by Sandi Scott
“Erm . . . the other shirt had a coffee spill on it,” Brent said, not mentioning Trina's role in the so-called accident. “I couldn't go on film looking like a slob, now could I?” He laughed tentatively, throwing a sidelong look at Chance, obviously hoping to avoid another tantrum from the director.
Chance sighed. “No, I guess you're right. We'll figure out how to show a spirit bumping you or something that would cause a spill, you know, some kind of special effect. That way, we don't have to reshoot the whole day's work because you changed shirts.” He looked around and called, “Let's go, gang. Let's wrap this scene and get out of here.”
Finally, after two more takes of the scene in the bedroom, in which Lucy pointed out that the closet that had been added sometime after the house was built would need to be enlarged, Chance called it a night. "We've still got to raise the realism here, folks, but it's late enough for tonight. Get some sleep, and be back here, ready to go, at 11 tomorrow morning."
CHAPTER THREE
Early the next morning, Ashley stopped by the kitchens to load up the cookies, muffins, cakes, and candies for the day, including the Belgian pralines she'd promised Chance.
“I'm sure glad you're with me today, Diz,” she told the pup waiting at the back door. “That Chance Fortune is a total creep. I'm happy to have you around to protect me from him.” Dizzy woofed enthusiastically, seeming to promise Ashley that she'd take care of her owner.
Pulling into the driveway at the show location a few minutes later, Ashley was surprised to see flashing lights. "Wonder what's going on, Dizzy; what has Chance dreamed up now?” As they got closer, she was startled to see an ambulance, a deputy's patrol car, and another very familiar car.
"Oh, no, Diz," she exclaimed. "That's Detective Luna's car. Please, please, please—don't let it be a homicide!" She knew the older detective from her previous encounters with the police.
Ashley jumped out of the car, Dizzy following closely behind her. As she entered the foyer, she saw two sheriff's deputies herding crew members into the sitting room while Detective Luna stood nearby with Lucy, who was leaning heavily on the detective and sobbing. "Ms. Adams—stop right there! Don't come any farther into the house," Detective Luna called out loudly. "Wait on the porch; we'll need to talk to you, but I don't want anyone else walking around my crime scene."
Oh, no, Ashley thought, that is definitely not what I wanted to hear.”
One of the camera operators was standing outside looking in through the door; Ashley grabbed his arm and asked, "What on earth is going on here? What's happened?"
He looked at her, eyes wide in shock, and said, "It's Brent; he's dead. Sam found him when she came in to set things up for today's filming. He was just lying there on the floor—not moving or breathing or anything!"
Startled, Ashley jumped and dropped Dizzy's leash just as the sensitive canine seemed to notice Lucy's distress. Dizzy galumphed over to comfort the unhappy woman, trailing her leash behind. "Get that dog out of here!" Detective Luna shouted as the leash tangled in a camera tripod and knocked the camera over. Before one of the deputies could untangle Dizzy and take her back to Ashley, Chance exploded.
"Stupid dog! That has to be the stupidest, most annoying dog ever! Do you know how expensive that camera is? And insurance isn't going to pay to repair or replace it if that dumb Dalmatian broke it since he's not even under contract!"
"Dude, that's not a Dalmatian, and he's a she," murmured a crew member.
"Really, Ted? That's what you think is important here?" Chance growled. "That stupid dog is interrupting my flow. I need to focus, so I can be 'in the moment' for this scene. So, get that dog out of here and everyone just shut up!" He glared at Ashley and Luna, more concerned about being a “star” host than about the death of his leading man.
What scene? Ashley thought. She glanced at the detective, who looked close to an explosion.
Stunned, she watched as Chance signaled the camera operator to start rolling film and recording the “star-host’s” supposed reaction to the news of Brent's death. His facial expressions ran from shock to sadness, then to fear and questioning. They settled on rage when another loud crash filled the air as a stack of plates fell off the otherwise-bare refreshment table.
"Cut! I can do better; let's try again," Chance said, before putting in eye drops to make it look like he was crying. "What? We can edit that part out later; just roll the film until I say stop." No one moved, except a lone camera operator as Chance looked directly into the camera, brushing away crocodile tears. Even Luna seemed too shocked by the director's audacity to say anything.
