All Eyes on Me (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 1)

by Linsey Lanier

  Changed their names to sound more glamorous no doubt. “You were close then?”

  “Oh, yes. I worshipped my sister. Like everyone did. Abbey always got all the attention. She was the outgoing one. She was in everything. School plays. The band. Musicals. That’s when she discovered she could sing. I still remember the first night she played in Les Miserables. When she sang ‘I Dreamed a Dream,’ it was incredible. What a voice. What stage presence. At only sixteen. When she finished, the entire auditorium was quiet for five minutes. Then everyone broke out in cheers and applause.” Her lip began to quiver and she reached for another tissue. “Oh, my God. How can all that be over? She was only forty-one. She had her whole life ahead of her.”

  Miranda waited patiently for the poor woman to settle down, wrestling with the anger brewing in her own gut. She wondered if killers knew what kind of pain they caused, would it keep them from their heinous acts? Probably not. But she was going to find this killer if it was the last thing she did. “Ms. Star, were you at the rehearsal Tuesday night?”

  Her forehead creased. “Tuesday night? Of course. Everyone was there.”

  “Everyone?”

  She raised her hands in explanation. “The dancers, the background singers, the stage hands, the lighting crew. Everyone.”

  “I see. What about the personal staff?”

  “Some of Abbey’s staff was there, as usual. That’s what the family calls my sister. Abbey.”

  “Yes, her husband mentioned that.”

  She blinked. “You’ve spoken to Cameron?”

  “Earlier today.”

  She sat up and pulled her bare feet under her as if she had to think about that. “Is he doing all right?”

  Miranda wondered at the sudden interest. “He seemed to be holding up. Which members of the staff were there at the rehearsal?”

  “Which ones? Oh, Gillian. She’s one of the maids who’s been with Abbey for years. Always accompanies her. Let me think.” She put her fingers to her lips in a delicate gesture. “Suzie? No, that’s right. Suzie wasn’t there. She usually is.”

  Miranda played dumb. “Suzie?”

  “Suzie Chan. Abbey’s personal chef. Abbey insists on having food for the staff after rehearsals. She says it keeps them loyal. I think someone said Suzie was away for a few days and couldn’t be there. It was a good thing.”

  “Oh, why?”

  Blythe seemed embarrassed for a moment. She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “Because of the melon balls.”

  “Melon balls?”

  Her long eyelashes fluttered close as she drew in a breath. “Abbey had something of an obsession with them. She claimed eye-sized melon balls brought her luck with her biggest hit, ‘All Eyes on Me.’ She serves them every time she feeds the staff. It’s almost a joke now.”

  “Ms. Star, I’m not following you. You said it was a good thing Suzie Chan wasn’t there.”

  She rolled her eyes and made an exasperated gesture with her hands. “Because my sister was having a fit over the melon balls.”

  “A fit?”

  “Some were too small. Some were too big. The symmetry wasn’t right.” Blythe sounded angry now. She’d been irritated with Ambrosia. Then she waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Oh, she was in a bad mood anyway. She didn’t think the rehearsal had gone well. She thought the timing was off on several of her numbers. She would have taken it out on Suzie if she’d been there.”

  Or maybe on Blythe. “Was she often upset at rehearsals?”

  Miranda watched her cheeks go pink and her long lashes flutter down over them. She looked downright ashamed. “My sister was rather temperamental. She had a hair-trigger temper. I was glad Cameron was there. Sometimes he’s the only one who can calm her down.”

  The same guy who’d told Miranda Ambrosia was happy about the show and rehearsals were going well. “Was that why your sister came here after the rehearsal?”

  Blythe cocked her head as if she were confused. “Here? To my home?”

  “Yes.”

  “She didn’t come here Tuesday night. Why did you think that?”

  “Her husband thought she had.” Was Forest wrong about that, too?

