Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4)

by Terry Odell

  Why is there always a but?

  Gordon’s insides clamped shut. “Go on.”

  “The presumptive tox screen results came back. Nothing showed up, but you know we don’t screen for everything on the first pass. Meanwhile, there’s nothing to explain why what appeared to be a healthy young woman dropped dead until after the autopsy. If there is any obscure drug in her system, you’ll have to give me some clues so I can tell the lab folks what to look for.”

  “So, you’re saying there’s a chance it was suicide?” Gordon asked.

  “I gave you a preliminary cause of death. Heart failure. Manner of death has yet to be determined. That’s all I have for you now. If you want to be in on the autopsy, it won’t be until tomorrow. Early afternoon is the soonest one of the pathologists can work her in.”

  “Thanks.” Gordon disconnected, then paced the room while new scenarios based on what Asel had told him whizzed through his brain. No determination of manner of death yet, and that was what he needed. The coroner decided if it was accidental, natural, homicide, or suicide. Or the dreaded unknown category.

  Was Marianna on medication? Did she have suicidal tendencies? Her job was stressful squared. How did she cope? Gordon knew about needing to keep stress levels under control—and how hard it was to achieve when your job was filled with stressful situations barreling down on you like a winter avalanche.

  If she was taking meds, was it an accidental overdose? Could she have been so busy she’d forgotten whether or not she’d taken her meds? Or did she double up if things got out of hand, and she’d crossed the line? Was it an adverse reaction to a combination of drugs, one she’d been unaware of?

  And, the scenario he dreaded—had someone managed to poison her? How much easier it would be to stand up at the press conference this evening and be able to say Marianna Spellman had accidentally taken drug A without realizing it conflicted with Drug B, one she took routinely and considered safe.

  Stop with the questions, already. You’ve got nothing in the way of answers.

  He called Solomon, gave him the news. “Get over to where Marianna Spellman was staying. Do what it takes to get inside her room. See if she has any medications, if anyone there can offer any insights.”

  “Will do. Maybe that’s why someone took her purse,” Solomon said. “For the drugs.”

  “We don’t know whether she was on any meds. And it doesn’t explain the mess in her office or the missing laptop. And if you want to observe the autopsy, it’s tomorrow afternoon. I’ll juggle schedules. I’ve got too much going on here.”

  “Understood, and I won’t tell anyone you don’t like watching people take apart dead bodies.”

  “Get to work, Solomon.”

  If nothing else, Gordon had a new line of questioning to pursue, and he’d start with Lily Beckett. He trotted down the stairs and motioned to Jost that he was ready.

  He seated her and set up his phone as a recorder again. She didn’t give any indication she knew Marianna was dead. Again, he reminded himself she was an actress and might be playing ignorant rather than volunteer any information. He started with asking why she’d confronted Marianna at Daily Bread. “You mentioned damage control. What damage were you controlling, and why you? Why not someone on the administrative side of things?”

  “Oh, that,” Lily said. “I’m afraid I was a little … overdramatic?”

  “In what way?”

  “The press had picked up on our co-starring in this production. Me and Cass. Not that it was any secret—heaven only knows how much the entertainment industry relies on media coverage to keep people interested. Anyway, the last movie we made, there were rumors Cass and I had a thing going—”

  Gordon interrupted. “By thing, am I correct in assuming you’re talking about a romantic involvement?”

  She stared at him as though she couldn’t believe he didn’t understand. “Well, yeah.”

  “But you didn’t have one?”

  “No, of course not. We’re co-workers. Professionals. Actors. If a script says we’re lovers, then we’re lovers on camera but we have our own lives. Oh sure, a lot of actors get caught up in the moment and start seeing each other or get married, but you know how those things work out. I mean, they don’t work out. Not hardly ever.”

  Gordon tried to get things back on track with another question. “So, what kind of damage control were you talking about?”

  She scrunched up her face. “According to my agent, Cass and I were supposed to get here early and feed the rumor mills we were reconciling.”

