by K. M. Morgan
Isabel chimed in once more. “Did you just say a noir script?”
“Well yeah, haven’t you guys read the script?” Detective Crumple asked.
“That’s a different shooting script than the one we had,” lead actress Candy Caldwell said.
“Or that I wrote,” Isabel added.
“So you’re saying he could have been making changes to the script at the time of the murder? Interesting,” Detective Crumple said.
“I can’t believe he’d do this,” Isabel muttered.
The chatter continued, as wild speculation started getting thrown around.
Detective Crumple looked to tighten the reins. “Alright now, quiet down. I’m the one with questions. Alright, now Ms. Foster, where were you between seven and eight last night?”
Fiona and Isabel looked at each other confused, not sure which one he was expecting to answer.
“Uh, which Ms. Foster? There’s two of us,” Fiona said.
Crumple was confused. “Really? Good to know.” He scribbled a note down on his pad. “How about you go first Fiona?”
“I was with Logan,” Fiona answered.
Crumple turned to Logan, who looked as if that was all news to him.
Logan played along with Fiona’s story however.
“Yeah. We were at uh, my place,” Logan replied.
“Doing what?” Crumple asked.
Fiona answered for him. “We were in bed.”
Crumple looked confused. “In bed? That’s a little early in the night to be sleeping.”
“That’s because we weren’t sleeping,” Fiona insisted.
“Then what were you doing in bed?” Crumple followed up. It then occurred to him what she meant, that they were sleeping together. “Oh…ohhhhhh. Gotcha.”
Crumple scribbled a note in his pad. He then moved on to the next potential suspect.
“How about you Isabel, where were you?” Crumple asked.
“I was at home writing,” Isabel replied.
“Was there anyone at home with you to corroborate your story?” Crumple said.
“Well no. But I was there,” Isabel insisted.
Crumple scribbled another note in his pad. “Uh huh. Now how about you Mr. Foster?”
The producer David Foster then gave his alibi. “I was working late at my wealth management firm.”
“Was there anyone else in the office with you?” Detective Crumple asked.
“I’m telling you, I never left my desk from seven to eight,” David declared.
“You can say that all you want, but if you have no one to back up your story, it doesn’t matter. Do you have anyone to corroborate that story?” Crumple pressed.
“No,” David muttered.
Crumple then moved on to the lead actress Candy Caldwell. “How about you Ms. Caldwell. Where were you?”
“I was taking a shower,” Candy answered.
“For an hour?” Crumple followed up.
“No. I also did my nails,” Candy said.
“At home, by yourself?” Crumple replied.
“Yeah,” Candy said.
“So you have no one to corroborate your story either?” Crumple asked.
Candy held up her nails. “Hello. I told you I was doing my nails. Look at that polish. That’s all you need to know.”
“Uh huh. Then last but not least, how about you Mr. Crabtree?” Crumple asked.
Lead actor Ethan Crabtree then gave his answer. “I was pumping iron.”
“At what gym?” Detective Crumple wondered.
“In my apartment actually,” Ethan said.
“Do you have anyone to verify that?” Crumple continued.
“Feel these guns man. My biceps can verify all you need,” Ethan insisted.
“Right. A lot of homebodies in this group. Well, I’ll tell you what. None of you leave town. I have a feeling I’m going to be talking to all of you again soon,” Detective Crumple admitted.
Daisy meanwhile scanned the crowd during the questioning. None of the potential suspects had even half decent alibis, no less rock solid ones. As she looked around, she saw a lot of nervous faces. It wouldn’t be an easy case to crack. Matter of fact, there was only one thing Daisy was sure of—that chocolate brownie she’d packed in her purse that morning would sure help take the edge off.
Chapter Sixteen
Daisy couldn’t wait for work to be over. When she left the set, she immediately headed over to Sweet Tooth, where a piece of cake was waiting for her.
Daisy needed a good sugar rush. Her taste buds were already thanking her in advance for the treat.
There was more on the menu than just cake however. Sweet Tooth was about to turn into sleuth central. Both her best friend Samantha Johnson and Granny Annie were abuzz about the murder of Hunter Hayworth.
Before going full on gumshoe however, Samantha had plans to take Daisy on a dessert detour. Samantha walked out from behind the counter and brought a slice of bundt cake to the table where Daisy was sitting.
“Wow. I haven’t had a bundt cake in years,” Daisy said.
“It was supposed to be a little ‘Nothing Bundt Homicide’ homage. Little did I know an actual murder would make its way onto the set,” Samantha replied.
“I know what you mean. What a shocker,” Daisy said.
Granny Annie then jumped in. “At the same time, it’s a crime to let good cake go to waste.”
Daisy took a bite of the cake. “I have to say, this is nothing bundt delicious.”
“Of course it is. It’s my old recipe. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s tantalize the taste buds,” Granny Annie boasted.
Samantha may have followed Annie’s recipe, but she was sure to point out she did the actual baking herself.
“How about a little credit to the chef?” Samantha said.
“You’re right. Of course. At the same time, if you follow my blueprint for success, you’d be hard pressed to find an unhappy stomach anywhere,” Granny Annie replied.
