Mascara and Murder (Murder In Style Book 3)

by Gina LaManna

  I turned my mother’s words over as I made my way down the street toward the big commotion at the end of the block. When I reached the barrier to entry, I found Matt and quickly showed him my identification.

  Matt looked confused. “That’s just your driver’s license.”

  “I know,” I said. “But it proves that I’m exactly who I say I am.”

  “I know who you are, Jenna.” He looked bemused now. “You drink coffee out of my kitchen every morning.”

  “Touché,” I agreed. “Then you might also have heard I got a job on set. So maybe you can allow me to pass by here.”

  “A job?”

  “You’re looking at the new stylist!” I did a twirl through the opening that Matt created. “So if you need any help picking out some clothes, I’m your gal. I’ll be here for the next two weeks.”

  “What’s wrong with this?” Matt glanced down at his jeans and Blueberry Lake Fire Department shirt.

  “There’s nothing wrong,” I said quickly. “It fits you great.”

  I patted him gently on the shoulder, then moseyed on over to Cassidy’s trailer and let her know that I was back.

  “Good,” she said. “Don’t take off again if you can help it. Emma Lou was pretty furious because she wanted to know which headband to wear, and you weren’t around.”

  I flinched. “Sorry. It was important. But I’m here for good now.”

  She gave me a nod, then broke into her familiar smile. “It’s good to have you back, Jenna.”

  “And it is good to be back.”

  I clapped my hands feeling more invigorated than I had in a while. It was good to be back doing what I loved. Helping people feel and look their best. Bringing their personality out in their sense of style. It filled an artistic void, and though some might see it as shallow, it gave me a sense of fulfillment to see someone’s confidence shine through because I’d helped them feel that way.

  “Oh, yeah,” I mused, biting my lip as I peeked through the window and caught a glimpse of Emma Lou as she prepared for the scene. “That’s the wrong headband.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Cassidy muttered, “or she’ll flip and make the director reshoot the entire scene, and that would be awful. Working with this many extras is... a major headache.”

  Speaking of extras, I glanced toward the set where all had gone quiet. The film was rolling. Emma Lou appeared in the middle of the street, flouncing into the picture in the jean shorts and shirt I’d picked out for her.

  Then out of nowhere came Ethel Louise Schroeder, zooming down the same street in her wheelchair while holding on to her oxygen tank.

  “Dear, wait!” she wheezed. “Don’t do it!”

  “What’s she doing?” Cassidy muttered. “Again?”

  “Again, what?”

  “This woman has been interrupting the scene for the last three takes. I think the director is one cut away from having her arrested.”

  “Cut!” As if he’d read Cassidy’s mind, the director called cut, his face red. He looked livid. “What is this lady doing here?”

  “Ethel Louise Schroeder,” Ethel offered. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to have any lines, but I’ve been spending weeks getting into character, and I just feel this is crucial to the storyline. I can give you my additional rewrites if you’d like, but it seems you’re not interested in those.”

  The director clapped a hand to his forehead. “Can someone please get this woman back to the nursing home?”

  “No, no,” Ethel said, giving a shake of her head. “That’s not necessary. I assure you.”

  “But—”

  “I can keep my lips zipped this time. I promise you.”

  The director looked up to the skies and muttered something that looked like a prayer, some curse words, or something in between. Then he nodded at the camera guy.

  “I’m giving her one more take,” he said, and then to no one in particular, he continued, “but if she interrupts the scene again, I’m having her arrested.”

  As we waited around for the next take to finish shooting, I made my way inside the trailer that I now shared with Cassidy. Easing past the explosion of foundations and bronzers and highlighters that the makeup artist had set out at her bench, I made my way to where the clothes had gotten shoved near the rear of the space.

  An idea popped into my head, and slowly, I began flipping through the clothing options. Faster and faster, as I realized that I was looking for a match. What if the button hadn’t come off someone’s personal clothing item, but an item from the set? If I could find the match, I could ask Cassidy who’d worn the item.

