Old Witch New Tricks

by Mara Webb

  “I believe his name is Manuel,” Deacon corrected.

  “Oh? Yes! Of course.” Another laugh followed. “Well… I’m never very good at remembering the names of the help!”

  Charming.

  “Is there anyone that can corroborate your whereabouts yesterday?” Deacon asked.

  Winnie thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yes, I think so. I spent most of the day by the pool with the woman from next door, and I spoke with my other neighbor when I went to my old apartment.”

  “If you could provide us their contact information that would be very helpful.”

  “Of course. So who did it, officer? Do you have any leads?”

  “None as of yet,” Deacon said. “Can you think of anyone that might want to hurt Mr. Bryce? Anyone that would have a reason?”

  “Well, he had his fair share of enemies, and I’m sure you’ve already figured that one out. If you ask me though, my money is on Leonard Bell.”

  “Who?” Deacon asked.

  “Leonard Bell. He was a writer on the project. Tyson fired him just yesterday after a contract dispute, I heard that Leonard flew off the handle.”

  “I saw that actually,” I said to Deacon. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  Deacon jotted down a name. “What about you?” he said to Winnie.

  “Me?”

  “Any trouble with the two of you? Tyson Bryce was your boss and you had a relationship too, that has the potential to cause trouble.”

  Winnie fanned a hand through her hair, looking as though she thought little of the question. “Tyson and I were deeply in love, I wasn’t just sleeping around to get ahead, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  “Of course not,” Deacon said, “but the rumors must have bothered you.”

  Winnie shifted her weight. “Rumors?”

  He leaned and in whispered out the side of his mouth, like a schoolboy spreading gossip. “Through the grapevine, we heard that Tyson wasn’t the only one you’re seeing.”

  The young actress looked flabbergasted. “I—I don’t know what you’re accusing me of here!”

  “Deacon isn’t accusing you of anything,” I said, stepping in to try and lower her defenses. “We just heard that someone overheard you and Tyson arguing yesterday. Apparently, he was accusing you of cheating.”

  Winnie pursed her lips and stood up straight. “Well, it certainly looks like you’ve done your homework.”

  “So it’s true?” I asked.

  “No, it isn’t true! Tyson was a delusional old fool and look where it got him. I’m sorry, but I think I’ve been more than enough help. If you’ll excuse me, I need time to reflect on this terrible news. I suggest you follow up with Leonard Bell. He’s the man you want to talk to.”

  “We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions, take care,” Deacon said as we left. Once we were back in his cruiser he pulled onto the road heading in the direction of Pendle town.

  “Could we just drive to Delfino Bay and hide away for the rest of our lives?” I asked Deacon.

  He laughed. “Oh believe me, I’m tempted, but something tells me your curiosity will just pull us back here anyway. Tell you what, why don’t we figure out this case and then we can go away for a long weekend, just the two of us? My uncle has a cabin up on the north of the island, we could have a little winter getaway.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said through a big smile. “The thought of going back to this studio and sleuthing my way around doesn’t seem so bad now.”

  “We have to pick up your mom remember; I still need to get a proper written statement from her.”

  “Ah, there it is,” I said. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

  “What if we stop for coffee on the way? A mini date. My treat!”

  “Mr. Long you certainly know how to charm a girl. I’m in.”

  6

  “I didn’t end up going to the top of course, oh heavens, just hanging around base camp was work enough! One of the guides, a lovely young man named Pierre, he said I was the bell of the base camp! He said a record number of people reached the peak that month, he thought it was to prove their love for me!”

  “Wow, you certainly have a lot of stories Miss Moon,” Deacon said politely as we pulled up to the studio gate. “How many times have you been married now?”

  “What’s the saying Deacon darling, a true woman never tells!”

  “That’s to do with age,” I said. “Another secret that you guard close to your chest.”

  “Age is just a number Chelsea, but I’ll tell you this, I feel better at forty than I did at eighteen!”

