Besides, I didn’t even know if Vince had anything to do with Cathy’s death. He might just be a sad guy, bummed about his career tailspin. There was nothing dangerous in that, not unless he was an angry drunk. Even then, there’d be others at the bar who could step in if things got too heated.
Still, I made sure my purse was packed nice and tight, just in case he decided to come at me.
While Jacques hadn’t known the name of the hotel where Vince was staying, I was pretty sure I knew where it was. Pine Hills was small, and as far as I knew, there was only the one hotel—outside of Ted and Bettfast, which didn’t really count—so I made for the place simply called Hotel that sat at the edge of town. The place was as low budget as the last time I’d seen it. One of the windows was boarded up, and another door had old police tape strung across it. I wondered what had happened, but quickly decided it was none of my business. So instead, I drove past, looking for the nearest bar.
I didn’t have to look far. The bar was within walking distance of the hotel, and as far as I could tell, had a similar naming style; the sign out front simply said BAR. The building was one of those old wooden structures that looked as if it should have been condemned years ago, yet was hopping with customers, despite the early hour. Picnic tables outside held a smattering of people, all eating fried foods and drinking. A half-dozen motorcycles sat outside, right next to a shiny silver Prius that looked completely out of place.
A ping at the back of my mind gave me pause. Hadn’t I nearly been run off the road by a silver car near Ted and Bettfast? I couldn’t remember if it was a Prius or not, especially since I was pretty sure Lyric’s Audi was silver and I might be confusing them. Could Vince have been seeing Lyric, just like Jacques? If so, that meant she’d lied to me, more than once.
I parked beside the Prius, and got out of my car, drenched in sweat. My lack of air-conditioning was becoming a major problem, and with no end to the heat in sight, I wasn’t so sure I was going to be able to continue driving it. Open windows didn’t help when the air was hot and soupy.
A handful of bikers stood outside smoking. Their eyes swiveled my way as I moved to the doors to the bar. There were no flashing neon signs proclaiming what beers they served, just dirty windows with no curtains or blinds. The smell of fried fish and chicken was nearly overpowering as I pushed inside to a dimly lit room, buzzing with the murmur of voices. My gaze swept across the men and women, many with beards and long hair, until I spotted the one man who looked as if he didn’t belong.
Jacques was right; Vince was already in his beer, looking dismally ahead at nothing. He looked worse than when I’d seen him at Death by Coffee, which was saying something. I headed straight for him, trying hard not to look at the floor, which was alternatively hard and squishy. Vince was seated at a table by himself, which served my purposes, though I did wonder why he’d come to a place like this. He might not be popular, but he was an actor. You’d think he’d have better taste.
“Mind if I take a seat?” I asked over the sound of country music being played. Thankfully, it was kept low enough to serve as background noise and wouldn’t drown out our conversation.
Vince glanced up at me, forehead crinkling in confusion for a moment before recognition dawned. “Kris, right?”
“Krissy,” I corrected. “Jacques told me where I could find you.”
Vince scowled, but nodded toward the seat across from him. “What does he want? You’d figure he’s beaten me down enough for one lifetime.”
“He didn’t send me,” I said. “I was hoping to talk to you, but didn’t know where you were staying, so I asked him. I hope that’s okay?”
He looked curious, but shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” He glanced around the room and, for the first time, looked embarrassed. “This kind of place isn’t my usual scene,” he said. “But it does have its own character. I don’t have to worry about someone I’d rather avoid showing up and bothering me.”
I followed his gaze around the room, and was surprised by what I saw, now that I was really looking. The bar felt more like some kind of lodge than the dive it appeared to be from the outside. Sure, the usual trappings were there: the long bar with bottles lined up behind it and a haggard man wiping down the counter. But then there were the mounted bear and deer heads, the unlit fireplace across the room. I wondered if it served as a clubhouse for bikers—or whatever they’d call it—when the place wasn’t open for business.
“So, Krissy,” Vince said, drawing my attention back to him. “What did you want to talk to me about?” He took a long drink from his bottle.
“I was curious to know how you’re holding up?” I said, opting for concerned, rather than jumping straight for accusations. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”
Vince grunted and lifted the bottle, swishing around what little was left. “How do you think I’m doing? I shouldn’t have come to this godforsaken town.” He took another swig. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Why did you come?” I asked. “Do you know Vicki well?” I knew from my conversation with her the other day, he didn’t, but was curious about what he’d say.
“No, I don’t know her at all,” he admitted. “I . . .” He scowled. “I was stupid. I thought I could, I don’t know, talk my way into . . .” He met my eyes, shook his head. “You know, private stuff.” He drained his bottle, and stood. “Excuse me a second.” He headed for the bar, raising the bottle to let the bartender know he was finished and was ready for more.
While he got another beer, I thought about what I knew about him. Vince was obviously a private man, which was strange since he was an actor who, if he ever hit the big time, would have his entire life splashed all over the media. It was clear he also had a thing for Lyric. I’d seen the way he looked at her. And if that was indeed his Prius I saw at Ted and Bettfast, then I was betting he’d tried to tell her.
