Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  With each person I talked to, the pool of potential suspects was drying up. They could be innocent or outstanding actors who could convince me of anything. Earlier, when I’d talked to Sam, he’d let it slip Robin had a secret. A terrible thought occurred to me. Maybe he was the one blackmailing her. I decided to question him during lunch about Robin and the night Beth had been murdered. I probably wouldn’t discover anything more than Detective Spangler had learned about that night, but it might be worth the effort.

  Not finding Sam in the common area, I searched and found him outside the warehouse in his recording van. After tapping on the door, I held up my mic and made a show of turning it off, a clear indication that I wanted a private chat and not have my words recorded. I needn’t have bothered since I had forgotten to turn it back on after my talk with Luke. Turning it back on again was so easy to forget.

  “Sorry to bother you on your lunch break, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions.” All the electronic devices inside the van fascinated me. Sam had quite an elaborate set-up to manage.

  “No problem. Come on in.” He pushed his chair back to make room for me. Working in such a confining space all day would make me feel claustrophobic.

  “When I visited Chris, he said something about a man at the hotel who kept approaching Beth. Can you tell me anything about that?”

  My question surprised him. “Playing detective, are you? I’m glad somebody is trying to help Chris. He’s getting a bum rap.”

  “I’m trying.” Sadly, if Chris’s freedom rested with me, he might end up staying in prison for a long time.

  “I forgot about that fellow. Beth pointed him out to Chris and me. Said he kept bugging her to have a drink with him in the bar and didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

  “Do you remember anything about him? Anything that might help the police focus on someone other than Chris?”

  “He was staying at the hotel. I know because I saw him coming out of a room on the floor where I’ve been staying. The seventh floor to be exact. After Beth told us about him, I saw him in the bar and quietly told him to stop approaching her. Said she was my girlfriend and I didn’t appreciate him inviting her for drinks. Since I look like a bruiser, it didn’t take much for him to get the message. After that, Beth didn’t mention him again.”

  “Thanks, Sam. I’ll mention that to Detective Spangler. Knowing the man was staying on the seventh floor may help narrow down who he was.”

  “I hope it helps.”

  I sat there quietly, as though collecting my thoughts. “Last Sunday night, who went with you on your night out? Where did you go?”

  “I already told you Chris skipped out. He’d gone looking for Beth. That left the other two cameramen and me. Since it was Sunday night, most places where we could get drinks were closed. Eventually, we found a pizza place that served beer. They sure have a lot of Italian restaurants in this town. When the pizza place closed, we found a bar in one of the hotels.”

  “What time did you get in?”

  “Sometime after midnight. Well after the time Detective Spangler said Beth had been murdered. And, no, I didn’t slip away from the other guys to kill Beth, and none of them did either. We can all vouch for each other.”

  “If I’m going to find out anything that might help Chris, I had to ask.”

  “Perfectly understandable.” Thankfully, he didn’t look too put out.

  “When we spoke before, you almost let it slip that Robin had secrets. Can you tell me about that?”

  He grimaced. “Sorry, I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

  “Are you protecting her?”

  He laughed, not a pleasant laugh. “Not hardly. I was protecting the show and my job.”

  I stared at him and waited for him to say more, a technique I’d learned from Detective Spangler.

  He squirmed in his seat. “Look, I hear all kinds of stuff. Most would just embarrass the people overheard. Some of it’s worse. I keep my job because I don’t disclose what I hear. Unless it’s about something illegal…that kind of thing.”

  “But what if you’d learned of something that might be connected to Beth’s death and could help free Chris?”

  “If I knew anything that could help Chris, I would have told the police already.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about Beth’s secret. Perhaps it can lead to something.”

  He shook his head. “The stuff related to Robin happened a while ago and shouldn’t have any bearing on what happened to Beth.”

  “If you tell me, maybe we can see if there’s a link?” I didn’t tell him that Robin had already told me her secret, without the details. I wanted to see if it was the same one Sam knew about and if he could provide more information.

  “Okay, but can I trust you not to reveal any of this?”

  I nodded, taking on my most trustworthy expression. If it ended up being something that could help free Chris, I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise.

  “During the final competition Robin participated in, she was neck and neck with the other competitor. Sometimes there’s a frontrunner, but not in this case. Just before the judging, Robin slipped into the other person’s cubicle and left some really garish throw pillows. The kind most people would cringe at seeing. It was enough to push Robin ahead. The other competitor said the pillows hadn’t been part of her design, but everyone thought that was sour grapes on her part because she’d lost.”

  “How did you discover it was Robin’s doing?”

  “Because I’d seen her in a store buying them. She didn’t see me. At the time, I thought the pillows were kind of outlandish, but what do I know about design. I’m only the audio guy.”

  “Having awful pillows doesn’t seem enough to cause a competition to go one way or another.”

  “It could when a competition is that close. It was a risky thing for Robin to do, but using the pillows worked. If someone had seen Robin putting them in there, she could have said it was accidental. If she had done something more malicious, like destroying something, there would have been an investigation.”