"So, viewers—what do you think? Is it possible that the spirits were angered at our presence in this house? Was Ethel Samuel so angry that she killed Brent to drive us away? Stay tuned; our paranormal investigation will continue until we find out exactly what happened here overnight."
Turning to another crew member who joined the small group on the porch, Ashley shook her head. "I can't believe he just did that. Someone is dead, and he's just going on like usual? Is it just me, or is it really weird that he behaves normally when someone on the show was found dead on the scene?"
Jules, the makeup artist, just shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "It's Chance Fortune; no one's ever going to give the guy a humanitarian award. And can you really expect 'normal' when we're shooting a reality show that is completely faked?” Ashley had to admit that Jules made a good point.
Finally, Detective Luna walked over to Ashley and greeted her, "Sorry to shout at you earlier; this Chance guy is already getting on my nerves, and I've only been on the scene about half an hour. Why are you here? I mean, what's your connection to this zoo?"
A moment later his words registered, as a jumble of thoughts raced through Ashley’s mind—thoughts about Brent the last time she saw him, about being on the scene of yet another unexpected death. She took a deep breath and explained, "I'm catering desserts for the crew and 'talent' as they call them.”
Telling Detective Luna about her role reminded her of the pastries and candies in the van. “Since it sounds like you and the other deputies are going to be here awhile, would it be okay if I set them up at the usual table here in the foyer?” she asked. “Your guys might appreciate the food and coffee before long. I even have an extra coffeemaker in the van so I'd only need water from the kitchen."
"Sure, the forensic guys are finished in this hall," Luna said, running his fingers through his already mussed hair. "I was busy on another call so they beat me here by a good while. Go ahead and set things up. I'll send Thompson, the newest deputy, over to help you. He's a rookie—only been on the job since yesterday—so I suspect getting him away from the body will protect my crime scene. He was definitely looking pale and a little green a few minutes ago.”
Surprised to hear that there were other deputies on the scene, Ashley looked around. Luna noticed the puzzled look on her face when she didn't see them and explained. "They're parked around the back, working in the dining room, then moving upstairs. They cleared that other room over there—I think Fortune called it the morning room—so I could have a place for our suspects and witnesses to wait to give their statements. Speaking of which, we'll need one from you, too, but I know where to find you, so I'll get back to you after we finish processing the scene."
A few minutes after the detective walked toward the backyard, a young-looking deputy walked to where Ashley waited. "I was told you might need some assistance, ma'am?" he said, blushing.
Extending her hand to shake, Ashley did her best to put him at ease. "First off, I'm Ashley, not ma'am. And yes, I have several trays and boxes of sweets, a coffee urn, and some other things to bring in from my van. While I get the extra coffee things sorted out, could you find a couple of folding tables and set them up over by that wall? Then, I'll meet you at my van; it's the one with the Seagrass Sweets logo on the doors."
Soon, the tables were set, covered in some of the extra royal blue linens Ashley had left
from a recent club event, and stacked high with doughnuts, croissants, Danish pastries, and the Belgian pralines she had made that morning. The goodies were barely in place before the men and women in uniform swarmed the table. In just a few minutes, they'd eaten as much as the much smaller film crew usually did all day. Sending the young deputy back to the van for some cookies she'd stashed at the last minute, she straightened the decimated trays and eavesdropped on the conversation Luna was having with another deputy. "Focus on the wife," Luna said to a deputy taking notes in a small spiral notebook. "Nine times out of ten, it's the spouse, and one of the witnesses said they were having some pretty frequent arguments. See what you can find out about her, let’s see, her name is . . .”
The deputy glanced at her notes and filled in, “Lucy. She’s a math teacher at the high school.”
Luna said, “Right. Lucy. See what the people here know about her, then head back to the office and do some online searching. When he's free again, get Thompson to talk to whoever is in charge around here and find out all he can about the rest of the people who've been in the house or on the grounds in the last few days.”
