Audrey shook her head. “No. It was just me.”
“So Isaac Terwilliger and Steven Mitchum were both out of the office, then?” I said.
She nodded.
“Do you know where they were?” I asked.
Audrey shrugged. “I have no clue. But they could have both been out to lunch. They usually took their breaks around then.”
“Was Richman meeting with anyone before you left for your break?”
“No,” Audrey said. “He was alone in his office, working at his desk.”
“When you came back from your break, did you notice anything unusual—?”
Audrey cut me off. “What kind of a dumb question is that? Of course I did. I discovered a dead body.”
“I meant, other than William’s body. Did anything in the office seem to be out of place?”
Audrey bit her lip then shook her head. “No. Not that I can think of.”
“How long was your break exactly?” I said.
“Half an hour,” Audrey said.
“Did you eat your lunch with anyone?” I said.
“No.” Audrey began to tremble. “Look. I really have to get out of here. I need to get a drink in my system.”
“I understand. And again, I’m so sorry about what happened,” I said.
Chapter Sixteen
Talk about a crazy plot twist. It was almost unbelievable to think that just a few hours ago, my biggest concern was how William had made changes to the TV version of my life story. Now, he was dead, and I was staring down a grim reality.
Once again, a murder commanded the spotlight. Whatever thoughts I had about the TV show quickly faded into the background.
Tunnel vision took hold of me. It didn’t matter that I was on vacation. My mind was hard at work, trying to piece together what few details I had about William’s death. The truth was often elusive, but it was out there somewhere, and it was waiting to be discovered.
But unlike with previous cases, I was on the outside looking in. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Perhaps the detective had this one completely under control. Who knows? Maybe the forensics team had uncovered a huge lead.
There was always the chance that the killer had left a piece of key evidence behind at the scene. Or that there would be finger prints on the murder weapon. Open and shut cases weren’t just mythical things. They did exist, even if they were few and far between.
The problem was, I didn’t know what was actually going on inside the building, so all I could really do was speculate.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I forgot Hope was standing next to me until I heard her let out a big sigh.
When she followed that up with an incredulous declaration, I pulled my head out of the clouds.
“This is unbelievable,” Hope said.
I grimaced. “I have a different word for it.”
“Yeah,” Hope said. “Shocking.”
“This is definitely not what I expected to happen on my vacation.”
“I’ll bet. And at a TV studio, no less. I mean, it’s not like we’re in a gang-infested neighborhood where murders routinely take place. We’re in a good part of L.A. This is literally the last place I would expect something like this to occur.”
“Talk about tragic irony. There he was, producing a TV show about murder, and he becomes a victim himself.”
“This is just so awful. I almost don’t know what to say.”
“I do. I hope the police track down the killer—ASAP. Justice needs to be served.”
“I agree. I mean, William knew how to make enemies, but he didn’t deserve to die.”
“He sure didn’t.”
“At the same time, I can’t help but wonder what kind of a monster would do something like this,” Hope said.
I squinted. “I can think of a few people.”
“Well, yeah. A number of possible suspects come to mind,” Hope said. “But I was talking more about who could do something so chilling?”
“With every case I have ever worked on, I ask myself that same question.”
“Do you have an answer?”
“Honestly, no matter how strong a killer’s motive is, I am always horrified that someone would be so desperate to resort to committing murder.”
“I’m with you. That’s why I went into acting instead of joining the police force. The thought of constantly staring down the darkest sides of humanity was too depressing for me.”
“I understand. But what’s even more unsettling is the idea that someone could do something like this and get away with it.”
“I know what you mean,” Hope said. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen this time.”
“I’m going to do more than just hope. If this isn’t a time for prayer then I don’t know what is.”
“True. I’ll be praying right with you.”
“I’m really happy to hear that.”
“Of course. Anything to help. Speaking of, when you get done praying, what are you going to do next?”
“Just wait patiently for any updates about the case.”
A look of surprise came to Hope’s face. “Oh.”
“I get the sense that you expected me to say something different.”
“I just thought you might do some investigating of your own.”
“Honestly, with all the police personnel here, I have a feeling that they have this case under control.”
Chapter Seventeen
As a number of hours ticked by, I began to wonder if maybe I had spoken a little presumptuously about the L.A.P.D. having this case firmly in their hands. Especially when the police left the scene a few hours later without making any arrests or even detaining anyone overnight.
An unsettling feeling came over me. If ever there was a time for an open and shut investigation, it was now. Even though my mind spent the whole afternoon thinking about the case, deep down I prayed that the police would be able to handle this one themselves.
