Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4) (11 page)

“Why?” Lily asked.

“There were some incidents in the Village,” Gordon said, glaring at Dawson. Apparently the director understood the
keep your mouth shut
directive in Gordon’s eyes, because he backed off and returned to his table.

“Until we’ve investigated, we’re keeping everyone out. I have questions for all of you, but one at a time.” Gordon made eye contact with the new guy. Five-ten, slender, curly pale-blond hair. “Mr. Rivers? Damien Rivers?”

“That would be me,” the man said.

“And I’m Julie Ames,” the woman said, flashing a pure Hollywood smile. A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, she’d provide perfect contrast to the porcelain-skinned, red-headed Lily Beckett, as well as to Rivers.

“Miss Ames.” He bobbed his head by way of greeting, then turned to Cassidy. “Mr. Clarke, would you come with me, please? If the rest of you’ll wait down here, I’m sure Miss Mead will take care of you.”

Jost stood straighter, crossed his arms across his chest. A reasonable imitation of Titch's intimidation posture.

Gordon led Cassidy upstairs into Angie’s apartment and directed the man to the couch. “Have a seat.”

Cassidy looked around. “As interrogation rooms go, this has to be one of the nicest I’ve seen.”

“Oh, you’ve been in a lot of them?”

Cassidy laughed. “Just the movie kind. Where’s your partner? For the good-cop, bad-cop thing.”

“No partner, so I guess I’ll have to play both roles. Any preferences who you talk to first?”

“Surprise me.” Cassidy crossed an ankle over his knee and folded his hands behind his head.

“You don’t mind if I record this?” Gordon asked.

“Nah. I’m always being recorded, one way or another.”

Gordon repeated the requisite information into his phone and set it on the coffee table.

“When you arrived in Mapleton, you came into Daily Bread and attempted to confront Marianna Spellman. You seemed angry. Why?”

“Seemed angry? I
was
angry. My agent called, said Marianna wanted to put a clause in the contract that I have to report for drug testing. Every effing day. I’ve been clean for a year, for God’s sake, and was only messed up for a short time. My mom had—” He stopped, took a breath. “I’m doing this picture as a favor to the head of Vista. For … personal … reasons. I’m not making an effing dime. And Marianna’s treating me like a kindergartener who has to be escorted to the potty, and expects me to pee in a cup. With some effing security guard making sure I’m not swapping specimens, for God’s sake. Yes, I was angry.”

“And—”

Cassidy shrugged, leaned forward, clasped his ankle. “And then she said it was all a mix-up, and my agent must have misinterpreted what she’d said. Claimed she’d been asking if I’d be willing to undergo voluntary testing if there was any indication I might be using. Still pissed me off, but the show must go on, and once we were underway, I wouldn’t have to deal with her, so I let it slide.” He cocked his head. “Okay, I answered your question. You going to tell me what this
incident
was, the one that halted production?”

“I’m afraid Marianna Spellman was found dead in the wardrobe RV this morning.”

The shock on Cassidy’s face was genuine, even for an accomplished actor. Gordon would bet on that. Wide eyes and open mouth were one thing, but going parchment white couldn’t be faked.

“How?” Cassidy’s voice was a croak.

“We don’t know yet. Are you aware of any health problems she had?”

“No. We had a few meetings about the picture, because of the unconventional circumstances, but my agent handled almost everything. You don’t think I killed her, do you? I’d never do that.” He huffed. “Maybe ask my agent to—” He glanced at the phone on the table and lifted a hand. “Joke. Bad joke. Sorry.”

Gordon accepted it. “Are you aware of anyone else with objectionable clauses Miss Spellman might have wanted in their contracts? Or anyone with a reason to want her dead?”

He shook his head. “No to your first question. But then, I never asked, and no one volunteered. We—people in the business—might have reputations as being difficult, or temperamental. A lot is simply the press’s doing. Happy doesn’t sell papers or build news ratings. You never hear them saying, ‘Everything went smoothly on the set today.’ But killing someone—that’s
way
too far out there.”

“I understand. Moving on. Lily Beckett didn’t seem too happy when she got to town, either. Do you know what that was about?”

“You mean, do I think she’d want to kill Marianna? No way.”

“We haven’t confirmed someone’s killed her yet. We’re covering all the possibilities.”

Cassidy continued, reiterating what Dawson had said. That this picture was a one-off for most of the cast and crew, and aside from Cassidy and Lily, any previous connections were more or less random.

“What about Bart Bergsstrom?” Gordon asked.

“He’s my stand-in. Which means, ninety per cent of the time, he’s on the set so I don’t have to be. He’s worked on a couple other projects with me, but not for a while. I chatted with him a little when we were doing the Aspen Lake scenes, but Marianna’s name never came up.”

Gordon picked up the phone, noted the interview was over, and turned off the app. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Clarke.” He asked for Cassidy’s cell phone number and handed the man one of his cards. “If you think of anything, or see anything, I’d appreciate a call.”

“Will do. Murder on a movie set.” Cassidy gave a wry grin. “Might make a decent movie. If you solve it, give me a call. I’ll pass it along to my contacts.”