  Gordon raised a palm. “Back up. Reconciling from what? You said you didn’t have a thing.”

  “Oh, yeah. Like I was saying, on that last movie, we were, according to the press, having this thing, but we broke it off because I didn’t approve of his doing drugs.”

  “So, you broke off something you didn’t have?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you, it’s all manufactured by the media.” She raised her hands and waggled her fingers, putting quotes around her words. “‘Lily Beckett dumps Cassidy Clarke when she finds out he’s doing drugs.’ Those headlines sell tabloids, but they’re about as real as a purple unicorn.”

  “But he admitted to a substance abuse problem,” Gordon said.

  “Yes, and that made the news, of course, but his problem, his stint in rehab, and his being clean had nothing to do with our relationship—which there wasn’t one, like I said.”

  Gordon took a moment to parse her grammar. “Got it. So your agent told you to come up here and let the press get a glimpse of you two in your nonexistent relationship.”

  “What my agent wanted—what she said Marianna wanted—was for me to stick to Cass to make sure he wasn’t relapsing. And since I hadn’t heard from Cass in a while, I thought maybe it was for real, and I was going to have to play watchdog. That’s not part of my job description, and I was pissed. But then Marianna explained, and everything was cool again.”

  So far, all Gordon grasped was that apparently Marianna either couldn’t make herself understood to agents, or that she was playing them for press for the studio. Which might have been a reason someone was upset with her. He’d let that one stew for a bit, but it didn’t sound like a big enough reason to kill her. Then again, people killed for the price of a movie DVD, so he couldn’t rule it out entirely.

  “It seems Miss Spellman did things that upset people. Do you know anyone else she might have made angry?”

  Lily flapped a hand. “I haven’t dealt with her before, but production managers are always making someone angry. It’s part of the job, because they have to make everything run smoothly, and sometimes that means making demands, or telling people they have to do things they don’t want to do. On the other hand, a lot of times they make people happy, so it probably evens out in the end.”

  That confirmed what Dawson had said. He let the silence fill the space like an expanding cloud of smoke. Lily fidgeted, then met his eyes. “You’re asking me this because she’s dead, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  Her eyes widened the same way Cassidy’s had. She didn’t pale, but her hands trembled and she twisted them in her lap, as if she held an invisible napkin. “When?”

  “This morning. Someone found her in the wardrobe RV.”

  Lily seemed to mull that over. “We—me, Cass, Damien, and Julie—we were gone all morning. We were together the whole time. We didn’t get back until a little while ago.”

  “I know. And your driver vouches for you.”

  “So … so we’re not … suspects or anything? We weren’t here, so we can’t be witnesses. Why are you asking me all these questions? I don’t need a lawyer, do I?”

  “You’re not under arrest, Miss Beckett. I’m trying to find a reason anyone would have wanted Miss Spellman dead, and you and Mr. Clarke did show up ready for a fight.”

  “But I explained. It was all a misunderstanding.”

  “Did Miss Spellman have any … mis
understandings … with anyone else involved in the production? Cast, crew? Media?”

  Lily shook her head, sending her red curls flying. She tucked one strand behind her ear, then twisted another around in her fingers. “I can’t believe this. It’s … I … I can’t believe it.”

  “A couple of questions, and you’ll be free to go,” Gordon said. “We haven’t been able to locate Yolanda Orozco or the two stand-ins, Bart Bergsstrom and Kathy Newberg. When did you last see any of them?”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled and gazed at a spot beyond Gordon’s shoulder. “Yolanda. Let’s see. Yesterday, before the wrap at Aspen Lake. Bart and Kathy were there, too.”

  “After the shooting was finished?” Gordon asked. “Did you see them then?”

  She shook her head again, less vehemently. “They’re staying at the hotel. The four of us are here, at that quaint little B and B. So, once shooting was done, we went our separate ways.”

  “Did you see them get on the bus?” he asked.

