by Zara Keane
“It was hell.” His voice rose in a theatrical fashion. “Coco has Theresa well in hand, but only a muzzle could stop that woman from making snide remarks to me during the dance.”
“I’m sorry, man.” I squeezed his arm. “I should’ve kept walking yesterday. If it hadn’t been for our financial situation, I’d have told Theresa to take a hike after her first mean comment.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Maggie. I’d have done the same. And you weren’t to know she’d turn up on the film set.”
I looked around the tent at all the happy faces. “Don’t you find it strange that Theresa’s an extra? She doesn’t strike me as the type to want to be in a movie. Sammy told me she wanted to bring her food truck over to Dolphin Island, but Magnum had already gotten permission to bring his. I guess she decided she’d apply to be an extra if that was the only way she’d get on the set.”
Lenny shrugged. “Does it matter? She wasn’t at the Belfast studio. That means she can’t be the saboteur.”
“No, I don’t think she has anything to do with the so-called accidents. I’m just surprised she wanted to be part of the movie.”
“Maybe she used it as an excuse to be away from Whisper Island this weekend,” Lenny said. “She might be more scared by that letter than she’s letting on.”
I considered his words. “That’s an interesting theory. Maybe you’re right. I read belligerent from her attitude, but it might’ve been bravado.”
Lenny’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. He glanced at the screen. “That’s my call to the wardrobe department, aka the tent next door.”
“I wondered why you weren’t in your ball gown.”
“There are so many of us and too little space, so they’re taking us in groups.”
I indicated my own outfit of T-shirt and jeans. “I’m glad I don’t have to change. I’ve been able to stay in my own clothes all day.”
“What’s your role in this scene?” Lenny asked.
“None. I’m here as sister-to-the-star. I get to mingle off-camera.”
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and patted me on the back. “I’d better make tracks. You sticking around to watch the dance?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. See you later, Lenny. Break a leg.”
“Hopefully, not literally.” He gave a two-fingered salute and headed for the exit.
Lenny had almost reached the door when the flaps of the tent were pulled aside. In trundled Theresa, her stocky body squeezed into a tuxedo. My stomach sank. And then my emotions went into free fall when I saw the people Theresa was with—Judd Ryan and my bratty little sister.
19
Beth’s eyes briefly locked onto mine before she averted her gaze. Hot rage swelled in my chest. Yes, I’d lost my temper with her earlier, but she’d deserved every word I’d said. From Beth’s demeanor, it didn’t look like I’d get an apology any time this century.
Theresa’s raucous laughter drew my attention away from my sister. While the actors wore their wedding finery, Theresa sported the black-and-white tuxedo that was the costume for the female amateur dancers. For the first time since we’d met, the woman was all smiles. I barely recognized her. Beth preened under Theresa’s attention. Judd treated the woman with magnanimous indifference. Perhaps Lenny had been correct in his assertion that most people would love to be involved in a movie.
Theresa’s good humor was replaced by a thunderous expression when she caught sight of Lenny. I was too far away to hear their exchange, but judging by my assistant’s face, Theresa had once again lashed out. He marched out of the tent without bothering to greet my sister or Judd. It didn’t take a lot to rile me, but Lenny was the most easygoing guy in the world. Theresa, meanwhile, looked smugly satisfied.
Suddenly, I was hit with a wave of nausea, probably brought on by the nagging pain. I hadn’t eaten enough today, either, especially with the medication I was taking. I needed a blast of fresh air. I fought my way through the crowd, jabbing my bad arm twice. By the time I neared the exit, I was close to tears.
My sister, Judd, and Theresa had gathered around a table right next to the exit. They were helping themselves to a full tray of shots. Theresa knocked back two green drinks in quick succession and did the same with the yellow ones.
Breathe, Maggie. In a few more steps, I’d be in the fresh air.
I’d almost made it out of the tent when a megaphone blasted from outside, hurting my ears.
“Attention everyone participating in the dance scene,” a woman’s voice proclaimed. “Please report to your scene coordinators.”