  She stared at the floor a moment, then reached for her drink and took another sip as if to steady her nerves. “That’s right. Abbey went on ahead of him in the limo. I thought she went straight home.” She pressed a tissue to her nose. “If only she’d taken one of her bodyguards with her.”

  “She had bodyguards?”

  “Most stars here do. She has two. Part time. They’re very good. Cameron gets them from Entertainment Security.”

  “Do they come to the rehearsals?”

  “Yes, they often accompany her when she goes out. Oh, wait. Scottie had the night off. He’s her primary guard.”

  The hair on the back of Miranda’s neck stood up. She stole a glance at Parker. He was watching Blythe Star intently. He knew all about bodyguards. He had a fleet of them working for the Agency.

  “It was probably just as well. She almost lost Scottie recently.”

  “Because of her temper?”

  Blythe nodded. “We were on the tour in London. It was one of those nights when Abbey was chewing Suzie out. Even with her connections, Suzie couldn’t find melons anywhere in the city and Abbey was furious. Scottie came to Suzie’s defense.”

  “That was big of him.” And pretty unreasonable of his employer.

  “He had a reason. That was the night it came out he and Suzie had been secretly dating.”

  Miranda’s breath caught. Suzie had a boyfriend. A big, strong one if he was a typical bodyguard. Bingo. She kept her voice calm and pressed on. “Why secretly?”

  “Abbey had a firm policy. No dating among staff members. She threatened to fire both of them on the spot. Oh, it was awful. Simply awful.”

  “But she didn’t fire them.”

  “She told them they had to break it off right then and there or she would.”

  Parker leaned forward and broke his silence. “Exactly when did this happen?”

  Blythe put her hand to her head to think. “About a month or so ago.”

  Plenty of time to plan a murder. Miranda kept her tone steady. “What did Suzie and this Scottie do about the threat?”

  Blythe lifted her palms with a sad look. “They broke up. I suppose they chose their careers over love.”

  Or they chose to get even. “I assume Scott is his real name?”

  She stared at her intently for a long moment before answering. “His last name. Scottie’s sort of a nickname. Sean is his first name, I think. Why?”

  Instead of answering, Miranda got to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Star. You’ve been very helpful. We’ll leave you in peace now.” She turned to go but Blythe snatched her hand.

  “Ms. Steele. You and Mr. Parker have to find my sister’s killer.”

  Miranda held the woman’s red-eyed gaze and squeezed her hand. “We will, Ms. Star. We will.”

  And maybe by tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once again, Miranda and Parker hurried away from the ritzy home and bundled into the rental as fast as they could.

  It was if they could read each other’s minds. While Parker sped off down the drive, Miranda hunted for Entertainment Security on her cell. “Got it,” she said after a few minutes. She dialed the number and discovered Sean Scott was indeed an employee. After pulling the police credentials and mentioning O’Toole’s name a few times, she managed to wheedle the guy’s home address out of the clerk who’d answered the phone.

  She hung up. “South Rainbow.” She rattled off the street number.

  “Not far from here.”

  ###

  Sean Scott’s place was in a complex called The Chateaux, though it was just a collection of beige brick two-story buildings. Nothing like the homes they had just left.

  They found a parking lot near Scott’s apartment on the ground floor. A lot of empty parking spots, Miranda thou
ght as Parker pulled into one just outside Scott’s front door. No way to tell if any of the remaining cars belonged to the bodyguard.

  With Parker close behind, she got out of the rental and marched to the front door. She used the knocker then banged on the painted wood when there was no response. After about five minutes of knocking, she let out a low growl.

  “It’s as we expected,” Parker said. “He isn’t home.”

  “Guess we can’t expect murder suspects to wait around until we catch up to them.” Miranda walked around to one of the windows and peered inside. The curtains were open and she could she a darkened room filled with typical living room furniture and a big screen TV on the wall. Not much in the way of décor. “Looks like he prefers simple living. Or maybe this is just a bachelor pad.”

  “We could speak to the landlord. He might let us in without a warrant.”