  “Ha!” I said, the sound of my laughter filling the car. “If you’re forty then I’m an NFL quarterback! Try again!”

  “Hey Larry,” Deacon said as he pulled up to the booth at the studio. “Myself, Chelsea and Lorelai.”

  “Good to see you back again chief,” Larry said as he pushed the button to lift the barrier. “You folks any closer to solving this thing yet?”

  “We’re working on—” Deacon began. Mom pushed forward between my seat and Deacon’s.

  “I’m trying to solve this one Larry, who put a good looking man like you in a booth like this?!”

  Larry creased with laughter. “Oh, Miss Lorelai! It’s good to have you back on set. You folks hang on tight; I’ll bring you some buffet passes over, so you don’t end up starving!”

  “Thanks Larry!” Mom sang as Deacon pulled through.

  “What the heck was that about?” I said, turning to look at her as she sat back and inspected her polished nails. “Flirting with Larry the guard now?”

  “Chelsea, I don’t know if you realized but momma hasn’t exactly had access to any beating young hearts since she arrived. Your groundskeeper is already madly in love with some shifter girl, so he’s off the cards, Deacon is obviously smitten with you, and there are no other men up at that house! Apart from John, but he doesn’t count.”

  I thought it was my imagination, but mom did look a little less vibrant than usual. Was her dependency on continually falling in love really that strong? It had to be an exhausting existence, always looking for a new heart to sap.

  “Look around mom, there are plenty of young men working at this studio, I’m sure you can do a little bit of flirting and charge your reserves.” A bit of life came back into my mom as she stared out the windows.

  “Oh, it’s busy all right! I thought things would have quietened down with this being an active crime scene and all.”

  “We’ve taped off the stage where they found Bryce,” Deacon said, “but it’s business as usual for the rest of the studio. I thought they’d pause production, but apparently they’re going right ahead.”

  “There’s no business like show business,” I said as we got out of the car. “Mom, Deacon and I are going to be pretty busy talking to people today, so—”

  “Got to go Chelsea darling, there’s a group of young carpenters over there and it looks like they need some company!”

  We were barely out of the car before mom took off running after a team of young men hoisting heavy bits of wood about. I looked at Deacon and rolled my eyes. “At least she’s out of the way for a bit.”

  “Makes our day a little easier. Heads up, here’s Larry.”

  Larry, looking quite out of breath, walked quickly over in our direction and held out two white lanyards. “Here you go folks, your buffet pass. Where’s Lorelai? I got one for her too.”

  “She’s over there smoozing some carpenter boys,” I said. “You better hurry before she sinks her fangs into one of them.”

  “Those guys are all bad news; I better be quick!” Larry said, taking off at a speed I was sure he hadn’t seen in years.

  “Oh, Larry?!” Deacon shouted. Larry did a quick about turn.

  “What?” the overweight guard panted.

  “Is there an office around here, somewhere I can find the contact details for an ex-employee?”

  “Who are you looking for
?” he said, looking pained that time with my mother was slipping through his fingers.

  “Leonard Bell.”

  “Mr. Bell? He’s right behind you!” Larry said before turning and scuttling away.

  We both turned to see a man who had been walking behind us. “I’m Leonard Bell. How can I help?”

  “Mr. Bell, I’m Sheriff Deacon Long and this is my associate, Chelsea Sponks, we’re working the Tyson Bryce case.”

  “I know you,” Leonard said as he caught my name, his voice was long and strangely deep. He was a gangly looking fellow, but the arrangement worked somehow. “You’re that girl that keeps solving all the murder cases. My brother wrote about you in the paper!”

  “Yes, I love all the attention,” I said sarcastically. “Do you mind if we sit down for a few minutes and ask you some questions about Mr. Bryce?”

  “Not at all, I hope you both enjoy the sophisticated experience of free form jazz, I’m just heading over to the theatre to prepare my lunch. They have an old upright there; the tone is unlike anything else.”

