Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  As Mindy applied the wrinkles around my face, she lowered her voice. “You really think this movie is going to be any good?”

  I looked at Mindy in the mirror. “I really don’t know. But Alistair helped me out when I was just starting, so I thought I would help him out now.”

  “I heard he’s changed.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked the question, though I knew the answer. Kind of. I could tell he wasn’t the newbie I had first started working with. Now he was more high-strung, more arrogant, more demanding. I supposed success did have a way of changing people.

  “Well, after he did the Jungle People and it won all the awards, I heard that he became like an entirely different person. He made some money, got divorced, and started treating people like they were beneath him. Not many people want to work with him anymore.”

  Now that Mindy mentioned it, I had heard some things about that. In fact, based on what Alistair had told the police chief yesterday, his favorite hobby was firing people. His assistant? Financial advisor? Who knew how many other enemies he had?

  Maybe it was something worth looking into . . . or maybe this was much ado about nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  My thoughts shifted from Alistair back to the script—and the fact that someone had changed the story so that Eva vanished.

  As I shimmied into the suit that transformed my body into an overweight seventy-year-old, I decided to get Mindy’s thoughts on things around here. She’d worked with this crew enough to have some insight.

  “So what about Eva?” I ventured, holding my breath and feeling like a corset was being tied behind me as Mindy zipped up my suit. “I had no idea she was going to be working on this movie.”

  Mindy rolled her eyes. “I know. No one did. No one likes to work with her. But I heard that she and Alistair were a thing.”

  I froze. “For real?”

  “Apparently, their relationship is all under wraps. I mean, there is a striking age difference. But Eva is his type, so it wouldn’t surprise me. It’s probably how she ended up getting this role.”

  Alistair was in his early fifties while Eva was in her early twenties. Striking age difference would be correct.

  Mindy stepped back to observe me. I briefly glanced in the mirror and frowned. This was not a good look.

  “I think you’re so brave to dress up like this,” Mindy said, a solemn expression on her face.

  I wasn’t sure if I would call it brave. Maybe I was just foolhardy.

  I glanced at my watch. I was supposed to meet Alistair here in a minute. I had a lot to talk to him about, including the script and the article that had been released calling me a diva.

  Alistair was in a tizzy this morning. I was pretty sure that he had gotten even less sleep than I had, which was pretty miraculous considering I’d gotten none. I was also pretty sure he’d drunk more coffee than I had because his actions were wired and his words came so fast he sounded like an auctioneer who’d just drunk a Red Bull.

  I tried to grab a second with him, but he was too busy fussing at Brandon about the importance of natural light. As I waited for him to finish, I glanced around.

  Whoever had sent the revised copy of the script had started the revisions at the very spot where we were slated to begin filming today.

  Who on the set could be behind this?

  My gaze scanned everyone.

  Rick, the director of photography. He was in his mid-fifties, had a cross-shaped scar on his cheek, and acted a little cranky. But he knew what he was doing.

  Brandon, the gaffer/grip. He did lights and gear and occasionally worked the camera. He was quiet, with long hair he pulled back into a man bun.

  Sarah, the production assistant. Just out of college. Shy and mousy.

  Mindy, who did hair and makeup. She was friendly and liked to gossip.

  Sai, audio specialist. From India. Always wore ear pods and never talked to people.

  Larry had been hired to do security. He’d come from Raleigh and had supposedly been a cop for a few years. Jackson hadn’t seemed impressed.

  Washington George was already out here also.

  But not Eva.

  My breath caught. Where was she? Surely, she was just getting ready. That had to be it.

  I waited patiently near the camera for Alistair to finish before raising my hand. “Excuse me, Alistair, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

  He flinched when he saw me, as if still not used to my new appearance—the appearance that he had written into this script.

  “What is it, beautiful?” His words contained a hint of sarcasm.

  I repressed the dirty look I wanted to give him. “I thought you should know that I got a new script early this morning.”

  He froze. “You what?”

  “It’s true. I got an updated script this morning. Eva’s character goes missing in this version.”

  He glanced around. “Well, has anyone seen Eva?”

  “I did,” Rick volunteered. “She went into the honeywagon a few minutes ago and asked me to tell you she’d be late. Said something about needing to talk to her therapist a moment, but that she’d be right out.”

  In Hollywood, everyone had a therapist. It was as common as normal people having a dentist or mailman. That was a good thing—we all needed help with our mental health at times. Better to find it with a listening ear than with the bottle.

  “Mystery solved. Eva is fine. Now, back to other matters at hand.” Alistair threw his hands in the air. “Why would somebody do this to me?”

  No one said anything.

  He shook his head one more time before his gaze became focused again. “It’s time to get started. Is everyone ready?”

  I knew that I was ready to get this over with, for sure.

  “All right, everybody in place.” Alistair clapped his hands in the air, reminding me of a flamenco dancer.

