Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. I will talk to my producer and make sure that date is clear. Not that I need his permission, but I also do not want any miscommunication to mess things up or to make things stressful and take away from the beauty of our big day.”

  “And you still want to get married in Nags Head, correct?”

  “That’s right. A beach wedding. I think it’ll be the perfect place.”

  “But you also know if we do it in a place like that there could be paparazzi,” Jackson said. “There’s a chance that word will leak about when and where our wedding is.”

  At his words, I frowned. I knew they were true, and I hadn’t been in denial about that. But hearing them out loud made my stomach twist. I did not want the paparazzi involved in our wedding.

  “I can have everybody we hire sign a nondisclosure agreement,” I said. “People in Hollywood do that all the time.”

  “Despite those nondisclosure agreements, word still leaks.” Jackson leveled his gaze with me. “You know it’s true, right?”

  “Yes, that’s true.” I sighed and felt my shoulders droop.

  I didn’t want anything to mess up our big day. I already had one failed marriage, and, even though my ex-spouse had been abusive, I still carried the weight of those decisions. Failed relationships were never easy.

  When you were married, that person became a part of you. Even when you weren’t together anymore, there was still an emotional impact present.

  That was why I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that things with Jackson wouldn’t go that route. I wanted to make sure our big day was perfect. But not only that. I didn’t want to put all my efforts into the wedding and none of my efforts into the marriage. There was so much to balance, and so much to think about.

  Jackson squeezed my hand again and nudged my chin up. “Hey. I’m not trying to be a downer. I just want everything to go the way you want it to go, with no mess-ups. I just want you to be happy.”

  I felt a smile begin at the edge of my lips. “Being with you makes me happy.”

  “Well, I am glad to hear that because being with you makes me happy too.” He leaned closer and planted a kiss on my lips.

  It lingered for a moment, and I felt myself melting. This was just what I needed. I needed something that would help me forget everything else was going on right now. Jackson was the perfect medicine for that.

  We pulled away, and Jackson ran his hand down my face before kissing my forehead.

  “We should get inside,” he murmured.

  “Yes, I suppose we should.”

  It sounded like the rain had let up for a minute, so Jackson and I both ran from the truck, up the stairs, and to the front door of the home. We paused there for a moment. Before I could punch in the code to my front door, I heard a foot fall behind me.

  The next instant Jackson had his gun drawn. He aimed it at a shadowy figure that had stepped behind me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I sucked in a breath as a figure came into view.

  It was Corky Keelhauler.

  I recognized him from the picture Cassidy had shown me. He was tall and lanky, with greasy hair he wore pulled back in a low ponytail. Like all the other pirates in town, he wore his pirate costume and talked with a slightly British accent.

  As soon as he saw Jackson’s gun, he raised his hands in the air. “Please, I’m not here to start trouble. I just want to talk.”

  Jackson eyed him skeptically. “How did you find us?”

  “Everybody here on the island knows where you’re staying. It’s common knowledge.”

  I wanted to argue, but, since I’d already heard that factoid a couple other times, I decided that maybe I shouldn’t.

  “What are you doing here, Corky?” Jackson’s voice sounded hard and left no room for argument.

  Corky raised his hands in the air. “Like I said, I just want to talk. I know how all of this works. I know that I look guilty. But I’m not. I did not kill Bucky.”

  “What happened to him?” Jackson asked. “We heard that the two of you didn’t get along very well.”

  “That’s true. We didn’t see eye to eye. That doesn’t mean that I killed him.”

  Jackson lowered his gun and put it back in his harness. But his face clearly said he was still perturbed. “What exactly were you arguing about?”

  “Simple. We were arguing over Gypsy Queen.”

  “What is Gypsy Queen?” I asked, expecting it to be a new rock band or something. “Is she friends with the ‘Dancing Queen’ by chance?”

  “What? You mean, who. She is fairest of all the fairest maidens in the land. Fairer than even you, dare I say?”

  I almost wanted to be insulted. Then again, who was I to feel slighted by somebody who is named Gypsy Queen? Either way, I was now mentally singing the Abba song, and I was sure it would be stuck in my head for the rest of the night.

  “And why were you arguing over Gypsy Queen?” Jackson asked.

  “Because we were both in love with her.”

  Jackson let out a quick sigh, looking like he was moderating a middle school debate. “And who was Gypsy Queen in love with?”

  A frown crossed Corky’s face. “Bucky. He won. His commitment to the pirate life greatly impressed her.”

  I supposed we all had our things that impressed us about the opposite sex. I couldn’t ever say for myself that the pirate life was what impressed me, but to each his own.

  “Where is this Gypsy Queen now?” Jackson asked.

  Corky’s face darkened. “She left. Said she was walking away from this life. I secretly suspect that her job as an attorney became demanding and her colleagues gave her a hard time.”

  We both stared at him until he shrugged.

  “What? It’s true. Even people like lawyers sometimes have an inner freak just waiting to let loose.”

  Jackson cleared his throat. “So you’re saying that the only reason you two had been arguing was because of Gypsy?”

