could get seriously injured or killed by the things they’re leaving around the beach," she said and shook her head. "I petitioned against filming the movie here, but no. The mayor wanted it for publicity. As if San Bas needs any more publicity," she said under her breath.
I smiled. "I would’ve signed the petition too, honestly."
I handed Maggie her tea, and her fingers gripped the paper cup. "Actually. I wanted to ask—were you on the set the day Mary died?" She sounded a lot sadder about this death than she had Jenny Walker’s. But, Maggie had gone to school with Mary and I, so maybe that accounted for it.
I nodded. "Well, I was on set when they found her body. I think she was killed that night though. Why?"
Maggie chewed her bottom lip. "I don’t know if this is important or anything, but she actually came to see me at the aquarium. Well, I don’t think she came specifically looking for me, but I ran into her there. Same old Mary. I barely got a word in edgewise. All she did was brag about her life as a movie star."
I widened my eyes at that, and Ivy bustled up next to me. "Really? I didn’t think she seemed like the aquarium type."
Maggie shrugged. "I don’t know if she was or not. The guy she was with seemed a lot more interested, and, he seemed really interested in her too."
I furrowed my brow and glanced at Ivy. Was Quinn seeing anyone? “Was it Adam Fairgrieve?" I asked, and my stomach plummeted to my shoes.
Maggie laughed. “Ha! Him? Oh, right. They had a thing in high school. I forgot about that. I wasn’t paying attention to who was prom king and queen back then. But no, it was some other guy. He didn’t look like Mary’s type at all. He was cute with brown hair, tan skin and he had a New Zealand accent. That really stood out to me. I’ve done some work in New Zealand, so we actually chatted for a bit and he was really sweet."
New Zealand accent?
"Were they romantically involved, do you think?" I asked carefully. Maggie White was willing to gossip, but I’d learned you had to go about it carefully or else she could get easily offended.
However, since this wasn’t about her, she didn’t seem to mind.
It wasn’t like I was accusing her of killing anyone … at least, not this time.
"I would say so. You know the deep-sea trench exhibit? They were making out on one of the benches. In fact, the security guards had to tell them to move along. Kind of embarrassing, if you ask me," she said.
It sounded like Quinn. Putting on a show for anyone. Still. “Yeah,” I said, twirling my braids absently.
Maggie’s eyes dropped to her tea. “But still, I can’t believe she’s gone.”
I nodded. "Me either," I said and found myself believing it.
Then Maggie leaned across the counter and dropped her voice. “I never told anyone this, but I actually really liked her movies. I mean, I never wanted to leave San Bas, but she
always did. And she got out and made her dreams come true. I felt like I was rooting for her, and now …" Her voice trailed off after that and a lump formed in my throat.
My eyes prickled, and I realized that I never actually cried over her. I squeezed Maggie’s hand, which sat on the counter, and gave her a smile. "Yes. I feel the same way. But you should probably talk to the police about this. The guy she was kissing—he’s the director."
Maggie’s eyes widened. "Pardon me if I’m a little leery of the police after what happened last month, but you’re probably right."
The bell rang her departure, and I looked at Ivy.
"Michael was having an affair with Quinn?” she breathed.
"Yeah. And he failed to tell us or the police about it."
That was interesting to say the least. Not to mention—why was everyone on that set in love with each other?
As the morning rush thinned out, and Ivy and I fell back into a regular routine, our mom popped in. She bustled up to us, jingling from her many bangles and oddly placed bells in her long flowing hair. “I’d like a ginger tea, Olive, and if you have any of the chocolate chip scones left, I’ll take one of those too."
"Of course, Mom," I said, and Ivy started preparing her snack.
"I heard something interesting this morning at yoga," Mom said and leaned in conspiratorially.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what mom learned in yoga. It could range from something scandalous, like the time she found out the richest woman in town, Edith Pennyworth, had an illegitimate child she’d kept under wraps for the last fifty years. Or it could be something as insignificant as Bernard Tombs having hemorrhoids. Which, I did not want to know.
"What is it? And if it’s about hemorrhoids, you don’t have to tell me," I said.
Mom waved her hand and her bangles jingled in response to the movement. "No. Although … no never mind. No hemorrhoid talk. Okay. It’s about that movie set. And a certain Gina," she said and raised her eyebrow.
“What about it?"
We’d talked to Gina, and while, according to Dean, she was the right height to inflict the wounds, she’d been too drunk to do so. We may not have run in the same circles before, but I didn’t think she was a murderer. Not really.
"The other detective, that Woods fellow, apparently went into her salon this morning and made quite a scene. That’s all I know. One of my yoga friends saw it on the way to class, but I thought you’d like to be aware of it."
I shrugged. And Ivy handed over mom’s order. "Not like it matters, Mom." Ivy said. "We’re done with investigation, right?"
It’s not as if Adam had begged us to continue. In fact, he seemed less than pleased with our help—if you can even put it that way.
But something bothered me. "Dean doesn’t want me involved, obviously. And Woods thinks we made a mess of things at the last crime scene—” I said and gave Ivy a pointed look.
She had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. Not as much as she should have though.
"Well, what’s the problem here?" Mom asked, took a sip of her tea, and settled at the table closest to the counter to dress her scone in clotted cream.
“None of the suspects fit killing both Mary and Clark," I said and bent to give Buttercup a scratch under her precious chin. She started to purr.
"I think it could be that panty thief," Ivy said and invisibly shivered.
"Yeah. Dean said he was the right height,” I admitted. “But he had a rock-solid alibi because he was doing sound on another movie that night.”
