“Hey, Mel. Stop. Are you okay?” Hudson shouted as he ran after me.
Darn. He just wasn’t going to give up. I slowed my steps and turned slightly. Missy grumbled. I’m sure she was wondering what the heck I was doing.
It was possible Hudson wanted to make sure I was okay. I sighed. How bad could a confrontation be with a guy who said gosh as often as I said hell’s bells?
As soon as he caught up, I smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that was you calling me.”
“Who’d you think it was? Those two cops you were spying on?”
So he wasn’t as naive as I’d initially hoped. I shrugged sheepishly. “If they wanted my attention bad enough, they’d pull out the handcuffs.”
“When your glasses fell off, you looked like you’ve been crying. Are you okay? It’s been a rough day.”
His concern caught me off guard. He really was a nice guy. I motioned with my hand toward my face. “I’m fine. When we bumped heads, my sunglasses got shoved into my nose. What about you? Are you okay?”
He looked at me funny. “Oh, gosh. I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”
I smiled. “I was referring to Addison. It seemed like you were friends. Or at least friendly.”
He glanced around as if to make sure we were alone. Veronica and Harry waddled past. She waved at us with a huge smile on her face. We returned her friendly greeting. My wave was less enthusiastic in an effort to keep her from stopping to chat. As if sensing we were going to be a while, Missy lay down in the grass and rested her head on her front paws.
Once Veronica was out of earshot, Hudson said, “It’s disturbing. I’m sure you realize we have a killer on the loose at camp. My glamping event has turned into a horror movie. Some of the guests are claiming the trip is cursed with bad luck.”
“Are you thinking about calling it off?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not superstitious, and I don’t believe in curses. Besides, the police want us all to remain here. The events are planned. It’s just best to keep on rolling.”
I liked his attitude. “Whatever I can do to help, let me know.” I paused for a minute, then asked as casually as I could, “Addison had mentioned she was the head chef, not just the pet chef. Who will replace her?”
“Red Hardy, her sous-chef, will take over. Pepper Maddox is here—I could give her the job back,” he finished, absentmindedly.
That’s where I’d heard her name. “Is it true that she was fired so Addison could have the job?”
MacAvoy appeared out of nowhere. “That’s a great question, Melinda. I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”
The sun disappeared behind a cloud, casting a shadow over us. It was as if even Mother Nature knew that MacAvoy was a wet blanket.
“Where’d you come from?” I asked with a sour look.
“I was walking down the road toward my RV when I saw you. I thought I’d stop. See what you two are discussing so earnestly.”
“Nothing that pertains to you. It’s private.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong,” he said to me before turning his attention to Hudson. “I don’t believe we’ve met face-to-face yet. I’m the reporter from Channel 5. You’ve been expecting me.” He flashed a you-can-trust-me grin.
Hell’s bells. Hudson had mentioned MacAvoy was there to conduct interviews. I sighed deeply. This could only go one way—badly.
The men shook hands. “Yes, of course.” Hudson pushed the rim of his fedora back, taking a closer look at MacAvoy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Will you be camping with us?”
“I will.”
There it was, the “badly” part. There’d be no getting rid of him now. Missy stood and shook, reminding me she was still there, and bored. Bulldog drool slapped my jeans. Yuck. I patted her head and told her to lie back down.
Mr. TV edged closer to the program director. “Back to Melinda’s question. Did you fire Pepper Maddox in order to bring in Addison Rae for the head chef position?”
Hudson cleared his throat. He had to be rethinking his earlier enthusiasm about granting an interview to the media. A lopsided smile tugged on his mouth. “Gosh, you shouldn’t take campfire talk so seriously.”
My eyebrows lifted. He needed to know the truth before MacAvoy cornered him into saying something he’d regret later. “If that’s not true, someone should tell Detective Finn she got bad info, because she mentioned it when she was questioning me.”
His dark eyes blinked in surprise. “You’ve been questioned by the police?”
I tried to play it off. “It’s routine. The police will talk to everyone eventually.”
He nodded, pondering what I’d said. “Pepper wasn’t exactly fired.”
“You’re saying she quit? That’s not the story Miss Maddox gave me earlier this afternoon.” Mr. TV continued to be his annoying self.
Even though I was also curious to hear the answer, Hudson was such a nice guy, I felt the need to warn him. He obviously had no experience in dealing with the police or reporters intent on digging up a sensational story.
“Before you talk, you should know MacAvoy has been known to keep a digital voice recorder in his pocket,” I interjected before Hudson buried himself by over-sharing or worse, spoke in half truths.
“No jacket today. No recorder.” He held up his hands in a show of innocence. I didn’t buy it for a second. He could have tucked a small recorder in his jeans pocket with little effort. The polo shirt, probably not so easily.
“Pepper was reassigned to a different event. But she was fine with it. In fact, she’s here as a guest,” Hudson explained.