After all, I was on vacation. Not only did I want a break, but I deserved one. Besides, I was in completely unfamiliar territory here. Hollywood was far from my area of expertise. In addition, the detective was a big city cop who no doubt had plenty of experience. He also had all the best modern forensics tools at his disposal. Surely, he could track down the killer. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
That evening, when I left the studio and returned to my hotel, I wasn’t surprised when I flipped on the TV in my room and saw that stories about the murder were all over the local news.
I had the TV on in the background as I stared at the dazzling Los Angeles skyline out the window and spoke with David on the phone.
When I relayed the details about what had happened, David replied with the kind of warmth that I was used to hearing from him. “I’m so unbelievably sorry. This is the last thing you needed on your vacation.”
I exhaled. “It’s safe to say that my vacation is over. This has turned into a whole different kind of trip.”
“I wish I was there with you,” David said.
“I wish this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“That too. But if I was there, at least I could comfort you and hold you in my arms.”
“Don’t get me wrong. That would be very nice, but we can do that when I get home.”
“By the way, are you still coming home next Monday as scheduled?”
“I hope so.”
“You’re not sure then?” David asked.
I bit the corner of my lip. “Things are kind of up in the air at the moment.”
“Now I really wish I was there with you.”
“I understand, but the thing is, you being in L.A. wouldn’t have stopped this.”
“I realize that.”
“After all, plenty of murders have occurred in Treasure Cove while you have lived there.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You know, I always thought it was Treasure Cove that was weird. But after this murder, I’m beginnin
g to question if maybe I had it wrong—”
“Let me stop you right there. Treasure Cove is still plenty weird. It’s just not the only place where crazy things happen.”
“Speaking of, is all quiet on the home front?”
“You already have enough going on. I won’t bother you with things you don’t need to know about.”
“So there is trouble at home then?” I asked.
“Do you really want to hear this?”
“Yes. Now tell me, what happened?”
“This afternoon, a man was caught at the airport trying to smuggle snakes in his carry-on luggage.”
I shook my head. “Oh, Treasure Cove. You’re just as wacky as ever.”
“I know, right? What could possibly go wrong with that situation?”
“I’d ask you if you’re joking, but I know you aren’t,” I said.
“Unfortunately, I’m telling the terrifying truth.”
“Some days, you have to wonder if the whole world is going mad.”
“I’m just glad that nothing crazy happened on our honeymoon.”
I nodded. “It’s so nice to have an unblemished memory.”
“Don’t forget our wedding.”
“How could I forget something as magical as that? If only every day was that special.”
“Hey, things will quiet down again. You’ll see,” he said.
“Thank you for trying to make me feel better,” I said.
“Isn’t that my job as a husband?”
“If it’s not, I’d be happy to add it to the job description.”
“I’m sure you would,” he joked.
“The thing is, nothing is going to quiet down until William’s killer is brought to justice.”
“I’m really sorry about what happened to Richman.”
I exhaled. “Don’t get me wrong. The man had a temper. And he knew how to get under people’s nerves. But he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Well, hopefully the Los Angeles Police Department will have a suspect in custody soon.”
“That would sure be nice.”
Concern came to David’s voice. “Sabrina, I know that tone all too well. Please tell me you’re not thinking of investigating this case.”
“No. I was just thinking.”
“Of what?”
“How things in William’s life managed to spiral so out of control.”
“That’s for the local police to determine.”
“Yeah, if they can figure it out.”
“Sabrina, this isn’t Treasure Cove. You’re in the big city. Completely out of your element. Plus, I’m not there with you—”
I cut him off. “I know what you’re worried about, and I never said I was going to investigate.”
“True. But I know how you think and I just want to stop you before you get your mind set on working on this case. The L.A.P.D. has an incredible amount of manpower. Not to mention, the best forensic tools at their disposal. Besides, you never know, the detective in charge of the case might already be chasing down a hot lead.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Good. So why don’t we talk about something else?” he said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like how much I love you.”
“I really miss you.”
“Same here,” David said. “I can’t wait until you are back in my arms.”
I smiled. “That will be incredibly sweet.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, before grabbing breakfast, I flipped on the TV in my room. The local news was broadcasting a live press conference with the police regarding the Richman murder.
Journalists asked a number of highly specific questions and received some very vague answers. The local authorities were surprisingly skilled at avoiding straightforward replies. If the police had any useful details about the case, they sure weren’t sharing them.
Despite the police department’s ability to deflect, one thing became abundantly clear—that no arrests had been made.
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Also troubling was the tone being used by the various police officials. They didn’t speak with confidence. Rather, their voices were filled with frustration. Naturally, that made me worry. But it also made me wonder if maybe they were being so vague because they were shorter on answers than they appeared to be.
