“And maybe she’s still harboring anger with Jaz for breaking up the Electric Femmes,” Sylvie said. “We know it was a devastating blow to you girls.”
Beneath the counter, Beau reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“We were at the mansion when Trina arrived,” I added “You said it wasn’t enough time to personally tamper with the coffee pods.”
“Though she did admit to walking about the house unescorted,” Frannie reminded me.
I couldn’t imagine my friend killing anyone. This was the gal who listened to old gospel music on the tour bus and reminded each of us to floss. “I guess it’s possible she arranged for someone to inject the poison? Maybe there’s a third party we hadn’t considered?”
“A hitman?” Sylvie’s eyes illuminated at the very idea. “It adds an interesting layer.”
“But an unlikely one,” I reminded her. “Officer Matt once told me murder is rarely complicated.”
“Speaking of simple, there’s Little STD.”
Beau choked on his bite and sent a confused look to Sylvie. “Who?”
“Little Tee Pee.” I patted him on the back and left my hand there, feeling the warmth and strength beneath it. “America had threatened him, but he was at the casino most of the day of the murder.”
Frannie spoke directly to Ginger, as if the dog could offer some assistance. “And let’s not forget the missing necklace.”
“Officer Matt says it’s yet to turn up,” I said.
“Who knows if that’s even relevant or of any consequence at all,” Sylvie said.
“What missing necklace?” Beau asked.
I had no doubt Beau would keep the details to himself, so I filled him in. “During the house concert, America was wearing this gaudy chain with her initial on it. But at the time of her death, she no longer had it on.”
Beau snapped his fingers at a growling Dinky. “Why would anyone take that?”
“Who knows.” Frannie stood, dusting dog hair from her capris. “I say we let the police worry about that one, and we focus on the main event. I keep going back to the fact that Reese is the one who would’ve known every detail of the mansion, who requested the coffee service, and would’ve been informed of everyone’s schedule.”
“But didn’t know America would be in attendance,” I reminded her.
“So she said. But she also initially denied America was blackmailing her.” Frannie’s ears perked and she went on point like she was part shepherd. “Is someone here?”
We all froze, but I heard nothing.
“Where’s your mom tonight?” Beau whispered.
“Doing important Ellen things.”
Frannie hopped down from her perch. “We have company.”
I followed her into the living room, startled by the sight of my two houseguests.
Jaz sat on the arm of the couch, my MacBook in her lap, while my mother watched over her shoulder.
Jaz looked up, her brows knit in a frown. “You’re investigating Reese?”
Frannie grabbed my laptop and thrust it in my hands. “Paisley, you don’t have your computer locked down with facial recognition scan and a sixty-four digit passcode?”
“It was on my to-do list.” Right after a bikini wax with hot tar.
“Do you think Reese killed America?” My mother dropped her car keys into her designer purse.
“We don’t know,” I said.
Jaz gestured toward the laptop she’d hijacked. “But you think she’s a possibility.”
I looked directly at my ex-bandmate. “I think everyone who was in the mansion that day is a possibility.”
Beau slipped an arm around my waist. “Hello, Mrs. Sutton.”
“Beau.” My mother blessed him with a smile reserved for strangers and street peddlers.
Jaz extended her hand like she was handing Beau a cachet of gold. “I’m Jaz.” Though only a wall had separated these two the last week, they’d yet to meet, a fact I’d taken much comfort in.
“Nice to meet you.” Beau tucked me in tighter to his side as his voice went all deep and protective. “Paisley’s told me a lot about you.”
“Oh, I’m sure she has. Paisley, you didn’t mention you were dating such a handsome Southern gentleman.” She continued to hold his hand. “How adorable are you? Tell me, do you do any modeling? Maybe a bit of acting? I’ve got a new music video I need to shoot, and I could totes use you for my leading love interest.”
“He’s busy.” No, ma’am.
Beau nodded. “I’ll be fishing that day.”
“I thought you’d be out later, Mother.” I turned my attention to her, wondering where she’d been with Jaz.
My mom sat on the couch, her posture as rigid as her lacking sense of fun. “I meant to stop by Enchanted Events, but got an emergency call from James Bagwell at the Arkansas Children’s Fund, then met him and his lovely wife for a late lunch. The hours just slipped away. Jaz texted and kindly invited me to the movie premiere. You must’ve forgotten to extend an invitation.”
“You’ve turned down everything I’ve invited you to,” I said, “so I assumed you wouldn’t be interested.”
Jaz parked herself right next to my mother. “I think you assumed wrong, Paisley. Ellen loved every minute of it. Now, you were telling me why you were creeping on my personal assistant. You better not chase her off. A good PA is so hard to come by.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Mom’s gaze roved toward me. “It’s a vital job that can lead straight to the top.”
Beau’s hand slid across my back, a calming rhythm meant to soothe, but I was past the boiling point with my mother’s digs.
“As long as we’re discussing Reese,” I said, “did you know Sharky Cooper was harassing her?
“He harasses everyone.” Jaz studied her crystal-studded nails. “Reese told me she was running interference on photos he had of me. Is there more to it?”