But had he made it to the door? It was just as likely he’d chickened out and left before going in to see her. He didn’t seem the forceful, forward type, though how well did I really know him?
Vince returned and sat down with a pair of full beer bottles. He offered me one.
“No thank you,” I said.
“Suit yourself.” He took a drink and set the second bottle aside, apparently for later.
“You care for her, don’t you?” I asked after a moment. “Lyric, I mean. I think I saw you leaving the bed-and-breakfast where she’s staying.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why I bother,” he said. “It’s not like she’s ever given me the time of day.” He took a long drink this time, as if he thought he might drink himself into oblivion on that one bottle. “I figured this trip would be the perfect opportunity to get to know her. I mean, since we are all pretty much strangers here, we’d stick together. Or so I thought.”
I wondered if Lyric even realized Vince had feelings for her. She’d told me she liked him a little, even if he was a bit awkward and weird. But that didn’t mean she knew him well enough to know his true feelings for her. He was so detached from everyone, I wondered if anyone knew.
Vince was clearly a depressed man, infatuated with a woman whom he’d likely never get. That had to be hard on him.
And then there was the lost movie role.
Carefully, putting as much compassion in my voice as I could, I decided to bring it up. “Jacques was telling me you both were up for the same part in a movie.”
Vince’s face turned an ugly shade of red almost immediately. “He stole it from me,” he said, leveling a finger my way. “It had nothing to do with talent. He used his influences to earn himself the part, a part I had already gotten.”
“They told you you had it?”
“Well, no.” Vince grimaced at his bottle. “But I knew it was mine. I met all the requirements. They didn’t want a pretty boy to prance across the screen, but rather, they wanted someone with some actual talent. Jacques Kenway is a hack who sleeps or buys his way into his roles. I end up rel
egated to supporting actor, or worse, just some nameless extra who doesn’t even get a line.”
“That has to be hard.”
“Tell me about it,” he said. “The biggest roles I ever land are often voice, where no one actually sees my face. I get cartoons, or worse, end up just some invisible, disembodied voice. Not like Jacques Kenway.” He changed his voice at the last so he sounded just like Jacques. I had to admit, I was impressed. If I hadn’t been looking right at him when he’d said it, I might have thought Jacques himself was in the room.
He sucked in an angry breath and leaned back. He looked a little better after his rant, if angry. At least he didn’t look depressed anymore.
“Have you ever heard of someone named Toni?” I asked.
Vince’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that name?”
“From Jacques,” I said. “He told me to ask Toni about stage names, but I’m not sure I know anyone by that name.”
Vince snorted. “Jacques Kenway. As if he has any room to talk? Jason Kennedy more like.”
“Jacques’s real name is Jason?” He did look a lot more like a Jason than a Jacques in my opinion.
“Of course it is. There’s nothing genuine about that man.” Vince sat back and shook his head. “I’m done talking about him. The man doesn’t deserve the breath spent on him. Same goes for Toni.”
There was a lot more I’d like to know about this Toni character, and Jacques, like why he’d changed his name, but I decided to honor Vince’s wishes. “What can you tell me about Cathy Carr?” I asked instead.
He looked startled by the question and took a drink from his bottle before answering with, “What about her?”
“Did you know her well?”
“No. It sucks she died, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to determine if I was trying to fool him in some way, before he shrugged and looked away. “I think the only people who liked her were Gina and Frederick. She had a tendency to rub people the wrong way. I think it was because of all that caffeine, made her too hyperactive for some people. She practically bounced from the walls wherever she went. I’m not even sure that woman ever slept.”
“Do you have any idea why anyone would want to kill her?” I asked, lowering my voice so that no one else in the bar would hear.
“No. Why would I? I’ve been keeping to myself, if you haven’t noticed.” He frowned and gave me a meaningful look. “Well, I’ve been trying to anyway.”
I ignored that. “She was found with Gina’s necklace on her,” I pressed. “I was told she stole from her clients, and I was wondering if you’d ever heard the same.”
“Can’t help you there.”
“Did you know the necklace was fake? Or at least, the one she had on her was. Do you think she might have planned on stealing the real one and replacing it with the forgery?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated by the questions. “I didn’t know her well enough to form an opinion. If she was a thief, then yeah, I suppose it’s possible.” He leaned forward, locked eyes with me. “But I can tell you for a fact that necklace of Gina’s was real. Someone must have taken it.” His teeth clenched, eyes going hard, before he took yet another drink from his beer. It wasn’t long past lunchtime and he looked as if he was already well on his way to drunk.
“How do you know for sure?” I asked. “Jacques said just the opposite.”
“What would Jacques know? There’s not a hint of intelligence in that man’s head.”
I couldn’t say I totally disagreed.
Vince sighed. “Look, I don’t know who killed her or why. I don’t know why anyone would care enough to hurt her. I don’t know why anything is happening. I just want to get this little trip over with so I can go back home and try to put my career back together before I’m too old.”
“Did something else happen?” I asked. I had a hard time believing one lost role was enough to ruin an acting career. “To your job, I mean.”