It occurred to me that perhaps I might have some information that could be of use to them. So, when I left the hotel that morning, much to my limo driver’s surprise, I directed him to take me to the local police precinct instead of the studio lot.
After making our way through a snag of morning traffic, the limo pulled up in front of the police station and I headed inside. The moment I entered the building, I was struck by how much drabber the station was than the police department back in Treasure Cove.
Naturally, an L.A.P.D. precinct was busier and more frantic, but the building itself didn’t have to look so rundown. Then again, in the half-hour that I sat in the department lobby waiting to speak with the detective in charge of the Richman case, I noticed that practically everyone who worked there looked jaded and burnt out.
Just sitting there, staring at the bulletproof glass that separated the lobby from the rest of the precinct, I couldn’t help but miss home.
Even with all the crazy things that occurred in Treasure Cove, there was a charm to my hometown. Los Angeles was a whole different world. Sure, the scenery was nice in parts of L.A., but there was an underlying sense of desperation everywhere I went. At the station. At the studio. Everywhere I looked.
So much for L.A.’s laidback vibe. I hadn’t experienced any of that yet. Maybe it didn’t exist. Perhaps it was something that Hollywood had just dreamed up.
By that point, my head was squarely in the clouds.
It took the deep, booming sound of a man’s voice speaking to me to bring me back down to Earth.
“Mrs. Carlson,” the man said.
The burly man was in his late forties with thinning black hair and a round face.
“Yes,” I said.
He outstretched his hand. “Detective Robert Taggart.”
“Sabrina Carlson,” I said.
“I know who you are.”
My eyebrows rose. “You do?”
Taggart nodded. “Yes. You gave your name to the deputy at the front window.”
“Oh.”
“Plus, when I was at the studio yesterday, a number of people told me a TV show was being made about your life.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” Detective Taggart said.
“Hey, a visit to police headquarters wasn’t exactly part of my original plan for this trip to Los Angeles. But I didn’t expect a murder to occur at the studio either, so it’s safe to say that my old itinerary has been completely scrapped,” I said.
“I’ll bet,” Detective Taggart replied. “That said, I have my hands full here, so I don’t have time to mess around. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, it’s more about what I can do for you,” I said.
His nose scrunched. “What are you talking about?”
“Can we talk in your office—privately?”
“Are you sure we can’t just talk about this out here?”
“I’d be more comfortable in your office.”
“All right.”
Detective Taggart and I both walked into his office. He sat down behind his desk and stared at me impatiently as I took a seat across from him.
“So, what is this about?” he asked.
“I just wanted to tell you about some potential suspects in the Richman case that may or may not be on your radar. Unless you’re really close to wrapping this investigation up already,” I said.
Deep down, I was hoping that he was far enough along in the case that he wouldn’t need to hear my list of suspects. Unfortunately, that just appeared to be optimistic thinking on my part.
“The
se potential suspects, do you have names for me?” he said.
“Uh, yeah. First, there’s Noah Davidson.”
The detective grabbed a pen and scribbled Noah’s name down.
“The actor?” Taggart asked.
I nodded. I did some research online when I returned to the hotel last night and dug up some information on Noah that I relayed to the detective. “Richman was supposedly working on a show to revive Noah’s career,” I said. “But the two didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. Between that and the clash of their huge egos, it wasn’t a surprise that Richman had decided to scrap the project.”
“I’m sure Mr. Davidson took that news poorly.”
“Oh yeah. The two of them got into a big blow up fight the day before the murder.”
Taggart kept jotting down notes.
“Then there’s Steven Mitchum. He was Richman’s assistant.”
Taggart wrote Steven’s name down on his piece of paper. When he finished, he looked up at me. “Anyone else?”
“Well, Richman’s receptionist, Audrey Hill. I think they were having an affair. Then, Richman’s wife, possibly, if she knew about the affair he was having. Plus, Richman’s producing partner, Isaac Terwilliger. Maybe they were having some sort of business dispute.”
Detective Taggart didn’t write down any of those names. I guess he already suspected those people. But, apparently, Noah and Steven weren’t previously on his list.
I was glad I came. I didn’t want him to be missing part of the puzzle. Although, it did give me pause that I had been able to come up with more suspects than him.
“Is that everyone?” he said.
“Well, and whoever else you have on your list,” I said.
“Right. Of course. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you have as much information as possible to work with.”
“Thank you for that.”
He got up from his chair, eager to show me the door.
I remained in my seat. “How are things coming along, by the way?”
He gave me a stern look. “Mrs. Carlson, I’m not going to answer questions about an ongoing investigation.”
“So, the case is still ongoing, then, huh? I was hoping you’d have someone in custody by now. Or at least be close.”
Cupcakes with a Side of Murder Page 5
