Mascara and Murder (Murder In Style Book 3)

by Gina LaManna

“He was,” Cassidy said hurriedly. “But not anymore. After you, he dated Sierra for a hot minute. Then he and Emma Lou knocked boots for a bit if the rumors are to be believed. But now that’s kaput, too. And if you want my professional opinion, the idiot realized he made a mistake and wants you back.”

  I gulped. “I doubt that’s true.”

  “Would you be interested if he was?”

  I flicked the robe back once more and ignored the question.

  “You know,” Cassidy said coyly, “I don’t think it’s an accident we ended up filming here.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Ryan’s not only the star of the movie, he’s also a producer on it. He knows the writer,” she said. “He has a say in location scouting. I mean, it’s not exactly like we’re in New York. Why would he pick a tiny town in the middle of Michigan—”

  “Minnesota.”

  “Whatever. The one with the mall,” Cassidy said. “I’m just saying that I don’t think it was an accident we ended up here. They could’ve filmed in any small town.”

  “I’m pretty sure this is a cheap option,” I said. “In fact, I’m not convinced that Blueberry Lake didn’t pay the production company to set up shop here.”

  “Keep on denying it, but you’ll see,” Cassidy said. “He wants you back.”

  “Well, I should let you get settled.” I stood and bonked my head on the roof of the trailer. “You have my number if you need me. Otherwise, you can pretty much ask anyone around, and they’ll tell you where to find me because there’s no such thing as privacy in this town.”

  “Great,” Cassidy chirped. “Great to see you. And if I hear anything about who shot Tennison, do you want me to call you or your cute boyfriend?”

  I stopped in the doorway. “Cute boyfriend?”

  “That cop.”

  “Oh, Cooper. Sure,” I said. “Call him. No boyfriend, though.”

  “Huh,” Cassidy said. “I would have sworn the two of you looked pretty cozy.”

  I left Cassidy to stare after me as I climbed down from her trailer. Not that the climb was far, since it was a teensy tiny trailer just bigger than my closet. But holding way, way more clothes.

  I’d just begun slinking off the set when a voice called my name. My gut sank at the sound of the voice. Pasting a smile on my face, I turned to find my ex-boyfriend—and suspect number one in the latest Blueberry Lake attempted murder.

  “PLEASE, DON’T RUN AWAY,” Ryan called. “I’ve been looking all over for you. That policeman—what’s his face—said you were out of town.”

  Good on Cooper, I thought, feeling a rush of gratitude toward the cop, and a simultaneous rush of sheepishness over the fact that I’d ruined the alibi he’d given me.

  “I just got back,” I said. “I ran into Cassidy and heard what happened.”

  I wasn’t exactly relating the events in the proper order they’d occurred, but I figured I didn’t owe it to a suspect in an attempted murder investigation—or my ex-boyfriend, for that matter—to bare everything.

  “Can we talk for a moment?”

  “I really don’t think that would be a good idea,” I told Ryan. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. About everything that happened. I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  “Yeah, gee whiz, you only had six long months to pick up the phone.”

  “I’m sorry! I’m human. I make mistakes.”

  “An inordinate amount of them,” I said. “At least, when I’m involved.”

  “I know,” Ryan said. “And I know I don’t deserve another moment of your time, but they think I did this. I didn’t. You know me; you know I didn’t. I could never hurt anyone. I need your help.”

  “Why me?”

  “First, you are the only person from Michigan—”

  “Minnesota,” I corrected. “I don’t understand why you people can’t get your states straight.”

  “The one with the mall,” Ryan said as if that made everything better. “Anyway, you’re the only one from around here that really knows me. I need you to put in a good word for me to that cop.”

  “It’s not my place. And even if I did put in a good word, it wouldn’t change anything. Either you did it or you didn’t, and if I know one thing, it’s that Chief Dear will figure it out.”

  Ryan’s eyes flashed at me. Then they flicked around the set where one or two heads were beginning to swivel in our direction. “Come inside. Just for a second.”

