Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4)

by Terry Odell

  Solomon glowered. Gordon rapped the desk with his knuckles. “On task, gentlemen.”

  Solomon flipped through the inventory list. “You have anything on that stain in the RV kitchenette yet?”

  “Nothing toxic detected, if that’s what you’re asking. Assuming it’s coffee based on what the tech report said. Given it’s her office, it makes sense that she spilled it,” Colfax said.

  “Let me see those pictures again,” Gordon said. “Did anyone find a coffee mug lying around?”

  Colfax rooted around for the establishing shots. “No mugs.”

  “What kind of cups do they use in the lounge? Maybe she brought some from there,” Gordon said.

  “Cardboard,” Solomon grabbed more paperwork. “No cups in her office trash. Wastebasket was empty.”

  “Did we find out the cleaning schedule? Had they cleaned yet?”

  Solomon searched his notepad. “They clean the lounge trailers daily. Same with hair and makeup. The others are on an every three days’ schedule, but they’d cleaned everything after the Aspen Lake shoot and setting up here. Normal policy is to clean at the end of the day.”

  “It’s possible whoever broke in took the trash, but given the early hour the victim died, I’d suspect an empty wastebasket means Miss Spellman hadn’t thrown anything away on the day in question,” Colfax said. “If the units hadn’t been serviced, then an empty wastebasket in only one of them might be conspicuous.”

  “I agree,” Solomon said.

  Gordon shifted in his chair. “So, more nothing.” He turned to Solomon. “What about the cross-referencing of papers to the list of everyone working the production?”

  “We were trying the what’s missing angle,” Solomon explained to Colfax. “Marianna Spellman had hard copies of everyone’s release forms with emergency contact information. They were strewn around the RV—”

  “I did look at the photos,” Colfax said.

  Solomon went right on. “So we were hunting for anyone on the production list who didn’t have matching paperwork.”

  “And, I assume if you’d discovered which page, or pages, were missing, you’d have announced it, so it’s another dead end,” Colfax said.

  “Still working on that one,” Solomon said.

  Colfax shoved his chair away from the desk. “I need a refill. Won’t be the same, but when in a police station, one comes to expect lousy coffee.”

  He left Gordon and Solomon to go through the paper.

  “Good thing he’s good at what he does,” Solomon said. “He can be a real knickers twister sometimes.”

  Gordon refrained from adding, “Like someone else I know.” Instead, he said, “I’ve worked with him on the other side—his public persona is pure professionalism.”

  “Nice alliteration,” Solomon said, grinning. Probably knew what Gordon had kept to himself.

  Colfax returned carrying a mug of coffee. “Hit it just right. Fresh pot.” He stepped toward the desk, lifting the mug to his lips. He sipped. Swore. “Damn, that’s hot.” The mug jiggled in his hand, spilling coffee on the floor. He set the mug down and grabbed a napkin from the desk.

  Watching Colfax clean the spill triggered a thought in Gordon’s head. “Back to the RV. The coffee maker was empty. Clean, too. So, what does that mean? She pours a cup of coffee, washes the pot, then spills the coffee but doesn’t clean it up? If it happened while she was standing at the sink, there should have been evidence she’d stepped in it. Can’t picture her jumping over the spot and leaving it. You spill coffee, what do you do?”

  “Mop it up,” Colfax said, searching for a place to toss his sodden napkin.

  Gordon moved the wastebasket closer to the detective. “And then you toss what you’d cleaned it with.”

  “Assuming it was disposable, and not a cloth towel or rag,” Solomon said.

  Gordon nodded. “But in the trailer, the spill was sitting there. Nothing in the wastebasket.”

  “So not likely spilled by the victim,” Colfax said.

  “Whoever broke in didn’t appear to be the neatnik type,” Solomon said. “Maybe he was surprised and left in a hurry, before he could mop the spill.”

  “Do you bring a cup of coffee with you if you’re burglarizing a place?” Colfax shook his head. “Don’t buy that one. And how much coffee? A sloshing, or most of a cup? How old?”