“We haven’t confirmed it’s a murder, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

As if
.

“Hey, the movie doesn’t have to be true. They rarely are. Based on fact is about as close as they ever get, and when it’s done, there are probably only one or two actual pieces of reality in the script.”

Gordon accompanied Cassidy downstairs and asked Jost to send Lily over. Not that Gordon couldn’t walk across the dining room, but he wanted to add a touch of formality to the proceedings.

He heard a strange rattling from upstairs. Leaving Jost to have Lily wait—a task he was pretty sure Jost wouldn’t mind—he took the stairs two at a time.

Gordon paused at the open door, trying to pinpoint the sound. It came from the living room, a buzz and a rattle. Once he identified it, he shook his head in disgust.

You are one spooked cop
.

He crossed the room and grabbed his cell phone which was dancing along the coffee table as it vibrated an incoming message. A missed call from Asel. Gordon’s heart did a quick trip to his throat and back. He didn’t wait to see whether the coroner had left a message before returning the call. “You have something for me?”

“I do.”

Damn the man’s sense of drama. He had enough of that dealing with all these Seesaw people.

“And—”

“She dropped dead. Heart stopped. Can’t tell why without the autopsy and more tests.”

“A heart attack?” Maybe Solomon had been right. A current of relief moved through his chest.

“A coroner’s joke. Everyone dies because their heart stops beating. But—” Asel continued.

Why is there always a but?

Gordon’s insides clamped shut. “Go on.”

“The presumptive tox screen results came back. Nothing showed up, but you know we don’t screen for everything on the first pass. Meanwhile, there’s nothing to explain why what appeared to be a healthy young woman dropped dead until after the autopsy. If there is any obscure drug in her system, you’ll have to give me some clues so I can tell the lab folks what to look for.”

“So, you’re saying there’s a chance it was suicide?” Gordon asked.

“I gave you a preliminary cause of death. Heart failure. Manner of death has yet to be determined. That’s all I have for you now. If you want to be in on the autopsy, it won’t be until tomorrow. Early afternoon is the soonest one of the pathologists can work her in.”

“Thanks.” Gordon disconnected, then paced the room while new scenarios based on what Asel had told him whizzed through his brain. No determination of manner of death yet, and that was what he needed. The coroner decided if it was accidental, natural, homicide, or suicide. Or the dreaded unknown category.

Was Marianna on medication? Did she have suicidal tendencies? Her job was stressful squared. How did she cope? Gordon knew about needing to keep stress levels under control—and how hard it was to achieve when your job was filled with stressful situations barreling down on you like a winter avalanche.

If she was taking meds, was it an accidental overdose? Could she have been so busy she’d forgotten whether or not she’d taken her meds? Or did she double up if things got out of hand, and she’d crossed the line? Was it an adverse reaction to a combination of drugs, one she’d been unaware of?

And, the scenario he dreaded—had someone managed to poison her? How much easier it would be to stand up at the press conference this evening and be able to say Marianna Spellman had accidentally taken drug A without realizing it conflicted with Drug B, one she took routinely and considered safe.

Stop with the questions, already. You’ve got nothing in the way of answers
.

He called Solomon, gave him the news. “Get over to where Marianna Spellman was staying. Do what it takes to get inside her room. See if she has any medications, if anyone there can offer any insights.”

“Will do. Maybe that’s why someone took her purse,” Solomon said. “For the drugs.”

“We don’t know whether she was on any meds. And it doesn’t explain the mess in her office or the missing laptop. And if you want to observe the autopsy, it’s tomorrow afternoon. I’ll juggle schedules. I’ve got too much going on here.”

“Understood, and I won’t tell anyone you don’t like watching people take apart dead bodies.”

“Get to work, Solomon.”

If nothing else, Gordon had a new line of questioning to pursue, and he’d start with Lily Beckett. He trotted down the stairs and motioned to Jost that he was ready.

He seated her and set up his phone as a recorder again. She didn’t give any indication she knew Marianna was dead. Again, he reminded himself she was an actress and might be playing ignorant rather than volunteer any information. He started with asking why she’d confronted Marianna at Daily Bread. “You mentioned damage control. What damage were you controlling, and why you? Why not someone on the administrative side of things?”

“Oh, that,” Lily said. “I’m afraid I was a little … overdramatic?”

“In what way?”

“The press had picked up on our co-starring in this production. Me and Cass. Not that it was any secret—heaven only knows how much the entertainment industry relies on media coverage to keep people interested. Anyway, the last movie we made, there were rumors Cass and I had a
thing
going—”

Gordon interrupted. “By
thing
, am I correct in assuming you’re talking about a romantic involvement?”

She stared at him as though she couldn’t believe he didn’t understand. “Well, yeah.”

“But you didn’t have one?”

“No, of course not. We’re co-workers. Professionals. Actors. If a script says we’re lovers, then we’re lovers
on camera
but we have our own lives. Oh sure, a lot of actors get caught up in the moment and start seeing each other or get married, but you know how those things work out. I mean, they
don’t
work out. Not hardly ever.”