  “Why didn’t you say something about it?”

  “At the time, I didn’t know the pillows had been an issue. Later, when I realized what had happened, I reported what I knew to Simon and Olivia, but they decided to let it go.”

  “Let it go? That’s surprising.”

  “Not really. Ratings had begun to slip, and they knew the scandal would hurt the program. This isn’t always a nice business.”

  “Did you know that someone has been blackmailing Robin about it for the past two years?” Once it was out, I held my breath. Would he show a reaction that would give away he’d been the one blackmailing Robin?

  Sam would have to be a skilled actor to fake the surprised look on his face. “What? No, I didn’t know that. And you think it was me?”

  “I don’t know. Was it you?”

  “I may be many things, but a blackmailer isn’t one of them.”

  “Could Beth have found out about the sabotage and been blackmailing Robin? That could have been a strong motive for murder.”

  “I don’t see how. It happened long before Beth joined the crew. I didn’t tell her about it, and I’m sure whoever is blackmailing Robin wouldn’t have told her.”

  “Besides Simon and Olivia, did anyone else know about the sabotage?”

  “That I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. If they shared that information, I couldn’t say.”

  Then a thought occurred to me. “Did the sabotage occur during the time Kristin Watson worked as the production assistant?”

  “Kristin? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Nice person, but very timid. This business will chew you up and spit you out if you aren’t careful. Kristin wasn’t cut out to work in this environment and especially wit
h Simon. To answer your question, she was long gone before Robin’s sabotage.”

  There went my theory that Beth, with information gleaned from Kristin, could have been the blackmailer. “Sorry, Sam. I’m digging, trying to find anything I can to help Chris.”

  “I understand. That’s why I haven’t thrown you out of my van.”

  As I walked away, I mulled over what he said. He and the other cameramen would be able to vouch for each other. Would I be too trusting taking his word on that? I needed to find the other cameramen.

  Chapter 33

  To stage a spare room as a home gym, add hand weights, a colorful yoga mat, baskets with rolled white towels, and a mini fridge with water bottles.

  Happy to escape Sam’s claustrophobic van, I stood on the loading dock long enough to send a text to Detective Spangler, telling him what Sam had said about the man at the hotel Beth had complained about. Knowing he’d stayed on the seventh floor would help identify him. After that, I returned to our cubicle, which was quite spacious compared to the van.

  “Sorry, Tyrone, I hadn’t planned to be gone so long. I’ve been interrogating suspects.”

  Tyrone laughed, not realizing I’d been serious. “Time spent on a good cause. I’m just getting ready to leave for class, so you can take over.”

  Sinking into the comfortable sofa with its plush cushions, I relaxed and surveyed the room. Viewing a space from various vantage points helps to point out areas that still need attention. From my position on the sofa, I realized the arrangement of holly on the coffee table was obstructing my view. I picked it up and went in search of someplace to move it. Now I would have to find something to put in its place.

  After doing as much as I could for the day, I closed the door to our cubicle, planning to pick up Nita so we could visit Mrs. Webster. We were anxious to see how she was faring following the success of her planned sting operation. We also wanted to hear about her stay at the B&B. I wondered if the breakfast Ron was famous for met Mrs. Webster’s high standards. She was quite a cook.

  Earlier, Detective Spangler reported they’d rounded up several people involved in the burglaries, so he felt it was safe for Tyrone to take her home. He also said Josh had identified one of the men as the man who had sold him some of the stolen goods.

  As I walked through the common area on my way to the stairs, I found Olivia lounging there, her feet propped on a chair. She waved for me to join her. I was anxious to get out of there but stopped to say a quick goodnight before leaving. Using her foot, she pushed out a chair.

  “Take a seat. Are you in a hurry?” She propped her feet up again and leaned back as though fatigued after a hectic day.

  “I’m meeting someone soon, but I can chat for a few minutes.” I set my canvas bag on the floor and sat down. Seeing how tired she looked, I wondered how someone in middle age tolerated such a nomadic life, moving from town to town while conducting the competitions. They selected a new TV star each season and then started all over again. From the lines on her face, it was beginning to take a toll on her.

  “So now that we’re coming down to the wire with the competition, what do you think? Sorry that you got involved?”

  I laughed. “To be truthful, it’s been a mixture of sorry and glad. The room was a challenge, but I enjoyed working to overcome the less desirable features you included. We face challenges in every home we stage. It’s helpful to devise some new ways of dealing with them.” Of course, given what had happened to Beth and Chris, I was sorry to be involved. But I didn’t think she was referring to that and decided not to raise the subject.

  “We learned that you’re related to Chris. You know it’s against our rules to have a competitor with connections to anyone on the production team or with the network?”

  Had she been reading my mind or sensed I’d been thinking of Chris. “So you know I wasn’t trying to cover up anything, I didn’t meet Chris until after I joined the competition. In fact, I only learned a few days ago we were related. My father disappeared from my life when I was very young and didn’t show up again until the police arrested Chris.” Why was I explaining my situation to her?

