“That’s right. Moved to the middle of nowhere, got married and is raising a family. Said she’d had enough of the kind of shenanigans that go on in the industry.”
The door opens and Charlie steps back into the room. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes to Denver. “OK, back to the investigation. We’ve just been chatting with your key costumer Aimee Caffrey. She mentioned one of her wardrobe fitters has disappeared. A woman called Ronnie Brandon. Aimee seems to think she might have defected to the other side. Know anything about that?”
Denver shrugs. “I don’t get involved in staff matters much, don’t have the time. You’ll need to speak to the show’s assistant director Nicole Farrah. I’ll get my PA to fetch her down to the office so you can have a chat. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I do have a lot of things to sort today. Damage limitation, you understand? I need to keep this show on track and convince our remaining actors, staff and fans that North Shores isn’t about to fold.”
He turns away from us and picks us his phone.
Our cue to leave.
In the room outside the office Martha and Jack are sitting chatting to a woman we assume is Denver’s assistant. The door opens and a willowy female with spiky blonde hair walks in, her expression irritated. “Is it Denver?” she asks the assistant. “Is that why I’ve been summoned. What does he want now?”
“These people are investigating the recent,” the woman replies, pausing and lowering her voice before continuing. “Well… you know, the, er…”
“Murders, Sally. You can say the word you know,” the new woman admonishes her, looking even more irritated now.
“I know, Nicole.” The PA blushes.
Charlie steps forward. “Nicole Farrah, I take it?”
The woman nods and her frown turns to a soft smile as she takes in Charlie’s face and build. “How can I help you?”
“We’re from the CCIA and wanted to talk to you about staff issues on North Shores.”
Nicole’s frown is back. “The CCIA? Don’t you mean the CIA?”
“No. We’re from the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency, the CCIA. We’ve been appointed to look into the suspicious deaths on the show,” Charlie replies smoothly.
“Are you British?” she asks, flicking a glance at each of us in turn before her green eyes settle back on devouring Charlie. “You sure sound British.”
“Yes, why, does that affect our ability to investigate this case?” Charlie snaps.
Nicole backs off. “Of course not. I didn’t mean…”
“Anyway, can you tell us if there have been any recent staff issues we should know about?” Charlie flips his notepad open and shoots an expectant look at the assistant director.
“We were talking to Aimee and she mentioned Ronnie, one of her wardrobe assistants, has gone missing,” I chip in.
“Ronnie was a costume fitter, not a wardrobe assistant,” Nicole says, glaring at me as though I’m stupid for not knowing the difference.
“Whatever she was, do you know why she no longer works on this show?” Martha intervenes. “We do have a murderer to catch here and need to investigate any staff who have recently left the show in suspicious circumstances.”
“Ronnie was quiet, bit of a loner. The kind of girl who shrinks into the corner of a room and nobody notices she’s there. Aimee reckoned she knew her stuff, so we hired her on a freelance basis. When she didn’t show up for work we assumed she was either off sick or had defected to the other side.”
Does everybody on this show call it the other side?
Martha looks momentarily confused. “The other side?”
“Toronto, Eastern Canada,” I explain and Martha nods in understanding. “To work for City Wives, you mean?” I check with Nicole.
Nicole shrugs. “It’s none of my business what she does. So long as she doesn’t go shooting her mouth off, telling them our plotlines and secrets.”
“People do that in the industry?” I ask.
Nicole tuts in amazement. “You haven’t got a clue, have you?”
“Less of the bitchiness and more with the information on staff,” Charlie butts in, his eyes flashing angrily at Nicole. “Has anybody else left the show recently, and not voluntarily?”
“Only one person,” she replies grudgingly. “Lennie Gordon. Another freelancer. He was working on set helping out with all the fetching and carrying. Had been since the start of this season. He was fired for misconduct.”
“What sort of misconduct?” Martha ventures, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her perfectly made-up face.
