Other Titles by Denise Grover Swank
Darling Investigations
DEADLY SUMMER
Rose Gardner Mysteries
TWENTY-EIGHT AND A HALF WISHES
TWENTY-NINE AND A HALF REASONS
THIRTY AND A HALF EXCUSES
FALLING TO PIECES (Novella)
THIRTY-ONE AND A HALF REGRETS
THIRTY-TWO AND A HALF COMPLICATIONS
PICKING UP THE PIECES (Novella)
THIRTY-THREE AND A HALF SHENANIGANS
ROSE AND HELENA SAVE CHRISTMAS (Novella)
RIPPLE OF SECRETS (Novella)
THIRTY-FOUR AND A HALF PREDICAMENTS
THIRTY-FIVE AND A HALF CONSPIRACIES
THIRTY-SIX AND A HALF MOTIVES
SINS OF THE FATHER (Novella)
Rose Gardner Investigations and Neely Kate Mysteries
FAMILY JEWELS
TRAILER TRASH
FOR THE BIRDS
HELL IN A HANDBASKET
Magnolia Steele Mysteries
CENTER STAGE
ACT TWO
CALL BACK
CURTAIN CALL
Bachelor Brotherhood
ONLY YOU
UNTIL YOU
ALWAYS YOU
The Wedding Pact
THE SUBSTITUTE
THE PLAYER
THE GAMBLER
THE VALENTINE
Off the Subject
AFTER MATH
REDESIGNED
BUSINESS AS USUAL
The Curse Keepers
THE CURSE KEEPERS
THIS PLACE IS DEATH (Novella)
THE CURSE BREAKERS
THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING (Novella)
THE CURSE DEFIERS
THIS IS YOUR DESTINY (Novella)
The Chosen
CHOSEN
HUNTED
SACRIFICE
REDEMPTION
EMERGENCE (Novella)
MIDDLE GROUND (Novella)
HOMECOMING (Novella)
Blood Borne Series
SILVER STAKED
WOLF BITE
On the Otherside
HERE
THERE
Stand-Alone Novels
ONE PARIS SUMMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2018 by Denise Grover Swank
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503901803
ISBN-10: 1503901807
Cover illustration and design by Edward Bettison
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
I was full of regrets as I walked into the office bright and early on Monday morning.
For one, I regretted not making more demands before signing the contract for three more seasons of my new reality TV show, Darling Investigations.
The first six-episode season had started out as a joke—twenty-nine-year-old Summer Butler, the washed-up former teen actress who played Isabella Holmes on the once mega-popular show Gotcha!, becomes a real-life private investigator on a reality TV show. A funny enough joke if you weren’t me. Isabella had been a nosy amateur sleuth who solved small mysteries involving her classmates and family. Now I was a PI with a business license to prove it—and no training whatsoever other than that I’d solved a murder on camera two months ago, much to the irritation of my on-site producer. While she was happy we’d garnered so much success, she couldn’t stand the fact that I was responsible for it. I’d gone behind her back to get the footage that had made us so wildly popular, and to say she harbored a grudge was like saying the Titanic hit a piece of ice.
Another regret: I should have pushed harder to remove Lauren from the show.
So now I was back, starting production of Season Two less than two weeks after the airing of the finale. The masses were demanding more Darling Investigations, and the network execs were eager to feed them.
Last week I’d sold the contents of my recently foreclosed Malibu beach house. Thankfully, my best friend, Marina, had just started her new job as an assistant to Renee Rouchard, world-renowned self-improvement guru, and had left for an around-the-world book tour, which spared me a dramatic goodbye. Yesterday, after a cross-country trip, I moved in with my grandmother and two adult cousins. That was another regret, although to be honest, it was more of a semi-regret. I was accustomed to living alone, so it was going to take some getting used to . . . especially since the house was small and crowded, and there was only one functioning bathroom. (Okay, so I’d forgotten you couldn’t flush tampons in a septic system . . .) But the more important issue was that eternity wasn’t long enough to make me unsee my cousin Teddy’s surprisingly tan ass.
My least serious, though most annoying, regret was my decision to curl my long blonde hair for today’s production meeting instead of putting it up in a ponytail. While it was only 9:00 a.m., we were in southern Alabama in the middle of June, which meant it was eighty-three degrees and 80 percent humidity. My hair currently looked like my wigs back from my childhood pageant days. Thank God we weren’t on camera today and no paparazzi were in sight.
When I opened the front door, a bell hanging from the doorknob let out a little chime. The production studio had set up a PI office for me prior to shooting the first season. While they’d rented it since April, I was taking over the lease on July 1, one thing I’d insisted on including in my new contract. If I was staying in Sweet Briar, Alabama, full-time, I needed to have a job, and it looked like sleuthing was it. That, and getting filmed doing it.