At that instant, a waitress carried a second tray of pale yellow drinks past my sister’s table.
“Oy,” Theresa shouted. “I want one of those.”
Startled, the waitress stopped and held out the tray. Judd eyed the plate with a dubious expression. “Are these non-alcoholic?”
The waitress shook her head. “These are all champagne shots, sir. Only the brown and purple varieties are non-alcoholic. We have a few leftovers at the front of the marquee if you’re interested.”
Judd nodded but made no comment. He did not, I noted, take a glass. After a brief hesitation, my sister took one, holding it delicately in her hand as though it’d shatter at any second.
Theresa grabbed two. “One for the road,” she roared over the noise, “and one for good luck.”
Beth held her glass up to her lips and took the barest of sips. “Delicious,” she murmured. Her expression of distaste amused me. Beth loved cocktails, and she adored champagne. If she was turning her nose up at a champagne shot, it had to be because of her argument with Coco.
Theresa knocked hers back in record time and followed it up with more.
Turning away from them, I stepped outside the tent and into the blissfully fresh evening air.
The woman with the megaphone barked orders, and cast and crew fell into step with her commands. In an astonishingly short space of time, the amateur dancers were lined up and ready to make their entrance on one side of the terrace, and the pros were assembled on the other. I found a safe spot behind the camera crew and settled into an empty director’s chair to watch the action. Even if I could justify crawling back to my tent, I’d never sleep through this din.
Within twenty minutes of me claiming my seat, ten dancers whirled across the terrace and out onto the lawn. I wasn’t a fan of ballroom dancing, but even I had to admit that the dance Coco had devised was spectacular. The castle in the background and the dramatic clifftop yards away provided a unique backdrop that made the most of Ireland’s lush landscape.
The pros swirled and dipped in a wild blur of colors. The amateurs in the background strutted their stuff with surprising finesse. Coco had obviously concocted a routine that was easy to follow and blended seamlessly with the more complicated moves by the pros.
The dancers glided into position in carefully coordinated groups. I strained to catch sight of Liam, Lenny, and Magnum, but they weren’t part of the first sets of extras to hit the floor. After the pros completed their first routine and the music came to an end, the second routine started up. The extras already performing gracefully swirled off the set, leaving space for more groups. Magnum, complete with a heavy beard, was among the new additions. He wore a canary-yellow ball gown with matching high-heeled shoes. He was partnered with Melanie, who looked stunning in her fitted tuxedo.
The next couple to spin into sight was my sister and Judd. She wore her beautiful sheath wedding dress. The cream lace twinkled under the lights, drawing my attention to the sparkling crystals woven into the lace. Judd looked handsome in his best man’s suit. I didn’t care for the dude, but boy, could he dance. Beth was good, but Judd ruled the floor.
I was so busy watching them move that I almost missed Liam’s entrance. He’d been partnered with Dolly O’Brien, who was obviously in her element. Liam swirled Dolly in time to the music, dipping her at the appropriate moment, and twirling off again.
Lenny and Theresa en
tered with the last group of amateur dancers. Lenny was surprisingly good on his feet, and it was evident he was compensating for his partner’s deficiencies. While Lenny’s moves were quick and graceful, Theresa’s dancing resembled an elephant on the stampede. My assistant’s frustration was plain to see, but his partner appeared to be oblivious. Theresa’s leathery face had grown tomato red under her tan. She tugged at the bow tie of her tux as though it were strangling her. Lenny dragged her back into line when she missed yet another step.
The next sequence required Lenny to dip his partner. He performed the move with aplomb, but instead of arching her back into an elegant bridge like the other female dancers, Theresa hung like a dead weight. Lenny struggled to get her back into a standing position. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he radiated tension.
The children huddled at one of the guest tables, looking adorable in their wedding finery, and watched the dance with delighted horror. Their faces contorted in an apparent effort not to laugh at Theresa’s antics. The battle was lost the next time Lenny and Theresa swung by their table. Theresa stumbled, forcing her partner to pull her back into position again. His efforts to keep his partner vertical were rewarded when Theresa let out a massive fart.
