I took the phone off speaker. “Okay. Will you keep me posted? Maybe give me a call when you leave today if anything else comes up?”
The phones rang nonstop in the background.
“Sure, but for now, I better go.”
“Right. Hey, you should try to answer all the calls. I know you’re bombarded, but someone might actually need help.”
“You’re right. Talk to you later.” Melinda disconnected.
I frowned at Adrian and Claire. “Do we know anyone who can help with the phones over there until this passes?”
Claire pulled a lipstick from her clutch on the counter and ran it over her lips. “I’ll ask around about the phones. Are there any more of those Sophisticakes left?”
I handed her the bakery box. “Wait.” I lifted the lid and placed a black Sophisticake on the table. Chocolate chips and hunks of brownie topped the creamy spiral of frosting. “Okay.”
“Give me half an hour.” Claire slipped into her jacket and left.
I marveled. “Can you believe her? Where do you think she’s going?”
“She’s amazing.” Adrian smacked his lips together. “Probably going to run into the sheriff again.”
“Hey!” Half my cupcake was in his fingertips, the rest clung to his lips and tongue as he spoke.
“Delicious.”
“You ate my cupcake!”
“Yeah, I did.” He winked.
“Stop it.”
He chuckled. “What’d you do this morning, Adrian?” he asked himself. “Not much. I had some coffee. Sampled Patience’s cupcake.”
I covered my mouth. “Stop. Just stop. Seriously. Don’t do that.”
He swallowed and smiled. The cupcake vanished behind straight white teeth and a dimple. He licked his lips. Adrian made me crazy, but I was definitely not in love with him. Any feelings that occasionally tugged on my heartstrings were residual. Eighteen years together on the island confused people. He was my first love, first kiss, first cupcake, but all the nonsense about how first loves never faded...didn’t apply to us.
I pulled my sweater away from my chest a few times, circulating air against my skin. “I’m going to change. It’s too warm for cashmere.” I stripped the sweater off as I walked away.
Fifteen minutes later my phone rang. “It’s Claire,” I called. Adrian met me in my room. “I’m putting you on speaker, Claire.”
“False alarm on Elisa. The boyfriend confirmed her story. They brought up the chat record and showed Fargas the time stamps. I heard every word from Frankie’s desk. They recorded the whole thing, too. Can you believe that? They said they record all their sessions for posterity.”
The alien concept confused and worried me. The younger generation recorded their lives and shared it thoughtlessly with the world. When I looked back on adolescence, there was very little I’d want made available for download. My life was almost normal at thirty, but I still wouldn’t want it recorded. For instance, I could think of a few things from last night I absolutely wouldn’t want to end up on the internet.
Adrian hovered his mouth over my phone. “Sounds like we’re still on the case. You want to meet at my house so we can talk to more members of the cast and crew?”
“Definitely.” Claire disconnected.
Adrian’s stormy blue eyes scanned mine. “You coming?”
I shook my head no, but the word wouldn’t form on my tongue.
He smiled a lazy, lopsided smile. “Yeah, you are. You’re dying to know who else was on the island that night. Who had alibis? Who else was sleeping with Rick or Anna? You know that cast can’t wait to dish the gossip on one another.” He shoved his fingertips in his back pockets and leaned against my doorframe, looking simultaneously innocent and ornery. “Come on. Help me. You’re excellent at reading people. You’ll see everything I miss.”
I folded my arms over my chest and rubbed them with my palms. “I don’t want to get involved. I feel like meddling in this would be exploiting Rick and Anna’s deaths. Let’s let Fargas handle it.”
Adrian chewed his lip a minute. “How about a counter offer? You come with me and don’t get involved. Afterward, I’ll buy you and Claire some lunch, and it’ll be as if I’m taking you to lunch, but we’re making a pit stop at my house on the way.”
“Can I get ice cream?”
“Only if I can.” He tossed his keys into the air and caught them. “Let’s roll, pumpkin.”
I puffed air into my bangs and followed. I texted Sebastian a recant of my previous text.
Never mind the pumpkin thing. I was confused. Be safe. Text me later—Patience.
The drive to Adrian’s was brisk. The dashboard inside The Watchers golf cart said sixty degrees. Adrian drove it back to his place, returning it after borrowing it to haul the cot. He parked behind a line of matching vehicles and met me on the passenger side. We mounted the sidewalk and Adrian waved to Noah, the guy who let us pass on our last visit. Noah nodded us through security. Half the trailer of Halloween decorations was gone, already set up on Adrian’s lawn and wraparound porch. Faux spiderwebs clung to trees and bushes. A zombie torso in the grass appeared to climb out of the ground. Loud stomping and shouting permeated the house walls and met us on the lawn.
We slipped in through the garage door and mingled with the crowd in the kitchen.
I nudged a guy with no shirt and low-slung basketball shorts. “What’s going on in there?”
He looked me over and lifted his chin in recognition.
I lifted my chin.
“Taping. This is a fight scene.”
Adrian scoffed. “You stage the fight scenes?”
“Not usually, but no one really feels like doing anything interesting right now. What if there’s some crazed fan picking off the cast and crew one by one and keeping them as his puppets?”
