Tyrone picked up on it. “Could he get fired when the chief of police discovers it’s a false alarm?”
I hoped Nicki couldn’t see right through us.
At the hint her father could lose his job, she bit her lower lip and frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that. What am I going to do? I can’t go home now. He’ll be really mad at me.”
“Laura, could you call him and smooth things over for Nicki?” Tyrone pulled his head into his shoulders like a turtle, hoping I wouldn’t bite it off. He knew my history with Detective Spangler.
Me, call Detective Spangler? Swimming the English Channel sounded more appealing. “All right, let me see what I can do.” Grabbing my cell phone, I went into the living room. In the past, Detective Spangler became angry when I interfered in his police cases. How would he react to my becoming involved with his personal life, especially after warning me away today?
The phone rang only once before he answered, his voice sounding sharp and frantic. “Spangler.”
“Detective Spangler? This is Laura Bishop. Your daughter is at my house.”
He didn’t wait for an explanation and said he would be right over.
The others joined me in the living room. I sank into a chair and plopped my feet on an ottoman. Fatigue was overcoming me. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
It seemed like only seconds passed before the front door vibrated from the loud knocking. Why didn’t anybody use my doorbell?
“Wait here until I talk to him,” I told the others. Nicki curled up in a chair and looked like a prairie dog about to be pounced on by a wolf.
Opening the door, I slipped outside and closed it behind me, wishing I had on more than a gown and bathrobe. It covered me from neck to toes, but I still felt uncomfortable meeting the detective like that. Besides, it was cold outside.
“Where’s Nicki?”
If he hadn’t looked so stern, I could have almost felt sorry for him. “She’s inside and fine. Tyrone and his girlfriend found her in the ladies’ room at Vocaro’s and brought her here.”
“What was she doing there?” He seemed puzzled. “And why didn’t they take her home?”
“She planned to spend the night there and make her way to her grandmother tomorrow.”
A pained look crossed his face, and he started to brush past me into the house.
I grabbed his sleeve. “Before you go in, think about how you want to handle this. You’re upset, but your next steps will affect your relationship with Nicki.”
“What do you know about dealing with kids? You don’t have any.”
“You’re right, but I know enough that if I’d run away, I’d hope my dad would be relieved to see me—not angry.” Since my father had left my mom and me when I was relatively young, I would never know what his reaction would’ve been.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Nicki is all I have. Do you know what agony I’ve been through?”
“Then let her know that.” I opened the door and went inside. “Nicki, your dad is here.” I tried to sound as casual as though his picking her up at my house was an ordinary occurrence.
The gruff detective stood in the doorway expectantly and held open his arms. “Hi, Sweet Pea.”
“Dad,” Nicki cried as she tore across the room and threw herself into his arms. “I’m so sorry. You won’t get fired, will you?”
Chapter 10
Apply neutral-colored paint with white trim to highlight your home’s architectural details. Colors change in popularity and vary in different parts of the country. A home stager will help you select the best color for your home.
Competition Day Two
After a restless night and still feeling groggy, I prepared for another day of the competition, wondering how I could clear my mind of Beth’s murder to focus on my plans for the day. I still felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that was hard to shake.
Tyrone and I arrived at the warehouse to find yellow crime scene tape stretched across the entrance to the loading dock.
Olivia, standing near the entrance, waved at us as though directing traffic. All she needed was a whistle. “Heads up, everyone. The police have cleared us to go to the third and fourth floors, but you can’t go in this way. Enter through the antique shop.”
We walked around the building to the entrance of Antiques and Other Things. Inside, Josh greeted us as we filtered through the door, directing us to the freight elevator.
“Hi, Josh,” I said. “ I hope you’re doing better after the shock yesterday.”
“I’ve had better days.” Dark smudges appeared under his eyes, and he looked more subdued than I’d ever seen him. “Sorry I pulled y’all into that, but I sure did appreciate y’all being there for me.”
“Finding Beth like that had to be awful for you. I’m so sorry you experienced that.”
“I didn’t know the young lady, but it sure was sad what happen’ to her.”
An overwhelming sense of sadness came over me. I’d known Beth for such a short time, but she’d left an impression. I thought of how much she’d enjoyed horseback riding at Thompson’s stables with Will Parker and imagined her on a horse as a child. Her family must be devastated. I would miss her cheerful and helpful attitude on the film set.
I shook myself and focused on what Josh was saying.
“With me finding her here on my property, I’m afraid the police may suspect I’m responsible.”
I wanted to assure him he didn’t have anything to worry about, but I knew everyone in the building yesterday would come under close police scrutiny—including Tyrone and me.
“How did your questioning by Detective Spangler go? He’s questioned me in the past, and though not a brute, his approach can be unrelenting and draining.”
Josh covered his face with his hands as though to block out the memory. “It was strange. He kept asking me the same things over and over.”
“The police do that. It was no reflection on you. They want to see if your story stays consistent.” I was beginning to sound like an old hand at this. Given the number of cases I’d been involved with, perhaps that was the case.
