When I finally let him go, he stared into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
So much for my poker face, but that was okay. My friends sure knew me. I wrapped my arms around him to feel his warmth and to avoid anyone overhearing what I had to say. “Bree Bennett was murdered. We found her body this morning inside the house.”
“What the—” He held me at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”
I was feeling a lot better now that he was here. “I’m fine. Really. I was about to go look for Blake. He hasn’t shown up yet and it’s getting late. Chloe thinks he might’ve slept in one of the dressing room trailers. Will you come with me?”
“Let’s go.” We waited for a car to pass and then ran across the street. The doors to the first two trailers were unlocked and a quick peek inside showed us that they were empty, but the third one was locked. I pounded on the door, but no one answered.
A woman came running up to us. She was clutching a clipboard and looked irritated with us. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
“I’m Chloe’s sister and we’re looking for Blake Bennett. Do you know if he’s using this trailer?”
“I saw him go in here late last night.”
“Do you work on the show?”
She seemed affronted by the question. “I’m Marisa, the wardrobe mistress.”
I smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you, Marisa. Chloe has said so many wonderful things about you.”
Somewhat mollified by my obsequious response, Marisa started talking. “I slept in my trailer last night, too. I had a lot of work to do.”
Later I would have to ask her what kind of wardrobe work she did on a location shoot for people who basically wore jeans and work shirts, but for now I let it go.
“I have keys to all the trailers,” she said, and pulled a heavy key ring from her pocket. Flipping through the myriad keys, she found one and tried it on the trailer door. Then she tried another one. The third key worked and the door swung out.
I climbed up the steps and stared at the mess. There were blankets and pillows tossed around the small space and piles of papers everywhere. In the wild clutter, I almost missed seeing Blake buried beneath the blankets.
“Blake!” I shouted. Was he . . . dead?
Mac moved right over to the sofa bed and shook his shoulder. “Hey, Blake. Wake up.”
“Urrrgh.”
I felt a rush of relief. “So he’s not dead.”
“He’s just waking up.”
“But he should’ve been on the set thirty minutes ago.”
“Blake,” Mac said loudly, and shook him again.
“Whaa—” Blake stirred and grumbled, “Haaaaay, whaz go on?”
“Is he drunk?” I wondered.
“That’s impossible,” Marisa said. “He doesn’t drink.” I hadn’t realized she was still here, but she stood in the doorway, staring in horror at Blake.
Mac knelt down next to the bed and sniffed around, then easily rolled the man onto his back. “I don’t smell alcohol.” Blake groaned but didn’t fight back. Mac lifted Blake’s eyelid to check his eye.
He glanced up at me. “Pretty sure he’s on drugs.”
“No,” Marisa cried. “He doesn’t do drugs.”
I ignored her and asked Mac, “How can you tell?”
“He’s extremely groggy, but it’s not from alcohol. His pupils aren’t reacting quickly enough to the light. His speech is slurred and there’s a loss of muscle control. I’m betting it’s drug-related.” He frowned again. “The real question is whether it was self-inflicted or not.” He glanced at the wardrobe mistress. “Does he often miss his call time?”
“Never,” she insisted, and stomped out of the trailer.
As I paced around the tiny space, I wondered again if Blake had been fired. “Should we get him out of bed or let him sleep? There’s no real urgency since they won’t be doing any filming today. But the police will be here any minute. And we should probably tell him about Bree as soon as possible.”
“I’m not sure he’s able to comprehend anything right now.” Mac made an executive decision. “I’m going to call an ambulance. Meanwhile I think it’ll be okay to let him sleep until the police arrive.”
Just then, a siren sounded from a few blocks away.
“It’s about time the police got here,” I grumbled.
Mac called 911 to request an ambulance while I kept an eye on Blake. He didn’t move, but he was snoring loudly so I knew he was still alive. Which was more than I could say about his wife.
Mac and I walked out and saw Marisa waiting at the bottom of the steps.
“Thank you for your help,” Mac said. “I know the police will be grateful if you would keep this door locked until they get here.”
“You bet I will,” she said, with a resolute nod.
“Come on,” Mac said, grabbing my hand. “We should be out there to meet Eric when he shows up.”
Oh, I wasn’t looking forward to that. Eric was a nice guy, and we were friends now, but whenever I found a dead body, the police chief behaved as though I were doing it on purpose just to make his life harder.
I clutched Mac’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
• • •
Police Chief Eric Jensen climbed out of the police-issue SUV looking for all the world like Thor, the hammer-wielding god of thunder and lightning. Whereas my old boyfriend Tommy was tall and blond and adorable in a “surf’s up” kind of way, Eric Jensen was even taller. He was blond, too, and rugged with muscles on his muscles and a strictly no-nonsense attitude when it came to playing by the rules, upholding the law, and keeping his town safe.
Mac and I made it halfway down the walkway in time to watch the police chief somberly scan the film set, silently taking in everything from the catering crew to the decrepit Bloom mansion to the row of big trucks along the road.
Finally Chief Jensen approached us. With a gentlemanly nod, he said, “Good morning, Mac, Shannon. Thank you for calling this in.”