I eyeballed the glass in his hand. “What’s that you’re drinking? No one kept anyone as a puppet.”
“I drink water. Nectar of the gods. Sixty-four ounces a day for me and never an ounce of bloat you’ll see.”
I smiled at Adrian. “He rhymes.”
The water drinker held his hand out to me. “I’m Vance Varner.”
“Patience Price.” I accepted his hand. “Are there usually a lot of fights on set?”
“Yeah. Everyone does what they have to do for face time.”
I rolled the new term over a few times. “You mean you get more time on camera if you’re making a scene.”
“You got it.”
Huh.
Adrian moved in behind me. “Vance gets lots of face time.”
I put my hands on my hips. “You like to make a scene, Vance? Start a couple fights? Defile a few women? Commit a couple murders?”
He wrinkled his face. “I don’t have to make a scene to get face time. I’m a model. People want to see this face. They send emails demanding it.”
Uh-huh.
Adrian made bug eyes at me. I assumed he was urging me to question Vance further. I shook my head. Models probably had limits, and I wasn’t getting involved. Adrian shoved me forward a step and I elbowed his ribs.
Vance squeezed my shirtsleeve and lowered his eyelids to half-mast. “You work out, Miss Price?”
Adrian bumped me.
I pulled in a long breath. “Sometimes I swim or run on the beach.” Lies. When I swam alone the last few months it was usually because someone chased me, and when I swam with Sebastian, I mostly gawked. I didn’t run.
Vance rolled his shoulders back. “I could get into a cougar who likes long walks on the beach.”
I glared. “I’m only thirty, not a hundred. You’ve got to be close to thirty.”
He looked horrified. “I’m twenty-six.”
Adrian gave me bug eyes again. He nudge
d my arm and tipped his head repeatedly in Vance’s direction, begging me to keep him talking.
I cleared my throat. “Well, you’re right. I definitely like walking on the beach. Did you know Anna and Rick were sleeping together?”
Vance slouched. “Are you a reporter or a fan? Never mind. It’s cool. I’ll sign your boobs. Come here.”
Adrian giggled. He tried to cover the girlie sound with a cough but he ended up choking. A woman in a Staff shirt handed him a bottle of water.
I counted to ten and tried Vance again. “Where were you the night of the murders?”
“In my trailer.”
Had I heard him right? “You were already on the island? Are there cameras in the trailer or anyone who can confirm you were there?”
“No, but everyone was on the island that night. Staff, crew and most of the cast. I think Elisa was still on the mainland, though. We all thought Nick and Anna were flying in the next day.”
Claire hustled into the kitchen wearing an oversized T-shirt and carrying a Sharpie. “Hello.” She slid gracefully between Vance and me, and then curtsied. “I’m Claire. You’re my favorite. May I have your autograph?”
I looked at Adrian. He saw that too, right? “Did you just curtsy?”
“Shh.” She waved one palm behind her back at me.
I turned to face Adrian. This was confusing. “Am I supposed to go away? What’s that wave mean? What’s she wearing?”
Vance scrawled gibberish across the front of her shirt, making sure to dot illegible I’s over each boob, and then he pointed the marker at my barely B’s. “Offer stands.”
“No.”
Claire zipped out of the kitchen. Adrian took the Sharpie and my elbow. We followed Claire’s path and met her on the porch. She stripped out of the ugly oversized shirt and shook like a wet dog. Her cute pink top reflected the heat in her cheeks.
“What was that?” I asked.
She dropped the shirt in my hands. “I took one for the team. I got handwriting samples from everyone on the cast.” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking very proud.
Adrian patted her back. “Nice.”
Were these two from Mars? “What do you need a writing sample for? And seriously, this isn’t handwriting. This was you getting to second base with that marker.”
She shook again. “Well, everyone else signed their name. I also learned they had a bonfire on the beach the night of the murders. Everyone except Vance and Jesse Short has an alibi with witnesses.”
Facts circulated through my brain. My friends were building a viable suspect list. They were smart, resourceful and determined. On my island, those attributes were a deadly combination these days.
Claire checked her phone and smiled. “What’s next?”
Adrian rubbed his palms together. “It’s time for me to hit up the lunch crowd. I’ll get the latest scoop at the food trucks.”
Claire looked at the shirt in my hands. She rubbed her sides and tugged her top. “I think I need a shower.”
I wrapped an arm around her little waist. “Let’s go.”
She shuffled along beside me.
I bumped my hip into hers. “You just had a male model’s hands all over you.”
She hung her head and laughed.
I squeezed her to my side. “Don’t worry about it. I’m still waiting for that picture of my ice cream belly to hit the front page.”
Chapter Nine
Claire and I moved at a snail’s pace toward Main Street. The sun was out in full force, raising the temperature higher than it had been in weeks. I shoved my sleeves over my elbows. The number of people on the streets had doubled since breakfast. Adrian’s theory about ghost hunters staying awake all night and sleeping through the morning made sense and, by the looks of things, was accurate.