  “That’s right. It was our only disagreement. I do agree that it was a heated one. However, I met another fair maiden. A gal named Eva.”

  I blinked, remembering Mindy’s story. “Eva? Where did the two of you meet?”

  “At a restaurant called The Docks two nights ago. We talked until morning.”

  I glanced at Jackson. It looked like Eva might have an alibi for that night, after all.

  “Did you threaten to shoot Bucky?” Jackson asked. “Someone overheard something like that the night the two of you were arguing.”

  “I think I tuned him out at that point. Maybe he said something like ‘this was his last shot’ or something? It didn’t seem significant.”

  “Is there anybody else you know who didn’t get along with Bucky?” Jackson asked. “Anyone who might want him dead?”

  Corky looked from side to side, as if he thought someone might be listening. “There was this one man that Bucky didn’t like. He’s only known as the Piranha.”

  Man, these names were killing me. Part of me loved them. Part of me felt like I’d stepped into a James Bond movie and Kissy Suzuki or Christmas Jones would appear next.

  Jackson stepped closer and lowered his voice. “What’s this Piranha guy’s real name?”

  Corky’s voice, on the other hand, climbed higher. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you ever seen his face?” I asked. “Does he have any distinguishing features?”

  “He operates under a cloak of darkness. He only meets at night, and he wears a black cloak and matching mask.”

  Jackson let out another small sigh. “We’re not getting very far, and I’m losing my patience.”

  “Why did the Piranha have a problem with Bucky?” I asked, trying to get more answers from this guy before he decided to stop talking.

  “I heard he tried to pay Bucky to shoot somebody.”

  “Bucky was a hitman?” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

  “That’s what I heard,” Corky sa
id. “Bucky never talked about it, though.”

  “So you’re saying that there’s a Piranha guy who was trying to pay Bucky to do a hit job?” Jackson’s voice rang with disbelief.

  Corky shrugged. “I have no idea. I am just telling you what the rumors are.”

  “Do you know who the target was?” Jackson asked.

  Corky’s gaze fell on me. “Joey Darling, of course.”

  Jackson and I exchanged a look. This whole thing was just getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

  Corky left, and Jackson and I stepped into my house. Part of me hoped that everybody was already in bed because that was all that I wanted too. I had a lot to process.

  But, instead, as soon as I walked into the living room, I was bushwhacked.

  No, not bushwhacked. I glanced around.

  People had thrown me a . . . party?

  I glanced at Jackson. His hand was on his gun. Didn’t people know better than to surprise a detective?

  I suppose they didn’t. All of my concerns washed away when I realized what was happening.

  My friends were throwing me a surprise bridal shower.

  I glanced around and saw their smiling faces and eyes that beamed with pride. They had gone through a lot of work to plan and organize this to surprise us. There were balloons tied in various places and a table full of presents, cake, and other treats to eat.

  And right now everyone stood around staring at me and Jackson.

  “We just couldn’t wait any longer to celebrate your upcoming marriage,” Dizzy said. “We are just so excited for you. We came here just to do the shower.”

  Tears rushed my eyes. I didn’t know what to say.

  It still amazed me when people did sweet things for me. Usually when people were nice to me it was because they wanted something. I’d never had a lot of great friendships with other women, and many of the ones I did have had ended poorly.

  The fact that someone—several someones—had gone out of their way to do all this for me and Jackson? It touched my heart in more ways than I could express.

  Jackson seemed to sense my emotional state, and his arm went to my waist. He squeezed. I looked up, and we exchanged a smile.

  “You guys . . . you shouldn’t have. But I love this, and I am so thrilled,” I told them. “Thank you all so much.”

  A round of hugs were exchanged with all of them.

  The next couple hours were spent opening gifts, talking, eating, laughing, and eating some more.

  It was the perfect ending to an otherwise not-so-perfect day.

  I was so glad my friends had come. I was so glad to have them in my life. To have people who cared about me enough to do something like this.

  Now I really needed to nail down that wedding date.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Okay, okay, everyone,” Alistair yelled, dramatically swinging his head around.

  I could mentally hear the mariachi music playing.

  He’d gathered us near the production trailer the next morning, bright and early. I was already dressed in my Drusilla costume and ready for today’s filming. Unfortunately, someone had broken into Mindy’s trailer last night and cut the tips off all her makeup brushes.

  After a few tears, she’d improvised using her fingers and Q-tips.

  We’d called Cassidy—again. She’d questioned Larry, but he hadn’t seen anything—of course. That would have been too easy.

  Apparently, everything that had happened had pushed Alistair into fast gear, because he looked all business right now. Everyone seemed to have bated breath as we waited to hear what he was going to tell us.

  He paced, his poofy hair blowing with the breeze. “As you all know we have had some setbacks on the filming of this movie. Also, as you all know, Joey Darling only has two weeks to film this movie in between shooting everything else that she is involved with.”

  You had to be kidding me. He was throwing me under the bus again? Now my knickers were getting in a knot.