  I expelled a deep breath. “I don’t think—”

  “I didn’t kill anyone, Jenna,” he said. “Or try to. Whatever. You have to help me.”

  Against my better judgment, I glanced around, saw no great escape from the situation short of turning my back on Ryan and hightailing it down Main Street. That would set the town all aflutter, I was sure.

  “One second,” I agreed, climbing the stairs to Ryan’s trailer. “And no promises.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

  Ryan let me inside his much bigger, much nicer trailer than the one I’d just been in with Cassidy. He showed me to a chair that was free from falling robes and costume jewelry and offered me a cup of coffee.

  It was probably a bad idea to over-caffeinate myself, but I couldn’t help it. I accepted the cup of coffee and took a sip. It gave my hands something to do while Ryan made himself comfortable in the chair across from me.

  “I owe you an apology,” Ryan began. “I know I made a mistake. What I did... dumping you like that... it was awful. If you hadn’t run away so fast, I would have tried to fix it then and there. But you disappeared, and I thought it was better that I give you space.”

  “You mean, you thought it would be better to date your co-star. Publicly.”

  “That was also a mistake,” Ryan said. “Sierra wasn’t who I thought she was. We broke up.”

  “So I heard.”

  “I still care about you, Jenna.”

  “Okay.” I wrapped my hands around the mug. “What do you want, Ryan?”

  “I didn’t shoot Tennison—didn’t put the gun in Emma Lou’s hands,” he insisted. “I promise you. I don’t have any reason to want the guy dead. He’s a C-lister. I’m an A-lister. Why would I ruin my career over a C-lister?”

  I gave him a gobsmacked look. “Are you serious?”

  “What?”

  “Your best defense to an attempted murder charge is that you wouldn’t shoot a C-lister because you wouldn’t want to ruin your career?”

  Ryan shrank away from my tone. “Well, that’s not the only reason.”

  “Nice recovery.”

  “C’mon. I’m in shock. Someone said they saw me switch the gun out of the car. They’re lying.”

  “I heard that three people saw you get into the car,” I said. “Are you telling me that all three eyewitness accounts are lying?”

  Ryan moved uncomfortably on his chair. He glanced out the window and subconsciously ran a hand through his hair. The movement was so familiar it triggered something in me, and a rush of emotions hit me—hard and fast.

  I studied Ryan as he tapped his toe, looking forlornly into the distance. I remembered the better times, when his hand would rest on my knee while we sipped coffee, when he’d snuggle against me in bed on Sunday mornings. The time he bought me really nice shoes because I’d gotten a new job. He might’ve been an idiot, but he had good taste in fashion.

  Though it was the last thing I wanted, I did feel a rush of sympathy for him. No one deserved to be accused of a crime they didn’t commit, especially murder, or attempted murder. I should know; it had happened to me... and not all that long ago when I’d been new to town, too.

  “You’ve got to have a good answer,” I said. “If you can tell me why you got in that car on the set, that would be a great start toward clearing your name. Did you have a reason, Ryan?”

  He glanced at me, then flicked his eyes down. “No.”

  “You’re lying,” I shot back. When he glanced
up, I felt my face turning pink. “I know when you’re lying.”

  “Yeah.” He gave me a half smile that was too familiar. “I could never get anything past you.”

  “Though you tried hard,” I retorted, then relented and spoke again, softer. “Come on, you can tell me.”

  “It was nothing,” Ryan said. “You might have heard I’m a producer on the film. Well, I was just checking out the set to make sure everything was in place.”

  “What was happening in the scene?”

  “We were picking up filming when the car was parked,” Ryan said. “Emma Lou and Tennison were going to break up there, in the middle of the road. They were going to get out of the car; she was supposed to grab the gun and wave it around.”

  “Was she supposed to shoot Tennison?”

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, looking away again. “I mean, not really. It was supposed to be a funny scene. She would fire the gun in his direction, but it would hit him in the toe. Not the chest.”

