Freeze Frame (Killer Shots Mysteries Book 2)

by Lisa B. Thomas

  It was nine thirty. I still hadn’t decided if I should tell Leslie that Gwen Palmer had called the lodge looking for her missing flask. It wasn’t proof positive that Gwen was having an affair with Leslie’s husband, but it was definitely suspicious. And what about Ally? Was she another woman in Preston Harper’s harem?

  The buzzer sounded as someone came through the front door. Maybe it was the Randalls looking for their passport pictures. I was surprised to see Leslie Harper standing in the waiting area. Hopefully, she wasn’t getting cold feet. Grady needed to chase a lead other than Myra.

  “Leslie, come on in.” I directed her to my office.

  “I just dropped by to apologize and to let you know that I won’t be going to see the sheriff. All that nonsense about the flask was just that—nonsense. I talked to Preston and he cleared everything up. He’s not been seeing anyone behind my back. I was just being silly.” The smile on her face was about as genuine as a used car salesman’s.

  Cold feet? More like frozen feet. “But Leslie, there’s more to the flask than whether or not your husband was handing them out like candy.” Had I really said that out loud?

  She fiddled with her car keys. “Oh, you mean that terrible incident at the party. I heard this morning that they arrested the lodge’s housekeeper. That should put an end to that. Now do you have those pictures for me? I want them for the society page of Friday’s edition.”

  I picked up the disc and gave it to her. “Let me know what you want printed after you look at the proofs.”

  She stuck it in her big Chanel handbag and turned to leave.

  I wedged myself between her and the front door. “Just so you know, Myra didn’t do it.”

  “That’s up to the police. It’s none of my concern.” She pushed past me.

  “I know who brought the flask to the party.”

  That got her attention. She stopped dead in her tracks but didn’t turn around.

  “Don’t you want to know who it is?” She had to be curious, unless, that is, she already knew.

  “I told you, my husband is not having an affair.” She walked out the door and got in her car.

  I watched her through the window as she reached over and pulled a handkerchief out of her purse to dab her eyes.

  She knows it’s true. A woman always knows. I felt a brief stab of pain for her. But she had made the choice to live the lie. That was on her. And who was I to judge? Sometimes you do what you have to do to survive.

  Leslie did what she had to do; now it was my turn. Before I talked to Sheriff Grady, I had to find out if Gwen Palmer was indeed having an affair with Preston Harper and just how that flask ended up next to Mr. Squishy in the freezer. I had to stand up for Myra even if no one else would.

  *

  GWEN PALMER DIDN’T answer her phone, so I called Ally in the hopes she was working with Gwen. I was in luck. She said they were up at the falls catering for the movie crew. It was obvious Ally was star-struck. She went on and on about seeing the guy from some show she used to watch. She couldn’t remember his name, though.

  When I asked if she could get me inside the movie set to see Gwen, she said she didn’t think so. Security was tight. But I couldn’t wait around all day. I would take my chances and drive up there. As I was about to get in my car, Nancy strolled up.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked. “I thought we could grab an early lunch at Karol’s.”

  “I’m headed up to the falls.”

  “Why? Is it for a photo shoot?”

  That gave me an idea. “You’re a genius.” I ran back into the studio and grabbed my camera bag. “Want to go with me? I need a model.”

  “I’d go with you, sure, but not if you’re going to take my picture.”

  “Get in. I’ll explain on the way there.”

  We drove past the casinos on the edge of town and took the road up toward the falls. I had been there many times in my younger days, but this was my first trip there since I’d moved back.

  I told her all about the flask and Leslie Harper. She promised not to say anything to anyone about the affair. Apparently, though, Preston Harper had a reputation for having a wandering eye, so she wasn’t that surprised.

  The parking lot at the falls was packed with cars. I parked in the grass and we got out.

