by Sandi Scott
After giving her a moment to collect herself, Luna asked, “Mrs. Redstaff, this will seem like an insensitive question, but I have to ask. Did you or anyone else have a monetary reason to kill your husband? Will anyone benefit financially?”
Lucy laughed bitterly. “If so, I don't know who it would be or how it could happen. We are completely broke. As school teachers, we pretty much lived paycheck to paycheck; we had a little money invested in mutual funds, but, thanks to the current economic situation in the country, they're worth less than half what they were a year ago. And based on what he was expecting to receive from doing the show, Brent maxed out our credit cards on new clothes, workout equipment, and a new laptop. This was our last hope of getting a home of our own. Now with him gone, I don't know how I'll ever dig out from under all the debt.” She paused, then said, “And before you ask, he didn't buy any of that stuff in secret. I wanted him to wait until we actually had the money in hand, but I gave in and agreed to his buying them now. I didn't resent his purchases; I'm just more cautious than he is . . . than he was, so I would have waited, but we still would have bought them.”
“What about someone connected with the show? Was there any kind of insurance to cover the network if something happened to one of you?” Ashley suspected that Luna already had a good idea of the answer, but he wanted to see Lucy's reaction.
Lucy shrugged. “If there was, no one ever mentioned it to us, and I doubt they'd spend the money on a policy.” She shook her head wistfully. “As much as Brent and Chance want to believe otherwise, this show just isn't going to be a big deal. The network might break even, but they were never going to make a lot of money. The whole premise is just too farfetched; it's not going to catch on enough to be worth any investment in insuring us.”
Ashley tried to ask a question, but Luna cut her off and stared her down. Every time she attempted to speak, the detective interrupted until she was finally able to sneak in her question when he stopped to look over his notes.
“Lucy, I was looking at the comments on Brent's blog last night, and I saw some pretty negative posts that seemed to originate here in Seagrass. Do you know who the person posting as Chances#1Fan is?” She glanced sideways at Luna and saw his surprise and irritation morph into interest.
Lucy's whole stance changed; she straightened her spine, and it was clear that she was annoyed. “Yeah, I know—that's Trina, Chance's personal assistant. She's totally obsessed with Chance, and he's completely oblivious. She kept doing things to undermine Brent—moving tables behind him so he'd knock them over when he turned around, dragging cords into his path so he'd trip on them. Plus, she was always making snide remarks about him. She told me once that we were unnecessary wastes of money, that the show didn't need anyone on camera but Chance. She even said that if we were smart—and that she was sure we weren't—we'd drop out of the show and leave the whole thing to Chance before the network figured out that he was all they needed and fired us.” Clearly, as much as Lucy hated the changes she'd tolerated in Brent, she resented someone else trying to sabotage her man.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Redstaff,” Luna said, standing. “If you'll wait just a minute or two, I'll have a deputy follow you home to make sure there's no one at your apartment to harass you. I'll talk to you again as soon as there's anything more to report.”
The detective and Ashley walked with Lucy to the foyer where Ashley rearranged the food on the table and checked her phone for messages from Ryan or Patty. So far, there was no word on Dizzy, and she worried even more. She paced the area, returning to move the sandwiches and pastries around on the trays again and to move the trays around on the table. She checked her phone again . . . nothing. She continued to obsessively rearrange things on the table and check her phone while she waited for the detective to return and the day to end.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ashley had just checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time when Luna finally came back to the food area. The smug look on his face told her that he'd discovered something interesting. “Ms. Baumer has quite a history,” he smirked. “The producer from Chance Fortune's first pilot show, some dating thing, got the judge to issue a protective order. Ms. Baumer was some sort of obsessed fan, a stalker girl. She managed to get onto the rival’s set several times and sabotage Fortune's competition, trying to make Fortune look good. Once the producer figured out what she was doing, he got a protective order and Fortune was cut lose shortly afterwards.”
