“Oh.” I nodded soberly. “Like a slumber party.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I know it sounds weird.”
“It doesn’t just sound weird. It is weird.”
Sighing, Chloe said, “Look around. This place is a fortress.”
I glanced back at the steel door. “I get that.”
“No one can get to me in here. And Eric’s providing a pizza, so I don’t have to worry about starving, either.” She took a deep breath. “Look, you should go back to the Bloom house and work for a while. I’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes open.”
I gave her my best steely-eyed stare, but she didn’t budge. I finally relented. “Okay. But are you sure Eric has your best interests at heart?”
“Yes.” She sounded absolutely certain. “Right from the start he told me that he thinks I’m in danger and he’s promised to keep me safe.”
Fine, then. I could trust Eric to keep his word and he was so tough, no one would get past him to hurt Chloe, so that was something. “I’m happy about that part.”
She sighed. “There’s something else. Eric found out about my confrontation with Richie and that’s another reason why he decided to bring me to the police station.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Did he say how he found out?”
“No.”
Scowling, I said, “I’m pretty sure Whitney was the snitch. She probably told Tommy, who passed it on to Eric.”
“That makes perfect sense,” she said. “But strangely enough, Whitney didn’t mention the part where Richie had threatened to ruin Dad’s business.”
I was fuming again. “I’ll make sure Eric knows that part.”
“Oh, I already told him.”
I grinned. “That’s my girl. Then I’ll just make sure Whitney knows.”
“Did I mention that Eric’s really nice?”
“Once or twice.”
“Yeah. So when the ladder thing happened, it freaked him out.” She smiled a little wistfully and I wondered if Chloe was actually interested in Eric. “He said he thought about it all night long and then this morning, he decided to bring me in, to keep me safe. But then he found out about my and Richie’s big fight.” She shrugged. “So that added to his worries. Someone saw us fighting, then killed Richie to frame me.”
“Does Eric have a clue about the killer?”
“I think so, but he’s not sharing the info with me.”
“And who might’ve sabotaged the ladder? And the coffee? And the makeup?”
“He wouldn’t say. Said he’s still investigating some leads. But I feel like he’s got his eye on someone. He mentioned baiting a trap.”
“But how can he bait a trap with you in here? You need to be out in the world to be the bait in the trap. Not that I’d ever want you to be used as bait to catch a killer. I would seriously smack him if he even considered it for a half second.”
She shrugged. “Maybe he’s using some other kind of bait.”
My eyes widened. “Maybe he’s thinking I can be the bait.”
“No way,” she said. “Don’t even think that.”
But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I was pretty sure Eric wouldn’t do that, but I didn’t care. I was ready to expose this murderer and I knew exactly who to ask for help.
“I don’t like that look in your eyes.” Chloe watched me warily.
“Don’t worry,” I said, and realized I sounded like my sister. “I mean it. I’ll be fine. And so will you. I’ll check in with you later.”
She sighed. “Please don’t forget.”
“I won’t.” I stood and gripped the bars separating us. “Love you, Chloe.”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
• • •
Back at the Bloom house, I went through the motions, hoping I wasn’t a total dud when the camera was on me. I couldn’t think straight, knowing my sister was stuck in that cell and I was here trying to catch a killer.
Blake and I were going over more possibilities for the bay window while everyone took an afternoon break.
“Is Chloe still being questioned?” Blake asked, checking his watch. “She’s going to miss the whole day.”
“I know.” I brushed dust, dirt, and peeled paint off the windowsills. “But she’s one of the few people who knew both victims, so the police have a lot of questions for her.”
He scoffed. “They can’t possibly think Chloe had anything to do with the deaths.”
“I’m sure they don’t. I mean, she was attacked herself.” I shrugged. “They’re just trying to get answers and apparently she’s got plenty of them.”
“Oh. You think she knows something?”
“Probably not,” I said, waving away his concerns and giving him a big smile. “But she’s a talker, in case you never noticed. And she’s super observant. Nothing much gets past Chloe.”
“You know, the other day they had me in there for a few hours, too,” Blake admitted.
“I guess that makes sense since, well, they always say the spouse is the best suspect, right? I mean, so they say.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “So they say.”
I smiled. “Especially when you’re married to an executive producer who likes to fire people.”
He chuckled fondly. “Yeah. Bree was a pistol. But I loved her. I still do. God, I miss her.”
“Of course you do.”
“The day she died . . .” He began to choke up and had to stop to compose himself. He swallowed carefully and wiped his eyes, then continued. “I had been drugged and could barely think straight. But I rallied once I got to the police station. Not that I was much help.”
“Did you know Richie Stoddard?”
“Who?”
“The other victim.”
He frowned. “What’d you say his name was?”
“Richie,” I said. “I would’ve thought you knew him. He was the real estate agent who submitted the Wagners’ house to be on the show.”
“That was strictly Bree’s territory,” he said with a shrug. “I never get involved with the home owners.”