The kids succumbed to a fit of the giggles, and their laughter set me off. Lenny recoiled, presumably at the smell, before manning up and resuming the dance.
In the next moment, a gurgling sound emanated from Theresa’s throat. She clutched at her neck, and her nails carved jagged marks onto her skin. Eyes bulging, the woman’s mouth opened and shut. She reminded me of the angry carp I’d once seen at an aquarium. A moment later, her body jerked violently, and her face contorted in pain. Lenny, unable to see his partner’s face, whirled her to the edge of the lawn and out of my line of vision.
When they swirled into sight again a moment later, the children’s laughter died. Theresa’s face had turned from bright red to mottled purple. Her eyes bulged, and her mouth formed a silent plea for help. My heart pounding, I leaped to my feet, but a burly security guard blocked my progress.
“You need to get back, ma’am. You’ll ruin the take.”
“Hang the take,” I shouted. “Can’t you see one of the dancers is seriously ill?” Ignoring the horrified yelps of the onlookers, I pushed past the security guard and charged into the swarm of dancers.
The music reached a crescendo and the dancers’ flurry of feet upped the beat. Theresa staggered against her partner, trampling her partner’s feet. Lenny, oblivious to her distress, tried to steer her around the lawn. “Lenny, stop,” I cried. “Theresa’s sick.”
Startled, he turned at the sound of my voice, loosening his grip on his dance partner. Theresa’s inert body slumped against him, sending them both toppling onto the lawn. Lenny thrashed under her weight but to no avail. Theresa had him pinned in place. Suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body convulsed violently. She drew in a shuddering breath, exhaled an agonizing rattle, and then fell silent.
20
My sister’s high-pitched scream shattered the silence. She stood motionless in the center of the dancers, clinging to Judd. He remained motionless, and every ounce of arrogance drained from his face. Beth’s screech precipitated a wave of noise from the cast and crew that ran the gamut from gasps to screams to disbelieving laughter.
Ignoring all of them, I lunged forward. I reached Lenny seconds after he’d collapsed under Theresa’s weight and a moment after the woman’s final death rattle. My assistant thrashed wildly under the confines of the body. I rolled Theresa off him and maneuvered her into the recovery position. No easy task with one hand, yet what I lacked in dexterity I made up for in determination.
I held my hand to her face. She wasn’t breathing. A strange smell emanated from her. Stale, acrid, bitter. I didn’t know what it reminded me of, but I’d remember that smell again. I began rescue breaths while loosening her bow tie to check for a pulse. One look at the woman’s blue-tinged lips told me not to expect to find one, but I had to be sure. I held my fingertips against her neck for several seconds. Nothing. Still, I knew from my first aid training that a weak pulse was notoriously hard to detect.
I ripped Theresa’s tuxedo jacket open and began chest compressions. “Call an ambulance,” I shouted over my shoulder, “and get the nurse. I can’t keep this up one-handed.”
Con Ryder cut a path through the throng, followed by Coco and Liam. I’ve rarely come across an appropriate moment to describe someone as looking ghastly. Still, it was the perfect description of Con’s current appearance. The director’s complexion was gray, and his skin seemed too loose for his face. “What happened?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Did she have an accident?”
His mention of an accident struck me as incongruous until I recalled the reason I was on Dolphin Island. “She’s ill, Con. This is no accident.”
Con spluttered protestations, but I ignored him and focused on Theresa. I didn’t hold out much hope that CPR would revive the woman, particularly my one-handed efforts, but I had to try. However loathsome Theresa was, she didn’t deserve to die.
In the background, Coco comforted Lenny, who was still in shock. I was vaguely aware of her helping my assistant to his feet and guiding him away from Theresa’s still figure.
Liam came to a halt beside me. The incongruity of seeing him in his ridiculous frilly ball gown in a situation as serious as this struck me. He pressed buttons on his phone, and swore at the screen. “No service. Con, is there a landline in the castle?”