“Are you sure she wasn’t upset?” Mr. TV nodded toward the spa. “Some people take their job very seriously. Don’t you agree, Melinda?”
Well, good grief. Why was he dragging me into it? I wasn’t sure what he was implying, but I didn’t like the feeling of impending disaster he brought to the group. He was up to no good.
“You’re a reporter looking for a story. I have no comment.”
He smiled, enjoying my churlish response. What can I say? He brought out the worst in me.
He acted like I hadn’t even spoke. He just continued talking. “When I saw you with Addison Rae, you were arguing. But before that, you left me a couple of messages recommending her for a local news segment. In fact, you were adamant she’d make a great story. Now she’s dead.”
Again, with the contentious undertone. “And?”
Hudson studied our faces intently, mine harder to read behind my sunglasses, but he was still able to pick up on the tension. “I’m sure Mel is just as upset as the rest of us.”
MacAvoy’s eyebrow cocked questioningly. “Mel?”
I laughed at his bewilderment over Hudson calling me Mel, yet I refused Mr. TV the same familiarity. He needed to get over the fixation about my nickname.
I shrugged. “I like him. Where’s your cameraman?”
“He’s here. Are you ready to give me an interview?”
“You know the answer to that. Why are you even asking?”
“One day you’ll need my help.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered.
Hudson rubbed his neck. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other so well.”
I pulled off my sunglasses to ensure there was no confusion as to how I felt. “He tried to pin a murder on my assistant, Betty.”
“I just reported the facts. She was a prime suspect in the murder,” MacAvoy argued.
“Please. Malone never seriously thought she was guilty.”
Someone’s cell phone rang. No one made a move to answer it.
“Malone?” Hudson asked.
MacAvoy folded his arms across his chest. “Homicide Detective Judd Malone. Melinda has him on speed dial.”
“Damn.” Mr. TV fumbled with his cell as he rushed to answer the call before they hung up. “Mac.” He spun around, to give himself a semblance of privacy.
“We need to get rid of him,” I whispered to Hudson. He nodded in agreement. I motioned toward the campfire area. We quietly headed in that direction, leaving Mr. TV to finish his call in real privacy. Missy was excited to be moving along.
We hadn’t taken more than ten steps before MacAvoy was walking next to us. He addressed Hudson. “My cameraman is ready. I’d like to record our interview now. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
We stopped walking. Poor Hudson looked trapped.
“You don’t have to do it,” I chimed in. “You should check with Finn or Lark first.”
Mr. TV shot me a flinty look.
Hudson considered my suggestion. “Seeing that Mel has prior experience in these matters, I’m going to take her advice. Let me consult with the police on what they’d like for me to share. I’ll come by and see you before dinner. What’s your site number?”
“Twenty-two. Right next to Ms. Langston, I believe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He stalked off, presumably to meet up with his cameraman sidekick.
“Thanks for the pointers,” Hudson said, as we continued to make our way to the campfire ring.
I put my sunglasses on. “No problem. Don’t take what he says as gospel. I won’t go so far to say he lies, but he does seem to interpret facts differently than regular folks.”
“You don’t like him?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s a pain in the neck. I’m sure some of that is the nature of his job. In general, I haven’t had the best of experiences with the press. They tend to enjoy misrepresenting the reality of a true situation for ratings.”
“I see.”
He had no idea, and I wasn’t inclined to go into further details.
“Now that he’s gone, enlighten me. What’s the truth about the relationship between you and Addison?”
I could feel him looking at me, but I refused to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“What that reporter said about you arguing with Addison. That was true. When you first arrived today, I walked in on an argument between you two, remember?”
Oh, I remembered. I was hoping he’d forgotten. I stopped walking and faced him. I slipped off my sunglasses. “Whatever you think you walked in on, it wasn’t what you thought.”
“So you weren’t planning on meeting Addison after the game?”
I sighed. “That’s true. But she never showed. Did you tell the police about that?”
He locked eyes with me. “No. But maybe I should have.”
The intensity of his stare made me a little nervous. “I didn’t kill Addison. I know you have zero reason to believe me, but it’s the God’s honest truth.”
We stood in silence. The birds chirped, and a warm breeze rippled over the lawn. I had things to do and standing around wasting time was not on my itinerary for the afternoon. It was almost four o’clock, and I wasn’t any closer to uncovering where Addison had been staying.
“Who do you think did that to her?” He sounded so sad, a little choked up. Like he’d lost a loved one. Was he tearing up? Would he be this emotionally upset if he knew she was a blackmailer?
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Do you know how she died?”
“I’ve heard a couple of theories.”
I waited for him to share more. He didn’t seem very interested.
“Was she staying in a tent or did she have one of those fancy RVs?” I asked, finally finding an opening that wasn’t obvious.
“She liked the tents.”
I had guessed an RV. “Probably picked one close to the kitchen.”
