Purview of Flashbulbs (Alexis Parker Book 15)

by G. K. Parks

  “Where were the deliveries sent?” I asked.

  “A hotel. Um,” she tapped the down arrow, “a design firm, and two office buildings. The four of them went out first thing this morning.”

  “How were these orders paid for?”

  “Credit card.” She scanned the details. “Would you believe the credit card matches the name on the order form?”

  “Can I get the card number for verification?”

  She hesitated, and I offered my brightest, most helpful smile. I had already seen the receipts from Lance’s trailer. Obviously, he must have ordered flowers. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “I don’t see what harm it would do.” She flipped the screen around so I could see the authorization codes and numbers.

  The last four digits on her screen matched the last four digits on the receipts. It was Lance’s card. Although, that didn’t necessarily mean Lance placed the orders. It was possible Jett had access. “I need to know exactly when and where the orders were sent. Is there any mention to whom the flowers were intended?”

  She was getting a bit squirrely at the prospect that I was asking for a celebrity’s private information. “I really can’t say, but you should speak to the driver.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  She went to assist a group of women, who were picking out flowers for a wedding, and I dropped a fifty in the gratuity jar and went to speak to the delivery guy she pointed out when I arrived. He was at the back of the shop, loading the refrigerated van with outgoing orders. He didn’t stop working even as I asked where he’d been this morning, but he seemed perfectly capable of multitasking.

  “The black roses went to four different locations.” He loaded a large vase with daisies and sunflowers into the back. “The addresses are programmed into the GPS. You know how to work one of those?”

  “Yes.”

  He jerked his head toward the front of the van. “Go check it out. I got to get this done. These have to get to the hospital by noon, and I’m already running behind.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Except after checking the GPS, I realized we had a very big problem.

  A dozen Bacarra roses was delivered to Lance’s hotel. Another batch was sent to a fashion designer uptown. A bouquet was sent to the Cross Security offices, and the last was delivered to the Martin Technologies building. Shit. How did he discover her connection to Martin or the designer with whom I assumed she was flirting?

  The first thing I did was call my office and ask about the flowers. They were at reception. They hadn’t been addressed to anyone in particular, just Cross Security. After giving strict instructions to have someone from the lab analyze the card and the flowers, even though I doubted they’d find anything damning on them, I disconnected and called Scar.

  “Someone using Lance’s credit card sent flowers to Dinah’s old hotel. I don’t know if they’ve been delivered, but you should have someone check.”

  I could practically hear him growl. “Is Lance Smoke responsible? She’s supposed to meet him for lunch later. I’m not leaving her alone with him. What are you people doing about this?”

  “We’re working on it. Just keep a close eye on Lance and his assistant. Don’t leave Dinah alone with them, and you should know, there’s a decent chance the stalker might be armed.”

  Scar cursed and hung up.

  When I dialed Lucien, he didn’t answer. He was working on leads and might have been in the middle of something. I hung up and sent a text letting him know we had a problem. After that, I dialed Martin. When he didn’t answer, I called the main line and spoke to the security executive, Jeffrey Myers. The flowers were delivered sans card, but they were addressed to Martin. They didn’t set off the metal detectors, and since Martin was running from meeting to meeting, as was his norm, the flowers remained at the security desk.

  “Keep them there. Someone from Cross Security or the police department will drop by to pick them up. Just know they are meant as a warning or a threat, and you need to be extra watchful of any unauthorized persons entering the building. I’m going to send you a few photos. If you recognize any of these people, do not let them near Martin. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Miss Parker,” Jeffrey said. “What should I tell Mr. Martin about the situation?”

  I knew Martin and how he reacted to threats or potential threats. It would be pointless to say anything without hard proof. “That’s your call,” I said, knowing Jeffrey’s helpfulness in the past had nearly cost him his job. “Just keep him safe.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  We hung up, and I considered my next move. Following up with the fashion designer probably wouldn’t lead to anything useful, but I felt the man should probably be aware he might be in danger. However, the biggest known threat was to Dinah, and right now, I had proof Lance Smoke’s credit card was used to purchase the bouquets. That was definitely enough to warrant a conversation, so I whipped the car around and raced back to the studio. Based on this morning’s conversation, Lance wanted to talk to Dinah in private, and if he was behind the stalking, that would be the perfect time to make a move.

  Thirty-four

  I paced nervously along the side of the building. They were shooting on the backlot. Scar and his team waited on the sidelines, watching everything. My eyes scanned the area for Jett, but I didn’t see him. Most of the PAs lingered nearby in case they were needed. So where was Lance’s assistant? Lancaster was supposed to be shadowing him, but Jett had given him the slip.

  Ducking onto the main soundstage, I looked around. Several of the writers and camera crew were talking. I heard snippets of their conversation. Apparently, they would be shooting on location later in the day and for the rest of the week. Some things couldn’t be recreated in a studio. Maybe that’s why the stalker was desperate to act. He felt his window of opportunity slipping away. Although, they still had weeks of shooting ahead after this. He must be freaking out because we were closing in.