  “You mean—not at all,” I corrected. “Because it wasn’t supposed to be a real gun.”

  “That’s what I meant,” he said. “But in postproduction, we were going to have it edited so that Tennison’s toe was shot.”

  “Got it.”

  “When it first happened, I don’t think anybody realized what happened for a few seconds.” Ryan closed his eyes, his face going pale. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to keep himself from passing out. “There was a loud boom, and he went down in a heap—screaming. We thought he was acting, but then... the blood. A second later, we realized the boom was, er, had been...”

  “Real.”

  “Yep.” Ryan blinked his eyes open. “There was a lot of blood. Then he went unconscious. Everything got quiet. Someone shouted to call 911, and we were all running around. They got him, carted him off right away. Supposedly, they’re taking good care of him. He’s got a good chance of living.”

  “That’s good,” I said, not ready to add that I’d heard Tennison was actually in critical condition. “I hope he’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Me too,” Ryan said. “He’s not a bad guy. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t have anything against him.”

  “Okay, then,” I said. “If you didn’t do it—you didn’t do it. You’re innocent. Just remember that. If you’re innocent, there won’t be evidence against you.”

  “Yeah, hey—yeah.” Ryan’s head shot up as he glanced at me. “You’re right, you know.”

  “I do know,” I said. “I know what it’s like.”

  Ryan gave me a soft smile. “You always did know what to say.”

  He reached forward and took my hand in his. He held it tightly, and for a moment, it was like old times. I was transported then, right in that trailer, back to Los Angeles. It felt so real, I imagined that if I opened my door, I’d see the Hollywood sign in the background and the stars beneath my feet.

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Ryan hollered, not bothering to remove his hand from mine.

  My heart just about stopped at the sight of the person who stepped through the door.

  “Cooper!” I flung my hand out of Ryan’s so hard his own hand dropped and clapped against his knee. “What are you doing here?”

  “Cooper?” Ryan slowly stood. He glanced back and forth between us. “You mean, Chief Dear?”

  “Er, yeah,” I said. “Small town. We know each other.”

  Cooper spoke in a low sort of growl. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’ve seen her around. In fact, I thought she was going to be out of town today.”

  “I, uh...” I wriggled uncomfortably. “Got back early.”

  “I see that.”

  Ryan’s look moved quicker and quicker between us, as Chief Dear and I stared one another down. Eventually, understanding seemed to dawn in his gaze. He glanced toward Cooper.

  “There was nothing going on,” Ryan said to Cooper. “I just owed Jenna an apology and was, you know, taking a moment to do that.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, wiggling my way around Ryan first, then Cooper, before jogging down the stairs. I turned, shielded my eyes from the glare of sunlight, and called back up. “On that note, you’re forgiven, and, uh, we’ll have to do this again soon. Er—I mean, scratch that. Good luck filming your movie.”

  “That’s not all I had to say to you,” Ryan said. “Can I call you? We should grab dinner sometime?”

  “Um, I’m gonna go,” I said. “Bye, you two.”

  Ryan looked grumpily at the chief. Cooper looked grumpily at Ryan.

  “I’ve got a few more questions for you,” Cooper said to Ryan. Then he turned and called after me. “I have one or two for you as well, Ms. McGovern. Don’t go too far.”

  Chapter 6

  When Cooper Dear told me not to go too far, I took that literally. I figured too far might be... the Mall of America. California. Timbuktu. I didn’t think it was necessary to wait around right then and there so he could ream me out for visiting Ryan. He had been looking pretty grumpy. There was no harm in letting him un-grumpify before we got the chance to talk.

  I retreated to my favorite new refuge. With the summer planting season breathing down our necks, we’d been able to make more progress than I’d ever thought possible in the restoration of Gran’s greenhouse. By we, I mostly meant Matt, Cooper, and a team of men that June had put together as a thank-you for my help in clearing her grandson’s name of murder.