  Another head shake. “No, I didn’t pay attention. I was tired and wanted to get back.”

  “Thanks for your cooperation.” He noted the end of the interview and stood, handing her his business card, and getting her cell number. “If you think of anything, please let me know.”

  “I can go?”

  “Yes.”

  Lily whisked past him, and her sneakered feet thudded down the stairs.

  He might have a lot of people with reasons to dislike Marianna Spellman. But to kill her? An accidental overdose made more sense. But then why the break-in at her RV?

  With more questions than answers swirling in his head, Gordon interviewed Damien Rivers and Julie Ames. Neither provided any useful information, other than corroborating everything he’d already heard. Apparently Marianna hadn’t felt they were newsworthy enough to bother with instigating rumors the way she had with Cassidy and Lily. Either that, or their agents had done a better job of running interference if she had tried something. They hadn’t been involved in any of the Aspen Lake scenes, hadn’t been on call until this afternoon, so they hadn’t arrived in Mapleton until yesterday. This was their first job with Vista Ventures, both liked the idea of helping what they considered a worthy cause.

  And, as Rivers said, “Getting your face in front of the public is always a good thing. Much better when it’s because you’re doing something positive.”

  Rivers also said he liked the idea of helping a newcomer get a foothold in the industry. Independent filmmakers were more willing to take risks, step outside the but it won’t sell attitude of so many of the big studios.

  Gordon handed out his cards, took their numbers, and sent them on their way. It was pushing four o’clock by now, and he had to prepare for the damn press conference.

  He checked in with Connie. “Any sightings of our missing people?” He knew the answer, because she’d have made sure he knew as soon as a report had come in, but there was always a chance he’d missed the message.

  “Sorry, Chief. Everyone’s looking, even the civilian patrol, but no results.”

  “Expand the search,” he said. “Get the county deputies in on it, too.”

  “On it.”

  He called Asel. “I have to give a statement to the press in an hour. Can I say, ‘Preliminary findings indicate the cause of death was heart failure,’ and then dodge the ensuing barrage of questions with ‘we’re waiting for the coroner’s report for more details.’ Or have you got anything more for me?”

  “Yes to the first two, no to the last,” Asel said. “Try telling them we’re working with a real lab, not a television script. These things take time.”

  “I think the press and the mayor prefer the television version of reality.”

  “Good luck,” Asel said.

  Gordon disconnected. Good luck, Asel had said. Gordon could use a heavy dose right now.

  Downstairs, he checked in with Jost. “All quiet,” his officer said.

  “I think we can let everyone go,” Gordon said. He went over to Dawson and told him he was free to make whatever arrangements they had in place for getting people to their lodgings.

  “What about the press conference?” Dawson asked. “Originally, there was to be an autograph session afterward. It might not be appropriate, but I’m sure your townspeople would love the chance to meet our stars, especially if we’re not going to be allowed to finish the shoot.”

  “That’s not my call,” Gordon said. “Ask the mayor.” Who would probably give it a bright green light, appropriate or not. Let him find a way to spin it. While Gordon was thinking of it, he gave Connie a heads up to make sure she routed enough officers to the area around the high school to maintain a semblance of order.

  “Already on it, Chief. The vultures are descending. County’s sending deputies as well.” She rolled her eyes. “I think they want to see the movie stars, too.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  At the station, on his desk, he found Laurie’s draft of the announcement he was to give. He read it over, once again impressed with her ability to understand the job. Then again, she’d worked for Dix, his predecessor and mentor, for a decade before Gordon had come on board as chief.

  With a growing sense of confidence, he added the heart failure cop-out, and asked her to revise it and print it in a larger font. Not that he minded wearing his readers, but with or without them, it was easier to keep his place if the type was bigger.

  Yeah, right. And you dread the thought of going bald, too.

  Next, he got on his phone and called Cassidy Clarke. The man was totally gracious and agreed to drop by.