  “I understood perhaps three words in that sentence,” Deacon said.

  “Japanese Chinook Salmon,” Leonard said as he held up a brown paper bag in his hand. “I have it for lunch every day, but only after playing a little jazz to it. It helps loosen up the meat, really brings out the flavor.”

  Deacon and I shared a look, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Wow, Chelsea, this guy is a friggen psycho!

  “Um—” I began.

  “You’re welcome to ask questions while I prepare my lunch,” he glanced down at his watch. “I’m afraid we’ll have to be quick; I haven’t got long! This way!”

  A very confused Deacon and I followed Leonard across the lot and into a music studio. Two large doors opened into an empty theater, where we followed Leonard onto a stage and behind a curtain, where he pulled up a stool at an old piano. He placed his paper bag on top of the piano and started playing… well I wouldn’t call it music, but it was something.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Deacon asked. “According to our sources Tyson Bryce fired you yesterday.”

  “Yes, and according to my sources he also died yesterday, so that puts me back in the mix.”

  “Most people don’t just invite themselves back to work, even with their boss dead,” I noted.

  “Oh but I didn’t. Marty called me. The studio execs put him in charge of the entire picture last night. The studio has already wasted enough money on this project, they just need to get it done and dusted. Tyson jerked me around, but Marty needs me to finish writing up a few remaining scenes, so I’m back in.”

  “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” Deacon said, “Tyson Bryce and you had a pretty public falling out yesterday. Care to tell me what that was about?

  “It’s pretty clear cut,” Leonard said. “Tyson and I had an agreement when I started working on this project, I was to get fifteen percent of the final take. We worked out the details over dinner and drinks, several months before filming started.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Deacon asked.

  “The problem is that I have never had the displeasure of working with Tyson Bryce before. I started working straight away, assuming that everything was all good. Well I overheard some people talking in the breakroom the other day about Bryce stiffing people on their contracts, and it prompted me to sit down and look at mine.”

  “And?” I said, straining to keep my thoughts straight over the sound of Leonard’s free form jazz.

  “And he completely duped me. The contract was a legal kick to the nuts, a four dimensional pretzel made up of double negatives and confusing legalese, it took some time to decipher it, but when I did, I realized what this deal got me. Diddly squat!”

  “I was here yesterday when you confronted Tyson, you seemed pretty mad,” I commented.

  “Well, wouldn’t you be?” Leonard said. “I was going to use that money to put a down payment on a place up in Delfino Bay. You people might think these silly TV movies don’t amount to much, but let me tell you something, there’s money in these hills!”

  “We’ve seen Tyson’s place, I can believe it,” Deacon said. “From my understanding Tyson fired you after this fight, that must have got your blood boiling?”

  “Oh it did, sure, but he set his guards on me straight away. I’m not an idiot, I know when I’m out numbered. I packed up my things quietly, went to the Moody Medusa and had a couple of good drinks to forget about my problems.”

  “The Moody Medusa?” I asked.

  “It’s a bar on the beach,” Deacon said. “Upscale joint really. Wood panel, expensive drinks.”

  “And class! One of the few remaining joints on this rock with such a thing. Look you can speak to the staff; I was there well into the night after I left here. They do slam poetry on Monday nights; you guys should really come down and check it out. It’s the last heartbeat of real culture here on Pendle Island,” Leonard said.

  “You just better hope someone can place you there,” Deacon said. “Right now you’re on our shortlist of suspects.”

  “They will, don’t worry, and it’s not my business to tell you how to do your job, but you’re looking at the complete wrong guy, it’s pretty obvious who killed Bryce if you ask me, the killer was documented as being here after all.”

  Deacon and I shared a confused look. “Who?”

  “Marty! Marty Miller!”

  “The director?” I asked, remembering the man with silver hair and the tucked in plaid shirt.

