Mobbed

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “Mrs. Frawley found it under her bed.”

  Regan half smiled, then turned to read the letter. Nora had been staring out the window at the growing crowd. She walked over and joined Regan.

  They silently read the scrawled note.

  Dear Mrs. Frawley,

  I loved staying in your beautiful home! I’m leaving early as I’ve been offered a part in an awesome new movie. I’m so sorry but I knocked over a vase, broke two wineglasses, and made a mess of your iron. I wanted to buy you a new one before I left but now I don’t have time. OH! I also dropped you r china teapot. Please keep the security deposit. I hope it covers the expense of replacing these items. If I left anything behind, please just throw it out or do what you want with it. I don’t want to further inconvenience you.

  Warmest wishes,

  Cleo Paradise

  Regan turned to her mother. They shared a knowing look, both wondering why Cleo was in such a hurry. The note gave Edna permission to sell what Cleo left, but clearly Cleo didn’t think she’d forgotten much, if anything. And the note was obviously written in a great hurry on paper torn from a notebook. The bottom half of the white sheet was discolored, as if something had spilled on it.

  The sudden loud ringing of the phone halted Edna’s conversation with the reporter. “I’d better get that,” she cried. “It could be my lawyer. Son, I hate to interrupt the interview. Can you turn off the camera?”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do a commentary on Cleo’s skulls and other items while you’re on the phone. If it’s Cleo Paradise calling, please let me know. It would be a real coup if I got to ask her a few questions.”

  Edna stopped dead in her tracks. If it’s Cleo calling, she thought, I don’t want to answer. What if she tells me she wants her belongings back? But if I don’t answer now, I’ll look bad. “I’ll let you know if it’s Cleo,” Edna promised, running toward the kitchen.

  Dawn whispered to Regan and Nora, “The second Mrs. Frawley gets off the phone, I’ll tell her you’re here. Be right back.” She turned and walked toward the back of the house.

  Nora and Regan looked at each other. “Skulls?” they both mouthed.

  Edna’s conversation must have been brief. Within seconds they heard her scream, “Nora Regan Reilly is here! In the house? Honey, you should have told me immediately. Nora!”

  Edna’s heavy-footed approach drew Nora and Regan to the entrance of the dining room. As they reached the doorway, Edna appeared from the other side of the room. The sight of Edna in her sixties flower power jumpsuit stimulated a frightening flashback in Nora’s brain. She’d seen that jumpsuit decades ago, when Edna picked Karen and Nora up at a beach club teen night two hours early and decided to join the kids on the dance floor.

  “Nora!” Edna cried again. “It’s been so long! I have a pile of your books for sale out on the back lawn.”

  Nora managed a genuine smile as she opened her arms. “How wonderful.”

  Edna reached Nora and gave her a crushing embrace. “If you sign the books, I’ll get more money for them.”

  “How wonderful,” Nora repeated.

  Edna looked into Nora’s eyes and squeezed Nora’s forearms so hard that Nora flinched. “Karen told me you two got friendly again.” Squeeze squeeze.

  “Yes, we did. She called me this morning and mentioned the sale,” Nora said delicately. “Edna, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Regan.”

  “Hello, Regan!” Edna reached for Regan’s hand and pumped it with vigor. “Karen tells me you’re a private investigator.”

  “Yes,” Regan said as she realized the reporter was zooming his video camera in on her face. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”

  One of the many people watching the interview was Scott. He glanced around his office nervously. He was sure that he had seen that private investigator before. A pit formed in his stomach when he realized she had been at the restaurant last night. He had seen her clearly from where he was sitting. Quickly he picked up the phone and called Jillian.

  She answered after three rings. “Where are you?” he sputtered.

  “In the car.”

  “Did you see that author Nora Regan Reilly and her daughter when they showed up at Frawley’s place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she recognize you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The daughter was at the restaurant last night.”

  “She was? I didn’t see her.”

