Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  Jackson leaned close. “Hopefully, Cassidy will discover something new.”

  “We can only hope.”

  Our gazes fell on somebody across the room. Washington stood, wandered into the kitchen, paced around for a bit, and now headed away from the others.

  Jackson leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear, “I’m going to keep an eye on him.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I told him. “I’ll stay in here and keep an eye on everybody else.”

  As Jackson walked away, I mentally smiled. It almost sounded like Jackson and I were a team. I mean, we were a team. But it sounded like we were almost an official team.

  And that made me happy.

  Usually I just felt like I got in the way of his investigations, but since he wasn’t officially investigating—and neither was I—we could both unofficially investigate together. It was a twisted logic, but logic was still logic.

  He disappeared around the corner following after Washington George. I wondered where my costar was going and why he was acting so strange. I didn’t know much about the man, only that he’d done a couple of films that had done fairly well, and he was known as a rising star within the Hollywood circles I was in.

  He was certainly handsome enough, and he could have charisma. And what I meant by that was that he could also be moody at times. I supposed that was typical of the creative temperament. There were highs and lows.

  But ever since I came to Lantern Beach, Washington seemed to be on the low end of that spectrum. Was that because he was up to something? I had no idea.

  “So, this is all crazy, isn’t it?” Mindy sidled up next to me.

  “I know,” I said. “I just can’t believe it. It seems like it should happen in a movie, but not in real life.”

  “You really think someone here on the crew is guilty?”

  “I suppose that’s what it all points to. We just need to find a connection with someone here to the pirate who died. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

  “I did see Eva out the other night,” Mindy said.

  There Mindy went again, throwing Eva under the bus, so to speak. Was that because Eva really was guilty? Or was there a deeper motivation here? I needed to find out more information.

  “Where did you see Eva?”

  “I went to this restaurant on the boardwalk after filming was finished the first night. There weren’t many places that are open late, but this one—The Docks—was one of them. Eva was there. You know she’s the life of the party and loves to be the center of attention.”

  “So what happened?” I crossed my arms, anxious to hear what she had to say.

  “Some guys were hitting on her. I mean, what’s new with that, right? But some of those pirates from the cosplay gathering were also there. They were flirting with her, and she was flirting back. In fact, they started singing pirate songs and dancing on tables. I thought that someone was going to call the police.”

  I stored that new information away. It was very interesting.

  “So was the dead man one of the men she was flirting with?”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Mindy said. “But there was this other pirate who was especially . . . how do you say it? Aggressive, I suppose. He and Eva were all over each other.”

  “Is that right?” My mind raced through the various pirates I’d seen that day on the beach, acting out their fake little battles.

  “Surprisingly enough, I actually did hear his name,” Mindy continued. “Or, at least, I heard his stage name. I can’t imagine it would be his real name.”

  My pulse quickened. “And what was it?”

  “Corky Keelhauler.”

  I was mulling over Mindy’s words. It looked like things were pointing back to Eva again. But what about what Eva said earlier?

  She’d seemed genuinely shaken about everything that was going on. Did that imply that she wasn’t guilty? Or could she be guilty but still shaken?

  What if she sent herself flowers and the threatening note just to throw suspicion off of herself? I supposed that was possible.

  Just thinking about everything was giving me a headache, though.

  In the meantime, I glanced around, wondering where Jackson was. He’d disappeared fifteen minutes ago.

  As a thought entered my mind, a shot of fear followed. I didn’t want to be paranoid, but on the other hand, I had seen a lot of bad things happen. What if Jackson had been following Washington George and something had happened to him?

  I started toward the hallway where Jackson had disappeared. But, before I could walk down it, Jackson came around the corner. He took my elbow and led me away from the rest of the crowd and into the kitchen where no one else was gathered at the moment.

  Before he could say anything, the door to the office opened, and Sarah and Cassidy stepped out. Cassidy called Mindy into the office to talk to her.

  I had told Mindy that she needed to tell Cassidy exactly what she had just told me. Maybe Cassidy could make sense of things. I’d like to step up to the plate but . . . chasing down pirates wasn’t on my agenda.

  My first priority was filming. My second priority was Jackson.

  If circumstances were different, I might have tried to track down some of these guys myself. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  As soon as Cassidy disappeared, Jackson lowered his voice.

  “It’s not Washington,” he said. “At least, I don’t think it is. I’ll need to verify his story, of course.”

  “What story?” The man had a tendency to drink and fly off the handle. He seemed like a good suspect to me.

  “He’s a recovering alcoholic,” Jackson said. “Whenever he gets stressed, he fights the urge to drink. He just had to make a call to his sponsor because he doesn’t want to get derailed.”

  “That’s why he looked so frazzled . . .” It suddenly made sense.

  “And get this—someone left a six pack of beer outside his room the other night.”