As she looked up from the table she'd been arranging, Ashley noticed Lucy sitting nearby, with Dizzy's head on her knee. Dizzy's not the smartest dog in the world, but she's a pretty good judge of character. I don't think she'd be fooled by a murderer. If she's comfortable around Lucy, I'd lay odds that Lucy didn't kill Brent, Ashley thought. She watched as Luna approached Lucy, opening his own notebook in preparation for speaking with the widow. Dizzy immediately went into protection mode, stepping between the detective and the softly crying woman and growling low in warning.
"Somebody get this dog out of here, now!" Luna glared at Ashley as he spoke. "Take her away from my crime scene."
"I'll take her home," Ashley offered. "I can be back in a few minutes."
"You need to stay here," Luna fumed. "I still need your statement, and I'm sure I'll have some questions for you. Don't you go anywhere."
Throwing her hands up in frustration, Ashley muttered, “Make up your mind, detective. I can't take her away and stay here at the same time.”
Luna looked up sharply and sighed. “Sorry—again. Is there someone who could pick her up? Even outside, she could be in the way of the team searching the grounds.” Somewhat mollified, Ashley pulled out her phone and texted Ryan.
Can you come to the mansion and pick up Dizzy? She can't stay, and I can't leave.
A ping announced Ryan's reply. Sure, but what's up?
I'll tell you when you get here. Let's just say that a certain detective doesn't want her around today.
CHAPTER FOUR
Before long Ryan's blue truck pulled up in front of the mansion, and Ashley stepped down from the front porch where she'd waited in the old-fashioned swing. She stood and gave Ryan a quick hug, glad for his comforting presence.
"Hey," he called. "Why is there a detective here, and what's Dizzy gotten into now? Let me guess—she scarfed up the sausage kolaches, and he's here to arrest her for Grand Theft Pastry.”
Ashley shook her head. "Shh! This is serious. Hold on a sec." She looked around to be sure no one else could hear. "Ryan, Brent is dead, and Detective Luna's here; it's murder."
"Oh, no, Ash—you're caught up in another murder?" Ryan put his arm around her "I'm so sorry! How did it happen?"
"I'm not sure yet," she replied, shrugging. "When I arrived, all the first-responders were already here; Luna was in the house, organizing everyone. Dizzy was . . . well, Dizzy was Dizzy. She knocked over a camera, then she growled at Luna when he tried to talk to Lucy. He yelled for me to get Dizzy away from the crime scene, but he doesn’t want me to leave yet. I don't know how long it will be, and I don't want Diz locked in the car for long, you know we can't trust her to stay put otherwise. Luna said she'd still be in the way out back in the garden. Can you take her to your house or drop her in my backyard?"
Ryan took the leash and clipped it to the dog's collar. Dizzy started twirling in excitement, knowing that the leash meant they were going somewhere. "Sure, she can keep me company while I work on the website for Smoke Daddy's new place. So, I guess the show's shut down for a few days? Or will they even finish it now?"
Ashley's eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh, Ryan, you won't believe this!" She grabbed Ryan's arm. "When I walked in, Chance was filming some faked-up reaction, like he was just hearing about Brent’s death. He did this whole teaser thing about ghosts taking revenge for being disturbed or angry—just surreal—I can't believe he was that insensitive! How could he take advantage of Brent's death to boost ratings, with the poor man’s body still here and his widow sitting nearby. The whole scene was just awful!"
Ryan’s distaste showed on his face, as he narrowed his blue eyes. "Oh, wow," he exclaimed, "that's pretty cold. Do you think it was the shock of it all? You know, some 'it can't be real, it's just a scene' kind of denial reaction?"
Ashley raised her chocolate brown hair off the back of her neck. Even in late October and sitting in the shade of the porch, the temperatures were still warm enough to raise a light film of perspiration. "I'd like to think so, but he's been pretty obnoxious all along. I hate to be this way, but I really don't like him very much."
Ryan said, “You rarely say anything negative about anyone. He must be a real jerk to get under your skin.” (Ashley nodded, screwing her face to show how she felt.) "Any theories on who did it yet? With all your crime-solving experience, you'll have this one wrapped up by supper time," Ryan teased.