“Not sure. The guy in charge of that department just told me he’d thrown him off set for misconduct.” Nicole shifts from one foot to the other. I get the distinct impression she’d rather be somewhere else now she’s established Charlie’s not going to flirt with her anytime soon.
“What kind of things would be classed as misconduct?” I ask, determined not to let this fierce woman get the better of me. “Would selling the show’s secret plotlines fall under that category?”
Across the room, I see a smile tease the corners of Charlie’s lips. He appreciates my little dig back at Nicole.
“Yes, would it?” Martha asks, moving to stand next to me and folding her arms across her ample chest. I feel as though I’m a school newbie facing up to a bully and finding she’s got the most popular girl in the school unexpectedly on her side.
Nicole nods. “Yes, it would. He could also have been rubbish at his job and done something which would have been dangerous or injured somebody. I got the feeling he was a bit, well, you know, not all there mentally.” She holds up her hands. “Not that I’m judging.”
“And what about fraternising with the show’s talent?” Charlie asks, moving to stand on the other side of me. “Would that warrant being thrown off of the show?”
“If the talent in question objected strongly enough then yes, it might do.” Nicole’s eyes dart around the room.
“Was Lennie pursuing anybody on set?” he continues. “Any of the top actresses, perhaps? Only, one of my agents was chatting a little earlier with somebody in the crew who said he’d seen Lennie and Cate Villiers huddled in corners looking quite cosy a couple of times.”
Hmm. He didn’t mention that earlier. Looks as though Cate’s been involved with quite a few people around here, one way or another.
“I have no idea,” Nicole says, still avoiding looking at any of us. “They’re all grown-ups around here. Unless somebody files a complaint then they can flirt all they like.”
“We’ll need contact details for Lennie Gordan right away,” Charlie says, and Nicole nods to the PA, who starts tapping at her computer. Within seconds, she’s handing Charlie a note with the requested information. He thanks the PA and adds to Nicole, “That’s all for now.”
Nicole stalks from the room and we all head for the car park.
“Was your little chat with Denver earlier useful?” Martha asks me. “Charlie and I left you to it. You have a way of catching people off guard. They’re more likely to let something slip to you. Must be your friendly face.”
“Not sure,” I reply. I knew they’d left me in that room on purpose. “He wasn’t particularly forthcoming. He did admit to succumbing to using the casting couch on a few occasions.”
“Pig!” Martha says vehemently.
“Any names?” Charlie asks, blipping the fob to unlock the car when we reach the parking lot.
“He implied there were several, but the only name he’d actually say was Marianne Campbell. Said it was because she’s quit the industry now.”
“Have these guys no shame?” Martha says with a disapproving shake of her head. “Men will insist on conforming to the Neanderthal stereotype, won’t they? If he can get what he wants from a woman, then he will. They’re all the same, no matter what they say. Huh!”
All the same. I risk a sideways look at Charlie. I’m painting him with the same brush as Martha is painting all men right now– aren’t I?
<
br /> “You coming with us?” Charlie asks Martha. “Or going with Dan or Jack? I think our next port of call will be Cate’s home. You guys want to check it out too, or are you going to Maurice’s or Ed’s properties?”
Martha cups her hands to her mouth and yells across the lawns. “Jack!”
I lean against the side of the car to wait while everyone plans what they’re doing. Martha is a formidable woman. She’s beautiful, has long blonde hair which is cascading around her shoulders today, not tied in a practical ponytail like my own not-quite-red-not-quite-blonde tresses. She has quick intelligence and a smile that can get her pretty much anything – or anyone – she wants.
Jack appears again, jogging across the lawn towards us. “Hey, what’s up?”
“We’re done here,” Martha replies. “Just sorting out who is going where next.” She shields her eyes from the sun. “Any idea where Dan is?”
Charlie sighs. “That guy is a pain in the…”
“Now, now!” Martha singsongs. She winks at me and then at Charlie. “Let’s not let personal matters interfere with our investigation.”
“Well, we’re out of here,” Charlie responds, climbing into the SUV. “Tell him to text me with where he’s going next, will you?”