  A man in a four-wheeler was sleeping by the entrance. We tiptoed past him. As locals, Nancy and I knew a shortcut and headed out on the barely visible trail. When we got closer, we could hear the sound of water cascading over the rocks. Tall lights on poles peaked out of the trees and someone shouted over an intercom system.

  “Let’s hope this works,” I said as we got closer.

  “Hey. What are you two doing here? This area is off-limits.” A burly man with neck tattoos and a stocking cap held out his hand.

  “I’m a photographer.” I said, patting the camera bag flung across my shoulder. “I’m on a deadline and have to get pictures of my model by the falls or I’ll be fired.” I made a neck slicing motion with my thumb.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Where’s your press pass?”

  “Oh, we’re not with the movie company,” I said. “This is for…uh…Waterfall Magazine. Did you know that Cascada Falls is the third largest natural spring falls in New Mexico?”

  “Give me a break. You two get moving before I radio the deputy.”

  Obviously, the movie set bouncer took his job pretty seriously. At least we tried. I started to leave.

  Nancy stepped up. “Just one question, then we’ll go.” She brushed her long brown locks off her shoulder. “Why aren’t you working in front of the camera instead of out here by the fence?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’ve been in films myself, and you look like the leading man type to me.”

  He blushed and broke out into a silly grin. “Ah, you’re just saying that.”

  “No, seriously.” She made a little frame with her hands and looked at him through it. “I can tell star quality when I see it. And I see it.”

  Nancy’s charms were working. I needed to seal the deal. “Do you have any headshots I can take back to my editor? We’re always looking for new models.” Models for a waterfall magazine? That was dumb.

  He shrugged as he considered the question. “Uh, no. My brother got me this job. He’s with the lighting crew.”

  “You definitely need headshots if you’re going to get anywhere in this business.” I hesitated for effect. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. If you let us in to snap a couple of quick shots, I’ll take some pictures of you for free as soon as we’re done. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know.” He scratched his chin with sausage-like fingers. “I could get in trouble.”

  Nancy smiled and touched his arm. “What if I throw in my number? Would that make it worth the risk?”

  “That sounds good. Okay, you’ve got a deal. But make it quick. I’ll be ready when you get back.”

  “I bet you will.” Nancy blew him a kiss.

  Sucker. “Men are so gullible.” I led the way down the trail.

  Nancy laughed. “And they call us the weaker sex.”

  “Now we just need to find Gwen.” I pointed in the direction of the loudspeakers. “This way.”

  As we got closer, it looked like a war zone. Guys and girls were walking around covered in blood. Some were missing limbs. A few had knives or hatchets sticking out of various parts of their bodies.

  “What kind of movie is this?” Nancy asked. “This is crazy.”

  “Obviously not a romantic comedy.”

  A woman wearing headphones and an un-bloodied parka stopped us. “What are you two doing out here?”

  I hadn’t expected more security inside the fenced area. “Um, we’re looking for catering.”

  “Geez, you extras think this is a country club or something. Get inside there or I’ll have you thrown off the set!” She pushed us into a large tent.

  A man wearing a tailored suit and
riding boots looked me up and down, grabbed my camera bag, and threw it in a corner. He led me through the crowd of zombies and sat me in a chair. “Slashed throat,” he told the woman standing behind me.

  Before I knew it, the woman had smeared a gooey red substance into my hair and onto my jacket. She reached into a box and pulled out a rubbery scar and applied it to my neck with some sort of adhesive compound. “I’m going with ‘knife attached.’ You can thank me later.” She picked up a plastic knife and more glue.

  “Wha…what do you mean?” I managed to utter.

  She worked fast. “You get paid twenty-five bucks extra if you have a knife stuck in you, and you’ll probably get a close-up.”

  All I could think about was how I was going to get that red gunk out of my jacket. Hopefully, Connie’s Cleaners had something that would do the trick. It was too late to turn back now. I tried to look around to find Nancy, but the tent was too crowded.