“Probably a good policy. But anyway, when they didn’t make it onto the show, they got really angry with Richie.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you think they had something to do with Bree’s and Richie’s deaths?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Wagner was really bent out of shape. But murder? Hard to say.” I made a point of staring at the bay window and reaching for my tape measure. “You know, I saw Richie at the inn the first day you all set up the production offices over there. I thought he might’ve been there for a meeting with Bree.”
“It’s possible,” Blake said. “She handles all the decisions about which houses we’ll be working on. I mean, she handled all that.”
Nodding, I kept talking. I wanted Blake to open up more and I also wanted to let him think that just maybe there was more going on than he knew. “Richie was absolutely certain Bree was going to choose his clients’ house. Guess he was wrong.”
“Bree made a point of never making promises. She had her reasons for choosing the houses she chose and was just as likely to change her mind ten times before she settled on one.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, as my dad used to say. I tried to keep it casual as I brought up the sticky subject. “So Chloe mentioned something about a new show she was going to be working on.”
He looked surprised. “What new show?”
“Something for one of the big networks, I think.”
He pursed his lips as he thought about it, then sighed. “I was sworn to secrecy. But since you already know about it, you should hear the whole story. Truth is, Bree was talking about firing Chloe. The network wanted me and Diego to star on the show. To give it sort of a father-son angle.”
&nb
sp; I would’ve snorted with laughter but managed to stay serious. “I thought everyone liked the male-female thing that you have with Chloe. A lot of women watch these shows and they can relate to someone like Chloe.”
“They like to see men, too,” he said, with just a touch of defensiveness.
“Well, sure.” Duh, I thought. But still, the father-son angle? He was being ridiculous.
“They’re looking to shake things up a little. Our formula was getting a little stale and in television you’ve got to keep things fresh or you’ll die. And Chloe is cute, but they wanted a more macho dynamic.”
“Huh.” Macho dynamic? Was he kidding? Makeover Madness was the highest-rated home improvement show in cable history and while Blake was popular, I liked to think that most of the credit went to my sister. “Chloe wasn’t fired, Blake. She did have a discussion with Bree about the new show, but she didn’t get fired.”
He flashed me a patient smile. “You’re her sister so it’s a little difficult for me to say this. But Bree was planning to fire Chloe right after we finished this set of Victorian-themed shows.” He shrugged again. “But then Bree died. So who knows what’ll happen? Maybe Chloe will escape the chopping block. Lucky break for her, right?”
I blinked hard. “Are you actually insinuating that Chloe would benefit from Bree’s death? Because that’s what it sounds like. And that’s crazy.”
“That came out wrong,” he rushed to say. “I’m sorry. All I’m saying is . . . I don’t know.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and shook his head. “I don’t know anything.”
“Look, I don’t blame you for lashing out because you just lost your wife, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” My teeth were clenched so tightly, I worried that they would crack. “In case you haven’t noticed, Chloe’s been the victim of at least three attacks.”
He stared blankly. “Three?”
“Yes. I don’t know if it’s the same person who killed your wife, but whoever’s trying to hurt her will have to get through me first.”
He took a deep breath. “You’re a good sister.”
“So is Chloe.”
Blake nodded. “I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you. I’m still trying to process everything that’s been going on around here. It’s . . . not easy.”
“I know.”
He patted my back. “Hang in there, kiddo.”
“You, too.”
He walked away, leaving me totally confused. I’d been fuming inside earlier and now I didn’t know what to do or how to feel about Blake Bennett. Did he really believe that if Bree were still alive, she would’ve fired Chloe for real? Had he really implied that Chloe had the very best motive for killing Bree?
Okay, yes, Chloe had admitted that she actually had been fired the day before she got here. But she had explained that Bree was always firing someone. Even Blake.
And who knew if Bree had told Blake the truth? The woman was a master manipulator, telling half-truths or pure lies to get people to do what she wanted. Or maybe she did it just to watch them squirm. She hadn’t been a very nice person.
And I was right back where I’d started, with no real answers to any of my questions. But I vaguely remembered Chloe mentioning that the network bosses would be showing up here at some point to see how the filming was going. Would they use the opportunity to announce the stars of their new show?
I moved to the next window and went through the motions of measuring its size, taking deep breaths as I went. Blake could spin this any way he wanted, but we all knew the truth would come out from the network. I was sure they wanted Chloe. And I wondered what Blake would do when he heard that.
Funny how a minute ago when we started talking, Blake was insisting that Chloe couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the murders. But as soon as I mentioned the network show, he was suddenly accusing her of murder.
Could Blake have murdered his wife? I couldn’t quite believe it, having heard from everyone, including himself, that he loved her so much. And also, I’d seen firsthand what a klutz Blake could be. Sure, he could’ve used sheer brute strength to knock Bree over the head with a pipe wrench. But how could he possibly have driven a crowbar with such precision into Richie’s neck?
