Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  Who did that leave?

  There was Larry, the security guard. I supposed if I wanted to broaden my suspects, I could include the rest of the cast and crew who hadn’t been eliminated. That would be Mindy, Sarah, Rick, Brandon, and Sai.

  Being on set today might be the perfect way to weed some people out.

  I went over to the makeup trailer and found Mindy inside. Not only was she inside, but she looked upset. I could tell by the red around her eyes that she’d been crying.

  I sat down across from her. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, Joey. I couldn’t sleep all night. I kept thinking about what had happened.”

  “I know. We’re all upset over what’s going on.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” she said with a sniffle. “Alistair didn’t do this.”

  I stared at her, uncertain if I had heard her correctly. After a moment of silence, I said, “What do you mean? He admitted he paid Bucky to do this.”

  “I know,” she said. “But the night when that man died? Alistair didn’t do it.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I was with him.”

  “Wait.” I stared at Mindy. “You and Alistair?”

  That was her sweater I’d found in Alistair’s bathroom. Suddenly, it all made sense.

  “Yes, it’s true.” Mindy glanced down at her hands, tears welling her eyes. “I knew we were nothing serious, that I was just another one of his girls. He’s always dating people who mean absolutely nothing to him. But I’ve had a mad crush on him ever since I saw his first movie.”

  “Wait, you honestly like Alistair?” I couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. There was nothing about this new Alistair that I admired in any way, shape, or form. In a world where people could be anything, no one should be King. Alistair King, that was.

  She nodded. “It’s crazy, I know. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would I like someone who was that self-centered? But I’ve always fallen for the wrong guy.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me about him and Eva?”

  She nodded, guilt filling her gaze. “I know. I was just trying to take any attention off of me. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be one of those girls.”

  “Oh Mindy,” I muttered.

  I really didn’t know what else to say. I liked Mindy. I liked her a lot. I would’ve never guessed she’d put herself in a situation like this.

  Finally, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell the police this?”

  “Because I knew how it would look. I knew that once word got out, everybody would know and judge me. I should’ve said something. I knew I should have. But I was just so nervous about it.”

  “You’re going to have to go down to the police station and share this information,” I said. “You know that, right?”

  Mindy nodded, her eyes still tear-filled.

  There was one other thing that bugged me. If Alistair wasn’t guilty, that meant the real killer was still out there.

  It also made Mindy the most likely suspect in Eva’s disappearance because she had the best motive: jealousy.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As I stepped out of the trailer, I saw Jackson waiting outside. Based on his expression, he was trying to figure out something.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, joining him on the sandy ground.

  He held his phone, displaying a snapshot of the message that had been found in Bucky’s pocket. “I’ve been studying these numbers.”

  “Do you have a lead?”

  “Maybe. I have a thought, at least. Could I see the original script?”

  “Sure.” I hurried back into my trailer, found it, and handed it to Jackson. “What now?”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy, but there was an episode of Relentless where someone left Raven Remington a secret message. But, in order to figure out what it was, she had to match the line number, page number, and a word number from a technology manual. What if somebody did the same thing, except using the original script?”

  My eyebrows shot in the air. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

  Jackson rattled off the first three numbers. I went to the seventeenth page, I found the fifth line of text, and the twelfth word.

  “Joey,” I told Jackson. “That’s the twelfth word.”

  He wrote it down on a pad of paper he always kept in his pocket. “Okay, let’s keep going and see what we can figure out.”

  Jackson read the next line of numbers.

  I found them after a couple minutes and said, “someone.”

  We went through this for several more minutes until we had the words, “Joey, someone is trying to kill you.”

  Not exactly what I wanted to hear.

  But there was more.

  We still had about thirty more words to look up. Somebody was definitely trying to send me a coded message. I had no idea why he would go through all of this trouble instead of just simply writing the words. But at least we were getting somewhere.

  “I’m going to try to figure this out while you’re filming,” Jackson said. “Cassidy has her men here also. There’s a gun in the final scene. I checked it, just to make sure, and it is a fake.”

  I squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

  Because the last thing I wanted was to go out with a bang.

  “You’re on their side?” I said to Washington George as we both stood on the beach staring at each other. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

  A storm lingered in the distance, making this the perfect time to shoot my final scene. Alistair couldn’t have asked for better or more atmospheric conditions if he’d tried.

  Washington stared back at me, his face transformed into that of someone sinister. Gone was the young CIA recruit who’d been sent to find Drusilla Fairweather and obtain confidential information from her. The double agent in him had emerged, and he was desperate.

  “Everyone at the CIA thought that you were the crème de la crème,” he muttered. “But you’re not, and you never were. People are going to look back at your life and say Drusilla who? It’s going to be like you never existed and you never mattered.”

  Hearing Washington say those words reminded me of the bitterness Alistair must’ve felt as he wrote the script. Because these lines weren’t just about Drusilla in the story, were they?