“So, her strategy to help him win actually caused him to lose?” Ashley appreciated the irony.
“Network officials insisted that his pilot show was eliminated fairly in accordance with the network's long-term strategy, but the timing was pretty coincidental.” Luna shrugged his shoulders as if to say he couldn't even begin to understand the thinking of television bigwigs. “Then, she turned up on his next reality show where he was a combination director-competitor although it's not too clear how she managed to get that gofer job. Supposedly, the competitors were dropped off in some desert and had to figure out how to survive with only what each could procure from nature. Although one of the competitors who had to leave early claimed Baumer was slipping food and water to Fortune, there was no proof, and Chance was eventually eliminated. No one else seems to have complained.”
“And here she is again,” Ashley mused. “This time, she's the one who spends the most time with him as his personal assistant. I don't know whether to admire her persistence or to be creeped out by it. How can Chance really be that oblivious or that desperate for attention? Or does he have an agenda of his own where Trina is concerned?”
“Let's just say there is 'not enough data to determine' now. I think it's time to talk to Mr. Fortune and see what he has to say for himself. He has a lot to lose if this show tanks, and there's a fair amount of talk around the set that it's not even going to do that well.”
“Yeah, one rumor has it that the network was going to pull the plug before this episode was even finished or aired,” Ashley shared. “Then, Brent was killed, and there's new life for the show—no pun intended.”
Luna stepped into the stairwell and called up to where the crew was filming. “Mr. Fortune, we're ready for you. If you would, please join us near the kitchen. We'll make this as short and painless as possible.”
“Cut!” Chance's shout drifted down the stairs. “Everybody take a break. Don't leave the area; we'll get started again as soon as I finish with the detective. And for heaven's sake, wake up and be ready to do some decent work when we get back.”
Ashley rolled her eyes at Luna. “That man is such a jerk. It wouldn't be hard to find a long list of suspects if he had been the victim. And what is he even filming without Brent or Lucy?” Luna snorted out a short laugh, but he didn't comment.
Chance clattered down the stairs with a camera crew behind him. He started to brush past Ashley, forcing her to scramble backward, but Luna stepped in front of him.
“Mr. Fortune, this conversation is a part of a police investigation, not a scene from your reality show. There is no need for a camera crew in the room.” He gave Chance a hard stare, but the look was wasted on the oblivious director.
“The death is part of the show now; the viewers want to know if the spirits killed the guy because filming made them angry.” Ashley noticed that Chance never used Brent's name; she wondered if he even remembered it in his self-centered drive to get everyone's attention focused on himself. “They'll eat up seeing me being interviewed by a police detective and sharing my insights into what happened. That will make great television!”
Ashley could see the tension in Luna's jaw as he replied, “Mr. Fortune, do I need to remind you that Brent Redstaff died here? He's dead, Mr. Fortune. It wasn't a scripted scene of reality television. He's dead, and a real, live human being killed him, not a ghost. He's not going to get up and return to the set tomorrow. I'm here to find out what happened to him and to get justice for him, not to add to your television show. If you can't all
ow Mr. Redstaff's death any dignity and respect, you would do well to understand that if you don't cooperate or if you undermine my progress here, you can—and will—go to jail for interfering with a police investigation.”
Chance's eyes widened, and he threw his hands up. “Whoa! Hold on, detective! I have no intention of interfering. I'm here, and I'm cooperating with you—I'll answer any questions you have. I just want to get the interview on film. We probably won't use any of it or, if we do, it would just be a short clip, but I'd like to have it available later, if we do decide to include the investigation into Brent's death as a part of the show.”
Luna's face flushed, and Ashley had the feeling he was about to explode so she pulled him aside. “He's a jerk, detective; don't say something you'll regret—he's not worth the energy and oxygen it would burn. Can't you confiscate the tape or something later? He'll probably be a lot more willing to talk—to talk too much even—if you let the camera crew in. Feed his ego and see what he lets slip out.”