  “Heads-up,” Cassidy said, giving me a grin as she poked her head into the trailer. “Emma Lou’s on her way over here. She’s going to want some help, stat. And you’d better tell her that she’s rocking that stupid headband.”

  “Got it.”

  “What are you looking for?” Cassidy did a double take as I continued flipping through the clothes. “Need something? If you don’t find something you need, you have a budget. Just let me know, and I’ll show you how to order stuff and expense it.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “I was sort of doing inventory of what we had here, and I found a button on the floor,” I lied. “It’s really sparkly, and I was just trying to figure out if it needed to be sewn on before a scene.”

  “A sparkly button?” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, we have a budget if you need a shirt. You don’t have to sew.”

  My plan hadn’t worked as well as I’d hoped. Best-case scenario, Cassidy would have recognized the shirt and told me who’d worn it off the set. The only thing I was able to confirm, after flipping through every item of clothing on the racks, was that there was no shirt missing a sparkling silver button. That meant it had either been stolen, or it was someone’s personal item of clothing. Probably the latter, though it’d been worth a shot to check.

  “Okay, stylist?” Emma Lou appeared in the doorway to the trailer. “Where were you? I had to choose my own freaking headband because you weren’t around. Emily would’ve never made me do that.”

  “Right, and I’m sorry. I just had some business to settle before I took the job.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, how’d I do?” Emma Lou pointed to the mop of a red bow on top of her bouncy blonde ponytail.

  “Looks beautiful,” I managed.

  “Good,” she said. “What a relief. Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m so stressed. They just told us that Tennison didn’t make it. Can you believe it? He’s dead?”

  Emma Lou plunked herself on the seat. She looked to be in genuine shock.

  “He’s dead,” she muttered again, softer. “And we’re still here, shooting the stupid movie.”

  I dropped my hands from the racks of clothing and eased to the side of the trailer. When I glanced Emma’s way, I caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, then streaked down her cheeks. It probably wasn’t the time to worry about makeup or foundation, but I couldn’t help but grab a tissue and offer it to her.

  Emma Lou looked up at me and gave a huge sniff. “I-I mean, it’s just a shock.”

  “Of course it is,” I said. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Were you and Tennison close?”

  She shot a quick, sharp look in my direction. “Who told you that?”

  “I just meant... you’re crying.”

  “Well, he’s dead,” Emma Lou said. “That’s sad.”

  “Of course. Well, never mind,” I said. “I am really sorry about Tennison.”

  “Not to mention...” Emma Lou let out a soft wail. “I’m the one who shot him.”

  “But it was an accident.” I hadn’t wanted to bring up the obvious, but since she had, I decided to pry just the tiniest amount. “How were you supposed to know someone had switched out the prop gun for a real one?”

  “I know, right?” Emma Lou sniffed. “Stupid Kiernan thinks I did it on purpose; I just know it. He’
s so awful.”

  “Kiernan Brooks?” I cocked my head at the name. “You mean, the screenwriter?”

  “Yah,” she said, wiping her nose. “I can just tell. Honestly, I don’t even know why he’s here. The writer doesn’t need to be at filming. He should just go back to Los Angeles and leave me alone.”

  “Why would he think you shot Tennison on purpose?” I asked. “I thought it was pretty obvious that it was an accident.”

  “Me too!” she said. “And I feel awful, and it wasn’t even my fault! I didn’t know!”

  “But Kiernan—”

  “He was friends with Tennison,” she said, glancing at me from raccoon eyes smeared with mascara and eyeshadow. “He’s really upset he died. Which is extra stupid because look at me! I’m upset too! I ruined my makeup.”

  “You didn’t kill him, though,” I said to Emma. “Tennison died from...” I hesitated, thinking I probably shouldn’t expose the actual truth just yet, in case it wasn’t public knowledge. “He died from complications after the gunshot wound.”