  No, they were about his true feelings toward me. He wanted to make sure that one day I didn’t matter either. Bitterness sure could mess a person up. That was why I’d vowed to try to get rid of the bitterness in my own life.

  I continued to stare at Washington as he faced me on the beach. The wind whipped around us. He drew a gun and pointed it at me.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” he said. “There’s no need to extend this, and we both know what’s going to happen.”

  “You’re going to kill me,” I said. “That’s what all of this has been about, hasn’t it?”

  “I am sorry that it has to end this way,” Washington said. “But you’ve left me with no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do. You don’t even understand. You’ve lived your life as the golden spy girl for so long. You could’ve reveled in it. Instead you came to this desolate island to be by yourself. But, even then, people still didn’t forget you. I need to ensure that your life is erased.”

  “Don’t you know that if a person dies before their time, they always become an instant hero?”

  Washington stared at me. “That’s not true.”

  I listed people to prove it was.

  “Okay, enough talking!” he shouted. “It’s time for this to end.”

  He extended the gun toward me.

  Just then, my phone buzzed. I’d kept it in my pocket.

  I had a choice to make. Check to see who this text message was from.

  Or wait until we finished filming.

  However, even with that fake gun pointed at me, I couldn
’t help but think this could be something important.

  After all, this wasn’t done yet.

  As the camera panned to Washington, I glanced in my pocket. Jackson had finished decoding the message.

  Joey, someone is trying to kill you in real life. Be careful. X marks the spot—of a killer. I saw him messing with the script and your picture was on the screen.

  X marks the spot of a killer? What did that even mean?

  And why had Bucky written in code?

  I only had one possible explanation.

  Maybe he’d done it for the same reason he’d pretended to want to hire me and Jackson. He wanted to get a firsthand look into my life.

  For that matter, what if he’d written in code to put an interesting spin on the article? What if he wanted to watch me figure all of it out? It would be an inside look into my life and into how I’d managed to solve several mysteries in the past.

  Maybe he didn’t even really think I’d die. Maybe he’d just said that to act as an inciting incident. Just like he’d most likely made up that threat and written it out to himself.

  “Joey?” Rick asked.

  My gaze came back into focus, and I remembered what I was doing here.

  “It’s your line,” Rick reminded us. “Let’s take it from ‘It’s time for this to end.’ Action.”

  Washington stared at me again and repeated the line.

  As I stared at the gun, a terrible thought went through my head.

  X marks the spot of a killer.

  Bucky had figured out who the killer was, hadn’t he? Maybe he wanted to warn me. I didn’t know for sure.

  I stared at the barrel.

  That looked like a fake gun. I knew Jackson even said he’d checked it.

  But I remembered all those altered scripts.

  I remembered everything that had happened.

  What if somebody had managed to substitute a real gun after all?

  Panic raced through me.

  X marks the spot.

  He wasn’t talking about a treasure map, was he?

  I sucked in a breath. I knew who was behind this.

  And this person would have had the chance to substitute the fake gun for a real one—even after Jackson had inspected it.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Wait!” I shouted. “Don’t do it!”

  I saw the flash of confusion in Washington’s eyes. Did my costar still think I was acting? That’s how it appeared.

  “Here’s the thing.” His finger remained on the trigger, and his voice made it clear he was still in character. “No more talking. I’m sorry that it has to end this way.”

  “Don’t do it!” I shouted. “It’s a real gun!”

  The confused look returned to his eyes. Washington had no idea what I was doing, did he?

  He thrust his Glock forward. “Of course, I have a real gun. How else would I kill you except with a real gun?”

  I braced myself. I knew what was coming.

  Washington was going to pull that trigger. But, instead of a fake bullet coming out, it would be a real bullet. And it was going to pierce me. Maybe even kill me.

  I looked around, but there was nowhere for me to hide.

  This was it.

  I was going to die right here.

  As everyone turned at a commotion in the distance, Jackson flew from the crowd.

  He tackled Washington to the ground. The two wrestled until Jackson grabbed the gun and backed away.

  “Someone switched the fake gun for a real one,” Jackson said. “This was after I checked the weapon earlier today.”

  “But I had my eyes on that guy all day,” Sarah said. “Just like you told me.”

  “Not all day.” Jackson raised the gun in the air and pulled the trigger. A loud bang filled the air.

  Everyone on set froze. There was now no doubt the gun was real.

  “I . . .” Sarah wrung her hands together. “I did leave it for just a minute to run to the bathroom. I guess it could have been switched out then. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “You can’t blame me this time.”

  My head jerked toward the voice. It was Alistair. He was back, a haggard look in his eyes, his poof flat, and his clothes wrinkled.

  “I’ll have you all know I was cleared.” He scowled. “So now I’m back, and you’re all under contract, and we need to wrap up this film.”