  The crew scrambled to get to where they were going, and I took my place by the lighthouse. Today’s scene actually did start here. Rick would get a shot of me outside the lighthouse, and then the scene would cut. I’d climb to the top and more shots would be filmed there.

  Just as soon as Alistair called action, I grabbed the handle of the door and stepped inside. When I did, I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  Yesterday, I had seen Washington George lying on the floor surrounded by blood.

  Today, Bucky Belching lay there. In his pirate garb. Fake dagger at his side.

  But I had a strange feeling this was not fake.

  The man looked honestly dead.

  Just like the note had threatened.

  Chapter Nine

  I seemed to go comatose as I stared at the body in front of me. Before I realized what was happening, Jackson appeared. He grabbed my arm before glancing down. He didn’t have to feel for a pulse. Bucky was clearly and inarguably dead.

  “Everyone, stay back,” Jackson barked, suddenly in charge of this scene.

  He pulled me away from the lighthouse and onto the sandy ground below. As he put an arm around me, he pulled out his cell phone and muttered something into it. Most likely, he was calling the police.

  When he put his phone away, he pulled me into a hug. “Cassidy is on her way.”

  In the background, I could hear Alistair clucking around like a chicken. Or a flamenco dancer. Or someone else who liked to move a lot and make a lot of noise.

  He kept saying something about time being money. I’d thought he’d be more concerned about the dead man than he was about his film, but he’d proven me wrong.

  Something about that realization did not sit well with me.

  But the fact remained that I’d already signed a contract to do this movie and to work with Alistair. Things seemed to be going downhill fast.

  This film will be the death of you.

  As I remembered the stark words on my phone, my heart rate quickened. What if that wasn’t an empty threat? But why in the world would someone target me? I hadn�
�t been in town long enough to upset anyone yet.

  “Are you okay?” Jackson murmured.

  “I guess. But the threat that someone sent Bucky Belching was real, Jackson,” I whispered. “We were too late. Maybe we should’ve done something sooner to help.”

  He rubbed my arm as his gaze scanned everyone around us. He was doing what cops were programmed to do—watch over everybody and everything for any signs of trouble. “We couldn’t have known. Besides, we were going to turn it over to law enforcement today.”

  “I know, but I can’t get that man’s image out of my mind. Why would someone do this? And whoever is behind this . . . are they somehow associated with this movie? I mean, otherwise, how would they know about that scene yesterday? How would they know that Washington George had been lying there? The only way it’s possible is if the killer was on set.”

  One look at Jackson’s face, and I knew he was thinking the same thing. Whoever was behind this was close. That left me feeling even more unsettled.

  A few minutes later, Chief Chambers showed up along with two other officers. Her eyes lit when she spotted Jackson, and she strode toward him.

  “Detective Sullivan,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”

  He extended his arm and offered a hearty handshake. “When I heard Joey would be filming here, I knew I had to pay the island another visit.”

  “I wish you were here just to enjoy yourself, but it appears we have another crime on our hands.” Her gaze wandered over to the lighthouse, and she frowned.

  “Yes, it does.” Jackson’s jaw tightened.

  We filled her in on what had happened. Alistair joined us for a few minutes until the chief stepped away to see our victim.

  Like a good girl, I waited outside. But my mind raced. I wanted to know what she saw, what she had discovered, and basically everything that was going on.

  Did I deserve to know anything? No.

  Would my nosiness be welcome? No.

  But were my crime-solving skills to be admired? Also no.

  There was a part of me that liked to find answers. I never said I was good at it, but there was something incredibly satisfying about helping people. About giving them the satisfaction of having answers. Having closure.

  Maybe I knew that because of what happened with my own family. Having answers could be the start of a lot of healing. Knowing that I’d done something to help people? It was a good feeling.

  Finally, Cassidy stepped out. I expected her to talk to Alistair again or maybe even Jackson. Instead, her eyes went to mine, and she started toward me, something in her hands.

  “Joey,” she started. “Did you know this man?”

  I told her about my brief encounter with him the night before then asked, “Why? What’s going on?”

  “There was a piece of paper in his shirt pocket,” she explained. “On the front, it said, ‘Give to Joey Darling.’”

  My breath caught, and Jackson moved closer, his expression darkening. What sense did that make? None. Unless this was about Bucky wanting to hire me.

  “What else did it say?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s some kind of weird code.”

  I glanced at the number sequence.

  17, 5, 12.

  51, 2, 8.

  4, 13, 2.

  They went on and on, a whole list of them—probably thirty lines all together.

  “Do you have any idea what these numbers mean?” Chief Chambers’s inquisitive gaze latched onto mine.

  I stared at the list, waiting for something to click. It didn’t. I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  But suddenly my stay in Lantern Beach was looking a lot more dangerous and more exciting than any film I’d ever shot.

  Several minutes later, Alistair, Jackson, and I gathered in the production trailer and stood over the note with Chief Chambers. The medical examiner was on his way, and local police officers guarded the scene and documented any possible evidence.