“Why don’t you come with us, Martha?” I suggest hopefully. I want somebody else in the car with Charlie and I so we’re not alone and awkward and silently debating when to broach the elephant in the room – or should I say, the elephant in the car.
“OK,” she says, surprising me.
Phew. Relief surges through me, closely followed by a wave of sadness and regret. Can Charlie and I ever get back to how things used to be? Not if we keep avoiding addressing our issues that’s for sure but, right now, jetlagged and exhausted, I don’t feel up to facing much at all. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.
We leave Jack to find Dan and head towards Cate’s rental home. I fail to stifle yet another yawn as we whizz along.
“You must be exhausted,” Martha says from the back seat. “Isn’t it the middle of the night on UK time now?”
I nod.
“Charlie, why don’t you drop the poor woman back at the apartment and let her get some sleep? We can go to Cate’s place on our own.”
Charlie doesn’t even think about it. “No. I want Amber with us.”
Charming. Why does he insist little old me, all sleep-deprived and without a notebook, has to be in attendance? When he’s looking the other way, checking traffic at a junction, I risk a look at him. His whole body is tense. His jaw has a determined set to it. Then a thought pops into my weary head. Is he ensuring I’m with him at all times so that I don’t have cause to get jealous about him spending time with Martha? Is that why he instantly batted away Martha’s suggestion that he drop me back home and that she then accompany him to Cate’s? The two of them would have been alone. Does he think I’d add that to my list of reasons to rant and rave at him? If so, does that mean he’s just trying to avoid adding fuel to the already burning fire because he hates arguing with me or because he wants us to try and patch things up?
At some traffic lights, Charlie turns right and pulls into the parking lot of a retail park.
“Doing a spot of shopping?” Martha asks, surprise in her voice. “Ooh, look, a coffee shop. Can you get me a skinny latte and oh, a muffin as well. Preferably chocolate chip.”
He switches off the engine and looks over at me. For a second I think there’s a hint of something like hope and warmth all mingled together in his eyes. “Any chance you two can do the coffee run? I need to pop into the bookstore.”
“Sure,” Martha replies with an easy-going shrug. “Want your usual?”
Charlie nods. “Please.”
Martha and I have only been in the queue in the coffee shop for a second when she says, “Why don’t the two of you just say what needs to be said then get onto more fun stuff, like kissing and making up.”
I shift from foot to foot, feeling embarrassed. I should be professional, focused, not causing problems thanks to a row with my ex-boyfriend. Martha and I aren’t really in chatty friends’ territory, so why does she want to dissect my relationship problems?
“We can all tell you guys want to get back together.”
I shuffle forward in the queue. “You can?”
“Duh!” She rolls her eyes. “Got to say, I’ve never seen Charlie like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Grumpy. Nervous. Unsure. It’s kind of interesting to watch. You’ve really got under his skin. What happened between the two of you anyway? Last I heard you were love’s young dream. Then I arrive in Vancouver, Charlie meets me at the airport, I ask how you are and it’s like this wall comes down. He just clams up.” She spins round and fixes me with a determined look. “Care to dish the dirt on what really happened?”
“I shouldn’t. If Charlie didn’t, then maybe he thinks it’s best to keep that stuff separate from work and agency colleagues. I think he’s right.”
We shuffle forward a few more places in the queue. A woman who looks exasperated is at the counter now, checking off a long list of coffees to go.
“But it isn’t separate, is it?” Martha quizzes. “Because, from where I’m standing, Dan’s involved too, isn’t he?”
I gulp. Not much gets past Martha.
“Of course I noticed Dan trying to wind Charlie up earlier, putting his arm around you. Didn’t anybody warn you Daniel Stone is big trouble?”
“Yes,” I reply. “They did.”
In fact, it was Charlie who warned me about Dan’s ability to cause trouble.
“So what happened with you and Dan in France? I mean, obviously he hit on you. That’s what he does. It goes without saying. But you’re crazy about Charlie, or you were, so you’d tell Dan to keep his hands to himself, right?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I edge.