Ashley shrugged, "I don't even know how it happened yet. I'm assuming it was murder since Luna's here, but I don't know how, so it's hard to speculate who. According to Luna, it's usually the wife. I told you about the time I overhead Brent and Lucy talking. The way he treated his wife, I almost wanted to kill him myself!" The couple looked at each other and chuckled, just as Detective Luna walked through the front door.
"I'll remind you both that murder is not a laughing matter," he snarled. "Ms. Adams, I need to ask you some questions. If you can tear yourself away for a few minutes, please join me in the kitchen." Clearly, this was an order rather than a request; also, he was obviously irritated at someone.
Ashley grumbled, “Gee-whiz, he's in a foul mood today—even more than usual. I wonder who wound him up this morning?”
"And, I think that was my cue," Ryan rolled his eyes. "Dizzy and I will see you later, Ash. Why don't we go to the diner for supper—if you're finished in time?" He gave her a quick goodbye kiss and tugged on Dizzy's leash. "C'mon, Dizzy girl—let's go get some work done." The dog dashed to Ryan's truck and jumped through the open driver's door. She settled into the passenger seat and barked as if to say, Come on, roll down the window and get this show on the road. I need some hanging-out-the-window time.
Ashley followed the detective back inside the house, grabbing a cup of coffee and a small plate of cookies on the way. If she had to talk to Luna when he was having a snark fest, she'd try to sweeten him up a little with some desserts. If that didn't work, at least she'd have a treat herself.
Motioning Ashley into a chair pulled up to the small table in the breakfast nook, the detective took a sip from his own coffee and apologized, "I seem to be apologizing to you a lot today. I shouldn't have snapped at you. That Chance guy is a real piece of work. From listening to him, you'd never know anything unusual happened here today, never mind a death. I can't decide if he's so much of a jerk that he really doesn't care or if he's totally out of touch with reality. Anyway, that's not what I need to talk to you about. Tell me what you know about these people,” pointing to the crew members standing in the hallway.
"Before I do that, can you tell me what happened?" Ashley couldn't ignore her need to understand how Brent ended up dead any longer. “You are here, so it must be a murd ....”
"Hush, hon,” Luna interrupted. “Well, I guess there's no chance of keeping that quiet for long," Luna sighed. "The crew has already spun out a dozen theories to expla
in the scene. From what I've been told so far, one of the camera operators—a Samantha List, I believe—arrived before anyone else to get things set up for the day's filming. She walked into the side entry hall and found the victim sprawled on the floor next to a broken glass table and a crystal vase, with blood on his face. Right now, we're going on the assumption that cause of death is blunt force trauma." He hesitated, apparently still reluctant to share information with a civilian.
Ashley winced and started talking before Luna could continue. "So, someone hit him over the head with the vase. You seemed to think his wife killed him, but she's a rather petite woman. Could she really hit him hard enough to kill him? Could she even reach high enough?"
The detective shrugged. "There are several ways Mrs. Redstaff could have made it happen, but I don't want to discuss those right now. Besides, she wouldn't have to hit him as hard as you might think, either. We'll have to wait for the medical examiner for an official cause of death, but I'm pretty sure she'll confirm blunt force. Until then, though, there's not really any point in speculating anymore.”
"Okay, I can see that,” Ashley replied. She knew the detective would have to wait several days—maybe even longer; Seagrass was too small to have its own medical examiner so now that the justice of the peace had made the official declaration of death Brent's body would go to Houston for the medical examiner to autopsy.
“There are also some other things that we don't really have an explanation for yet. I'm not sure if they'll turn out to be significant or not. Before you ask—his wedding ring is missing, but he was holding his cell phone. He'd just texted his wife's number with some weird message about how much he loved her for sticking with the show even though some Ethel person was trying to scare them away. We haven't been able to identify this Ethel yet.” Patty's going to have a fit, Ashley thought. Maybe I should let her explain to Luna who Ethel is! She decided to hold off on saying anything about the supposed ghost. She was sure someone else would mention it, and she didn't want to give him the idea that she was a paranormal believer.