  “Hold still.” The woman ratted my hair to the size of a sombrero. As a final touch, she practically emptied an entire can of Aqua Net in my hair. She yelled, “Next!” and pushed me out of the chair.

  I took one last look in the blood-splattered mirror. I could pass for a blond Bride of Frankenstein. I was unrecognizable, which was probably good since I had a feeling I was about to appear in the worst slasher film ever.

  I followed other senseless victims of violence outside where we were herded into a waiting area. I looked around and spotted Nancy. She looked as though she’d just had a spa treatment and beauty makeover. Her makeup was stunning and not a hair was out of place. With the exception of two small streaks of blood on the side of one cheek, she looked ready to walk down the runway.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, grinning.

  “Slashed throat. Isn’t it obvious?” I pointed to the knife blade dangling from my neck. “What about you?”

  “That nice man in the tent said I was too pretty to bloody up, so he gave me a special part.” She held up a note card. “I’m ‘Girl Who Faints’! He said I might be included in the credits.”

  I shook my head and the rubber knife slapped against my ear. Perfect. I looked like roadkill and she looked like Snow White. “Have you forgotten why we’re here? We’re here because somebody committed murder.”

  Nancy laughed and waved her arm at our fellow victims. “You see the irony, right?”

  “Not movie murder, the murder of Mr. Squishy!”

  A guy holding a chainsaw to his gut turned to us. “‘The Murder of Mr. Squishy’? Is that what they’re calling this film now? I thought it was ‘Blood Bath Falls.’”

  I glared at him. “Mind your own business, chainsaw man.”

  He bucked up his chest. “I’ll have you know this is my third time starring as Chainsaw Man. Besides, slashed throats are a dime a dozen, missy.”

  I grabbed Nancy’s arm and pulled her to the edge of the crowd. “Look over there. The sign on that trailer says it’s catering. I’m going to slip out and go talk to Gwen, then we can get out of here.”

  Nancy crinkled her nose and dropped her shoulders. “But what about my part? This could be my big break.”

  She was bit by the movie bug and bit hard. “Really? You think this low budget B-film is going to make you a star?”

  “Speaking of stars,” she giggled, “did you hear who’s in this movie? It’s that guy who was on a show with that girl who used to be on Real World. Oh, what is his name…”

  “Nancy! Get real.”

  The same anxious-looking woman who had thrown us in the tent waved her clipboard at me. “Look, you two, the assistant to the assistant director is coming. If you don’t stop blabbing, you’re both fired!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nancy smiled sweetly and waved her little note card. “I’m ‘girl who faints.’”

  “I don’t care if you’re ‘girl who farts rainbows,’ hold it down!”

  After the woman scurried away, I turned to Nancy. “Here’s my plan—”

  This time it was Nancy who shushed me. “Be quiet,” she whispered. “You heard what the woman said.”

  I lowered my voice. “I don’t care a snit about Eva Braun. I’m going to that catering trailer. You just wait here.”

  When clipboard woman turned her back, I went to the hair and makeup tent and grabbed my camera bag. I circled around into the woods where I couldn’t be seen and came up at the rear of the catering trailer. As I opened the door, welcoming heat blasted my face. Four men sat at a table devouring pulled pork sandwiches and potato salad.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” one guy said, wiping sauce off his mouth.

  Pointing to my neck, I said, “Low blood sugar. Or maybe just low blood.”

  They were not amused. I hurried to the back and found Gwen and Ally filling paper bags with sandwiches and chips. Probably food for the extras.

  “Can I help you?” Ally asked with a smile. “Although I think you’re going to need more than food to fix whatever happened to you.”

  “It’s me. Wendy Fairmont.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t recognize you. How did you manage to get in here?”

  “It wasn’t easy, obviously. I came here to talk to Gwen, and one thing led to another…”

  Gwen looked up when I said her name. “What on earth do you need me for?”

  “I understand you called the lodge about your missing flask.”