  “Really?” For a moment, Emma Lou felt hopeful. “That’s... well, I can’t say great.”

  “No, not great,” I said. “But not your fault.”

  “Then again, he wouldn’t have had a wound in the first place if it wasn’t for me,” Emma said, falling forward and weeping all over again. “I can’t help that I’m such a good actress with such good aim. I thought it was a fake gun! I would’ve never pulled the trigger if I’d known it was real.”

  I hoped not, but I didn’t think now was the time to get picky about her wording choice. It was eye opening, however, to see Emma Lou falling apart at the news of Tennison’s death. Was it guilt from the accident? Or was it true sadness at the loss of someone she’d cared about? Some combination? Or something else?

  “Why is Kiernan here?” I asked. “If he doesn’t need to be here, why didn’t he stay in LA?”

  “He’s buds with Tennison,” Emma Lou said. “He was buds with Ryan, too, until...”

  “Until?”

  Emma Lou looked up at me. Her tears stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. You’re her.”

  “Um...”

  “Jenna,” she insisted. “Jenna McGovern.”

  “That is my name.”

  “I thought you moved back to Michigan.”

  “A lot of people thought that, apparently,” I said. “But I’m here. Living right here in Blueberry Lake.”

  “It is true.” Emma Lou squinted at me. “You were trying to get him back the whole time.”

  “What? You’re losing me. Who are we talking about?”

  “Ryan,” she said. “I knew there was a reason he picked this place. It’s just so... random.”

  “Well, it’s a nice little town,” I said. “And it’s quite scenic, and there’s a lot to offer—”

  “Yeah, right, whatever,” she said, brushing me off. “You’re the reason he dumped me.”

  “Ryan?” I asked. “So you did date Ryan?”

  “Of course I did,” she said. “After he dumped you, he dated Sierra, his co-star. Then she dumped him. And guess who was the one there to pick up the pieces? Me. I was there for him in his worst moments.”

  “Didn’t you guys date for like a week?”

  “Several!” She hissed. “It was a whirlwind.”

  “Ah.”

  “But then he broke up with me. Of course, he was kind enough to break up with me just before we left for the trip, so now we’re all stuck here together in the middle of nowhere where you are.”

  “I guess so,” I said. “But I haven’t talked to Ryan since I moved home. And I certainly don’t want him back.”

  “You don’t?” She looked at me skeptically as if that were hard to believe. “Why not?”

  “Because we broke up for a reason,” I said. “I’m not looking to revisit that. I actually have a date tonight. With someone else.”

  “Oh.” Emma Lou slumped back in her chair, looking a mix of intrigued and defeated.

  Behind her a throat cleared. Cassidy had poked her head back in the trailer at the last minute and glanced in my direction.

  “A date?” she asked nicely.

  “I had a date,” I corrected. “I’m rescheduling.”

  “Great,” Cassidy chirped. “Because we have a night shoot today. We’ve lost some time, so we’ve got to pack it in.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “I mean, I get that the show must go on and all of that, but...”

  I gestured toward Emma Lou. However, the actress had bounded to her feet and was already leaning forward in the mirror, digging at her makeup-streaked face with a tissue.

  “Don’t think we’re delaying because of me,” Emma Lou snapped. “I’m a professional. Tennison would have wanted us to keep shooting. The director agrees. Don’t you tell anyone about this, okay?”

  Emma Lou shot daggers at me with her eyes. I nodded, not sure what I was agreeing to, but guessing that it was probably the fact Emma Lou didn’t want me to go blabbing that she’d cried because a friend of hers had died. Although I thought it was a perfectly fine reason to cry.

  “Fix me, will you?” Emma Lou clapped her hands. “I can’t go out there like this. Come on, people. No time to waste.”

  And like that, we were thrown into a flurry of activity. Cassidy began scrubbing Emma’s face raw while I flew through a pile of clothes and fielded a ton of questions from Emma about what made her look the skinniest.