It took a second for the director to focus. “Uh, yeah. In the library.”
“Send someone to call emergency services.” Liam crouched beside me. “I’ll deal with Theresa, Maggie.”
“No, let me.” Melanie shoved her way through the crowd and dropped to her knees on the other side of Theresa. “Move aside, both of you. I’ve got this.”
Relief flooded through me. Before she’d become the manager of the Whisper Island Hotel, Melanie had worked as a nurse. I wasn’t fond of the woman, but I didn’t doubt her professional capabilities. Within seconds, Melanie had taken over the CPR. Her movements were strong and competent. I doubted my feeble efforts had helped Theresa, but I hated standing around and doing nothing.
“Has someone gone to call emergency services?” Liam glared at the crowd frozen around us. “I’ll take that as a no. Can I have a key to the library, Con?”
“No need for a key,” I said as he helped me to my feet. “The lock on the library door’s broken.”
“Okay. I’m on it.” Liam kicked off his high-heeled shoes and ran across the lawn to the castle.
Now that I was relieved of CPR duty, the pain in my wrist hit me with full force. I’d jogged my sling several times when I’d rolled Theresa off Lenny and started CPR. Tears stung my eyes but now was not the moment to give in to the pain. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. I wasn’t due to take my next dose of meds for another hour, but I was tempted to ignore medical advice and knock one back now.
My preoccupation with my wrist ended when a breathless Brid Kelly shoved her way through the growing group gathered around Theresa. She clutched a medical kit, and Luke was hot on her heels, carrying a portable defibrillator.
“How is she?” Brid asked Melanie.
“Alive,” the other woman replied, “but barely. We need to get her to the hospital.”
“The coast guard is on the way,” Liam called, jogging across the lawn to join us. “ETA is in twenty minutes.”
The director staggered back as though only now comprehending the severity of the situation. “This can’t be happening. What was it? A heart attack?” He released a shuddery breath. “Yes, that must be it. She had a heart attack.” He seemed relieved at the prospect of one of his cast members succumbing to a cardiac arrest mid-dance.
I exchanged a significant look with Liam. “I don’t think it was an accident,” I whispered. “Did you see how she convulsed before she collapsed?”
Liam’s m
outh set in a grim line. “I noticed. Does Theresa’s collapse have any connection to the job you were hired to do on Dolphin Island?”
After maneuvering Theresa, my sore arm throbbed. “I don’t know,” I said, gritting my teeth against the growing pain. “I don’t think so, but it’s one heck of a coincidence.”
“I have to secure the scene, and I need to get Hannah out of here.” His voice was taut, but the hand he placed on the small of my back radiated gentle warmth. “When I’m done, you and I need to have a talk.”
I scanned the sea of faces, including Con’s ever-present security team. Neither they nor I had prevented Theresa’s collapse. I had no idea if her illness was connected to the accidents, but it was time to tell Liam everything I knew. “Okay.” I let out a breath. “You need to talk to Con, too. He’s the one who hired me.”
Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Con, eh? I assume Lenny’s working with you?”
“Yeah. We’re both here on the case.”
He nodded slowly, now fully in cop mode. “Okay. Give me a few minutes, and we’ll talk.”
When Liam left, I scanned the crowd. Hannah, Caoimhe, and Sammy tried to push through to get a look at the body, but Magnum held them back. After a heated discussion, the kids sulkily trooped to the cafeteria, and Magnum came over to join me.
“I expected the drama on the film set to stay fictional,” he said, grabbing two plastic chairs from a wedding table and setting them down next to me. “I never expected Theresa to pop off like that.”
“She’s not dead.” The “yet” lingered in the air, unspoken but understood. “Do you know her well?”
Magnum flopped onto one of the chairs. “Nah. We’ve moved in the same circles for years, but we were never friends.”
“You mean the food-trucking community?” I asked, slumping into the chair beside his.
Magnum shrugged. “That too.”
It took my pain-addled mind longer than usual to process the implications of Magnum’s response. “Wait… Are you saying you knew Theresa before she operated a food truck?”