  “Your back was to her. She definitely saw us. Her name is Regan Reilly and she’s a private investigator. Don’t go back to the house. The last thing we need is her asking questions.”

  15

  I’m getting log cabin fever, Cleo thought. Maybe I’ll go for a walk. She went into the rustic-looking yet thankfully modern bathroom and took a long shower. When she turned off the water she wrapped herself in a towel. After combing her hair and applying her face and body creams, she walked through the living room and up the flight of steps to the sleeping loft.

  Daisy better get here soon, she thought, rummaging through the drawers. I’m running out of clean clothes. The duds I left at Frawley’s are probably being picked over right now. I should have checked the house more carefully when I packed up, but I was terrified. I couldn’t stay there one more minute. I probably should have finally called the police but I couldn’t bear any more crazy publicity. Who would leave a letter like that? Only someone deranged.

  I want people to forget that lousy film, she thought, as she eyed her running shorts. I don’t need to give it any more attention. I’ll never get another decent part if that image of the stalker victim follows me. As it is all the scripts I’ve been sent lately are garbage. And I’m not going to sign on for another role until my contract with Flakey is up.

  Feeling more lonely and anxious than ever, Cleo decided to go for a run. She quickly dressed in her running clothes, put on her socks and sneakers, then descended the stairs. She was tempted to look at her computer for any updates on Edna’s sale, but decided she couldn’t bear to read another word about it.

  For a few minutes Cleo did stretches, trying to get the kinks out of her legs. I hate it when I don’t work out for several days. I really feel the difference. Doing laps at Edna’s pool was great exercise, she thought as she tucked her hair under a baseball cap, grabbed her oversized sunglasses, opened the cabin door, and stepped outside. The air was hot. A gnat buzzed around her ear. She brushed it away and started to run up a steep trail into the woods. This is hard, she thought. The air was heavy. But she forced herself to keep going. For thirty minutes she ran, following the narrow path up into the hills and back down. In the distance, through the trees, she caught glimpses of the lake. She slowed down when she approached a couple coming from the other direction, walking with a little girl who looked as if she were four or five years old. The girl was carrying wildflowers. She smiled at Cleo.

  “Look what I picked!”

  “Beautiful,” Cleo said, but kept going. At least they’re not dead, Cleo thought as sweat poured down her face. She was almost back to her cabin. I can’t wait to get a glass of cool water, she thought. Maybe I’ll even go down to the lake and find a private area to swim. I can’t believe I showered before I went running.

  She ran past the back of her cabin, rounded the corner, stopped short, and gasped.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, Dirk Tapper was standing in front of her door. “Hey there, little lady,” he said, with an easy grin on his face. “I was just about to go back down the hill. It’s nice to see you’re finally enjoying our beautiful facilities. It’s about time.”

  Cleo was trying to catch her breath. She wanted to go inside but he was blocking the way. “Yes,” she said, huffing. “The trails are beautiful.”

  “How did you like the lake?”

  “It looked great. What I could see of it from the woods.”

  “You haven’t been swimming?”

  Cleo looked puzzled. “No.”

  “Don’t look
at me like I’m crazy,” Dirk said. “What gave me a clue was your bathing suit.”

  This guy is cute, even really cute, but I don’t know what to make of him, Cleo thought. “I’m not wearing a bathing suit,” she said evenly.

  Tapper started to laugh, slapping his knee several times. He was wearing boots and jeans even though it felt like it was a thousand degrees out. “You’re funny,” he finally said. “Do you think I’m as dumb as I look?”

  Cleo shook her head. “No, I mean …”

  “So you do think I look dumb.”

  “No I don’t,” Cleo said, slightly flustered. This guy lives his life like he’s in an old Western. And he reminds me of a young John Wayne, she thought.

  “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. You’re adorable. I wish you didn’t spend all your time writing that meditation book. Don’t you get lonely in there?”

  Cleo shrugged. “I won’t be doing it for much longer.”