“So uncomplicate it,” Martha says as though it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
“Do you know a woman called Sarah?” I twine and untwine my fingers anxiously.
Martha frowns. “I know a lot of women called Sarah. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“She worked at agency HQ. One of the researchers. Very good at her job.”
“Oh, you mean Dan’s Sarah.”
I nod. “They were going to get married, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. Then they broke up. Sarah was a wreck and Dan became really grumpy. Even worse than Charlie is now. Pity. They were sweet together.”
A man walks past on his way out and accidentally nudges my arm. He spins round.
“Hey! Sorry. I should look were I’m going.” He isn’t talking to me though. He’s grinning inanely at Martha. Ah. So it wasn’t an accident. He bumped into me on purpose. Looking for a reason to make acquaintance with Martha. She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiles back at him. I’m left standing between them feeling like a gooseberry.
“Next!”
“One second!” Martha says to the ‘accident’ guy and then delivers her order, along with Charlie’s, before gesturing to me to add my own. When it comes to paying Martha is sitting at a table across the other side of the coffee shop, chatting with her latest admirer. Looks as though I’m paying then. Even though Martha earns far more than I do.
Once the drinks and muffins are ready, I gather them up and head towards her table. “Ready?”
“Sure,” she replies, getting to her feet and making a dialing gesture with her fingers at the guy. “Call me?”
The guy nods enthusiastically.
“I’m thinking your Liam is out of the picture these days,” I say. When we worked on the Scottish island case about the murdered pop star, Martha got involved with a local guy called Liam who ran some boat charter business. Last I’d heard they were off to a remote cottage beside the beach for a romantic weekend.
Martha waves a hand in dismissal. “Liam was a sweet diversion, but that was all.”
Outside, Charlie isn’t back at the car yet. Looks as though the queue in the bookstore must be even longer than the one in the coffee shop. Martha starts on her muffin as we wait for him to appear. A few seconds later the door of the bookshop swings open and Charlie walks out, carrying a fancy paper carrier bag.
“Stocking up on your reading material?” Martha asks, handing him his coffee.
Charlie shakes his head. “This is for Amber.” He gives me the bag and I realise I’m actually nervous to peek inside it. What on earth could Charlie be buying me? Especially in the current circumstances. As Charlie and Martha climb into the SUV, I take advantage of walking around the vehicle to the passenger side door to look in the bag. My heart starts to race and a smile tugs at the edges of my mouth. Inside the store bag are three gorgeous notebooks. One is a pink leather, the other has a cover of pink and purple flowers and the third is a vibrant green with bright pink polka dots all over it. I love them all. They’re exactly what I would have chosen myself. I can’t believe he took a detour on route to checking out a house which is part of an investigation to go and do this for me. I usually buy a colourful and cheerful new notebook for each case to contrast with their serious contents. I hop into the car and flash him a smile. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
He nods in acknowledgement of my words as he pops his coffee in the car’s cup holder. “I know how you love your notebooks.”
I gulp. Yes. I do. He knows me so well.
“There are some pens in the bag as well,” he adds.
I hadn’t even spotted those. “Thanks,” I say again.
Martha leans forward, one hand grasping the back of my seat, the other unwrapping her muffin. “Oh, Charlie. I got distracted in the coffee shop by this cute guy and Amber ended up paying. It’s not fair to make her wait for expenses to come through, you know they take ages, and she doesn’t earn much. Can you give her some money to reimburse her now and then you can claim it back? You’re the big bad boss making the big bucks.” She chuckles.
“It doesn’t matter,” I fluster, feeling embarrassed. “Three drinks and some cakes, it wasn’t much.”
“No, Martha’s right. You shouldn’t be paying for stuff. That’s what expenses are for.” As we wait at the traffic lights to turn back onto the main highway, Charlie fishes in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out two twenty dollar notes, placing them on my lap. “Does that cover it?”
Past Perfect: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 4) Page 5