“It’s what I do,” I said.
“So once again you’re first on the scene,” Eric said dryly, pulling out his notepad and pen. “Can you tell me what happened?” And knowing me, he added, “Briefly?”
“I’ll be happy to. First thing you should know is that we called an ambulance for the victim’s husband. That’s Blake Bennett, and he’s sleeping in that trailer over there. Mac thinks he’s on drugs but they should wear off eventually. We wanted to make sure the EMTs checked him out first.”
“That was good thinking,” Eric said with a quick nod. “So please go ahead.”
“Well, in a nutshell, my sister and I arrived early and the whole area was deserted. We decided to go inside the house to get a jump on things and that’s when we found the body of Bree Bennett. Mac arrived a little while ago and he and I tracked down Blake Bennett, Bree’s husband, asleep in that trailer, possibly drugged, as I mentioned.” I looked up at Eric. “Tell me when to stop. I can go into more detail on anything you want.”
I was disconcerted by his frown so I had to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You have a sister?”
My mouth opened but I had no words. After everything I’d just told him, that was the one thing he picked up on? “Yes, I have a sister. She’s sitting right up there on the porch steps. Would you like to meet her?”
He stared at my sister in the distance. “She’s on the show.”
“She’s the star of the show.” I took a deep breath. “She actually saw Bree before I did. She’s a little freaked out.”
“Understandable,” he said. “Yes, I’d like to meet her. I’ll need to ask her some questions.”
“Of course.” I gave Mac a quick glance. “But don’t you want to see if Blake Bennett is okay first? Not that I’m telling you what to do, but we�
�re not absolutely sure if he was drugged or not. You and the EMTs would know better. And if he was drugged, it might’ve been the killer’s way of keeping him from discovering that his wife was about to be . . . hmm.” I stopped talking when I realized that Eric was regarding me intently. Was he mentally willing me to shut up? Maybe. So I did.
“Introduce me to your sister,” Eric said.
“Right. Sure. Priorities.” I sneaked a peek at Mac, who wore an unabashed grin on his face. Was he laughing with me? I doubted it. Glancing up at Eric, I smiled tightly. “Let’s go.”
He started to follow me, but stopped when Tommy Gallagher drove up and parked in the driveway behind Eric’s SUV. Tommy jumped out of the car and glanced around, too, but as soon as he saw the three of us, he burst into a happy grin and strolled over to say hello. He was truly the only cop I knew who could have a jolly good time at a crime scene.
“Hi, Tommy,” I said.
“Hey, Shannon.” He gave me a sweet little peck on the cheek. Call me shallow, but I loved when Tommy did that because invariably there would be someone watching who would report it to his snooty wife, Whitney, and ruin her day.
“How’re you doing, Tom?” Mac said.
“Mac, buddy,” Tommy said, and shook Mac’s hand. “How’s my favorite writer?”
I smiled. Tommy was such a dude.
Tommy sobered as he turned to Eric. “Chief, where do you need me?”
Eric looked at Mac. “Mac, can you show Tommy the trailer where you found Blake Bennett?”
“Absolutely.”
“Tom, just keep an eye on Bennett. The EMTs should be here shortly.”
Mac nudged his chin in the direction of the street. “Over here, Tom.”
Once they walked away, Eric and I traipsed across the grass to the walkway. I noticed that the Wagners—if that was who they were—were watching everything with great interest. Were they aware that Bree’s body was inside the house? Were they the ones who had lured her over here last night and then killed her? How angry were they when they found out that their house had lost out to the Bloom house? Angry enough to kill?
And there went my speculative mind, spinning tales of murder and revenge. You can’t really blame me. This wasn’t my first murder scene and I’d learned long ago that supposedly normal, everyday people were capable of truly awful things when pushed too far. And seriously, there was certainly no love lost between the two Wagners and Bree. Were they angry enough to do her in? Maybe not, but I was definitely going to mention their names to Eric when I got the chance.
“I completely forgot that you had a sister,” Eric murmured as the two of us approached the front steps. “You’ve managed to surprise me again.”
“Good to know I’m still capable of that.”
“I was out of town for a few weeks,” he explained quietly, “taking care of some family business. Just got back last night.”
I glanced up at him. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Yes, it’s all fine. But unfortunately, the details of the filming slipped my mind until Ginny called me a few minutes ago.”
“That’s a rough way to start your first day back at work.” I climbed the steps and sat down next to my sister.
Eric remained standing at the bottom of the steps, undoubtedly aware of his intimidation factor. He gazed up at Chloe and me as if he might be appraising us. I wondered if he would mention that we didn’t look alike. I hoped not. After so many years, that line had turned into a cliché and Eric Jensen wasn’t the cliché type.
“Think these steps are safe?” he asked finally.
“I would tread very carefully,” I said.
He nodded. “Good advice.” When he reached the top step safely, he surprised me by sitting down on the other side of Chloe. It was such a friendly move, I was instantly suspicious.
“Chloe, this is my friend Chief Jensen,” I said. “Eric, this is Chloe Hammer, my sister.”