  “I’d go with a slosh,” Solomon said. “Recent, because it was still wet enough to swab a sample without any problems.”

  “Let me think this through.” Gordon lifted his cup. “We have a couple of alternatives. One, Marianna sloshed her coffee, left it on the floor, and took the cup away with her, not bothering to clean the spill, and being in a position where she wouldn’t step in it. Maybe on her way to the sink, something startles her, she spills the coffee but turns and leaves. Two, which Colfax has eliminated, and I agree, someone else brought in the coffee.”

  “Any drugs show up in the lab report?” Solomon asked.

  “They ran a basic tox screen,” Colfax said. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t something that wouldn’t show up on a preliminary screening.”

  Gordon went to his computer for the email Solomon had sent from the clinic. “I’ve got a list of drugs the doc taking care of Yolanda Orozco said could have caused her heart issues. You think they can run a screening for those? The coffee’s probably dried up by now, so I don’t know if we can get another decent sample. Or, if we should wait to see if the other tests have pinpointed it.”

  “Send it to the lab,” Colfax said. “They can get with Asel and decide.”

  Gordon forwarded the message, then perused the photos again. “How about this one?” He set it on the desk facing the other men. “What do you see?”

  “An open kitchen cabinet with dishes and stuff,” Solomon said. He snapped his fingers. “And there are two of everything except the coffee mug.”

  “Another missing piece?” Gordon said.

  Colfax picked up the picture, squinted, cocked his head from side to side. “Not necessarily. That’s a fancy-ass mug. Might be a quota of one per unit.”

  “Everything’s a maybe at this point,” Gordon said. “But we have spilled coffee, and no disposable cups in the trash. No mugs lying around the room.”

  “And if someone washed the mug and put it away, there would be tracks around the spill,” Solomon added.

  “We can ask to see how many mugs are provided in the office units,” Gordon said. “However, I’m assuming the logo stands for Vista Ventures, which means there could be a lot of them floating around even if there was only one supplied as part of the furnishings.”

  “She could have taken one anywhere,” Colfax said. “Now, if we found a mug with a residue of drugged coffee, and there were nice, clear prints and DNA on said mug, maybe we’d have a piece of evidence we could actually use.”

  Gordon checked the time. “What’s your take on letting the Seesaw people go to work? They’re having a meeting at eight, and I’d like to tell the mayor yea or nay.”

  Gordon could almost see the gears spinning in Colfax’s head. Given Gordon had been running all the possible scenarios and consequences himself, it was understandable. Let the movie folks leave, and perhaps a killer would get away. Let them stay and if there was evidence they’d yet to collect—and given they hadn’t collected anything other than what was inside or in the immediate vicinity of the wardrobe’s or Marianna’s RVs, that was a strong possibility—then their investigation could be compromised. Would they be able to continue filming without access to more of the Village?

  “Until Asel gives us the manner of death, we don’t have proof it was a homicide,” Colfax finally said. “In his words, ‘It’s not a homicide until I say it’s a homicide.’ I’d say let them stay, but if there’s a chance there was a toxic substance in the coffee, we need to get the CSR team down here ASAP to check any trailers with coffeemakers.” He had his phone out and was tapping the screen as he spoke.

  “I’
ll let the mayor know,” Gordon said. “Would you like to address the meeting of the movie crowd?”

  “You’re not still a basket case about public speaking, are you?” Colfax said. “I thought you’d be over that by now.”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t mind addressing them. I thought that you, being the big city cop, might show them we mean business.”

  Colfax glanced at his phone. “I have time, I guess. You did say this meeting was at Daily Bread, right?” He gave an exaggerated lascivious grin along with waggling eyebrows.

  “Put a sock in it,” Gordon said, although he knew Colfax was trying to get a reaction out of him. Wasn’t going to happen. “You go talk to the movie people. I’ll cover our morning briefing and let my officers know they’ll be running more security for the production. Can you finagle a few deputies to pitch in again? The production’s security guards are a joke.”