  “What? Why would someone do that? It’s almost like they want him to fail.”

  “Exactly. And the night Bucky died? Washington was participating in an online support group. Apparently, six different people can testify he was there, talking through his issues. Most of it was through video.”

  Well . . . there went that lead.

  Who else did that leave?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After Cassidy had finished interviewing everybody, she gathered her notes and turned to me and Jackson. She motioned for us to walk with her away from any listening ears.

  “Thank you for all your help so far.” Her voice was low so no one else could hear. “I’m going to go back to the station and review everything I’ve learned.”

  “Did you find out anything helpful?” I desperately hoped all of this hadn’t been for nothing.

  “Not particularly.” Cassidy frowned and glanced at the people in the distance. “But there were a few comments I want to look into a little bit further.”

  “Mindy told you about seeing Eva at that restaurant hanging out with some pirates a couple nights ago, right?” I asked, hoping she’d carried through with her promise.

  “Yes, she did,” Cassidy said. “I plan on looking into that as well. Although I’ve already talked to this Corky Keelhauler, I’m going to dig a little deeper and make sure that his alibi can be verified. There’s one other thing I wanted to mention.”

  “What’s that?” Jackson asked.

  “One of my guys found a treasure map today. Maybe the one the pirate group used when they charged onto the set.

  My pulse quickened. “Okay . . .”

  “It was in the woods near the lighthouse,” Cassidy said. “One of these pirates was hanging around a little more than they’ve owned up to. We’re checking for fingerprints and everything else. I just thought I’d let you know.”

  “Thank you,” Jackson said.

  “In the meantime, you two be safe.”

  “We will,” Jackson said.

&
nbsp; With a wave, Cassidy left. Jackson and I walked back into the living room in time to hear Alistair dismissing everybody from the meeting. He said that filming would resume in the morning, rain or shine.

  He also reminded everybody that he would not be sending out any new scripts. And, as a final word, he said if nobody had heard from him by the time filming was supposed to start, to please send someone to check on him.

  Before I left, I slipped into his bathroom for a moment. When I couldn’t find a towel to dry my hands, I opened one of the drawers there.

  A pink sweater was folded inside.

  A pink sweater?

  I pulled it out and studied the clothing a minute. The cardigan looked familiar. Where had I seen it before?

  I didn’t know.

  I quickly folded it again and placed it back in the cabinet.

  A few minutes later, Jackson and I were in his truck. I told him about the sweater as we sat in the driveway a moment.

  It had been a long day, and darkness was already falling outside. I had a house full of people waiting for me so this might be our only chance to talk alone.

  I turned to him. “Okay, help me out here. This is what we know so far. Whoever’s behind this is sending out new scripts every day. In order to do this, they’ve had to somehow mirror Alistair’s email account. To me, that means they have to have more than a basic grasp of technology and computers.”

  “Agreed.”

  “They also sent a note to the man known as Bucky Belching, threatening to kill him.”

  “Whether or not it was threatening is not in question,” Jackson said. “It said he was a target.”

  “Sounds threatening to me. And someone did kill him. Either Bucky or the killer left a note in his pocket with my name on it and some random numbers.”

  Jackson stretched his arm across the back of the seat. “Bucky could’ve written that himself, intending to give it to you.”

  “You mean, maybe he came to the set to leave that note for me, but, in the process, something happened to him?”

  “I think that’s a good possibility,” Jackson said. “Maybe this Bucky guy was never the target at all. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  That seemed like a good theory but . . . “That still doesn’t explain the threatening note he got.”

  Jackson pressed his lips together before saying, “What did it say again? Heed my warning or you will die.”

  “That sounds right.”

  “Whoever this person is, they also tied up Alistair, and they threatened Eva.” Jackson ran a hand over his face, looking both tired and invigorated. “I think one other thing we need to look at in order to find this person is motive. Why would somebody be doing this? That’s what I don’t quite understand. Every time I think I have a suspect, there are pieces that don’t fit.”

  I couldn’t agree more. “It could be someone who hates Alistair and wants to ruin his movie. I mean, altering the script, having a dead body on the set, and tying him up . . . to me that all points to him being the target.”

  “If what you said is right, then we’re looking for somebody who has a vendetta against Alistair.” Jackson’s gaze fell on me. “Any idea who that might be?”

  “It could be any number of people, I suppose. Alistair doesn’t have the most charming personality. I’m sure he has mistreated people in his effort to get to the top. Most of the cast and crew don’t especially feel loyalty to him, but he is a great manipulator. He is one of these ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of people. Who knows how many people are here just because he has maybe promised them favors?”

  “It’s not that I want you to look into this, but just keep your eyes open for anybody who might seem to have a grudge against him.” Jackson’s gaze latched onto mine, and I could see the concern there. Somebody wasn’t playing games here, and Bucky had paid the price.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely be keeping my eyes open—both for my own safety, as well as just out of plain curiosity.”