  On my way to the trailers, my phone rang. It was Cross. “Alex, I sent a security team to Christian Nykle’s fashion studio and another team to Martin Technologies. Scaratilli says he has Dinah’s security handled, but I told our guys to be vigilant. You’re certain Lance Smoke’s credit card paid for the bouquets?”

  “I found receipts in his trailer this morning, and the florist verified it. What did you find at the cemetery? What about Moore? How does she fit into this?”

  “The flowers were delivered to the cemetery two days ago per the instructions of a ninety-three year old horticulturist who died of natural causes. She had made her wishes known about the floral arrangements years ago. She’s entombed in the mausoleum and wanted the entire place brimming with dark purple flowers. The caretaker knew her personally and knew of her intentions. They made sure to abide by her wishes. Moore coordinated everything from the mortuary. I’ve already run backgrounds on the dead lady and Moore, but neither has ties to anyone involved with Broadway Films or Dinah Allen. It appears to be a coincidence.”

  “Those don’t exist,” I muttered.

  Cross grunted, seemingly losing his train of thought.

  “Are the flowers still at the cemetery?” I asked.

  “No.” He sounded distracted and unfocused which was unusual for him. “The caretaker was surprised to find the entire mausoleum emptied out when he checked this morning. He called the police, but they have yet to show. It wasn’t exactly a grave robbery, so they aren’t too concerned. I watched the security footage. A dark-colored SUV came through the front gate just after eleven last night and left around midnight. I couldn’t make out a plate, but it’s our best bet. Did you locate Trevino’s vehicle yet?”

  “No. The techs are hoping to crack into the anti-theft system to get a location, but I haven’t heard anything.” A thought crossed my mind. “How did the stalker know about the flowers? Do you think he murdered the woman?”

  “She was ninety-three. It appears to be natural causes, but I’ll check. My guess i
s the stalker must have phoned several flower shops and found the roses sold out. He probably inquired why. It’s speculation but entirely possible.” A disturbing, shrill noise sounded in the background. “I have to go. We’ll meet up at the lot. Make sure Dinah remains safe. I trust you can handle that.”

  I continued on the path to the trailers. This would be a lot easier if I could just get Lance into a room and question him about his recent credit card activity and who had access to his accounts, but since that wasn’t going to happen, I had no choice but to track down Trevino and force him to spill his guts.

  No one was near the trailers. I knocked on Lance’s but didn’t get an answer. It was too risky to break-in again when the lot was bustling, so I detoured to Dinah’s trailer, hoping to make sure it remained safe. Someone from her security team remained outside. The door to the trailer was wide open, as were the windows. He offered a nod, and I returned the gesture.

  I turned to leave, but a thought that had been nagging at me for quite some time surfaced. “Hey,” I turned around, “any idea why those roses might be significant?”

  He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Have you asked Miss Allen?”

  “Not yet.” I’d failed to ask a lot of people a lot of important questions lately. “Have you seen Lance Smoke or Jett Trevino?”

  “Sorry, ma’am. No one’s been by the trailer since filming began.”

  Unsure where to go from here, I circled the perimeter. It took almost an hour, but I didn’t spot Jett or his SUV. Cross had yet to arrive, so I found a quiet spot near the side of the main building and pulled out my phone and tried Martin again.

  “I was just about to call you back,” he said. “Would you like to explain why your office sent a security team to my building?”

  “Are they still there?”

  “I had security escort them off the property, but I was told we gave them a parting gift.”

  “Have you spoken to Jeffrey?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t send the security team,” I began, fearing he would think I was overstepping without consulting him. “Cross did. We believe the flowers are a threat from Dinah’s stalker. You weren’t the only one targeted.”

  “Who else got roses?”

  I exhaled. “Christian Nykle.”

  “He’s in the city?” Martin seemed far too excited by that prospect.

  “As far as I know. Cross should be at his shop now.” Martin’s question brought to mind several other questions. “What do you know about Nykle? Is he dangerous? Could he be involved in this?”

  Martin snorted. “Doubtful. He lives in Milan but has boutiques in several of the world’s so-called fashion conscious cities. He’s the one who originally put Dinah in front of a camera.”

  “That doesn’t mean he might not have a grudge. He could be a jilted lover or jealous of her rising stardom.”

  “I’m the reason she’s back in contact with Christian,” Martin hissed. “You can check, but I doubt she had any interaction with him prior to a couple of weeks ago. Honestly, if he’s also on the stalker’s radar, then it’s someone who knows about our dealings.”

  “What dealings?”

  He hesitated. “She’s brokering a sale between the two of us.”

  “Any significance to the flowers?” I asked, blinking as I processed through what this meant. “Black Bacarra roses. They’re more of a dark purple, actually.”

  I heard faint clicking. “Let me see. I’m sure I ran across something about roses.”

  I waited patiently, listening to the click of his typing. “Whose number did you want off her phone records? Was it Nykle’s?”