Josh’s face relaxed. “Well, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think he didn’t believe what I was tellin’ him.”
“Not to worry, Josh,” Tyrone said. “If the police zero in on you, Laura here will come to your aid.”
I jabbed Tyrone in the ribs. I’d had my fill of getting involved in murder investigations, and I didn’t want to do it again. “Sorry, Josh. We’ve got to go, but I’ll stop and see you later. Take care, and don’t worry.” I wish I could have said that with more conviction.
We climbed the stairs to the fourth floor to avoid the elevator. As we came through the fire doors, Luke and Robin, winners of previous competitions and now acting as hosts, directed us to the common area we’d gathered in yesterday. The usually plucky hosts didn’t look their camera-ready selves either.
We took our seats to find the crew as lost as we were. Chris Channing looked up as we sat down. Remembering how upset he’d been the evening before, I smiled at him. He gave me half a smile and looked down as though trying to avoid eye contact.
Simon took center stage in front of us, flashing his movie star smile and cheerfully surveying the group as though nothing untoward had happened. Olivia waved at him frantically from the side. After glancing in her direction, he abruptly changed his demeanor to something far more somber for the occasion.
“I know you’re all as saddened and distressed as I am at what happened to our dear Beth. She was a lovely young woman whom we had come to know and rely on. As hard as it will be, I urge you to put aside your distress and push forward. We have lost time to make up. Beth would be the first one to tell us, ‘the show must go on.’”
He paused as though for dramatic effect. It was hard to determine which he was more
distressed about—Beth’s death or the hold-up in his schedule.
Simon continued, oblivious to how people were reacting to his comments. “Remember, stage with panache.”
Seeing Olivia’s roll her eyes in frustration with Simon, I had to stifle a laugh.
Tyrone shook his head in disgust and whispered. “Man, he’s such a dork. How do people like him get to their positions?”
Simon took a deep breath and sighed mournfully. With that, he walked toward Olivia, and we took that as a signal we could leave for our assigned areas.
As we walked away, Simon approached me, placed his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him.
“I hope you haven’t been too disturbed by all of this, Laura. It’s been most distressing.”
I dropped my bag onto the floor and reached down to pick it up, enabling me to escape his grasp. At the same time, Tyrone reached for it, nearly knocking Simon off his feet.
Grabbing my bag, I bounced back up. Thankfully, Simon turned and walked away, shaking his head as though wondering how someone like me could resist him.
“Thanks, Tyrone, for coming to my aid. The next time Simon makes a move on me, I’ll be more pointed in my disapproval, like with an elbow or foot stomp.”
“Too bad you didn’t hit him on the chin with your head when you stood up. That would have gotten him good.”
“Unfortunately, men like him don’t get the message without being hit over the head.”
When we arrived at our cubicle, I pulled out my notes and went over the rough drawings I’d sketched. “So what do you think? Is it to be a rustic mountain lodge that looks like it was uprooted from a pine forest or a coastal cottage straight from Nantucket?”
Tyrone studied the sketches. “Hard choice. If we go with a coastal cottage, we’d need to use summery colors—light blues, seafoam greens, and the like. With a mountain lodge, we could use fall colors.”
“Good point. And appropriate for this time of year.”
“If you like—”
Just then, a shrill alarm sounded. Loud enough to rattle the walls. Slapping my hands over my ears to block out the sound, I headed for the door.
Chapter 11
If a house needs work on the outside, buyers will have a negative opinion before they get inside.
Stepping outside our cubicle, I found the other competitors standing there, looking puzzled.
“Not a fire alarm on top of everything else,” Brendan grumbled.
Luke raced past us, calling out, “Sorry, everyone. Nothing to worry about. Someone is trapped between floors in the freight elevator.”
It was an excellent time to escape the confusion, so Tyrone and I slipped down the stairs to the third floor to survey the furnishings there. The living room to be staged was enormous and needed furniture that fit the room’s size. We chose a sofa with cream-colored brushed denim upholstery and loose cushions that would work in a rustic room or a more contemporary one if we changed our minds about the design. After we picked out a sofa, loveseat, and some brown leather club chairs, I signaled the workmen who would move the furniture upstairs for us.
Hearing footsteps behind us, I turned to see Robin and Chris, with a large camera perched on his shoulder, approaching us.
“Heads up, we’re going to be on camera,” Tyrone said.
“Hello, Laura and Tyrone.” Robin almost cooed. “How are you two getting on? Finding what you need?” Dressed in a knit sheath dress with a metal link belt slung low on her hips and her hair and makeup in perfect order, she was camera ready. My rugby style shirt and jeans seemed inadequate in comparison.
She positioned herself between Tyrone and me and stared at the camera instead of looking at us. “What do you have planned for your living room?”
Chris aimed the camera with its bright LCD light at us, making me blink.
Not sure what we should be giving away at this point in the competition, I decided to indirectly answer her question. “We’re looking over the selection of furnishing.” I waved my arm toward the roomful of sofas and chairs of various styles. “With such a large living room, it’s important that we judge the available pieces not only for color and design but also for scale and proportion. We want furnishings that look comfy and will appeal to homebuyers looking for a comfortable home.”