He shrugged. “With people like Jacques always taking the glory, even in our low-budget cheesefests, it’s hard to make ends meet.” He rose. “I’m going to go lie down. I’m not feeling too good.”
I stood with him. “Thank you for talking to me,” I said. “I hope you feel better soon.”
He drained his beer, picked up the full bottle, considered it, and then set it aside. “Guess I best lay off, huh?” he asked, before barking a bitter laugh. “See you around, Krissy.” He trudged off, head down, looking as depressed as any man I’d ever seen.
I followed him out the door. He didn’t so much as look up as he got into his car and drove off. I briefly wondered how safe it was to have him driving after drinking, but noted he was heading for the hotel, so I guessed I didn’t have to worry too much.
I got into my own car, but didn’t start it right away, despite the heat. For a bunch of people who’d come together for a wedding, they didn’t seem very festive. Or friendly toward one another, for that matter. Vince hated Jacques, who, in turn, didn’t like Vince. Lyric wasn’t Jacques’s biggest fan, while she thought Vince to be an oddball, though she’d apparently spent the night with at least one of them, according to Jacques. Sage and Trey Herron were willing to sit and eat with Lyric, but as far as I knew, didn’t associate much with Vince or Jacques. And none of them had known, or liked, Cathy Carr all that much.
So, what did that mean when it came to her murder?
It appeared as if all the actors cared about were their careers. Cathy had nothing to do with that. The only people who well and truly disliked her were Sage and Trey. Could they have finally decided to take their revenge on her for her previous thefts?
I started my car and turned toward home. It looked like I was getting nowhere, and I doubted I’d talk my way into an answer. I hoped the police were having better luck piecing it all together, and considered calling Paul to check in and tell him what little I’d learned. But if I was being honest with myself, he wouldn’t want me asking around. Talking to people wasn’t a crime, but interfering in a police investigation was.
Fifteen minutes later, when I was nearly home, my phone rang. Thinking it might be Dad telling me he was finally back from breakfast, I answered without checking the screen.
“Krissy!” Vicki’s voice was high-pitched and frantic. “Can you come to the police station?”
Adrenaline shot through me and my foot automatically pressed down hard on the pedal, ramping up my speed well past the legal limit. “I’m on my way. What’s going on?” My mind was conjuring all sorts of terrible things, including the possibility the murderer hadn’t been content with killing just Cathy, but had moved on to someone else, someone closer to me and my best friend.
“It’s Mason,” she said, causing my fears to double. I could hear tears in her voice, as if she was fighting hard to hold them back.
If someone has hurt him . . . I didn’t know what I would do, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. “Is he okay?” I asked, heart in my throat. “Where is he?”
“He’s okay,” Vicki said, though she didn’t sound convinced of the fact. “Physically at least.”
“Okay, then,” I said, somewhat relieved. At least he wasn’t bleeding out or black and blue from a beating. “What happened?”
Vicki’s voice broke when she spoke again. “The police have him,” she said. “They’ve arrested him for Cathy’s murder.”
24
I screeched to a halt outside the Pine Hills police station, just barely missing a double-parked SUV. It earned me a hard look from a cop walking to his own car, but I paid him little mind as I rushed into the station, alternating between worried and hopping mad. There was no way Mason Lawyer would have killed anyone, let alone Cathy Carr. Sure, he wasn’t happy she was interfering in his wedding, but I knew Mason; he wasn’t a killer.
Vicki saw me the moment I was through the door. Her face was makeup-streaked, eyes red and swolle
n from crying. She came toward me, arms already outstretched, in dire need of a hug.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, a panicked lilt to her voice. She squeezed me tightly and held on as if she was afraid I might abandon her.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, voice coming out strained. “What happened?”
Vicki released me and stepped back. “Apparently, someone called in a tip.” She wiped at her eyes, and took a deep, calming breath. “We were going over the rehearsal plans when the cops showed up out of nowhere and took him away. I didn’t know what to do!”
“Which cops?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Paul and John.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of my own. Paul had to know Mason wouldn’t do this. I’d expected it from Buchannan, but not Paul.
“Paul did his best to make me feel better,” Vicki said, correctly interpreting my reaction. “He said they had to follow up on the tip, even if it’s bunk. I can’t believe this is happening now.”
“Did Paul tell you what kind of tip it was?”
Vicki shook her head. “All he told me was that someone called in and claimed they saw Mason at my house the night of Cathy’s murder. But he wasn’t there until after it happened. You saw us come in together. We were home before that, and he never left my sight, not once.”
I had to believe that meant something, but with how things were going lately, I wouldn’t count on it. “Did Paul say who called in the tip?”
“He never said. I think it was anonymous, but you’d have to ask him to be sure.”
I glanced around the room. Garrison was at a desk, watching us. Another cop was sitting at the front desk, typing away, seemingly oblivious to Vicki’s near meltdown. Otherwise, we had the immediate area to ourselves. No Paul, no Buchannan, and definitely no Mason.
“What time did all of this happen?”
“I called you the moment they took him away,” Vicki said. She ran her fingers through her hair, and I noted how her hand shook. She was doing a good job not completely losing it, but she was far from okay. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Death by Espresso Page 20