“Hey, Summer,” Tony, one of the cameramen, said when I walked in, “I saw you on Live with Kelly. Good save.”
My face flushed. I didn’t need a reminder that I’d nearly fallen flat on my face during the segment. “I should get some credit for getting out of the way in time. No one ever told me that kangaroos throw punches.”
“That’s right,” said my cousin Dixie, walking in behind me. “That’s something they don’t teach in Sweet Briar schools.”
Lauren had hired Dixie as my assistant just before we started filming, and she’d been invaluable in
helping me investigate our big case from the first season.
“Hey, Dixie,” Bill, the second cameraman, said as he walked down the hall toward us.
“Bill!” Dixie threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He looked embarrassed but quickly hugged her back before stepping away. He and Dixie had started something while we were filming the first season, although she was reluctant to define what it was exactly. Based on Bill’s reaction, he felt the same way.
I knew he had a crush on her—it had been pretty obvious since April, when we first started filming. But everything was upended when I stumbled upon Otto Olson’s body just days into production. Lauren refused to get to the truth of his death. Every single case she wanted me to work was faked or greatly embellished. Thankfully, Bill and Dixie agreed to help me solve Otto’s murder with our own off-the-books investigation. Bill had been instrumental in getting footage of our real investigation, including the confession of Cale Malone, a Sweet Briar police officer turned drug dealer and murderer. Hence the massive ratings for the season finale. Thanks to Dixie and Bill, the executive producer had promised the second season would be filled with real cases, not the fake ones Lauren had cooked up for Season One.
Bill had gotten shot in our final showdown with Cale, something I’d never forget. Dixie had been at his bedside at every opportunity, but he’d returned to Atlanta after his discharge. While they’d kept in touch, he’d just returned to Sweet Briar last night.
“Glad to have you back, Bill,” I said with a warm smile.
“Thank for insisting they bring me back,” he said. “I was worried they would keep the temporary cameraman who replaced me.”
“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” I said, meaning every word.
Looking around, I realized there were twice as many crew members today as normal. Our office was on the small side, making me wonder how we were all going to fit.
“What’s with the extra people?” I asked.
The guilty look in Bill’s eyes set me on edge, but before he could tell me what Lauren had planned, she walked out of the editing room and into the hall, holding up her finger. “Uh-uh-uh! Don’t you dare tell her the surprise.” She looked me up and down, her eyes finally coming to rest on my hair. “Fully embracing the stereotypical big hair, Summer?”
I reached up to my hair and tried to smooth it down, wishing I’d brought an elastic band. “I’m here and ready to get started.”
“Good idea.” She put her hands on her hips and looked around the room. “Let’s all take a seat.” She turned to some of the new crew members in the middle of the room. “You new people can grab chairs out of the editing room.”
It was then I realized that Dixie’s desk was much closer to the door than usual. It was hard to make out any details because the crew was packed in like sardines. From inside, the door to Main Street opened on the far-right wall, and the front section of the space faced large picture windows. The walls were painted sage green on the bottom and pale yellow on top. There was a large map of the county on the wall—which was mostly obscured by the people in front of it—along with our framed business license, the only credentials I needed to work as a PI. I caught a glimpse of my desk and realized it had been shoved into the middle of the room. The two client chairs that used to sit there were now crammed against the front windows.
That was weird.
But I quickly figured out why when the crew headed toward the video edit room. My desk had been shoved forward to make room for a third desk, but make room was relative. The desk had been shoehorned into a too-small space.
“Why is there another desk?” I asked guardedly.
“That’s the surprise,” Lauren said with a huge grin.
My stomach dropped. “What surprise?” I asked, silently registering that she’d used that word in the hall. Any surprise from Lauren was likely to be torture wrapped in a bow. Especially if she looked this happy about it.
She gestured toward the desks. “Why don’t you girls have a seat?”
I cast a questioning glance to Dixie, who shrugged, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder. Cousin or not, I hated her a little for still having nearly perfect hair in this heat. Our hair was almost the same shade of honey gold, but that was where the similarities ended.
My imagination ran wild with what Lauren’s surprise could be, or rather, who. It was obvious we were getting a new cast member. Was she getting a real PI to help us with cases? That might not be a bad thing.
I pulled out my chair to sit down and immediately knocked it into the desk behind me. I swiveled the chair and sat down, banging my knee as I slid forward. Gritting my teeth, I pulled a folder out of my large purse and set it on the desk. I’d printed out all the potential cases for this season, and Dixie and I had gone through them the night before.