“How about you, Tyrone? Have you and Laura worked out a design yet?”
“Ah, ah…we’re working on it.”
Robin must have realized we weren’t going to give anything away, so she turned and walked off, signaling for Chris to follow her. He winked at us as he turned, recognizing what I had done.
“Man, I sounded like a dud, and you looked and sounded like a commercial for a furniture store,” Tyrone said.
“Sorry, Tyrone. Every scene I’m in will probably end up being cut.”
“We need to work on our interviewing technique,” Tyrone said.
“True, but right now, let’s get back to finding furniture. Since we can’t use the wooden trunk as a coffee table, you search through Josh’s place for one, and I’ll search around here. And while you’re there, look for a bookcase or wall unit. It’ll give balance to the fireplace. Adding a quick coat of watered-down red paint to it will add a nice dash of color to the room.”
“Sounds good.”
“And keep an eye out for a piece of barnwood we can use as a mantel over the fireplace. That’ll work great in here.”
“You’re starting to enjoy this, especially given the reservations you had,” Tyrone said.
“What’s not to enjoy? We get a blank canvas and a generous budget to play with. Let’s have fun with it.”
“Okay. Let’s win this thing.”
Winning would be great. But then what would I do?
After Tyrone left, I continued to survey the furnishings provided, wondering who had thought any of us would be interested in the ornate Victorian furnishings they’d brought in. Nearby, I spotted a lamp that would be perfect for our room and reached for it, only to have someone snatch it away from me.
Blinking, I turned to see Ms. Eyebrow, clasping the lamp to her breast as though it were a trophy her horse had won at the Kentucky Derby. “Sorry, dear, I saw it first.”
It wouldn’t have surprised me if she had kissed it like a triumphant winner. Dick Francis probably didn’t have a more despicable character in any of his horse racing mysteries. Without a backward glance, she clomped away.
Once I got over being startled and annoyed, I set out to locate another lamp and was pleased to find one I liked even better. Ms. Eyebrow had done me a favor. Tyrone and I would try the furnishings we had selected, and if they didn’t work in the space, we would come back down and pick some other pieces.
As I started up the stairs to return to the fourth floor, I heard voices above me in the stairwell. Stepping closer to the railing, I couldn’t see anyone, but I recognized Simon and Olivia’s voices.
“It’s unfortunate, especially since we’ll be without a production assistant, but don’t you see, it could be good for the show.” I couldn’t have mistaken Simon’s booming voice for anyone else.
“Meaning bad publicity is still publicity.” From the sound of her voice, I could almost envision the sneer on Olivia’s face. Simon had to be dense to miss it.
“Exactly. Beth’s death is certain to generate some interest in the program—if nothing else, the more ghoulish viewers will tune in. It’ll be even better if they arrest someone for the murder before the next show airs. That’ll make the sponsors happy. They were disappointed with our ratings last season. This could work to our benefit.”
“That may not work out as well as you think, Simon.” Obviously, Olivia had better public relations instincts than he did.
“We’ll be sensitive. How about if we display ‘In Memory of Beth Crawford’ in the opening or closing credits? Play the sympathy
card?”
Thankfully, their voices faded as they went back into the film set. How they were handling Beth’s death was becoming worse than in a cheesy TV drama.
I hurried up the flight of stairs, relieved not to run into Simon, and entered just in time to see Detective Spangler and Neil Stanelli, a uniformed police officer and one of Nita’s numerous cousins, alight from the freight elevator, which had been freed from its position between floors. Detective Spangler caught my eye and nodded as he passed me. Neil grimaced, which signaled he was there to do something he didn’t like doing.
Zoe stood in the doorway of her cubicle. “Why do you think the police are back here again? This is becoming so unnerving.”
Brendan slipped out of his cubicle. “What’s going on? I’m never going to get anything done with all these disruptions.”
“Two police officers just walked through,” Zoe pointed to them.
Brendan grunted. “The police are here again? I wish they’d just arrest somebody and get on with it.” With that, he went back inside his cubicle and slammed the door.
Detective Spangler and Neil stopped in front of Olivia, who pointed to the far end of the room where Robin and Chris had cornered Ms. Eyebrow for an interview. Perhaps it was she who had cornered Robin and Chris. She’d become notorious for trying to get as much coverage as possible.
The police officers spoke to Chris. After a few minutes, Chris put his camera on the floor and walked toward the elevator with the officers.
Could they suspect Chris knew something about the murder—or had murdered Beth? Of all the people in the production company, he seemed the least likely to have killed her. Too bad they didn’t focus on Brendan, who was so obnoxious. Chris was such a pleasant guy. But given enough motivation, almost anyone could be driven to murder. Could the argument between Chris and Beth I’d witnessed have escalated later into violence?
Olivia walked toward us. “Okay, people, back to work.” She looked pleased the police had someone in hand and she could get back on schedule.
Upstaged by Murder Page 5