A light bulb went off in Daisy’s head when she heard that last sentence. “Speaking of blue prints, I can’t help but think about how eerie it is that Hunter was murdered the same way as the victim was in the script. Well, at least in the original script.”
Granny Annie had something else on her mind. “I can’t help but think about how eerie it is that my dear Cozy Creek has a second murder in as many months. When I was growing up, we didn’t even lock the doors here. In my eighty years I think my neighbor George Gordon has had more wives than there has been murders in this town.”
“Is that so?” Samantha asked.
“Darn tooting. And the fact is, I have no use for big city problems at my age. Cozy Creek needs to go back to being the quaint little town of yore,” Granny Annie insisted.
“What’s really amazing is how solving this murder is going to fall at the feet of Chris Crumple. The man has enough trouble spotting donut crumbs on his own beard, no less unmasking a killer,” Daisy said.
“What are you talking about Daisy? I thought you were going to find the killer,” Samantha replied.
Daisy’s eyes opened wide. “What gave you that idea?”
“Are you kidding? If it wasn’t for you, Max Cash’s murderer would still be at large,” Samantha said.
Daisy remained modest. “True, but that hardly makes me a sleuth.”
“Come on, you said it yourself, are you really going to leave this case in Chris Crumple’s hands?” Samantha asked.
“I wouldn’t even trust that man to tie his shoes correctly. He probably puts on two different colored socks in the morning,” Granny Annie declared.
Her friends sure made convincing arguments. As much as Daisy wasn’t a trained detective, she knew she had better instincts that Chris Crumple. Did she really want to leave all the investigative work to man who arrested the wrong woman in the last case? Besides, with Hunter Hayworth’s killer most likely someone on the film set, who knew if they’d kill again? What if Daisy was next?
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The more she thought about it, the more she realized this case was too important to leave to Chris Crumple. So Daisy decided to take it upon herself to solve the murder.
Daisy laughed. “Well, we can’t have a murderer running loose.”
“That’s the spirit,” Samantha said.
“Besides, with Granny Gumshoe on your side, you can’t go wrong. Now, who do you think did the deed?” Granny Annie asked.
“It’s too early to tell. Hunter Hayworth had a way of getting on people’s bad side,” Daisy said.
“When all else fails, blame the Zamboni driver,” Granny Annie boasted.
Samantha was confused. “But Annie, the murder took place on a film set, not in a hockey rink.”
“Have you seen those wacky Zamboni drivers? They know how to get around town,” Granny Annie replied.
“There’s no Zamboni driver at play here Annie,” Daisy insisted.
Samantha moved to change the subject. “How about you start by going through the potential suspects Daisy?”
“Wait. You’re interested in solving this case now too?” Daisy asked.
Samantha smiled. “Granny lent me some of her mystery books. They aren’t exactly easy to put down.
“They’re addicting as brownie bites. You can’t stop at just one,” Granny Annie said.
“Alright, well here’s the short list of potential suspects. First there’s Hunter’s scorned fiancé Ainsley Adamson who caught him cheating. Then there’s the jilted lead actress Candy Caldwell who thought she had Hunter’s heart all to herself and didn’t realize she was just his squeeze on the side. Throw in lead actor Ethan Crabtree who pines unrequitedly for the lead actress while watching helplessly as she sleeps with Hunter, screenwriter Isabel Foster who is so possessive about her words that she has a meltdown when one line of her script was changed by Hunter, assistant director Logan Lark who is desperate to get his shot as the lead director behind the camera, supporting actress Fiona Foster who is unhappy with her role in the movie and who also happens to be dating the assistant director, and finally a short-tempered, penny pinching producer in David Foster who has been at odds with Hunter since the first day of production,” Daisy explained.
“I thought you said it was a short list,” Granny Annie replied.
“Hey, those are just the enemies he has that I know of,” Daisy said.
“So basically you’re saying this is an open and shut case then,” Samantha joked.
Daisy laughed. She cracked a joke herself. “Oh yeah. Easy peasy. This one will be a piece of cake.”
“Speaking of cake, now would be a good time to dig in to your slice. A sleuth with an empty stomach is no good to anyone,” Granny Annie said.
Chapter Seventeen
Daisy’s mind was on fire all night. In addition to the murder, there was another matter to consider—with Hunter dead, would the production continue or would filming be called off? Did Daisy even have a set decorating job to return to? That decision was up to the producer David Foster, but there was a chance he could pull the plug on the movie, leaving Daisy out of a job and without easy access to snoop around.
She hoped that wasn’t the case. At the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about the murder. Even watching a romantic comedy didn’t help.
If anything, Hunter’s murder had a way of creeping into the movie. Daisy kept having visions flash into her head of Hunter being killed while she watched the chick flick. It was a recipe for bad dreams.
Chick flicks and murder investigations did not gel well. She couldn’t wait to go to the dog park with her Westie Shamus the next morning. The fresh air would help, as would watching little Shamus run around. The mind needed a break from serious matters every once in a while, and watching dogs run after tennis balls fit that bill perfectly.