  “At least we can rule Washington George out,” Jackson said.

  “And then there is Eva,” I said. “Mindy told me that she saw Eva at a local restaurant with some pirates, one of those pirates being Corky Keelhauler.”

  “Let’s think this through for a moment.” Jackson pressed his lips together and stared out the window. “Is there any possibility that none of this actually has to do with the movie? Could this crime be totally unrelated to the movie, but just happen to be happening on the side?”

  I wanted to believe that but . . . “I don’t see how that’s possible. If it’s not related to the movie, then why is someone playing with the script?”

  “What if somebody heard the script had been altered the day before, so they left a dead body the next day to throw suspicion off them?”

  His words washed over me. He could be onto something.

  “There is a possibility that somebody went out that night after filming and started running their mouth, especially if they had some alcohol in them,” I said. “I could see one of the cast or crew members telling some locals what happened. Maybe the killer just happened to be near and saw it as an opportunity to get rid of Bucky.”

  “But if that was the case then why did Alistair get tied up? Why is someone sending you threatening texts? Sending Eva dead roses?”

  I let out a long breath. “Those are great questions. I don’t have any great answers. In fact, my head is starting to pound. Nothing is really making sense. If we had to pick a direction to go with this case, where should that even be?”

  “I have to say,” Jackson said. “I don’t really know. What I do know is that we’re not investigating, and that Cassidy and her officers are on top of this.”

  “What about Eva?”

  “Cassidy is going to station someone at her place tonight.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Even though I’m not officially involved, I do want to keep my eyes open. The best thing that we can do until we have more answers is to be aware of everything happening around us.”

  “I agree. Hopefully, Cassidy is getting more answers than we are.”

  I really hoped so. Especially when I remembered that picture of myself . . . the dead woman.

  Just as the thought entered into my head, Jackson’s phone dinged. He squinted as he clicked on something.

  I could tell by the way his shoulder tensed that something was wrong. “What is it?”

  He showed me his screen. “Someone has been filming us.”

  I watched a video there. It was of Jackson and me sitting in his truck . . . in the driveway . . . from just a few minutes ago.

  My lungs tightened.

  I glanced around but saw no one. Only sand dunes, a dark lane, and a soggy rain.

  “It looks like it was shot from over there.” Jackson pointed to a sand dune in the distance, his voice hardening. “Stay here.”

  And then he climbed from his truck and stormed toward that very area.

  As much as I wanted to stay in the truck, there was no way I was staying here while Jackson was out there chasing bad guys.

  I stepped onto the driveway and glanced in the direction he’d gone. It was dark outside now, and it was hard to see anything. Rain slithered down my cheeks and dampened my clothes.

  I heard a footfall in the distance, and I gasped.

  Was it the killer?

  I shrank back against the truck.

  As I did, Jackson emerged from the beach, a shadowy look on his face.

  “Did you catch him?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, he’s gone. But I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t like it either.”

  We climbed back into his truck and slammed the doors. A few seconds later, Jackson and I started back to my place.

  “How did someone get your number?” I asked.

  “Good question. I suppose someone could have seen you dialing it. Maybe this is someone I gave my ca
rd to. Who knows?”

  This day seemed to be lasting a week. Too much had happened. Too much bad stuff.

  I was excited to see the gang. I really was. I was thrilled that they had taken time out of their schedule to come here to Lantern Beach and to spend time with me and Jackson.

  But . . . I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was another part of me that was tired. A lot had happened since I had arrived in town, and the stress of filming this movie was starting to get to me. Plus, there was the fact that I really needed some alone time with Jackson. It was going to be hard to get that when I had six extra guests in my home.

  But I wasn’t complaining. I really wasn’t.

  As Jackson pulled up to my house, he put his truck in Park and cut the engine. The rain had started to come down harder, pitter-pattering on the top of his truck. Both of us sat there for a moment, not saying anything.

  Jackson reached over, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it. I squeezed back. I missed the simple times just like this. The times where we didn’t really have to say anything but we could just be together.

  Was what Phoebe had said true? Was Jackson sad?

  That thought did something to my heart. It made it twist and ache in all kinds of ways that I didn’t like.

  “You think any more about that wedding date?” Jackson asked.

  As soon as the words hit my ears, my shoulders tensed and any laid-back feelings disappeared. Why did this feel so stressful to me? It didn’t make any sense.

  “I’m still thinking that early May might be the best time,” I said. “I think we should just nail down a date, and I’m going to make everything else work around it.”

  Jackson turned to me. “I just want to make sure that your schedule is clear before we start looking at locations and booking things. I know how quickly things can get out of control.”

  I wanted to deny the truth in his words, but I couldn’t. He was correct. It was so easy for my schedule to control me instead of me controlling my schedule.