“Hello,” she said as they shook hands.
He managed a smile. “Nice to meet you, Chloe.”
“You, too.” She glanced at me and then back to Eric. “Do I call you Chief Jensen or Eric?”
“It depends on whether you’re a suspect or not,” I said helpfully.
She chewed on her lip a moment, then nodded. “In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Chief Jensen.”
I wrapped my arm around Chloe’s shoulder and tugged her closer. “You are not a suspect, Chloe. You have an alibi and a witness to everything you did last night.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. Me. It’s going to be okay.” Easy for me to say, I thought, and I started to worry all over again.
I knew Chloe was uncomfortable around authority figures. It stemmed from her time in high school when she was wrongfully arrested by the former police chief. Because of that, I planned to stay close by, especially if Eric started interrogating her.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” she murmured, giving my hand a squeeze. Was she trying to comfort me now? It just figured. And for some reason, I had a strong urge to break down and cry. But I wouldn’t. The Hammer sisters were tougher than that.
“Of course you’re fine,” Eric said amiably. “Now, I’m going to check inside the house for a few minutes and then I’ll probably have some questions for you afterward, okay?”
Chloe nodded. “Sure.”
He glanced across at me. “Shannon, will you come with me?”
Chloe’s eyes were wide as she watched me stand. I was pretty surprised, too, but I patted her shoulder as though I did this all the time. “I’ll be right back.”
“Garcia, Payton,” Eric called, and two officers came running up to the house.
“Yes, sir,” the said in unison.
“Payton, please keep Ms. Hammer company so she doesn’t think we’re neglecting her.”
Chloe met my gaze in time for me to shoot her an encouraging smile. Mindy Payton was an old friend of mine from high school so I knew she would be nice to my sister.
“Garcia, you’re with me.” The two climbed up to the porch without falling through any rotten planks. Mindy hovered near Chloe while Carlos Garcia silently followed us to the front door.
At the door, I stopped them. “I should warn you that it’s very dusty in there and Chloe and I probably disturbed any good footprints you might’ve found. Sorry.”
“That’s a good point. Garcia, can you go get some booties for us to wear?”
“You got it, Chief.”
He ran to the truck and was back in less than a minute. We all slipped the protective disposable booties on over our shoes.
“Everybody ready?” Eric said. “Do you have a key?”
“I do,” I said, “but the door’s unlocked.”
He scowled. “Was it like that when you first arrived?”
“No, it was locked. I had to use the key.”
“So you touched the doorknob.”
“Yes.” My shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. You probably weren’t expecting this place to turn into a crime scene.”
“Not in a million years.” But that didn’t stop it from happening on a regular basis.
Even though I might’ve obliterated the killer’s handprints, there was a possibility that they could still get something off the doorknob, so Eric pulled out a handkerchief and used it to open the door. I tried to ignore the shivers from the creaking door because there were much more sinister things going on inside this house.
Eric glanced around the large foyer. “What did you do when you got inside?”
“We walked into the foyer and right into the front parlor to start checking things out.” I pointed to the wide archway that led to the living room—or front parlor, in Victorian parlance—and we all walked inside.
“First I noted the amazing crow
n moldings and Chloe commented on the archway over by the bay windows. We were basically discussing what sort of rehab would be needed in this room. She was standing right about where you are when she noticed the beautiful marble fireplace and at the same time I was checking out the hardwood floors. I pointed out some scratches and said that the floors would have to be refinished.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I took a closer look at the floor and saw that at least one scratch had only just occurred. I could tell because the dust had been disturbed. The scratches start over there.” I pointed toward the archway leading into the dining room. I’m thinking she was dragged from somewhere in that room all the way over to the fireplace.” I pointed out the path to Eric. “Can you see it?”
He crouched down. “Yeah. You could be right. Those are some serious scratches.”
“I know. Her sharp heels might’ve made them. They’ve got hard metal on the tips. And one of her shoes is dangling off her foot. It could’ve have been snagged by a rough patch of wood.”
“It’s possible,” he murmured.
“So anyway, Chloe wanted to see the tiles on the fireplace, so she walked over to the mantel and that’s when she saw the body.” I sighed a little, remembering. “I ran over and checked for a pulse but didn’t find one. Chloe was pretty freaked so I got her out of here as quickly as possible and called 911.”
Eric stayed in one spot and glanced around for another minute or two. Finally he approached the hearth where Bree’s body was splayed and knelt down to feel for a pulse. He lifted her hair carefully to check out the head wound.
“Carlos,” he said. “Call CSI and get them over here. And as soon as we’ve interviewed the production people, I want you to get Tommy, Dan, and Mindy in here to search this house top to bottom.” He turned and gazed at me as he continued to give Carlos more orders. “I don’t want anyone except our people inside this house until I clear it.”
“Yes, sir, Chief,” Carlos said.
Eric used his pen to carefully lift Bree’s hanging stiletto and studied it for a moment. I noticed that the tiny spike heel was dented and scraped. From being dragged? I thought so.
A Wrench in the Works Page 11