Frannie shot me a look of warning. We’d assured Reese the police would be the only people we’d tell about her and Jaz’s ex-husband.
“Since Sharky deals in dirt for a living, we should probably talk to him,” I said. “I’m sure he’s still in town, and I think I can get him to talk. Shake him and see what falls out.”
“We know people who could handle that for you.” Sylvie sniffed the air, probably catching the scent of new paint. “Do you want info or do you want Sharky to disappear? Sometimes you can get a better deal if it’s a bundle order.”
The German Shepherd trotted over to Jaz, and she shifted to steer clear of the dog’s nose. “I can’t imagine that creep having anything on Reese.” She picked dog hair from her pants. “My sweet assistant hates me, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. Classic narcissistic personality taking on the role of victim. “I doubt that.”
“She does. I see the way she looks at me when she thinks my attention is somewhere else. I’ve heard the way she laughs about me with the other staff when she thinks I can’t hear. She resents me, and she has from the beginning.”
“You’ve got her locked into servitude with your dumb contract,” I said.
“That dumb contract got her out of a hundred thousand dollars in debt,” Jaz shot back. “That’s not exactly chump change, even for me.”
“It’s easy to fall into patterns of ingratitude,” Mom said. “We have a whole conference on tapping into feelings of thankfulness to revolutionize your life. Very popular with start-up companies and millennials.”
“It’s not just the contract,” Jaz said. “Reese tried to make it as a singer-songwriter, but it didn’t work out. Did you discover that in your internet research?”
Frannie set Dinky down and gave him a little push toward Jaz. “I’m sure I was seconds away from finding it.”
“You’d have to search under Reese LaRoux. That was her stage name, but it got her nowhere. I finally convinced Reese to give it up.”
“You talked her out of her dream?” That was so Jaz.
“I t
alked sense into her. The music business is not for the weak—you know that.”
I felt Sylvie’s eyes hot on me, no doubt waiting for me to defend myself. But I was simply too tired. “If it’s still Reese’s dream, you could help her.”
“I am helping her—by being honest. Her singing is mediocre at best, and if she wants to be in the business, she needs to stick to jobs behind the scenes.” She held up a hand to stop my rebuttal. “Paisley, Reese is frightened by her own shadow. She’s gullible and naive. People make a lot of money on desperate hopefuls like her. Despite what you might believe, I do care about her. I don’t want her taken advantage of.”
What a noble heart.
“Lookee here.” Frannie held up her phone. “When I searched for Reese LaRoux, I got a few hits. Like this Pop Sensation audition video from three years ago.” She pushed play and the room filled with the sounds of Reese’s nervous voice.
“That song sounds familiar.” I caught more of the lyrics, and as recognition hit me, I grabbed the phone. “That’s ‘You Ain’t the Other For Long.’”
“That’s not my song,” Jaz said. “I mean, it sounds like it. But the words are all wrong.”
I played it again and passed around Frannie’s phone. “Two stanzas are different. Other than that, it’s totally the same tune.”
“If I’m not mistaken, that hit came out last year,” Sylvie said. “Right?”
Jaz reluctantly nodded. “Yes.”
Sylvie pulled out her own phone and studied the video. “In her audition, Reese said she wrote the song herself.”
“Jaz, you stole her song.” Why was I even surprised?
“No, I didn’t!” Jaz sputtered in protest. “I swear I didn’t. Johnny sent it to me. Had me listen to it and told me it would be a chart-topper.”
“You’re credited with writing it. You and Johnny.” Sylvie said. “Says so right here on your website.”
“I did write a lot of it. I didn’t like the version I got, so I changed it up. These things happen all the time. My version is immensely better, and no doubt the reason it went platinum.”
If Reese truly wrote it, the legal thing was to give her creative credit. “Was she paid for the song?”
“How should I know? I’m telling you, I had no idea.” Jaz stood, dislodging Ginger’s nose from her lap. “I don’t like your implication here. If there’s any fault here, it’s Johnny’s. Or for Reese for rolling over and letting herself be taken advantage of without saying a word. See what I mean? She’s a total doormat and a prime target for predators. If she’d truly been ripped off, she should’ve taken legal action.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that debating Jaz with logic would get me nowhere tonight. Perhaps the biggest predator Reese had faced was Jaz herself. “Reese would never be able to afford to sue you or Johnny. She’d be buried in legal fees before it ever went to court.” Plus, copyright infringement cases were notoriously hard to prove and often impossible to win. “What if this is her motive?”
“Because I used her song?” Jaz still looked perplexed.
“Nobody likes their hard work stolen, dear,” my mother said. “It would make anyone angry. You never considered who originally wrote the piece?”
Jaz didn’t bother answering. “Why would Reese work for me, thinking I’d ripped off her song? Unless it was part of her plan for revenge?”
“We should call Detective Ballantine,” Sylvie said. “He needs to talk to Reese straight away.”
Jaz took the glass of water from my hands and downed what was left. “So you’re saying the person closest to me could’ve killed America and set me up to take the blame?”
“I’m not sure, but we need to find her,” I said.
Sylvie reached for her purse and stood. “Frannie and I will head out to her cabin. Paisley, do you accept your mission?”