  “Can I read what you’ve written so far?”

  “I’ll send you a copy when it’s published.”

  He stared at her, grinning again. He put a toothpick in his mouth. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

  Is he putting me on? Cleo wondered. Does he know who I am? If he does, he’s a better actor than I am. But he can tell I’m hiding something. “I’d better get back to work.”

  “You don’t want to go for a cool dip first?” Dirk asked. “Our lake has got the cleanest water you’ve ever seen. I’m going for a quick swim. Why don’t you join me? I promise I’ll get you back up here in no time at all. Come on.”

  “I would but …”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Dirk interrupted with a wave of his hand. He turned and walked around the corner of the other side of the cabin.

  “What?” Cleo asked under her breath as she followed him. When she rounded the bend, she felt her knees go weak. Hanging on the clothesline was the bathing suit she knew she had left in Edna’s pool house. How did it get there? How?

  16

  Daisy Harris was changing clothes in the crummy bathroom of a gas station, getting into the outfit she’d be wearing in her next scene. They weren’t kidding when they said this would be low budget, Daisy thought. She was tired and sunburned but happy to be working. Her part was that of a waitress in a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. A rambling kind of guy, unbelievably handsome, wanders in, and they end up falling in love. But because the course of true love never does run smooth, especially in a movie, his ex-girlfriend shows up at Daisy’s isolated house in the middle of the night and tries to kill her.

  Daisy was grateful the reshoots of that scene were over. April Dockton, the actress who played the ex-girlfriend, didn’t have to do much acting for the part. She knew Daisy was Cleo’s best friend. And the lead in My Super Super had almost gone to April. It had been down to the wire, with Cleo and April being called back several times. The director finally chose Cleo, the movie was a hit, and Cleo was a star. Not that she didn’t have her troubles, thanks to the stalker movie, but she was a star.

  April was still struggling. And unless she somehow landed a role as famous as Scarlett O’Hara, she’d never get over it. She could barely disguise her disdain for Cleo. Daisy was guilty by association. Which didn’t make for pleasant chitchat between takes. What it did make for was a totally believable scene when April had to wrap her hands around Daisy’s throat and scream like a maniac. Daisy was relieved that scene had been shot first, and April was gone.

  Daisy was ready to go home. I just hope we finish these reshoots by tomorrow, she thought. Poor Cleo is waiting for me to drive back cross-country with her. If only she’d get another part like she had in My Super Super. April could never have done justice to that role. Cleo adopted some of the mannerisms of the super at her apartment complex in L.A. to hilarious effect in the film.

  There was a knock at the door. “Daisy, are you ready?” one of the production assistants called.

  “Be right out.” Daisy looked at her reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror. A dingy lightbulb hung overhead. “Ugh,” Daisy mumbled as she fluffed her dark brown hair. “Lighting is everything.”

  Like Cleo, she was twenty-four. They’d met in acting class, done a scene together, and hit it off immediately. And now we’re both working actors, Daisy thought. Cleo is famous but she’s still the same Cleo.

  It would be so perfect if we were in a film together, Daisy thought as she grabbed a tissue from her purse and used it to open the door. No way I’m touching that handle.

  Daisy stepped outside and got into the jalopy that was used to transport anyone on the film who needed a ride. The next scene was taking place down the dusty highway where she and her new love are stranded with a flat tire.

  The driver of the car was an eighteen-year-old boy named Zeke who was mad about Cleo Paradise. He never stopped asking Daisy about her. But Daisy didn’t mind. She was proud of her friend.

  They started to pull out of the station.

  “Your friend,” the kid began.

  “Cleo?” Daisy asked somewhat amused.

  “What movie is she doing now?”

  “She’s not doing a movie now,” Daisy answered.

  “Yes she is. I just read it on my BlackBerry. But nobody seems to know much about it.”