Gordon tried to get things back on track with another question. “So, what kind of damage control were you talking about?”

She scrunched up her face. “According to my agent, Cass and I were supposed to get here early and feed the rumor mills we were reconciling.”

Gordon raised a palm. “Back up. Reconciling from what? You said you didn’t have a
thing.
”

“Oh, yeah. Like I was saying, on that last movie, we were, according to the press, having this
thing
, but we broke it off because I didn’t approve of his doing drugs.”

“So, you broke off something you didn’t have?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you, it’s all manufactured by the media.” She raised her hands and waggled her fingers, putting quotes around her words. “‘Lily Beckett dumps Cassidy Clarke when she finds out he’s doing drugs.’ Those headlines sell tabloids, but they’re about as real as a purple unicorn.”

“But he admitted to a substance abuse problem,” Gordon said.

“Yes, and that made the news, of course, but his problem, his stint in rehab, and his being clean had nothing to do with our relationship—which there wasn’t one, like I said.”

Gordon took a moment to parse her grammar. “Got it. So your agent told you to come up here and let the press get a glimpse of you two in your nonexistent relationship.”

“What my agent wanted—what she said Marianna wanted—was for me to stick to Cass to make sure he wasn’t relapsing. And since I hadn’t heard from Cass in a while, I thought maybe it was for real, and I was going to have to play watchdog. That’s not part of my job description, and I was pissed. But then Marianna explained, and everything was cool again.”

So far, all Gordon grasped was that apparently Marianna either couldn’t make herself understood to agents, or that she was playing them for press for the studio. Which
might
have been a reason someone was upset with her. He’d let that one stew for a bit, but it didn’t sound like a big enough reason to kill her. Then again, people killed for the price of a movie DVD, so he couldn’t rule it out entirely.

“It seems Miss Spellman did things that upset people. Do you know anyone else she might have made angry?”

Lily flapped a hand. “I haven’t dealt with her before, but production managers are always making
someone
angry. It’s part of the job, because they have to make everything run smoothly, and sometimes that means making demands, or telling people they have to do things they don’t want to do. On the other hand, a lot of times they make people happy, so it probably evens out in the end.”

That confirmed what Dawson had said. He let the silence fill the space like an expanding cloud of smoke. Lily fidgeted, then met his eyes. “You’re asking me this because she’s dead, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

Her eyes widened the same way Cassidy’s had. She didn’t pale, but her hands trembled and she twisted them in her lap, as if she held an invisible napkin. “When?”

“This morning. Someone found her in the wardrobe RV.”

Lily seemed to mull that over. “We—me, Cass, Damien, and Julie—we were gone all morning. We were together the whole time. We didn’t get back until a little while ago.”

“I know. And your driver vouches for you.”

“So … so we’re not … suspects or anything? We weren’t here, so we can’t be witnesses. Why are you asking me all these questions? I don’t need a lawyer, do I?”

“You’re not under arrest, Miss Beckett. I’m trying to find a reason anyone would have wanted Miss Spellman dead, and you and Mr. Clarke did show up ready for a fight.”

“But I explained. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“Did Miss Spellman have any … misunderstandings … with anyone else involved in the production? Cast, crew? Media?”

Lily shook her head, sending her red curls flying. She tucked one strand behind her ear, then twisted another around in her fingers. “I can’t believe this. It’s … I … I can’t believe it.”

“A couple of questions, and you’ll be free to go,” Gordon said. “We haven’t been able to locate Yolanda Orozco or the two stand-ins, Bart Bergsstrom and Kathy Newberg. When did you last see any of them?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled and gazed at a spot beyond Gordon’s shoulder. “Yolanda. Let’s see. Yesterday, before the wrap at Aspen Lake. Bart and Kathy were there, too.”

“After the shooting was finished?” Gordon asked. “Did you see them then?”

She shook her head again, less vehemently. “They’re staying at the hotel. The four of us are here, at that quaint little B and B. So, once shooting was done, we went our separate ways.”

“Did you see them get on the bus?” he asked.

Another head shake. “No, I didn’t pay attention. I was tired and wanted to get back.”

“Thanks for your cooperation.” He noted the end of the interview and stood, handing her his business card, and getting her cell number. “If you think of anything, please let me know.”

“I can go?”

“Yes.”

Lily whisked past him, and her sneakered feet thudded down the stairs.

He might have a lot of people with reasons to dislike Marianna Spellman. But to kill her? An accidental overdose made more sense. But then why the break-in at her RV?

With more questions than answers swirling in his head, Gordon interviewed Damien Rivers and Julie Ames. Neither provided any useful information, other than corroborating everything he’d already heard. Apparently Marianna hadn’t felt they were newsworthy enough to bother with instigating rumors the way she had with Cassidy and Lily. Either that, or their agents had done a better job of running interference if she had tried something. They hadn’t been involved in any of the Aspen Lake scenes, hadn’t been on call until this afternoon, so they hadn’t arrived in Mapleton until yesterday. This was their first job with Vista Ventures, both liked the idea of helping what they considered a worthy cause.