“I do.”
“What’s her mission?” My mom held her pearls in a clenched fist.
“I’m gonna go find Sharky Cooper,” I said. “It’s past time he and I had a talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
It didn’t take too many phone calls before I had Sharky’s number and gave him a call. Ten minutes later, I stepped up to the pine bar at the Bayonet.
Sharky held up his camera and snapped a picture, the flash lighting the dimmed space.
“No photos.” I plopped my purse on the bar and stuck my hand in the half-empty bowl of pretzels.
He lifted his drink and swirled it around, sending his ice cubes to clinking. “I wanted to document the moment Paisley Sutton came to me, Sweet Sharky Cooper, for help.”
“I need to know—”
“Nuh-uh.” Sharky wagged a chubby finger. “I want to hear the magic words before we go further. You’ll understand if I record it.” He pressed a button on his phone, then lifted mocking eyes to meet mine. “You can’t trust anyone these days.”
Jaz owed me so big for this. “If you give me information . . .”
“Louder please.” He held up his phone. “And don’t forget to enunciate.”
“If you give me useful information tonight, I promise to never sue you for defamation.” But I could always come up with other complaints. “But if you give me the runaround, we’re done.”
The jerk of a paparazzo signaled to the bartender. “I’ll have another. Paisley here’s buying.”
“I don’t have all night, Sharky. True or false, you have information you’re holding over Reese Riggins’ head.”
He took a swig. “True.”
“She said you have a photo of her kissing Jaz’s ex-husband, Apollo Fox, at a party.”
“At the time, there wasn’t no ex about it.”
“Then America got involved.”
“Also true.”
I motioned for him to continue. “It would be nice if you’d keep the details flowing.”
“But I like your company. It gets lonely in small-town America.”
“More motivation for you to go back home. Tell me why you agreed to keep the photo private.”
“Lots of reasons. Like twenty thousand of them.”
“America paid you twenty grand?”
“Girl can blackmail with the best of them. She doesn’t mess around.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“It seemed to have worked out for her.”
“She died.”
“Well, yeah, but before that America made good use of the info Jaz’s assistant funneled her way.”
“You knew about that?”
“Of course, I did. I could see it play out right before my gossip-loving eyes. That America girl was a heck of a strategist.”
“And now America’s gone, so you’re free to go back on your word and harass Reese.”
Sharky accepted the drink from the bartender with a nod of appreciation. “It’s the nature of the job. I don’t write the rules, Miss Sutton. I just follow them.”
“Reese made one mistake. Why ruin her over it?”
“One? Oh, honey, is that what she told you?”
I reached for a pretzel and popped it in my mouth. “Keep talking.”
“I’d been tracking Apollo and his indiscretions for months. Reese Riggins might not have been his only girl on the side, but she also wasn’t just one drunken kiss captured forever on my camera. Word is they’d been seeing each other for months.”
“Can I see the photo?”
“And go against my promise to a deceased America never to show it to another living soul? I don’t think so.”
“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me see it.”
“I just told you I have standards. Sharky Cooper cannot be bought.”
“I’ll get you an exclusive with Jaz.”
“Would you like the pic in low rez or high def?” He pulled up the photos app on his phone and scrolled. “Got it saved in a special folder titled ‘Vacation Fund.’ Here we go.”
My eyes struggled to focus in the dim light, but the image sharpene
d and finally became clear. Sure enough, it was Reese lip-locked with Jaz’s ex. “May I?”
“Anything for you and Jaz. You know that Apollo guy dumped Reese. I hear she took it pretty hard.”
With a tap and a twist of my fingers, I enlarged the photo.
And nearly fell off my barstool.
There on Reese’s neck, grainy as it was, hung a gold necklace.
A large letter dangled from that thick chain.
The letter A.
It was America’s necklace. The one that she’d been wearing the day she died.
The A didn’t stand for America.
It stood for Apollo.
As in the man who’d had an affair with Reese Riggins.
“Any chance America might’ve been dating Apollo?” I asked.
“None. He’s seeing an actress from Jersey and a gymnast back in LA.”
I threw caution to the wind and hoped what I was about to reveal wouldn’t bite me in the butt. “So if I said America was wearing that necklace the night of the concert . . . ?”
“I’d say she was sending someone a reminder.” He tapped his phone, right on the face of Reese Riggins. “And maybe that little nudge is exactly what got America Valdez killed.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Reese Riggins is gone.”
The next morning while police searched the surrounding yard, I stood inside Reese’s rental cabin and let Officer Matt Quincy’s words permeate my anxious brain.
Sunlight peeked through the edges of closed blinds, while a wobbly ceiling fan twirled above us. The cabin smelled like cheap candles, two of which sat in jars on the apartment-sized coffee table. “Maybe we scared her off when we confronted her about America’s blackmail.”
“You think?” Detective Ballantine gnawed on a toothpick until it was nothing but a splinter. “I knew we shouldn’t have involved you. Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t have involved her?” He didn’t bother waiting for Matt’s response. “Did you listen to me? No. You told me she’d be a help; she’d be an insider. You promised me she’d play by the rules.”
Fanatically in Trouble Page 24