  “Not until we figure out what’s going on here.” Jackson turned to address everyone. “Someone who is here on this set right now replaced the fake gun with a real gun. Someone is trying to kill my fiancée, and no one is leaving here until we know who is behind this.”

  “He’s correct.” Cassidy stepped from the woods, and her officers also appeared, scooting closer.

  “I know who did it,” I said. Finally, it was my Scooby Doo moment.

  “Who do you think did this, Joey?” Jackson asked, his voice tense enough for a high-wire act.

  My gaze met that of everyone around me. With lightning and thunder in the background, I began to spell out my theory.

  “Originally, we thought it was Alistair.”

  As I said the words, I pulled off my wig, realizing I looked entirely too ridiculous to be taken seriously dressed like this. I tossed it onto the sand and continued to peel off the layers from my face along with my false teeth.

  “And Alistair, on one hand, has a great motive—to make me look bad,” I continued. “But, on the other hand, he has a very bad motive because in making me look bad, he would also make himself look bad. Plus, he has an alibi on the night Bucky was killed.”

  Murmurs went around the group.

  “I also wondered if Mindy might be behind it, but Alistair and Mindy both have an alibi. However, Mindy had a motive to dislike Eva. We still don’t know where Eva is. But, like I said, Mindy has an alibi so she can’t be guilty either.”

  More chatter sounded.

  I continued, feeling like an imaginary spotlight was shining on me at center stage. “I considered that it may have been Washington. But he also has an alibi for the night Bucky died. We’re slowly whittling down who could be guilty.”

  “Why does it have to be someone who’s here on this set?” Rick asked. “Why can’t it be one of those pirates?”

  “Because, as pirates, they didn’t have access to the script,” I said.

  “Why is this killer changing the script so much?” Mindy asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone toy with us like this?”

  “Because the script has been the target here, along with Alistair. The bad guy is someone who has a lot of bitter feelings toward Alistair.”

  Everyone turned to look at Alistair as soon as his name left my lips.

  “Why would someone want to ruin me?” Alistair pointed to himself, pure shock on his face.

  “Because of the way you treat people,” I stated.

  “But what about Bucky?” Sarah asked.

  “Alistair gave Bucky a copy of the script,” I said. “Maybe it was part of the negotiation process for the photos.”

  Based on Alistair’s scowl, I would assume that was true.

  “But Bucky wasn’t the one who altered it. I’ll get back to that.” I scanned everyone. “I need to finish spelling out Bucky’s role in this first. Bucky just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He came to meet with the Piranha, also known as Alistair—though Bucky probably didn’t know that at the time.”

  I glanced at Alistair again. He didn’t deny any of this.

  “As Bucky walked onto the set, he looked for the Piranha, but stumbled across the killer instead. He realized what was happening, that someone was messing with the script.”

  No one said anything. They all waited for me to continue.

  So I did. “The killer saw Bucky and knew he’d been caught. He also knew that if word leaked about what he’d done, he’d never get away with his scheme. Knowing what I do about Bucky, he may have even snapped some pictures of this person to use as
blackmail. The bad guy felt like he had no choice but to kill Bucky.”

  A gasp went around the circle.

  “Who would want to threaten all of us?” Washington asked. “I still don’t understand. All we’re trying to do is make a living here.”

  “And therein lies the problem.” My gaze scanned the circle and stopped at one person. “I’m looking at the killer right now.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Another gasp sounded.

  Rick pointed the finger at himself. “Why would I be behind this?”

  “A few reasons,” I said. “But mostly because X marks the spot.”

  “What does that mean?” Rick’s voice rose with confusion.

  I had a feeling everyone else was as puzzled as Rick about my statement.

  I raised a hand as I talked out my theory. I pictured it all playing out in my head. “Bucky was out here taking pictures. He actually photographed you messing with the script. He also saw my picture on your computer screen, and he knew you were up to something. Maybe he didn’t quite know what or the extent of it, but he knew it was trouble. Whenever he could, I’m going to guess, he was hanging out in the woods near the set, eavesdropping on everything he could.”

  “If that was true, why would this guy send you a coded message?” Rick asked. “If he feared for your life, he should have told you instead of playing games.”

  “I did a little research and discovered that Bucky was unconventional. He liked to get creative for his stories, and he wasn’t above being deceitful. He wrote that message in code, and he wanted to be on hand to see if I figured it out. I don’t think he actually thought I was going to die. He only knew something wasn’t right, and he wanted to stir up trouble. Since he was sneaking onto the set that evening anyway, he’d planned on leaving it at my trailer.”

  “Sounds like a stretch,” Rick muttered.

  “What it boils down to is the fact that Bucky saw all of this as an opportunity both to get to know me better and to add some ump to his article. It was like he lived in an alternate world—much like when he pretended to be a pirate. This was a game to him. He decided to tell me that you were up to something by telling me that X marks the culprit.”