  She shook her head. She’d love to, but it wouldn’t be worth it. “If we find something, it would get thrown out in court if we did it that way.”

  “True.” He knew that already. “What do you propose we do now?”

  She eyed Parker’s face. He was looking at her with pride and love. “Thanks for letting me do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Take the lead on this case.” He was used to being the one in charge and she knew it must be killing him to hold back so much.

  The sexy lines around his gray eyes creased in a sly grin. “You won the roll of the dice. Next time, will be my turn.”

  She laughed, knowing he would play that for all it was worth. She glanced at her watch. “Ralston and her team are probably still at Suzie Chan’s. Since I’m calling the shots then, I say we check out how they’re doing.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The evil sun was getting lower now, turning the sky to rosy colors and dropping the temperature, oh, maybe a degree. But the brutal rush hour traffic was so heavy, it took them forty-five minutes to drive the three miles to Chan’s place.

  Parker pulled up to the curb behind the fleet of squad cars.

  Miranda peered out the window at a hacienda style building with the omnipresent clay tile roof and the omnipresent palms trees in the yard. “Nice place.”

  “And modest for what one would expect on a top chef’s salary.”

  Maybe Suzie Chan was a hard-working woman who saved her money and just wanted to be respected by her boss. Maybe she just lost it with her one night. Crime of passion? No, there was too much planning involved for that theory.

  Miranda was startled out of her thoughts when Parker opened the door for her. She gave him a smirk. “You haven’t done that on this trip.”

  His gaze was steady. “I didn’t think you wanted me to in front of O’Toole.”

  She had to laugh. “You know me too well.” She got to her feet and let him close the door behind her.

  The chivalrous act was nice but it didn’t make up for the loss of cool air. Out of the car she felt herself start to sweat through her dark clothes and just as fast, felt the liquid evaporate into the dry air.

  Ignoring the discomfort, she crossed to the sidewalk and eyed the decorative foliage along the house behind the decorative, scallop-shaped rocks. “Any of those look like lucky bean plants to you?”

  Parker squinted in the sun at the plants. “More like Needlepoint Holly and Bush Sage.” How did he know that?

  As they neared the house, Ralston spotted them. Her dark blond hair looked like it might be getting bleached to flaxen under the sunrays and there was a sheen of perspiration across her forehead, but her back was as straight as it was in her office. “No castanospermum australe out here, unfortunately,” she informed them.

  “So we see. Anything in the house?”

  “The warrant just came through. We’re just now getting started.” Ralston folded her arms but she was smiling. “I’m glad you two decided to show up here after all.”

  “Things went faster than we expected,” Miranda said.

  “Did you get anything?”

  Parker told the detective about the bodyguard and his possible connection to the case.

  “Good work. I’m impressed. Now maybe you can help us find what we’re looking for in there.” She nodded toward the house.

  “We’re happy to help,” Parker said.

  Ralston led them over to the CSI van where they picked up gloves and booties, which they donned on the front step.

  They went inside to an ordinary looking, off white entrance with a narrow, carpeted staircase. Off to one side Miranda could see a small living room with a tan velour couch, a recliner, a coffee table. On the walls were a few pictures that looked like family. Not much else.

  A man and a woman were combing the space.

  “I’ve got two technicians in there already,” Ralston told them. “Another three upstairs. I’ll get the master bedroom up there. How about you two take the kitchen?”

  “We’re on it.” Miranda gave her a nod and followed Parker down the short hall.

  They stepped into a well-lit space that was large relative to the size of the house. Neat, tidy. Didn’t look like she wasn’t coming back. Which she could have staged on purpose.

  The kitchen was lined with light wood cabinets topped with marble countertops of orange and green. In the center of the room sat a big island with a large lazy Susan, atop which were various-sized pitchers filled with cooking utensils.

  Miranda went immediately to the potted plant next to the sink near the window. She pulled the pot toward her with one gloved finger and studied the leaves. “Looks like some sort of herb.”