  “Because of circumstances out of our control, we are going to have to rearrange filming some of these scenes,” Alistair continued. “Joey is not in every scene, so we will be filming out of order. I know this isn’t ideal, and it’s not how I like to organically film my movies. However, this is the way it’s going to have to be done. So, from here on out we’ll be filming Joey’s scenes until they are completed, and then we will film the rest of the movie.” Alistair’s gaze scanned everybody else’s. “Does everybody understand what I’m saying?”

  A round of murmurs went around the space, and everyone nodded.

  Alistair clapped his hands, and more Spanish music began playing in my mind. “All right, everyone. We don’t have any time to waste, so let’s get started.”

  I glanced at Jackson. He stood near the cameras, out of sight, and out of the way. But I knew he was watching and listening to everything that Alistair said. He was clearly still worried about everything going on.

  I trudged toward the filming area, my thoughts still churning.

  At this point, I felt like Eva could be cleared from any possible involvement in this crime. I also felt like Washington George was cleared. Now we just needed to figure out who the Piranha was. Whoever this man turned out to be, I felt certain he had some answers.

  As we prepared to start the scene, I glanced around. Speaking of Eva, where was she? Was she running late? It was a possibility. But what if it was something more sinister?

  A bad feeling started to grow in my gut. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to let this pass. I had to say something. What if something had happened to Eva?

  Even though Cassidy had someone watching her, that didn’t mean Eva was okay. I’d filmed enough episodes of Relentless to know how clever bad guys could be—after all, even the fictitious ones were created in the minds of real people.

  Just as Alistair was about to yell “action,” I raised my hands in a T sign and yelled, “Cut!”

  I ignored everyone’s dirty looks. I’d already messed up the production schedule, and now I was messing it up more.

  “Has anybody seen Eva?” I asked.

  Everybody glanced around at each other and shrugged. I knew what that meant. It meant that nobody had seen her and no one knew where she was.

  My gaze met Jackson’s. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  Jackson volunteered to help search for Eva. Reluctantly, he’d left me on set with some very specific instructions about staying put until he came back, keeping my eyes open for trouble, and not running upstairs when confronted by a deadly killer.

  He hadn’t worded it exactly that way, but that’s what he meant.

  I, of course, wanted to help find Eva also, but Alistair didn’t seem to be on board with that. He insisted that she was probably fine. That she could be a diva. That she’d probably overslept because she had been out the night before partying again.

  He hadn’t looked happy as he had shared any of that, but I couldn’t deny the truth of his statements. She did like to party, she was chronically late, and she did have diva-like tendencies. But the bad feeling remained in my gut.

  Even as I delivered my lines and acted out my scenes, all I could think about was Eva and all the bad things that might have happened. I hoped and prayed that Eva was okay and had not become another victim.

  Two hours later, we took a break from filming. We’d actually made quite a bit of progress. But I was concerned because Jackson still wasn’t back, nor had I been able to talk to him to see what he’d found out.

  We had fifteen minutes while they set up the next scene. I decided to go to my trailer to call Jackson. I walked inside and headed toward my kitchen table, where I’d left my cell earlier.

  But my table was empty. My phone wasn’t there.

  How could that be possible? I’d left it right here.

  My throat tightened. I glanced around the space. Had someone been in here again?

  Even worse—were they still here?

  My
gaze darted around. Nothing else appeared to be touched.

  Just to be safe, I checked behind the doors.

  Nothing. No one.

  Still, the bad feeling grew in my gut.

  As I sat down to think this through, I saw something sticking out from the cushions of my couch. My phone! I picked it up and hit the screen button.

  Nothing seemed different. But I felt confident I hadn’t left the device there.

  Out of curiosity, I pulled up my photos. I gasped at what I saw.

  Someone had handled my phone. And they’d left a photo. It was taken from the window of my trailer. I could see everyone outside filming.

  Someone had wanted to send me a message—a message that they were close and accessible.

  A shiver shimmied down my spine.

  Before I could figure out my next move, a knock sounded at my door. I peered out the window and saw Sarah standing there. Based on her frown, there was more bad news.

  I opened the door and let her inside, my shoulders tensing as I waited.

  “Joey, did you see this?” Sarah’s face looked tight with worry, and she held up something in her hands.

  “See what?” I had no idea what she was talking about, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  She held up a copy of the National Instigator. I physically revolted at what I saw on the cover.

  It was a picture of me.

  In costume for this movie. On set.

  The photo was a doozy. The high definition showed all of my wrinkles and chins and thinning hair and added weight.

  “How in the world was that picture leaked?” I ran my hand over my face. “I mean, I did wear the costume out once, but no one should have recognized me. Besides, this was taken on set.”

  Sarah shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “What does the article say? Has Alistair seen this?”

  Sarah shrugged again. “I don’t know. I came right to you. I don’t want to face his wrath. He’s already in a rotten mood today.”

  I took the magazine from her and opened the pages until I found the article that accompanied the photo. I began reading it out loud.