  “Oh, did you find it? You didn’t have to come all the way here just to return it. You certainly didn’t have to risk life and limb.”

  Both women chuckled.

  Very funny. Everyone’s a comedian. “No, I didn’t find it. The sheriff has it.”

  The smile slipped from Gwen’s face. “Why would the sheriff have my flask? It’s not against the law to take a little nip now and then, even at a child’s birthday party.”

  “Especially at a child’s birthday party,” Ally added.

  I batted the annoying knife away from my face. “It was found in the freezer with the clown. Grady thinks whoever owned it might know something about the clown’s death.”

  “Oh heavens! Does he think I had something to do with that old drunk’s death? Surely not.”

  “I didn’t say that. In fact, I’m trying to figure out how it got there so all this can get straightened out.”

  Ally stopped filling bags. “I heard they arrested someone for his murder. What’s there to figure out?”

  I let out a deep sigh and the knife flopped down to my chest. I was tempted to pull the thing out but was afraid my skin might peel off along with the stupid prop. “The woman Sheriff Grady arrested is innocent, and I need your help to prove it.”

  Gwen nodded. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”

  “First off, where did you get the flask?”

  Her face tightened. “It was a gift.”

  “From whom?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “It just does.”

  Gwen turned to Ally. “Why don’t you go ask those men if they need more coffee or dessert. I need a moment alone with Wendy.”

  Ally gave me a pointed look as if to say, “I told you so” and headed off with the pot of coffee.

  When she was out of earshot, Gwen pulled me back to the corner and spoke in a low voice. “I have a feeling you already know where I got the flask or you wouldn’t be asking.”

  “Was it from Preston Harper?”

  She blinked her eyes and then nodded. “How can I get it back?”

  That’s what she was worried about? She wasn’t concerned it might be a key piece of evidence in a man’s death? She must have read my mind.

  “I know that sounds crass, but I’ve already lost it once. I had to search high and low to find a replacement to buy online. If Preston finds out I lost it, he might…I don’t know…think I’m ungrateful. Stop giving me gifts.”

  “You say you lost one? As far as you know, are you the only woman that no-good, lying snake is cheating with?” Yeah,
that’s exactly what I said.

  She stuck out her chin. “Of course. He loves me.”

  My eyes rolled despite my best attempt to stop them. “How did you lose the flask at the party?”

  “I have no idea. One minute it was in my purse, the next minute it was gone.”

  She seemed sincere. That coincided with what Leslie had said about taking it out of a woman’s purse in the coatroom. “Did you see anyone near Mr. Squishy or see anything suspicious?”

  She put a hand on her hip. “Do you remember how busy I was? You said you would keep your eye on him. I had that crazy mother to deal with.”

  “You realize how this could look, right? You are coordinating a party for your lover’s wife and a man turns up dead with your flask? Some people might think it was some weird kind of retaliation.”

  “No!” Her voice reverberated around the metal trailer.

  Ally hurried back. She set down the coffee and wrung her hands.

  I braced myself. Was she about to announce she was quitting her job? Now?

  “I heard you mention a missing flask,” Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Was it silver with a red heart on it?”

  Gwen’s mouth flew open as she nodded.

  “I…I have it. It’s not the one from this last party, though. I found it a few months ago and kept it. I didn’t realize it was yours.”

  “It most certainly is mine,” she seethed. “And I want it back, you little thief.”

  “I’m not a thief! I found it in the trash.”

  “That’s a likely story. I want it back and I want you gone!”

  “You’re firing me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “No way. I quit! I was going to quit anyway, but you just made it easier.”

  “Oh, sure you were. I suppose you want to sell knockoff turquoise jewelry in your daddy’s gas station for the rest of your life.”

  “Actually, I’ll be working with Prissy at the Party Place. But even if I weren’t, I’d rather sell worthless crap than be the town harlot. Wait until everyone hears about you and Preston Harper.” Ally pulled off her apron and threw it at Gwen as she stormed out of the trailer.