  Parker peered over her shoulder. “Oregano, I’d say.”

  She let out an exasperated huff. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

  They went through the cabinets first. Parker on the lower ones, Miranda on the upper ones. They found all sorts of pots and pans and dishes and cups and serving platters. In the drawers were odd-looking spoons and strange stirrers and knives and all kinds of carving equipment. One drawer held a whole assortment of melon ballers.

  While Parker tackled the island, Miranda went across the counter, searching behind cookbooks, a hook of browning bananas, decorative plates, sugar and flour canisters. She stopped to peek inside one of them. “This is full. She could have hidden the eye in here.”

  Parker rose from where he’d been crouching, interest on his face. “Not where one would normally look.”

  “And you’d better hope you didn’t forget about it when you start to bake cookies.”

  He shot her a pained look at the grisly thought. “All three will need to go to the lab. Too easy to lose trace evidence if we empty them here.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll take them to the van. You keep searching. We’re almost done.” He started across the tile floor.

  Almost done and they’d probably found zip. No doubt Chan had flushed that eyeball down the toilet.

  With a groan of irritation, Miranda reached for the handle of the refrigerator, hoping she’d find a cold beer inside. The AC was turned down and she was sweltering. She gave the door a yank and peeked inside.

  “Oh, my God.” Icy sensations traveled up and down her arms, her neck, her spine, and it wasn’t from the refrigerated air.

  “What is it?”

  She heard Parker come back in from the hall. Heard him set the canister down on the island behind her, even though her ears were ringing with shock. Felt him come up behind her and peer over her shoulder. “Good Lord.”

  There it was.

  Sitting on the top shelf in a jar of what looked like greenish pickle juice, staring straight at her—was Ambrosia Dawn’s left eye.

  Her stomach felt like she was on the Ultimate Flight at Six Flags, but she forced a steady tone into her voice. “Guess we can forget about the flour.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ralston was ecstatic when Miranda showed her the gruesome discovery. She pulled in her whole team to dust the entire kitchen and sent one of the CSIs back to
the lab with the eyeball jar.

  If Suzie Chan’s fingerprints were on that jar, they’d have her. If they could locate her.

  Miranda and Parker left the detective and her crew and headed for Sierra Vista to check in with their favorite cop. Assuming he was in by now.

  He was.

  They found O’Toole in his office. Not with his feet up this time. This time he had a half a watermelon on his desk and a melon baller in his hand. A glass bowl sat beside the melon, its bottom covered with mangled red fruit. The melon itself looked a little mutilated.

  O’Toole glanced up at them as they entered, then studied the instrument in his hand. “The average human eye is about twenty-four to twenty-six millimeters in diameter. About an inch. To put it another way, about two-thirds of a ping pong ball. Just the size of a standard melon baller.”

  Tired of the fooling around, Miranda tromped over to the single chair and plopped down into it. “Don’t we already know this, Sergeant?”

  “You have to do it just right.” O’Toole pointed the baller at her then gestured toward his computer screen. “I’ve been watching some YouTube videos on it. I think I’ve just about got the technique mastered.” He dug the melon baller into the red flesh of the melon. “You have to press down pretty hard. Then turn.” He did so and pulled out a scoop. “There. Now it’s the right size. See?” He held it up, then popped it into his mouth, chuckling.

  Parker wasn’t amused. “And your point is?”

  O’Toole waved the baller. “If you’re going to use this on an eye, you need some skill. And some strength. You have to know what you’re doing.”

  “Or you’d have to watch a video and figure it out,” Miranda said.

  O’Toole narrowed an eye at her, his Irish complexion growing a tad rosy. “It would be better to have some experience.” He scooped out another wad of melon and popped it in his mouth.

  Miranda crossed her legs and bobbed one up and down. She glanced casually around the room and noticed the showgirl calendar was gone and the walls were now bare. “Motive would be nice, too. And evidence. We think we have some.”