  We settled on a pretty, floaty red dress with wedge sandals and a wide-brimmed hat. She was supposed to look carefree and airy and happy. What I didn’t tell her was that the sun hat would help hide the tinge of redness in her eyes that couldn’t be covered up by makeup.

  “What do you think?” Emma primped before us an hour later. “Good to go?”

  “Beautiful,” I stated.

  “I agree,” Cassidy said. “Go out there and steal the show.”

  “I always do,” Emma Lou said, before prancing down the stairs as if nothing at all was wrong in the world.

  “What was that?” I asked, once she’d gone. “Why is she so sensitive about not letting anyone see her cry? Is it her makeup? Or is she really just that private?”

  Cassidy looked behind her toward the door. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

  “Telling me what?”

  “She really was into Tennison,” Cassidy said, lowering her voice as she capped lipsticks and cleaned blush brushes. “After Ryan dumped Emma, she was in a bad place. But then she met Tennison on the set of this movie, and they were getting to a good place.”

  “That is awful. Was it a secret that she’d moved on?”

  “I think so,” Cassidy said. “I mean, they were trying to keep it a secret, but they weren’t doing a good job. Everyone knew.”

  “Why did they care about keeping it secret?”

  “Tennison didn’t,” she said, her gaze flitting in my direction, as if she were really getting to the juicy bits. “I heard they had a fight the night before he got shot.”

  “About their relationship?”

  “And keeping it secret,” Cassidy said. “Tennison didn’t want to be private about it, but Emma Lou didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “How do you know about the fight?”

  “I wax Emma Lou’s eyebrows,” she said. “I’m basically her therapist.”

  “Naturally,” I said. “Well, what did you think? Why did she want to keep it a secret? Was it just because things were so early?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I think it was because Emma Lou wasn’t over Ryan.” Cassidy caught me in her stare. “If you ask me, Emma Lou didn’t want to flaunt her relationship with Tennison because she was still hoping Ryan would come back to her.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No,” she said. “Because Ryan wants you.”

  Chapter 14

  There was a lot to unpack from my afterno
on on set. I promptly dismissed the parts about Ryan wanting me back. I’d cleared the air on that with him, and I didn’t want to linger on what-ifs any longer. Especially when there was a murder that needed solving. And a date with another man that needed canceling.

  I told Cassidy that I was popping outside to grab a bite to eat. I didn’t think she believed me, but I couldn’t blame her. Only Ethel Louise Schroeder’s stomach could handle the food coming out of craft services on this production.

  I dialed Cooper’s personal number, then glanced around the movie set on the off chance he was loitering somewhere nearby. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hi,” I said quickly. “I’m really, really sorry, but—”

  “Don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?” I asked, a little too innocently.

  Cooper waited a beat. “Go ahead. I’m not going to do this part for you.”

  “Which part is that?” I added sweetly.

  He kept silent.

  “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I have to cancel our dinner tonight.”

  “I knew it.”

  “I really am sorry,” I said. “If I had any say in the matter, I would be showing up. But, unfortunately, I have to work.”

  “I know.”

  I looked at my phone, then put it back to my ear. “What?”

  “You really don’t think you got hired on as a stylist, and I hadn’t heard about it... did you?”

  “I temporarily forgot where I was living,” I said. “I promise you that I’m not trying to get out of our date. Can we reschedule?”

  “We sure can.”

  “I mean it,” I said. “When are you free?”

  “I’m free any time,” he said. “You’re the one who’s hard to get ahold of.”

  “Can we push it back a week or two? I’m afraid I’ll be working around the clock.”

  He blew out a breath. “I hate to wait that long, but if that’s best for you...”

  “It is.”

  “Just don’t get scared away.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Jenna.”

  Cooper hung up, leaving me to wonder what he’d meant by that. Scared away? I didn’t get scared away. But even as I tucked my phone in my pocket, I knew exactly what Cooper meant. He was worried I would change my mind. And for a good reason.