After everyone got settled, I folded my hands on the desk and smiled at everyone. “Hi, and welcome to the new people. I’m sure a lot of you know who I am, but if not, I’m Summer. I’m excited to start a new season of Darling Investigations! This is my cousin Dixie.” I gestured to her.
“Hey, new people,” she said, wearing a huge grin.
I pulled out a stack of papers. “After our big case in April, we decided to use real cases for this season. With that in mind, we created a website so people could apply for us to investigate their real cases on the show. We got seventy-six cases, but last night Dixie and I whittled it down. We came up with twenty-six cases that have real potential, ranging from minor ones to a couple of more major investigations.”
Lauren began to laugh.
That was a bad sign . . .
“That’s so cute,” she said, giving me a saccharine grin. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head”—she paused, her grin spreading as she shot a pointed look at my hair—“well, your large head about it. We’ve already picked out the cases.”
“What?” I shook my head. “Scott Schapiro said I would have a say in the cases this season.”
“Well,” Lauren said slyly, “if you want to run and tattle to Scott again, then be my guest.” She held out her cell phone. “Here. I’ll even make the call for you.”
I’d been adamant about replacing Lauren, who’d made filming miserable, but Scott had insisted that I “be a grown-up and learn to deal with it.” Of course, Lauren had been there listening. She knew good and well I wouldn’t call him and tattle. And now she’d just successfully made me look like an idiot in front of the new crew.
I was having déjà vu.
Lauren glanced down the hall and motioned to someone. “Bring in the board.”
I heard wheels rolling down the hall, and Lauren’s assistant, Karen, appeared, dragging a whiteboard on wheels. She gave me an apologetic look as she turned it to block the entrance to the hallway.
“As you see here,” Lauren said, looking a little too pleased with herself, “I have twenty cases split up into two lists. I bet you all are wondering why there are two lists . . .”
“I presume it has something to do with the empty desk behind me,” I said in a dry tone.
Lauren looked downright giddy as she glanced at Karen and said, “Tell him to come in.”
Karen shot me another guilty grimace, then tapped out something on her phone.
Dixie looked just as confused as I felt, but a knot had already formed in the pit of my stomach. Whatever Lauren had planned was going to be bad.
The bell on the front door dinged, and I looked up and gasped when I saw who was walking through it.
This was worse than I could have ever suspected. “This is a joke, right?”
Lauren was practically glowing. “No joke. Summer, welcome your new partner, Connor Blake, but then again, you two know each other, don’t you? Connor was your costar—and nemesis—on that cute little show Gotcha!”
Regret suddenly took on a whole new meaning.
CHAPTER TWO
Connor hadn’t changed much since our Gotcha! years. H
e was tall, and his blond hair was still styled in that longish boy-band style that had been popular when we filmed the show. Connor was good-looking in an average kind of way—think catalog model. Nevertheless, girls had gone crazy for him back in the day. Last I’d heard, some of them still did. He had a very active fan club that had been known to stalk him at public events. All ten of them. But that was pretty much all he had going for him. His career had taken the same downward spiral mine had, and rumor had it that he blamed me for his failures.
He walked through the door and opened his arms at his sides. “Surprise!” Then he did a double take. “Wow, Summer. You’ve really let yourself go.”
So it wasn’t just his looks that had stayed the same. Connor Blake was still an utter asshole. He’d convinced me to stage a huge (and very fake) scandal with him ten years ago so we could get out of our Gotcha! contracts, and fool that I was, I’d played along. The photos had made it look like we’d slept together, and it had worked all too well. Too bad I hadn’t anticipated that my boyfriend, Luke, would break up with me for supposedly cheating on him.
“What did he just say?” Dixie demanded.
I tried to smooth down my hair again without being obvious about it. “It’s humid in the South, and it’s not kind to people with coarse hair.”
He pointed to his heavily hair-sprayed hair. “My hair stylist sent me a hair gel to deal with it.” He gave me a leer. “As a peace offering, I’ll have him send you some too.”
And now I was getting hair-styling advice from a man whose hair was stuck in the past decade.
“And . . . ,” he added with a flourish as he pulled a book out of the back of his pants, “another peace offering. Something to help you get your life out of the shitter.”
He handed me a hardback book with a photo of him on the cover. The photo showed him holding a copy of the book in his hand while pointing to it and winking.
I read the title out loud. “Living the Connor Life: Connor Blake’s Guide to Spiritual, Physical, and Emotional Wholeness in Less Than Thirty Days.”
Connor mouthed the words while I said them, bouncing his head and tapping his index finger in the air with each word.
Dixie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “I’m sorry. What?”
Connor gave her a sly grin. “Sorry, Dixie, I know you’re a mess too, and I would have brought you one, but that was my last prepublication copy.”
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