  “Park in the rear lot and knock on the green door. Unless you want to make this a more public event, I’ll keep this in my office. I know most of my officers would be glad to meet you, but I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure they’ll want pictures, autographs—could be more than you want to deal with.”

  “No problem,” Cassidy said. “I have the utmost respect for first responders and would be happy to meet any of them. Damien and Julie have already headed to the B and B, but Lily’s still here. Would you like both of us?”

  “Sure. And I’ll make sure to keep it short—for both our sakes.”

  “When do you want us?”

  Gordon checked the time. “Soon as you can get here. That should give you time to get ready for the press conference.” He realized he hadn’t confirmed with the mayor the autograph session was still a go. “Unless you don’t have to be there,” he added.

  “We’ll be there,” Cassidy said. “Trying to deflect the negative vibes, turn them around. Smile, press the flesh, and don’t bring up the death unless someone asks, and then it’s ‘Yes, we’re shocked, but we know Marianna would want it this way.’ Keep it vague, with appropriate somber faces for those folks.”

  “You ever need a job as an information officer, give me a call.” Gordon disconnected, then asked the duty officer to round up everyone in the station to the breakroom in fifteen minutes. He buzzed Laurie. “You have my speech fixed?”

  “Printing it now.”

  “Bring it in, please.”

  Gordon had learned his jitters at facing a group could be lessened if he’d rehearsed what he was going to say. When Laurie brought him the revised statement, he got out his readers.

  “Sit, please. I need a friendly audience to practice on.” He’d barely gotten through the first few paragraphs when there was a knock at his rear door. “Would you mind getting that?” he said to Laurie.

  She jumped up and crossed behind him, opening the door. He swiveled his chair enough to catch her reaction. Open mouth, flushed cheeks. And that almost automatic female response of a quick hand to her hair, not that a single short brunette strand was out of place.

  Gordon couldn’t suppress his grin. “Come in. Cassidy, Lily, I’d like you to meet Laurie, the person who’s responsible for keeping things running at the Mapleton Police Department. Laurie, meet Cassidy Clarke and
Lily Beckett.”

  He treasured Laurie’s speechless moment.

  Lily stepped toward Laurie. “Pleased to meet you. I admire the kind of work you do. It’s … real. Helps make a difference. Not the play-acting we do.”

  “I’ll second that,” Cassidy said.

  “Oh, but you do make a difference. You bring people pleasure, let them escape to another world,” Laurie said, her voice returning. “Make them laugh, make them think.”

  Gordon held up his cell phone. “Laurie, how about a picture?”

  Both actors moved in, one on either side of her, and Gordon snapped a couple of shots. “I’ll email them to you,” he said to Laurie. “And, because I know our staff would like a chance to meet these two before they leave town, take them to the breakroom. I think the masses are assembling there.”

  “We’d love a short tour,” Cassidy said. “If you have time. I might play a cop someday, and absorbing the ambience here could come in handy.”

  Laurie tossed Gordon a look somewhere between thank you and I’ll get you for catching me off guard as she escorted Cassidy and Lily out of his office and into the station.

  He went back to practicing his speech.

  By the time he felt as comfortable as he’d ever be—why didn’t they let him read his speech from here and broadcast it so he didn’t have to deal with an audience of all those people?—Cassidy and Lily returned, Laurie right behind them, beaming. He saw them off, then made a quick pass through his accumulated messages.

  “That was nice of you, Chief.” Laurie sat across the desk from him. “The mayor asked if you would get to the high school by quarter of, so he can brief you.”

  “Brief me? On what? He talks, people ask questions. At some point he says I’m going to explain everything, I read my speech and tell everyone I don’t have any answers. Why do I need to be briefed?”

  “I don’t know, sir. Maybe he’s upset you haven’t been at his beck and call all day. Asking you to get there early puts him in control again.”

  Gordon hoped once this was over, the mayor would get back to his original hands-off policy. He’d had enough micro-managing when Alexander was mayor. But, he reminded himself the mayor could fire him, and playing nice—to a point—was part of his job.