  Perhaps I should’ve told her about my relationship with Chris when I found out about it, but with everything that’d been going on, I just hadn’t. Since his arrest, it no longer seemed to be an issue.

  “You know, we could disqualify you.”

  I shrugged. “That your choice.” Did she expect me to beg her not to disqualify me? Not a chance.

  “Considering you were a last-minute substitute and probably won’t win anyway, we don’t plan to do that. It would just disrupt our production.”

  “I could do you a favor and just drop out.”

  “Yes, you could, but I hope you won’t.” With that, she got up and walked toward the elevator. I waited a minute or so and headed for the stairs. Let her get caught between floors and end up spending the night there.

  I quickly made my way down the all-too-familiar stairs. Walking up and down them all week had given me quite a workout. My thigh muscles were complaining, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I missed the yoga exercises I did to stay in shape. Using the stairs for exercise would have to do until I got back into my regular routine.

  Suddenly I felt my left foot roll out from under me as though I were wearing roller skates. I clutched the handrail and fell sideways hard against the railing. The large canvas bag I’d been carrying provided a cushion between my chest and the metal railing. Pain shot up through my ankle, and adrenalin coursed through my body. Trying to recover from the shock, I sank onto the steps and took deep breaths.

  When my senses returned, I realized I’d landed on something that was painfully digging into my bottom. Sitting up, I pulled out a wooden pole the size of a broom handle that stretched across the width of the stair tread. Who could have left that there? If I hadn’t had such a good grip on the handrail as I descended, I would have plummeted down the stairs. It shook me how close I’d come to being badly injured or worse.

  After getting over the shock of a near tumble, I stood up and put my foot down gingerly, testing to see if it would hold my weight. My ankle was sore, but I felt I could make it down the final flight of stairs before it started swelling and began to feel worse. I took the pole with me, using it as a cane to give me balance. I also didn’t want to leave it there to trip someone else.

  I hobbled to my car and threw the pole into the backseat. Thankfully, I’d twisted my left ankle and not the right, so I could still drive. I would have Mrs. Webster, a retired nurse, look at it when I got to her place.

  As I drove, I wondered how the pole had ended up on the stairs.

  Chapter 34

  To stage a spare room or a part of a larger area as a home office, add a desk, chair, lamp, desk mat, and an old laptop if one is available.

  After picking up Nita, I told her of my near fall. She was upset but even more outraged when I told her about my conversation with Olivia.

  “Who would have left a pole on the steps like that? I sure hope it wasn’t anyone from my family when they did the film set construction.”

  “Couldn’t have been. I’ve been on the stairs every day this week and never came across it before.”

  “Somebody was careless leaving it there. That fall could have killed you.”

  “I’m fine, so don’t worry.” Nita’s comments made me wonder. Could someone have intentionally left it there? But who and why? Could Robin have regretted she’d confessed to me about sabotaging a competitor and now wanted to get rid of me to keep her secret from getting out? She said she was glad it was finally out so she could free herself of the blackmailer. But given time to think it over, she could have changed her mind.

  “Are you sure you want to stop by Mrs. Webster’s house?” Nita asked. “We can go to the emergency room now so you can have your ankle x-rayed.”

  Nita’s
question brought me back to the present. “I don’t think I twisted it that badly. I’ll see what Mrs. Webster says about it.”

  “How about that Olivia? She essentially threatened you. You did them a favor entering the competition, and they act like you tried to pull something over on them.”

  “They feel they gave me a marvelous opportunity—even if they viewed me as only having a remote possibility of winning.”

  “Who’s to say you won’t win?”

  “At this point, the most important thing isn’t winning the competition but finding out who killed Beth.”

  I was getting tired of everything to do with the competition and decided to change the subject. “Were you able to contact any of the former production assistants?”

  “I reached five of them. It was as you thought. None of them had anything good to say about Simon. Four of them left because of his advances, and one decided to go back to school. They said Beth contacted them, wanting information about their time with the production company. One of them said she’d wanted to file a complaint against Simon, but Olivia cautioned her against that, saying it would hurt her career.”

  “Did you tell them what happened to Beth?”

  “Yeah, I did. They were shocked, and afterward were reluctant to say more.”

  I pulled up in front of a pizza shop so Nita could pick up the two pizzas we told Mrs. Webster we were bringing—enough for Tyrone to have some when he got home from class.

  When we arrived, and I hobbled into the house, Mrs. Webster examined my ankle and said she thought I had slightly sprained it but not severely. She pulled out her large box of medical supplies, selected an elastic support band, and wrapped it around my ankle. She then insisted I prop my foot on an ottoman and put ice on it.

  “Girl, you could have been killed falling down those stairs.”

  Nita helped herself to a slice of pizza. “Don’t you find it strange someone left that pole on the steps that way? Could someone have intended to trip somebody?”