  When Colfax didn’t make any cracks about how the Mapleton cops needed help to handle a simple security job, Gordon knew the banter part of the meeting was over, and Colfax was pure cop again. The man knew the size of Mapleton’s force, and bottom line, Mapleton existed inside the county’s jurisdiction, and cooperation between the forces wasn’t unusual. Nor had there ever been any actual resentment or rivalry once they hit the streets. There, it was about the job. In the station, it was more like a high school locker room.

  “Not a problem,” Colfax said. “Given you’ve got hot movie stars here, the uniforms have been falling all over themselves to volunteer. I’ll get our Dispatch to rotate them, give more of our guys a chance to mingle with the Hollywood set.”

  Gordon stood. “Let’s get on with it. I’ll call Dawson, let him know shooting can resume, but not until after the CSR team checks out the other trailers. Ed, you go with Colfax to the meeting at Daily Bread. Let the movie people see they’ll be watched over by both sets of uniforms. I’ll call the mayor.”

  “You have a board set up for this one?” Colfax said.

  “In the briefing room,” Gordon said.

  Colfax picked up his cup. “Then since there’s plenty of time before the meeting at Daily Bread, I’ll sit in, if you don’t mind.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Gordon called Mayor McKenna, explaining the CSR “string” attached to releasing the scene for the movie shoot. He gave the mayor the option of saying a few words to the assembled production company personnel. “Detective Tyler Colfax from the Sheriff’s Department is going to address them as well. He’ll be better equipped to answer questions about what the Seesaw people can and can’t do.”

  “Understood. I’ll be there. And thank you for your prompt resolution,” McKenna said. “I appreciate how quickly you reached your decision.”

  Gordon almost reminded the mayor it hadn’t been his call, but figured if the mayor wanted to credit Gordon for giving Vista Ventures the go ahead, why not let him? One more item in Gordon’s performance review plus column.

  After a quick pit stop, Gordon stopped at Laurie’s desk. “The movie’s on again, Tyler Colfax decided to come see the movie stars, and Solomon’s going to be gone most of the day for the autopsy. Any Chief Stuff I need to know about?”

  “Not much.” She handed him the folder of night reports. “No word about the computer grant.”

  “Am I allowed to hope that no news is good news?”

  She smiled. “Fingers crossed. They send out the rejections first, so we’re probably still in the running. They said recipients would be notified after September 20th, but they didn’t say how long after might be.”

  “Let’s hope it’s before Halloween, then. Be nice to have our people in better communication on mischief night.”

  “I’ll wait two weeks after their notification date and follow up.” Laurie picked up her mouse, moved it around, and clicked a few keys. “It’s on my calendar.”

  “Did I ever—?”

  “Not often enough.”

  The ritual complete, he popped into his office and left the night reports on his desk before heading to the briefing room. Colfax stood against a side wall where he had a clear view of the whiteboard. Titch was finishing roll call. His eyes caught Gordon’s and Titch snapped to attention. Everyone turned to see who had entered. Backs straightened. Heads lifted. Although Gordon didn’t want to run the force with the military overtones Titch still preferred, he was pleased with the show of respect for the office.

  “Chief,” Titch said. “Do you wish to address the troops?”

  “When you’re finished. As you were.”

  Gordon waited while Titch went through a couple of routine citizen complaints, then reiterated the lookout orders for Marianna Spellman’s black purse and tablet computer. He held up the printouts. “Anyone doesn’t know what they’re looking for, there are pictures up here.” He paused, surveyed the room. “Any questions before I turn things over to the Chief?”

  When there were none, Gordon strode to the podium. “First, I want to thank all of you for the way you’ve represented Mapleton in a good light during circumstances that made us the focus of media attention. And, I hope you all managed to get a cinnamon roll from the breakroom this morning.”

  Murmurs rippled through the room, heads nodded, mouths grinned. Gordon took that as a yes.

  “I’m sure you noticed Detective Colfax is with us today. He’s here unofficially. I think he wanted to get up close with Lily Beckett and Julie Ames, but as long as he made the trip, I’ve put him to work.”