"Dean? You didn’t tell me that. When did you talk to him?"
I avoided her eyes and kept petting Buttercup. "Oh. Right. He sent me an email. After you got home I totally forgot about it," I said and stood, giving mom a glance that I hoped screamed: don’t spill the beans about where we were.
Ivy shrugged. “Well, I hope they take him in for panty thievery. He was really gross."
Yeah, grosser than Clark Duncan, and that was saying something. "Still, I guess the police don’t think he did it.”
Mom chewed on her chocolate scone and brushed the crumbs from her lips. "Well, maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place. Maybe it’s the person you least expect."
I blinked. "That’s not how police investigations work,” I said.
"Oh? I didn’t know my daughter went to the police academy. The things you got up to in San Francisco," Mom said, her voice dry.
"You know what I mean."
Ivy tugged on my arm. "She has a point. Think about it. We didn’t suspect Matthew and then—"
I chewed my bottom lip. I didn’t want to say it out loud, because the person I least suspected was the one person I honestly didn’t believe it could be.
I could tell from looking at Ivy’s eyes that she was thinking the same name I was.
The same person who had gone to the aquarium with his movie’s lead actress and made out with her in the deep-sea trench exhibit.
The director—Michael.
"Are they still breaking down the set?" I asked and tried to make it sound as nonchalant as possible.
Mom raised her eyebrows. It was hard to get anything past her, even now. "Oh, Sylvia says they were. I’m not sure if they think Gina is definitely the one who did it or not."
I nodded.
Glanced at my watch.
I knew just who I needed to talk to next.
Chapter Nineteen
As we were closing Maritime for the afternoon, my mind kept drifting toward Michael at the movie set. I was sure Ivy thought the same thing from the glances she kept throwing me.
However, right as we were cleaning up, Juno threw herself into the shop, the wind whipped behind her and blew her platinum blonde hair into her face. The bell clanged, announcing her sudden presence.
"It’s terrible," she cried, and Ivy rushed to her side.
"What happened? Ivy asked and tossed an arm around her best friend’s shoulder. “Is everything okay with—you know?”
Tears streaked down Juno’s face, making her usually perfect mascara run down her cheeks in black streaks. "It’s Adam. The police came. First, they were just questioning Gina at her shop, then they arrested Adam at his work."
I frowned. After what Dean told me the day before, I thought Adam was in the clear. Unless he’d been lying to me about the case, but that didn’t seem like him.
"What for? Did they find new evidence?"
Juno shrugged and wiped her tears on her palms. "That grouchy detective only said that they had a very reliable witness who came forward and could ID Adam as having been on set during both murders," she said and dissolved into sobs again.
I let out a heavy sigh. No matter how suspicious he’d acted, Adam didn’t have a strong enough motive to kill both Clark and Mary, did he?
No!
My gut told me he didn’t.
But, I pictured Dean’s voice telling me that a gut feeling wasn’t evidence that would hold up in court. And he was right.
Especially after what we learned about Michael and Mary.
But, with Juno having a very obvious mental breakdown, I couldn’t expect Ivy to abandon her.
I clamped my hands on both their shoulders and squeezed. "Ivy, comfort her, okay. I have to run an errand. I think—No, I know Adam will be alright, Juno. Got that?"
She met my eyes and nodded, her bottom lip trembling the entire time. "But if they have a witness. Did he really do it? Kill two people?"
I sighed. "We don’t think so. But in order to clear his name—"
"Are you going to talk to a killer alone?" Ivy said, eyes as round as the full moon.
I let out a breath. Fished my phone from my pocket, that I’d remembered for the first time in over a week—or more accurately, my mom kept enforcing me to take every morning—and grinned at her.
"I have this. I enabled the GPS, so you can’ find me no matter what, and it’s on. Don’t worry. I’m not going to be alone with anyone—least of all a killer."
> Ivy’s expression was doubtful, but I could tell she wasn’t about to leave Juno in that state either.
We had to do what we’d promise from the beginning.
Clear Adam’s name of the murder.
The movie set looked like a ghost town as I climbed out of my truck. Hardly any other cars were in the parking lot—a far cry from how crowded it had been only the week before. None of the constant bustle and hubbub was in evidence. In fact, there were even fewer people around than there had been the last time Ivy and I wandered on set.
I noticed that even security were no longer present, and my insides tied into an intricate knot.
I popped my coat’s collar against the damp breeze that blew off the ocean and watched the sun sink behind the Pacific horizon.
I had to find Michael and fast.
Hand clutched on the phone in my pocket, I walked purposefully, eyes scanning the surrounding trailers and half-built studios for any sign of the Kiwi director. In my other hand, I clutched a bag of leftover scones with a small serving of jam and clotted cream in two separate containers. It was best to come bearing gifts if I was going to have a chat with someone who could be a potential killer.
However, my promise to Ivy didn’t seem to be working out well. I said I wouldn’t be alone, and yet I hadn’t seen a soul since I got on set.
A sound caught my attention from one of the half-broken-down sets and my heart leapt into my throat.
Carefully, I peeked around the corner and let out a breath.
Sandra was there with one of the crew members, and they were carrying those lights that they used on set the other day. From what I saw, the things had to be a good fifty pounds each, and yet Sandra lifted it with ease. Just watching her made my arms ache.
"What are you doing here?" she asked and carefully set the light she’d been holding in place. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at me.
I squeezed the bag of scones and it crinkled under my fingers. "I heard they caught the killer, and wanted to bring something to anyone left on set. I brought scones. Do you want one?" I asked and gave her a polite smile.