  “Yeah, gosh—” Leonard pulled away from the piano and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look, I’m thankful to the guy for keeping me in work, but the writing is on the wall really. Marty has a past with violent crime, and he’s got a motive too, he’s broke! By pushing Tyson out of the picture Marty knew the studio would have to promote him and bump his pay. That fella is a few pay slips short of bankruptcy, he needs every cent!”

  “You’re going to need to elaborate,” Deacon said. “What violent past?”

  “It’s all just rumors of course, but apparently his last wife left him because he liked to bounce her off the walls. The divorce is part of the reason he’s broke. Alimony’s a beach!”

  “He’s got a good job though, directing in this business, he must be doing okay.”

  “This job pays well when it’s happening, but Marty has several long blank spots on his resume between work. Directing isn’t as steady as people think, and when you’re up to your eyeballs in debt you’re desperate to finish any job!”

  “Seems like a big risk,” I said. “If Marty needed this project to happen so badly then killing off the producer could have sunk the whole thing.”

  “He knew the studio is desperate to get this one out of the way, and Marty is a gambler, hello? He took a gamble and it paid off! Most of the time they don’t, that’s why he’s so broke!”

  Deacon looked at me as Leonard went back to his eclectic jazz performance. “It might be worth checking this guy out. There’s motive there, and he was here last night.”

  Leonard stopped what he was doing and looked back at us. “Just don’t tell Marty you heard this from me. I don’t want him coming in my direction!”

  “Don’t worry,” Deacon said. “We keep all tips confidential.”

  Mr. Bell pulled his paper bag of salmon off the piano, opened it up and took a deep inhale. “Ahh. Now that’s good and ready to eat. You guys want some?”

  “I prefer my salmon to listen to death metal,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s a hard no from me too,” Deacon said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  We were walking away when the radio on Deacon’s belt buzzed to life. I recognized the voice as one of his deputies, Clark Stark. It may have also been Mark, Clark’s identical brother, I was still struggling to tell the two apart.

  “Sheriff! Come in! We’ve got a scene on Stage 2!”

  Deacon picked up his radio. “What is it?”

  “A whole
lot of noise! Come quick!”

  We both broke into a sprint and ran out of the theatre, weaving through the working crowds as we made our way to Stage 2. When we got there, we saw a wide circle of people surrounding my mother and another woman that was unknown to me.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?!” the woman shouted at Mark and Clark Stark, who were standing there like a pair of fish. “Lock her up, she’s the one that did it!”

  “I’ve got to give it to you honey, you’re definitely in the right place for theatrics like this!” Mom said flippantly.

  “All right, everyone calm down,” Deacon said as he came into the fray. “What’s going on here?”

  “Slander!” my mom said, a smile on her face. This didn’t look like a positive situation for her, but I knew she would relish the attention.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on!” the other woman shouted. “You have a killer standing amongst you and you’re not doing anything about it!”

  “Let’s roll back a few steps,” I said. “Who are you?”

  “Mary-Belle, Mr. Bryce’s assistant. I was here yesterday when this harlot threatened Mr. Bryce in front of everyone else!”

  “I did not!” Mom laughed.

  “Easy,” Deacon said to the two of them. “What exactly happened?”

  “She threw a fit!” Jane said. “She said the production was a mockery of her work and she would do everything in her power to stop it from happening! I wasn’t the only one to witness this!”

  Mary-Belle may have been a little dramatic, but she was telling the truth. I was there to witness mom’s outburst, and there was a studio full of people too.

  “Lorelai, is this true? Did you have a problem with the production?” Deacon asked.

  “Well, yes, it’s a travesty really. Can you blame me?!”

  “Did you threaten the deceased?” Mark—or Clark—Stark asked from the sidelines. “You said you’d shut things down?”

  “Well, yes, but I was just being dramatic really, legally there’s nothing I can do to stop the film from happening!”

  “Which only leaves murder on the cards,” Mary-Belle said pointedly. “She threatened him, and he died several hours later. Coincidence?”