Daisy’s trip to the dog park was not a complete ‘check her brain at the door’ affair however. Shamus had only played fetch for five minutes when the little guy saw his favorite folded-eared Corgi pup Rosie bounding towards him. That meant only one thing—Gavin Watson wouldn’t be far behind.
“I don’t know what Rosie would do if she came to the park one day and didn’t see Shamus,” Gavin explained.
Luckily, it seemed like things were back to normal between Daisy and Gavin. The awkwardness that tied her stomach up in knots after their dud of a coffee date was gone. Maybe they were just meant to be friends after all.
As Daisy looked at Gavin’s handsome face smiling at her, she wished they could be more than friends however. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He was everything she wanted in a man—kind, intelligent, funny, hunky. If only Gavin’s ex-girlfriend hadn’t sent him into an emotional tail spin.
At the same time, it didn’t do Daisy any good to grouse about it. She didn’t have the power to change anything. All she could do was make the best of the situation in front of her. During that moment, it meant being friendly. Then again, a little flirtation never hurt anyone, right?
“I know Shamus would miss seeing Rosie and her little folded ear too,” Daisy replied.
“Don’t you mean you would be the one to miss seeing her folded ear?” Gavin corrected.
“I’m sure Shamus would miss it too, but yes—guilty as charged. I have a soft spot for all things adorable.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t know. Deranged murderers.”
“Speaking of, what’s the deal with that dirt bag director you were working for getting killed?” Gavin asked.
The joys of living in a small town were that practically everyone knew each other. The drawback was that everyone stuck their heads into everyone else’s business. The looky loos and busybody’s had a field day with idle gossip even on a slow news day.
When news of a murder made its way across town however, wild speculation about every aspect of the crime was on the tip of everybody’s tongue. Apparently Gavin was no different.
“Wow. That was one heck of a conversation change. That transition was about as smooth as a porcupine’s back,” Daisy joked.
“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the murder,” Gavin explained.
“Ugh. Is this what we’ve come to?” Daisy asked.
Gavin was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Women like it when men talk about how good they look, what they’ve done with their hair, or their outfit selection. You’ll notice I didn’t mention talking about murder anywhere in there,” Daisy explained.
“Oh. Well I do like your outfit.”
That compliment was too little, too late—especially given what Daisy was wearing.
“I have on a hoodie and sweat pants. You might want to save that compliment for a more appropriate time,” Daisy joked.
“Hey, it’s a rare woman who can look good without even trying.”
Now that was a compliment. Even more, when Daisy looked into his eyes, she could see that he wasn’t just pulling her leg. She was a great judge of reading people’s eyes.
The truth was usually right there, it just took a keen mind to detect it. The fact is, the eyes said more than the mouth ever could.
As Daisy looked into Gavin’s eyes, she could see he was telling the truth. It may have just been a quick offhand comment on his part, but he meant it. That brought butterflies to her stomach and put a smile on her face.
“Thanks,” she said.
Gavin might be a post-break up emotional mess, but there was no denying the two of them had great chemistry.
While Daisy let the compliment send her mind aflutter, Gavin got right back down to business.
“About the murder though, this is becoming a really troubling trend for Cozy Creek. I hope you’re planning on sniffing out the killer,” Gavin said.
“Me? Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with Detective Chris Crumple?” Daisy joked.
Gavin couldn’t help but chuckle at that statement. “I needed a laugh like that. But seriously, let me know when you star
t your sleuthing. I’ll be happy you lend any private investigative skills I can.”
“Thanks. I can use all the help I can get.”
“I think you underestimate your intuition. Not to mention you have the element of surprise.”
“How do you figure?”
“The killer won’t see you coming. They’ll think they only need to outsmart Chris Crumple. That’s when you’ll sneak up from behind and catch them when they least suspect it,” Gavin explained.
“You’ve been watching a lot of private eye movies, haven’t you?” Daisy commented.
Gavin played coy. “Maybe. Maybe not. Do you ever wish your life was like how things are in the movies?”
“All the time.”
“Same here.”
“I wish happy endings were easier to come by,” Daisy said.
“Are you kidding? In private eye movies, they’re pretty much non-existent,” Gavin explained.
“That’s why I stick to romantic comedies.”
“Yeah. Women sure love their chick flicks, don’t they?”
“Women? What’s the matter, men don’t like romance?”
“I can’t speak for the whole gender, but I do. I just prefer for it to be realistic.”
“So would I, but when the real world lets you down, it’s nice having something that doesn’t—even if it is just a movie,” Daisy said.
Gavin then gazed into Daisy’s eyes, realizing she had just bared a piece of her soul to him. Daisy got caught up looking at him, admiring his body, while imagining him kissing her. There was a wish she hoped would come true.
Then Gavin’s residual heartbreak from his last relationship kicked in. He looked away and changed the subject.
“Anyway, if you want me to do some background checks on any potential suspects in this murder case, just let me know,” Gavin said.
“I can think of a few names off the top of my head,” Daisy admitted.
Even though Daisy seemed to slowly be making progress in winning over Gavin’s heart, real life wasn’t coming anywhere close to the romance she saw in her chick flicks. In the meantime, she had plenty of chocolate chip cookies to keep her company.