  Gordon went on to explain the details of allowing the movie production to get underway once the CSR team had cleared the Village. “I’m counting on those of you assigned to security to be extra vigilant in who is allowed in and out. Treat it the same way you would treat clipboard duty at a crime scene.”

  A hand shot up. “Go ahead.”

  “Isn’t that what the studio’s security guards are supposed to be doing?”

  Gordon paused. Smiled. Didn’t say what he thought of the quality of those guards, but he figured it was clear enough. “Yes, but given the number of potential points of entry into the area, the three of them aren’t enough to go around. The county will be providing deputies to help fill in. Officer Titchener will give you your assignments. You’ll rotate between your normal patrol duties and production security detail. And, should we get the word that the death was indeed a homicide, you can expect to be called upon for additional duties. Questions?”

  “What about the second victim?” an officer asked.

  “I haven’t heard from the doctors this morning, but they thought she would be released today.”

  The officer almost looked disappointed, as if he’d wanted a second death to investigate.

  “Any other questions?”

  Some exchanged glances, but nothing more. “Very well. Be vigilant out there. If you see or hear anything that might help us understand why or how Miss Spellman died, radio it in immediately. And be sure to pay close attention to all dispatch transmissions.” He turned to Titch. “They’re all yours.”

  Gordon strolled to the rear of the room. Colfax motioned him outside, then started toward Gordon’s office. When they got there, Colfax closed the door. “Mind a suggestion from an old cop? I think we’ve worked together long enough so I can speak my mind. I know you’re a good officer, but being top dog comes with a whole new learning curve.”

  “Was there a problem?” Gordon asked.

  Colfax’s expression was dead serious. “No, but do you have trouble with your men—and woman—not responding to radio traffic?”

  Gordon shook his head. “Not based on what I see in the reports.”

  “Then that last part, about them paying close attention might make some of them feel you think they don’t know their job. If they’re doing something right, let ’em know. If they’re doing something wrong, handle it on an individual basis. But don’t tell them to do what you know they’re already doing.”

  Gordon felt heat rise to the back of his neck, but before
he shot out a comeback, he considered Colfax’s words. And he could sense the spirit in which they’d been given. For a moment, Gordon felt he was in the room with Dix, learning and growing. Because his badge said Chief didn’t mean he wasn’t still learning. And, he hoped, growing. “Thanks. Points well taken.”

  “I’ll be going to face the movie makers,” Colfax said. “Any advice for me on that one?”

  “Watch out for egos. They can fill the room like the plastic balls in a Fun Zone ball pit.”

  Colfax chortled.

  A rap on the door. “Come,” Gordon said.

  Solomon entered, shifted his gaze from Gordon to Colfax, probably wondering why the door had been closed. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No, not at all. What do you need?” Gordon asked.

  “Got a text from Asel. He’s putting Marianna Spellman at the top of today’s list. I’m heading out.”

  Gordon couldn’t help but wonder what might have moved her up. Had Asel found something? Or had someone pressured him?

  Chapter 18

  Gordon shifted his attention to Colfax. “Did you get your fill of the whiteboard? There’s still time to review it before you address your troops.”

  “Seems straightforward enough,” Colfax said. “You’ve got a line between your victim and Yolanda Orozco. Who was she?”

  “Wardrobe manager,” Gordon said.

  “You haven’t found a connection?” Colfax fished a notepad out of his pocket.

  “Other than they were both working on the production, and we found the body in the wardrobe RV, no,” Gordon said.

  Colfax seemed to be considering all the implications. “But you think she was drugged, and you think the same thing might have been used on your victim, so that’s a potential connection.”

  “Right now, all we seem to be able to do is wait,” Gordon said, trying not to let his frustration show. “Wait for the autopsy, wait for drug screens, wait for an official manner of death.”

  Colfax wrote something, then put his notepad away. “Looks to me like you’ve done everything you can. You interviewed everyone here, you checked with known associates, and you’re keeping the scene as secure as you can.”