  Daisy shook her head. “No. You must be mistaken. I just talked to Cleo Monday night. She’s in New Jersey at a house she rented, waiting for me to join her. We’re going to drive back to California together.”

  The kid shrugged. “Some lady’s having a garage sale and is selling some of Cleo’s stuff. Cleo had stayed at her house or something. Cleo’s not there anymore.”

  “She’s selling Cleo’s things?”

  “Her clothes.”

  Daisy felt stricken. Wouldn’t Cleo have told her if she’d gone to do a movie?

  “Here you go,” Zeke said as he stopped in the middle of the highway, deserted except for the camera crew.

  “Thanks.” Daisy got out of the car. She was dying to contact Cleo. But the director was ready to start, and all the reshoots had made him crabby. She’d have to wait until the scene was finished.

  Which could take hours.

  17

  Scott loosened his tie. Sweat broke out on his forehead even though the air conditioner was on full blast.

  He rented office space in a commercial building in Paramus. Graduating with a degree in accounting fifteen years ago, he’d spent ten years working as a CPA for a large firm until they downsized, and he was let go. He opened up his own one-man operation shortly afterward. It wasn’t easy making ends meet.

  The phone on his desk rang. He glanced at the name on the caller ID. Summoning nerves of steel, he picked up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Scottie boy.”

  “Yes, hi.”

  “You were going to pay me a visit last night. What happened? I thought you planned to come by and say hello.”

  “I need a little more time.”

  “That’s what you said last week.”

  “I know. But I promise I’ll get the money to you by Monday.” Scott’s voice was tight.

  “Well, I hope so. The interest is skyrocketing.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “What, me worry?” the caller said ominously.

  There was a knock on Scott’s door. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “So will I.”

  The phone clicked in Scott’s ear. He replaced the receiver and called, “Come in.”

  The door opened and Barney, one of the guys who worked in a law firm down the hall, stepped into the room. “Hey, Scott, you want to grab some lunch?” Barney asked. “Not that I need it,” he added, patting his stomach. “My wife’s on my case about losing weight so she made me bring a salad to work. I ate it and I’m still hungry. I’d love to grab a burger. Besides, I feel like getting out of here for a while.”

  “I understand,” Scott said, standing up a
nd grabbing his jacket. “But I’m sorry I can’t have lunch. I have a meeting.”

  “You all right?” Barney asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Trevor okay?”

  “Yes. He’s up in Maine with his mother.” Scott tried to laugh. “And his rich stepfather.”

  Pushing his glasses back on his nose, Barney looked at Scott with sympathy. “It’s tough,” he said as he shook his head, his toupee in danger of shifting. “But, man, if I were single and had your looks, I’d be out on the town every night. You’ll have no trouble finding a rich stepmother for Trevor.”

  Scott reached for his keys and his cell phone. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind right now. Getting my life on track after the divorce hasn’t been easy.”

  Barney shifted from foot to foot. “You around this weekend? Tina and I are having a barbecue on Saturday. There will be a lot of kids running around, but it’ll be fun. Tina’s brother is coming in from Chicago. He’s a really interesting guy.” Barney whistled. “I wish I had his money.”

  “Can I let you know?”

  “Sure. You can decide on Saturday if you want.”

  Together they walked out into the parking lot. Cars were whizzing by on Route 17.

  “See you later,” Barney said with a wave as he walked toward his car.

  Scott opened the door of his leased BMW and got inside. The air was stifling and the seat was hot. He turned on the car and the air conditioning, then rolled down the windows. The cell phone in his pocket started to ring. It was Jillian.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I just called Jody,” she said quickly. “She couldn’t talk because she was being introduced to that Regan Reilly and her mother.”

  18

  Don’t let us stop your interview,” Nora said to Edna. “We’ll wait.”

  Edna turned to the reporter. “This isn’t a reality show. How much longer do you need me?”

  “Do you have any more of Cleo’s items?” he asked.

  “In the living room. Follow me. Come on, Nora. Regan.”