He shook his head. “She liked her privacy. Number five. The far end of the circle.”
I just bet she wanted her privacy. Didn’t all blackmailers? “Is that the one behind the headquarters tent?”
He looked past me and pointed. “I was on my way to clear out her belongings.”
No, no, no. “Why so quickly?” My voice pitched slightly higher.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, don’t the police need to look through her personal belongings? Or do you just gather everything and turn it over to them?”
“Oh, no. Her agent, Sunday Hill, will be here to pick up Addison’s property this evening.” He checked his watch. “In fact she’ll be here within the hour.”
My mind whirled a mile a minute, looking for a way to get into her stuff.
He cleared his throat. “That was one of the reasons why I wanted to talk to you. I thought you might want to help. With you being the only friend she had here. But now I realize that wasn’t accurate, and you’re probably not the right person to ask for help.”
I almost fell over myself. I grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away. “Hey, like I said a few minutes ago, I’d be happy to help any way I can.”
I’d do whatever I had to in order to get my hands on my mother’s letters, even if it might be a little hard with Hudson looking over my shoulder. I’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
Chapter Seven
HUDSON, MISSY, AND I stood just a few steps inside Addison’s tent. I had to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the degree of disarray was on a level I hadn’t seen before. Ever.
“I didn’t realize she was a slob. No wonder you needed my help.”
Hudson shook his head repeatedly. “No. This isn’t right. She was messy, but not like this.” He took a few hesitant steps farther into the tent, scrutinizing the mess with a look of disbelief. “Gosh, someone did this.” He faced me, flushed. “Do you think it was the killer?”
“I have no idea.”
He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He was more upset than I’d have imagined. He acted like someone with an emotional entanglement. Even though he wore a bright gold wedding band on his left finger, I had a gut feeling that hadn’t stopped him from getting close to the now-deceased pet chef. It got me thinking.
“You seem to know Addison pretty well.”
He settled the fedora back on his head, then shoved his hands in his pockets nervously. “As the program director, it’s my responsibility to make sure my staff is happy, settled in, and has what they need for a successful week.”
Reasonable. But what was more interesting was that he immediately felt the need to explain their relationship. He was feeling guilty about something.
“Were you dating?”
He blanched. “I’m married.”
Married or not, Hudson and Addison had something going on. But since I needed his help more than I needed to push the point, I dropped it. For now.
I knew the right thing to do was to notify the police. But I was torn. I wanted those letters first. I watched Hudson out of the corner of my eye. He looked like he was about to faint.
“Do you need to sit down?”
“No. I’m fine.” He never took his eyes off the dresser drawers, half of which were hanging on by an inch, ready to fall to the hardwood floor any second. “Do you think this is the police’s handiwork?”
Hey, anything was possible. But it was unlikely. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go get the cops and bring them over here? Missy and I will wait, just to make sure whoever did this doesn’t come back and finish what they started.”
“That’s a good idea.” But he didn’t move. Could it be he was also looking for something that might prove they were lovers? Was Addison demanding he choose between her or his wife? What if Addison was threatening to go public, and he ki
lled her to keep her quiet?
I dropped Missy’s leash and told her to lay. She sighed, but immediately obeyed. Poor girl. This wasn’t turning out to be a very fun adventure for her. I carefully meandered around the tent, gingerly lifting clothes and bed linens off the floor with the toe of my boot, working hard to not move any items from its original place.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
I jerked around. He was still rooted in place. I took a chance with one of those half-truths I had warned him about earlier. “The same thing you are.” I watched his reaction carefully. His eyes widened and the vein on his neck popped.
“Maybe the police already have her cell phone.”
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner. Photos. Text messages. Emails. Proof of an affair. As a blackmail victim, I knew Addison kept that type of evidence, banking on the day she could use it to get what she wanted.
Hudson, on the other hand . . . I just didn’t peg him as a killer. “If she had the phone with her at the spa, the police have it now.” Sorry, buddy. Them’s the breaks.
“Oh. You know a lot about this.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but this isn’t my first crime scene. I’ve worked with the Laguna Beach police on a couple of cases.” Lordy, I was about to be struck by lightning any minute. I was playing fast and loose with the truth.
He looked at me with a mixture of awe and worry. “I see.”
“Hudson, the sooner you get the police, the sooner we’ll know if we can clean up or wait for the crime scene techs to do their thing here too.”
He nodded. “Don’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I waited until he was far enough away and was certain that he wasn’t coming back before I began the search for the letters in earnest. It made it a little harder to find what you were looking for when the place you were searching was already a mess. I picked up a T-shirt from the floor and used it to steady a drawer as I searched inside. Nothing.
Under the bed. Under the rug. Under the pile of clothes strewn across the floor. Nothing. I had quickly exhausted my options. I was about to give up, when I spotted her backpack shoved behind a recliner in the corner.
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