I supposed sheer desperation could’ve done it. Maybe Blake looked in the mirror one morning and saw a man who was aging quickly and who knew the reality of the television business. Very soon he would no longer be in demand. Of course, I had to admit the crowds still loved him, but how long would that last? Would the network turn down all of his popularity in favor of the youth and beauty they would get with Chloe and Diego?
Who knew how network brains operated?
I was sick and tired of listening to myself think, but I couldn’t seem to stop coming up with more scenarios. I certainly didn’t want to get into another argument with Blake, but he really did seem the most likely suspect. But then, what did he have against Richie Rich? Had he suspected him of sleeping with his wife? Maybe. Chloe and I had both suspected, but then quickly discarded that possibility. But why? What little I knew of Bree Bennett made me think she would be willing to sleep with another man in order to get something from him. Had she flaunted her assignation in front of Blake? Or maybe Richie had bragged about it. Or even tried to blackmail Blake. Knowing what he’d done to Chloe, I wouldn’t put it past Richie to try it.
Was anyone else on the production staff involved with Richie? I’d seen Suzanne talking to him, but that could’ve been about anything. She seemed way too nice and smart to have had anything to do with Richie.
Maybe the two deaths were completely unrelated. Could there be two killers roaming the film set?
No. That was what my gut told me. Someone had killed both Richie and Bree and now they were tormenting my sister. Why? Who had something to gain from any of it?
The only conclusion I could come up with was the same one I’d been thinking all along. Blake. But he’d been drugged the night Bree died. And sure, Richie was a jerk, but why would Blake be meeting him on the Bloom house porch in the middle of the night? And why would he try to attack Chloe?
I needed to run all these theories past Mac. He would be able to talk through it with me. But I wouldn’t see him until tomorrow, so instead, I jogged off to find some breathing room. And ran into Suzanne instead.
“Shannon, just the person I wanted to see,” she said. “How’s Chloe doing? I’m really worried about her.”
I pasted a smile on my face. “Chloe is okay. She’s just answering questions and she should be back to work anytime now.” I was making it up as I went along since I had no idea how long Eric would keep her there.
“Oh, thank goodness. The past few days have been difficult for everyone. With Bree gone, things are so crazy, and then Chloe gets taken away. I’m just so grateful that you’re such a pro at this stuff. You’re doing a fabulous job standing in for her. But frankly, I’m about to lose it.” She shook her head, exhaled, and grinned. “But hey, I put up a good front, don’t I?”
I couldn’t help but smile. The woman had a lovely, self-deprecating sense of humor. I just hoped she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. “I’m glad I ran into you because I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure. Ask away.”
“I saw you talking to Richie Stoddard the other day. Are you friends with him?”
She frowned at first, but then nodded slowly. “You mean, the guy who got killed?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never met him before in my life. He stopped to ask me about Chloe. He said he went to high school with her and was wondering where she was staying in town.”
“And you told him?”
She grimaced. “I gave him her phone number. But judging by your question, I’m wondering if I did the right thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. You would have no way of knowing if he was telling the truth o
r not.”
“I’ll admit I was a little frazzled when he approached me. I figured since there were extra show rundowns on the catering tables, anyone could easily look up our phone numbers. So I went ahead and wrote it down for him since he said he was a friend. I’m sorry if I blew it.”
I squeezed her arm lightly. “Don’t give it another thought. I was just wondering.” And hoping and praying that Suzanne really was as good a friend to Chloe as my sister thought she was.
* * *
• • •
Except for our lines for the camera, I avoided talking to Blake for the rest of the day. Once we finished for the day, I drove home, took a shower, and dressed for my evening at Emily’s. I spent some extra time nuzzling and playing with Robbie and Tiger. The house felt depressingly empty without Chloe, but I knew she would be home in a day or so, as soon as we could figure out who was trying to hurt her.
* * *
• • •
“You made it,” Emily said when she answered her front door.
I laughed. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I just know you’re really busy. Come in.”
I handed her the bottle of wine I’d brought and walked into her beautiful home. “You’ve added more furniture. It looks fantastic in here.” I had helped refurbish the place when Emily first bought it. It had always been known as the Rawley mansion and old Mrs. Rawley had haunted the place until Emily and Gus moved in. Now they all lived in peaceful harmony, for the most part. I was pretty certain the ghost of Mrs. Rawley had a crush on Gus.
I walked past the archway leading to the dining room and ventured a peek inside. Immediately the chandelier above the table began to sway.
“She knows you’re here,” Emily said, smiling.
“Hello, Mrs. Rawley,” I whispered. “I hope you’re happy.”
The chandelier took one last swing and came to a stop. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Emily said softly. “We’re all very happy, especially when Gus is home.”
“Is he here? I told him I owe you two a dinner out on the town one of these nights. He’s been so amazing with all the television people.”
A Wrench in the Works Page 22