A group of young people in black beanies spoke loudly near a poison green muscle car. They planned to do some “serious hunting” after dark. I could only imagine what that meant.
I picked up the pace. “There’re too many people in this town.”
Claire looked skeptical. She didn’t understand the fragile island dynamic like I did.
“They aren’t here to relax, like tourists and birders,” I said. “They’re here to spot ghosts and stalk a reality show. This will end in massive hoopla and shenanigans at best. More crime at worst.” The charge in the air tickled my neck. Crowds were mindless beasts. Ghost speculation, a pair of semi-celebrity murders and reality television shows were like chum to sharks.
Claire flapped the hem of her shirt as the sun beat down. “I still think this has to do with a broken heart. Frankly, I’m shocked it wasn’t Dan or Elisa. Is there any chance the time stamp on their video chat was fudged?”
I grabbed her arms. “You’re a genius.”
She looked over both shoulders. “You’ve got a crazy look on your face. I don’t like it.”
I dialed Melinda at the police station.
“Who are you calling?”
I held up a finger while the phone rang. When Melinda answered, I bounced on my toes. “It’s Patience. I have an idea about Elisa and Dan’s video chat.”
Hold music cut me off. I frowned at the phone. “She put me on hold.”
Claire stared. “Who?”
“Melinda.” I tapped the speaker button and held the phone between us.
The music stopped. “This is Sheriff Fargas.”
My mouth opened. Claire laughed and pointed. Melinda had turned me in.
“Patience, I know it’s you. I asked Melinda to send all your calls to me, and I told her not to warn you. Why are you still nosing around? I’ve got this covered.”
What could I say to that? “I’m not looking into this. I promise. I was only thinking about what I already know.” I dragged my finger in a crisscross over my heart.
Claire shook her head. “You know he can’t see you.”
Fargas cleared his throat. “Fair enough. What were you thinking?”
I explained my run-in with the green screen taping at Adrian’s house. “So, Elisa had access to the screen while everyone else was on the beach for a bonfire thinking she was on the mainland. Isn’t it possible Elisa was using the show’s green screen to appear as if she was in a hotel room when in fact she was already here setting up her alibi?”
Papers shuffled on the end of the line. “They chatted for three hours. I don’t think so.”
What did people video chat about for three hours? “What about potty breaks? She had to use the bathroom at some point.”
He tapped something against his desk or the phone, but he didn’t respond for several long beats. “I haven’t had time to watch the whole chat, but getting over to the B&B and back under the guise of a potty break would be cutting herself pretty short. I’m not convinced, but I’ll look into it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ll check the tape for any times when Elisa was off screen and compare her absence with the amount of time she needed to move from Adrian’s house to the B&B and back. I’ll see how portable the screen is in case she took it with her somehow and I’ll check the IP address to try to confirm her location. Sound good?”
My heart grew. “Thanks.”
“Hey, listen. If you get the urge to look into a hunch on your own, don’t. Call me instead.”
He valued my input. “‘Kay.” I blinked back emotion and disconnected.
Claire wrinkled her nose. “Are you crying?”
I ran my wrist under both eyes. “This is a weird week for me emotionally.”
“Uh-huh.” She took my arm and moved us forward. “Elisa’s alibi might be sunk, thanks to you. Nice work. I know killers are unstable, but can you imagine her making sexy talk from a murder scene? Sitting there waiting for Rick to get back so
she could kill him?”
I stopped walking, put the call on speaker and dialed the station again. “I forgot to ask if he watched the hidden camera footage yet.”
“Chincoteague Police Station.” Melinda’s voice wobbled.
“It’s me. Don’t transfer me to Fargas,” I yelled before she could put me on hold.
A cluster of girls in Vance Varner shirts looked my way.
“I am so sorry, Patience. He made me do it.”
“Hey, no. I don’t care about that. I wanted to ask you if you know if Fargas watched the secret video yet?”
Hold music cut me off again.
Claire pursed her lips and blew a long whistle.
The music ended. “Fargas.”
I rolled my eyes. “Um, hi. I was also wondering if you watched the footage from the hidden camera yet.”
Silence.
Claire leaned closer to the phone. “We promise not to call again. Today.”
Fargas exhaled loudly. “Yes. We watched the footage. It’s inconclusive. The room was too dark to identify anyone.”
“Thank you,” Claire cooed.
I shoved the phone into my pocket. Well, that information would only fuel speculation about our haunted island. The sudden influx of ghost hunters would love that. My phone buzzed and I pulled it free from my jeans. “It’s my parents.” I let the call go to voice mail.
Claire clucked her tongue.
“I need to think. I’ll call them later.”
A moment later, Claire’s phone rang.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t answer that. It’s probably my parents.”
She examined her phone and bit her lip. “Hello?”
I shook a finger at her. “You’re a weak, weak woman.”
She handed me the phone. “It’s for you.”
My mom was already talking when I hit speaker. “...two-for-one aura cleanses and the line’s around the corner. I guess this crowd understands the value in a healthy aura.”
“Mom. What?”
“We need you to come in and read palms until I get these auras under control.”
Murder in Real Time Page 9