Luna took a deep breath and seemed to consider her advice. “You know, I forgot to set up the recorder when we spoke with Mrs. Redstaff; I'm used to interviewing witnesses and suspects at the office, where the recording is almost automatic. I guess letting him tape this could be helpful; I can get a copy for sure, and I can probably get a judge to agree that I need the original if it comes to that.”
He took another deep breath and turned to Chance. “All right, Mr. Fortune, your crew may join us. But they may not interrupt in any way, and we will not play to the camera. This will be a straightforward interview, with no reality TV antics or asides. Otherwise, they are out, and we'll finish the interview at the sheriff's office. Do we understand one another?”
I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that glare, Ashley thought. That look is scorching.
“Of course, detective,” Chance nodded vigorously. “They'll just be like flies on the wall; you won't even know they're in the room. We'll ignore them completely.”
Ashley poured coffee for the two men and herself and they took seats in the interview room. Luna started the questioning by asking about Trina and her odd behavior.
“Oh, Trina's okay. She's a little weird, but it's all innocent,” Chance assured them. “For that matter, what's so weird about loving me, anyway? I'm not such a bad catch, you know.” He puffed out his chest and winked at Ashley, who turned away so he didn't see her slightly nauseated, fully disgusted reaction.
Luna ignored the smug question and continued. “You aren't bothered by the fact that she's more than a little obsessed? Or that she's disrupted your filming by deliberately setting up accidents to sabotage Mr. Redstaff?”
“Trina's, um, enthusiastic and, let's say, passionate. She may be a bit misguided, but she means well. She's not out to harm anyone; she just wants to make sure I'm successful. Could she kill someone? I doubt it. Why would she? Why Brent if she would?”
“How 'enthusiastic and passionate' is she, Mr. Fortune? Would she be willing to kill to protect your image, to make you look good?” The detective cut through Chance's obfuscation with a little bluntness to make his point.
Chance hesitated before he answered. “Look, she did some really messed up stuff on the competition for my pilot of the dating show; I'll admit, she was out of control at that time, but I hired her and gave her a second chance. Now that she's got what she wants—the opportunity to help me build my career—she's been nothing like that; she's been really helpful and supportive.”
“What do you mean?” Luna pushed. “In what ways has she been helpful?”
“Well,” Chance said. “For one thing, she's been investigating the source of some leaks on the show. She's taking care of it so that I can focus on the filming.”
“Leaks?” Ashley asked before she realized she was going to say anything. Luna frowned at her, but he didn't comment. “What kind of leaks, Chance?”
“Some of the celebrity magazines and websites have been publishing photos we haven't released to them,” he said. “The network is not happy about the pictures getting out. Personally, I don't mind a few leaked shots or a tidbit of gossip—it's free publicity for the show, you know—but I want to be the one to control what they get, when they get it, and what message they publish.”
“And how is Ms. Baumer involved?” Luna followed up.
“She thinks Brent is, well, was behind the whole thing. She told me she had a plan to take care of the problem, and that I didn't need to worry about it anymore.” Chance paused, apparently realizing what his words seemed to imply.
“You don't think her solution was to kill the guy, do you?” Luna suddenly seemed to remember that he was on camera. “Oh, we'll edit that out.”
Clearly irritated by the director's distraction, the detective changed the direction of the interview. “Mr. Fortune, did you kill Mr. Redstaff? Maybe his popularity was threatening your own reputation? Maybe he really was leaking those photos and, when you confronted him, he refused to stop? Did you bash him over the head to make sure he did stop so he wouldn't outshine you? Were you worried that his popularity would make the network decide to replace you so you got rid of the competition?”