  “She said he was in the city, but nothing indicated that. My sources said he was still in Milan. I don’t know when he arrived, but it was kept quiet, not that I blame him. He wouldn’t have wanted the news of what he has to get out. It could ruin him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. It won’t help you identify the stalker.”

  “It might,” I insisted.

  “Sweetheart, we really don’t have time to get into this right now.”

  I wasn’t used to Martin playing these games. “You’re the Great Oz, and even you didn’t know Nykle was in town or how to get in touch with him. You’ve been actively searching and had no idea he was here, so how did the stalker stumble upon that intel?” I didn’t need Martin to answer that question; I knew the answer. Dinah was compromised. Her phone could have been hacked or cloned. It would explain everything. “I have to talk to her chief of security. You find something on those roses or you suddenly realize we’re on the same side and you’d like to come clean, you know how to reach me.”

  “Alexis, I promise I’m not withholding anything relevant. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Just do me a favor and stay away from Dinah until this thing is wrapped up. You can’t deny you’re a target.”

  “Y’know, he could have seen me at the hotel last night. You seemed certain he was there. That could be why I received the flowers. Are you sure Christian didn’t show up after I left?” Martin asked.

  “I’m not certain of anything right now, not even you.” I clicked off, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

  I was tired of this. All of this. This wasn’t how I conducted an investigation or myself. I didn’t wait around for other people to tell me what to do or provide solutions to my problems. Working for Cross had confused issues and me. The damn, domineering prick had me twisted around, convinced I’d be fired or sued if I stepped out of line, even though he’d promised me autonomy.

  Dialing the precinct, I waited for O’Connell to answer. “I screwed up,” I said.

  “What else is new?”

  “Shut it, Nick. I called in a tip about Chaz Relper’s car. By now, I’m sure it’s been searched and impounded. Has any progress been made on that or the body?”

  “Not that I know of, but you’re calling the wrong division.”

  “I’m calling my friend.” I took a breath. “I need help finding a car. It’s possible the driver may be responsible for Relper’s murder. I don’t know. But I can’t find the SUV, and at the moment, I can’t find its driver either.”

  “Do you have a plate or VIN?”

  “Both.” I dug the rental agreement out of my pocket and read off the numbers. “As soon as you locate it or Jett Trevino, let me know. Trevino should be at the studio, but I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

  “Any reason to think he might be in trouble or considered dangerous?” O’Connell asked.

  “Relper’s gun wasn’t in his car or at his place. I’m guessing whoever killed him took it.”

  O’Connell whistled. “We’ll consider Trevino armed. We’ll issue a BOLO, and I’ll toss this information over to homicide. Someone will call you if they find something, but Parker, you better do the same. If you find Trevino and he’s safe and sound and not involved, let us know, so we can call off the hounds.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  After hanging up the phone, I checked the time. Lucien should have been back by now. The film crew was set to break for lunch in forty-five minutes, and I hoped for a solution before that happened. If not, I’d accompany Dinah to Lance’s trailer and conduct my own interrogation. Dinah would be over the moon, and Lance, well, he’d probably have me forcibly removed. It was a good thing I worked for the same company as the security guards.

  Wondering if Jett might have been making a snack run for Lance, who seemed to have very specific dietary needs, I wandered over to craft services. They were busy getting everything ready for the impending rush, and I stayed out of their way, watching as they worked.

  Elodie ran up to me and lifted her radio, pressing a key. “I found her.”

  “What’s up?” I asked, fearing her answer.

  She shook her head and led me away from craft services, afraid one of the workers might overhear. “Scar said he thought he saw someone heading into pro
ps with more of those flowers, but he doesn’t have the manpower to spare and thought you would want to investigate.”

  “Tell him I’m on my way.” I thought for a moment. “Have you seen Jett?”

  She bit her lip, her brow furrowing. “Lance sent him to get a different FBI badge. He was convinced the one he had yesterday was different from the one today.” Her face grew ashen. “He sent him to props. I’ll go with you.”

  “No. Hang back here. I’ll check it out.”

  Thirty-five

  The props department wasn’t in a trailer. It was actually in building C, which contained a smaller soundstage and a few larger rooms. The set for Lance’s character’s apartment was here, along with the set for the FBI field office. I pushed the door open and carefully stepped inside. Unlike building A, which housed the main soundstage, craft services, several offices, and was bustling with people, building C was empty. My footsteps practically echoed in the cavernous expanse.

  I looked around, failing to spot any signs of life, human or floral. Props was tucked in the far corner, and I checked the few openings and rooms as I searched for signs of Jett. If he came to get a different badge for Lance, he might have already left, or he was planting more flowers to make another macabre threat for Dinah. I wasn’t positive what was going on, but the vacant building was eerie. It felt like I was walking into a trap.

  My phone rang, and I jumped. Grabbing the device, I silenced it and glanced nervously around. No one lurked in the shadows, and I waited a moment, listening for sounds of footsteps. Once I was convinced I was alone, I answered. It was Amir.