  The more I stared at the numbers, the less sense they made. All I could think about was the codebreakers from World War II. Maybe it was because I’d just seen The Imitation Game.

  “Could it be some kind of locker combination?” Alistair asked. “Or maybe several locker combinations?”

  “I suppose that’s a possibility.” Chief Chambers’s eyes narrowed in thought. “But there aren’t many lockers here on Lantern Beach. There are no gyms or self-storage facilities. I’m not sure that makes the most sense. My gut is telling me this might be something else.”

  “Maybe it’s coordinates,” I suggested. “Isn’t that what it always is on TV?”

  Alistair perked. “Yes, I had that in one of my movies one time. Coordinates. That must be what it is. Maybe it goes back to that buried treasure those pirates mentioned yesterday.”

  We filled Cassidy in on the pirates’ visit.

  Cassidy shook her head again, slowly this time as if she didn’t want to offend anybody. “Nothing about these numbers strike me as coordinates. Besides, why would Joey’s name be on that?”

  Good point.

  “Okay,” I suggested, another idea hitting me. “What if this is some kind of secret code, and I have to interpret it in order to get the real message? I mean, this guy was a pirate, right? Maybe this is some kind of secret pirate speak.”

  Jackson nodded. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

  “I think I will question some of his fellow cosplay pirates who are in town,” the chief said. “Maybe they’ll know what this means.”

  “Any idea how he died?” I asked.

  “It appears he fell from the spiral staircase leading up inside the lighthouse.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Alistair straightened and turned to the chief. “So what does this mean for filming?”

  “Right now this means that this area is a crime scene. You definitely cannot film here in the lighthouse until we have all the evidence collected and documented.”

  “And how long might that be?” Alistair asked, his cheek twitching.

  “We’re looking at several hours,” Cassidy said. “We’re treating this as a potential murder. We have a possible killer loose on this island, and I intend on taking that very seriously.”

  “What about the filming I’m supposed to be doing on the beach?” Alistair asked, something akin to panic fluttering in his gaze. “Could we go ahead and do that?”

  “Not right now,” the chief said. “I’m going to need this whole area cleared. We need to look for footprints, and we need to search the surrounding area as well. I can’t risk having it tampered with by your crew.”

  Alistair’s cheeks reddened. “You’re costing me a lot of money, you know.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Chief Chambers stepped toward the door. “But this takes precedence over your filming. I know you worked out a deal with the mayor to use this area. I’m sure he will do everything he can to make things square with you. But, right now, this scene is mine, and I’m yelling cut.”

  I had to resist a smile. I already liked this lady. But when I glanced at Alistair, I could tell he didn’t share that sentiment. His cheeks remained red, and I could see him mentally counting how much cash he was losing by this delay in the production.

  “Fine. Have it your way. I’m going to call a quick meeting of my cast and crew and then we will be out of your way.”

  “I will need to talk to people here on this set first.”

  Alistair’s gaze swung toward Chief Chambers. “Do you think somebody affiliated with this movie might possibly be involved?”

  “Think about it,” she said. “That makes the most sense. Your guys are the ones who have access to this area and to the script. Rest assured, we’ll be fully investigating every aspect and every possible suspect. So please have your cast and crew stick around until I dismiss them individually.”

  Alistair’s gaze narrowed again, but he said nothing. After a moment, he took a step back and nodded, as if resigned to do what he
had to do. “Okay, they’re all yours.”

  Chapter Ten

  Three hours later, I was dismissed from the set. However, I was not able to take off my costume—only my false teeth. It would’ve taken too long for me to put everything back on. Just in case we were able to resume filming a little later, I needed to keep my look intact.

  That meant I was free to roam the town with Jackson, but I was going to look like Drusilla Fairweather while doing so. It also meant it would be a lot harder to go to the bathroom if I needed to.

  I had to admit I felt self-conscious when I climbed into Jackson’s truck with wrinkles I hadn’t earned, bags I could go on a shopping spree with, hair so thin my scalp needed extra layers to stay warm, and three chins I’d named Moe, Larry, and Curly. Curly was the one with the hairy wart.

  That wasn’t to say the people who look like this weren’t attractive. But it was to say that right now I wasn’t comfortable in my “own” skin.

  Jackson looked at me after he cranked the engine. “Okay, so what now? Do you want to go back to your place?”

  “I was actually hoping to get a bite to eat.” Had I just said those words? That meant that not only was I leaving the set in my costume, but I was going to be going out in public like this. Did I really want to do that?

  “You’re okay with people seeing you as Drusilla?” Jackson asked. “You know how people are. If they see you, they might take pictures, and then those pictures might turn up in the tabloids and then . . . I mean, I’m fine with whatever you want, but I just want to double-check that we’re on the same page.”

  “People won’t actually know that I’m Drusilla. They’ll see me and think I’m an older woman enjoying the area. I’m pretty confident that no one is going to recognize me as Joey Darling beneath this costume. I mean, you almost didn’t recognize me like this.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. I just want you to know what the consequences might be.”