“Stop the cameras,” Chance ordered. He turned back to Luna. “No, I wasn't jealous of the attention he was getting. Fame is fleeting, and reality TV fame is even shorter-lived than most. There's no point in trying to stay on top for very long; it's much better to make sure you're around the people who are on the way up.” He shook his head. “His poor wife—she was just a few weeks away from having her 15 minutes of fame, and now she'll miss out on all of that and slide back into obscurity as a small-town school teacher.”
Chance turned to the camera and signaled for the crew to resume filming. “How dare you accuse me of murder?” He stood up abruptly and tried to tower over Luna and Ashley as he ranted, but Ashley thought he just looked silly. “Just because your small-town, country deputies can't conduct a decent police investigation, don't think you're going to railroad me. You accuse me of murder, but you have no evidence to back that up. How do I know? Because there can't be any evidence because I didn't kill Brent. I had no reason to hurt him. In fact, without him, this show is probably going to fold, and my chance goes with it.” He sputtered for a few more seconds before shouting, “Cut! That should work. Get everyone back upstairs; we'll pick up where we left off in 5 minutes.” With that, he gave Ashley and the detective a mock bow and left the room, grabbing a brownie from the table as he stomped past it.
“Wow! That was . . ..” Ashley paused. “I don't even know what to call it. Weird, intense, creepy, stupid? That man isn't like anyone I've ever encountered before!”
Luna stared after Chance for another second or two, then turned to Ashley and shrugged. “He's definitely a sandwich short of a picnic, but is he a murderer?”
Ashley thought before tentatively saying, “I don't know; he's sort of got a point about it not being in his own best interest to kill off the talent. Without Brent there's no way Lucy's going to agree to finish the show, and without at least one of them Chance has no show. There's no possibility that the network would let him start this one again from scratch. The premise just isn't strong enough to spend that kind of money on it. No episodes means no ongoing series, no contract, and no hope for bigger and better things to sprout from this one. He's strange, but he's also pretty involved in self-promotion; I can't see him intentionally undermining his own future.”
Luna agreed. “There's definitely something off with him, but I'm not convinced that he's our killer—not yet, anyway. He stays on my suspect list, near the top, but I don't think I can wind this one up just now.” He thought for a minute. “What about Baumer, though? Would she kill on his behalf?”
“I can't say that I would, or that I wouldn't, be surprised if she did,” Ashley said. “Her motive doesn't really seem strong enough to be worth killing someone—leaking a few photos, especially since Chance probably would have given them out himself. On the other hand, if her o
bsession is really that deep, who knows what she would think was worth it? I don't think 'logical' or 'reasonable' are adjectives usually associated with stalkers.”
“We need to talk to her again,” Luna said. “She seemed pretty calm when I talked to her before, but I was just asking about what she saw on the set. Now that we know more about her history, it's time to lean on her a little and see what happens.”
Luna sent one of the uniformed deputies to find Trina. While they waited for her to arrive, Ashley fixed them both a fresh mug of coffee and Luna grazed the snack table. Ashley noticed that he avoided all the chocolate stuff, choosing a pumpkin muffin and a slice of apple bread instead. Just as he popped the last bite of the bread in his mouth, Trina tromped in from the kitchen.
“You wanted to talk to me,” she barked. “So, talk—I have important things to do today and can’t waste my time on things that don't matter to the show.”
“I would think that the death of one of the stars on the show would matter,” Luna deadpanned, wrapping his muffin in a napkin for later.
Trina looked startled. “What? I've been out in the trailer. What's happened to Chance? Is he okay? Where is he? I need to go take care of him.” Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for the director, and she looked poised to bolt from the room.
“Mr. Fortune is fine, Ms. Baumer. As far as I know, he's filming upstairs. I was talking about Mr. Redstaff's death.” Luna glanced at Ashley, who could only shrug, just as confused as the detective by Trina's reaction.
“But you said 'the death of the star'? If Chance is okay, that doesn't make any sense.” She still sounded confused, although there was a hint of annoyance in her voice, as well. “Why would you say Chance was dead if it isn't true?”