  Once home, I changed into my beautiful pink rubber boots before plodding out to the greenhouse. We still need to revive the path, I thought, as my feet squelched through dirt in the muddied and overgrown, rocky path that stretched between my house and my plants.

  Halting before the greenhouse, I reached up and tilted the old wooden sign that read Green’s, giving it a little smile once it was just right. A wind chime rang gently in the breeze, accompanying me as I let myself inside.

  “Hello, plants,” I chirped happily. “How are you growing today?”

  I glanced up and down the rows of the greenhouse, feeling quite happy with how things were coming along.

  The windows had been shined until they gleamed. Sunlight peeped in, and the temperature inside was quite balmy compared to the slight chill still in the spring air outside.

  Matt and I had started a bunch of seeds a while back. I walked up and down the rows of tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchinis and flowers. Hanging baskets with strawberries were perking up. Bean stalks were beginning to climb around trellises.

  There was an element of new life hanging in the air, and it was impossible not to feel cheered by the glimpse into these little plants as they fought their way to becoming big, strong plants. It was just what the doctor ordered after the morning I’d had.

  “You guys are doing great,” I said, smiling around at my little plant friends.

  I made my way over to the potting bench and began filling a few biodegradable containers with seed-starting soil. My head shot up, however, at the creak of the door. I looked up, surprised to find Cooper standing there.

  “You move fast,” I said. “I thought you’d be talking to Ryan for a while.”

  “I move fast?” Cooper stepped into the greenhouse, his gaze flicking toward my hands, which were currently buried in dirt. “You’re already here, planting things in your greenhouse, after running away from me.”

  “Well, I didn’t see a need for me to stick around.”

  “Ah.” Cooper nodded, then moved his way deeper into the greenhouse. “Even after I asked you to stick around?”

  “You didn’t really super-technically ask me to stick around,” I said. “You just had a few questions for me. So here I am. Go ahead and ask.”

  Cooper exhaled a sigh. “C’mon, Jenna. Don’t make this awkward.”

  “I’m not.” I tucked a few pumpkin seeds into the dirt and set the cannister aside. I started on the next. “You’re the one chasing me around.”

  “Why’d you go to se
e Ryan?” Cooper asked. “You’d just spent all morning convincing me you didn’t want to talk to him. I told him you were out of town.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that. I’m sorry there was a... miscommunication. But I didn’t intend to go see him. I took Cassidy over to the set after she got here, helped her find her trailer and whatnot. One thing led to another, and I ran into Ryan.”

  “Which explains how you ended up in his trailer.”

  The rest of it, the fact that Ryan had been holding my hand when Cooper had appeared, was left unsaid. But it sat heavy in the air. We both knew what he meant.

  “There’s nothing going on,” I told him. “I just... I had to hear him out. You’re looking to pin attempted murder on the man. And I might have a rocky history with him, but I really don’t think he tried to kill anyone.”

  “I’m looking into it,” Cooper said. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” I said. “But I know how it feels to be on the other end. A newcomer to town, nobody believing you, accused of murder—or close to it. It’s not that I want to help him, but I do have sympathy. I feel obligated.”

  Cooper shook his head, and then he made his way deeper into the greenhouse. He sidled up next to me and, without speaking, began filling containers with dirt and handing them to me so that I could tuck the seeds into their new homes.

  We worked together for a long while, and it was surprisingly enjoyable. We didn’t need to speak to know what the other wanted or needed to make the process flow smoothly. It was an added bonus when Cooper’s very nice arm brushed against mine. With it came a little side look with a lopsided smile. It made my neck feel all hot, but in a good way. Not because we were in a greenhouse.

  “Did he tell you anything I should know?” Cooper asked eventually. “Anything that might clear his name?”

  “Nothing concrete,” I said, hesitating to say that I suspected him of lying about something. I just wasn’t sure what. “He claims he didn’t do it, and my gut instinct tells me to believe him.”

  “I just wish you didn’t find yourself gallivanting around with murderers every other week,” Cooper said. “I’d much prefer it if you let the police do their jobs.”