Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4) (17 page)

“In the briefing room,” Gordon said.

Colfax picked up his cup. “Then since there’s plenty of time before the meeting at Daily Bread, I’ll sit in, if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

Gordon called Mayor McKenna, explaining the CSR “string” attached to releasing the scene for the movie shoot. He gave the mayor the option of saying a few words to the assembled production company personnel. “Detective Tyler Colfax from the Sheriff’s Department is going to address them as well. He’ll be better equipped to answer questions about what the Seesaw people can and can’t do.”

“Understood. I’ll be there. And thank you for your prompt resolution,” McKenna said. “I appreciate how quickly you reached your decision.”

Gordon almost reminded the mayor it hadn’t been his call, but figured if the mayor wanted to credit Gordon for giving Vista Ventures the go ahead, why not let him? One more item in Gordon’s performance review plus column.

After a quick pit stop, Gordon stopped at Laurie’s desk. “The movie’s on again, Tyler Colfax decided to come see the movie stars, and Solomon’s going to be gone most of the day for the autopsy. Any Chief Stuff I need to know about?”

“Not much.” She handed him the folder of night reports. “No word about the computer grant.”

“Am I allowed to hope that no news is good news?”

She smiled. “Fingers crossed. They send out the rejections first, so we’re probably still in the running. They said recipients would be notified after September 20
th
, but they didn’t say how long
after
might be.”

“Let’s hope it’s before Halloween, then. Be nice to have our people in better communication on mischief night.”

“I’ll wait two weeks after their notification date and follow up.” Laurie picked up her mouse, moved it around, and clicked a few keys. “It’s on my calendar.”

“Did I ever—?”

“Not often enough.”

The ritual complete, he popped into his office and left the night reports on his desk before heading to the briefing room. Colfax stood against a side wall where he had a clear view of the whiteboard. Titch was finishing roll call. His eyes caught Gordon’s and Titch snapped to attention. Everyone turned to see who had entered. Backs straightened. Heads lifted. Although Gordon didn’t want to run the force with the military overtones Titch still preferred, he was pleased with the show of respect for the office.

“Chief,” Titch said. “Do you wish to address the troops?”

“When you’re finished. As you were.”

Gordon waited while Titch went through a couple of routine citizen complaints, then reiterated the lookout orders for Marianna Spellman’s black purse and tablet computer. He held up the printouts. “Anyone doesn’t know what they’re looking for, there are pictures up here.” He paused, surveyed the room. “Any questions before I turn things over to the Chief?”

When there were none, Gordon strode to the podium. “First, I want to thank all of you for the way you’ve represented Mapleton in a good light during circumstances that made us the focus of media attention. And, I hope you all managed to get a cinnamon roll from the breakroom this morning.”

Murmurs rippled through the room, heads nodded, mouths grinned. Gordon took that as a yes.

“I’m sure you noticed Detective Colfax is with us today. He’s here unofficially. I think he wanted to get up close with Lily Beckett and Julie Ames, but as long as he made the trip, I’ve put him to work.”

Gordon went on to explain the details of allowing the movie production to get underway once the CSR team had cleared the Village. “I’m counting on those of you assigned to security to be extra vigilant in who is allowed in and out. Treat it the same way you would treat clipboard duty at a crime scene.”

A hand shot up. “Go ahead.”

“Isn’t that what the studio’s security guards are supposed to be doing?”

Gordon paused. Smiled. Didn’t
say
what he thought of the quality of those guards, but he figured it was clear enough. “Yes, but given the number of potential points of entry into the area, the three of them aren’t enough to go around. The county will be providing deputies to help fill in. Officer Titchener will give you your assignments. You’ll rotate between your normal patrol duties and production security detail. And, should we get the word that the death was indeed a homicide, you can expect to be called upon for additional duties. Questions?”

“What about the second victim?” an officer asked.

“I haven’t heard from the doctors this morning, but they thought she would be released today.”

The officer almost looked disappointed, as if he’d wanted a second death to investigate.

“Any other questions?”

Some exchanged glances, but nothing more. “Very well. Be vigilant out there. If you see or hear anything that might help us understand why or how Miss Spellman died, radio it in immediately. And be sure to pay close attention to all dispatch transmissions.” He turned to Titch. “They’re all yours.”

Gordon strolled to the rear of the room. Colfax motioned him outside, then started toward Gordon’s office. When they got there, Colfax closed the door. “Mind a suggestion from an old cop? I think we’ve worked together long enough so I can speak my mind. I know you’re a good officer, but being top dog comes with a whole new learning curve.”

“Was there a problem?” Gordon asked.

Colfax’s expression was dead serious. “No, but do you have trouble with your men—and woman—not responding to radio traffic?”

Gordon shook his head. “Not based on what I see in the reports.”

“Then that last part, about them paying close attention might make some of them feel you think they don’t know their job. If they’re doing something right, let ’em know. If they’re doing something wrong, handle it on an individual basis. But don’t tell them to do what you know they’re already doing.”

Gordon felt heat rise to the back of his neck, but before he shot out a comeback, he considered Colfax’s words. And he could sense the spirit in which they’d been given. For a moment, Gordon felt he was in the room with Dix, learning and growing. Because his badge said Chief didn’t mean he wasn’t still learning. And, he hoped, growing. “Thanks. Points well taken.”

“I’ll be going to face the movie makers,” Colfax said. “Any advice for me on that one?”

“Watch out for egos. They can fill the room like the plastic balls in a Fun Zone ball pit.”

Colfax chortled.

A rap on the door. “Come,” Gordon said.

Solomon entered, shifted his gaze from Gordon to Colfax, probably wondering why the door had been closed. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all. What do you need?” Gordon asked.

“Got a text from Asel. He’s putting Marianna Spellman at the top of today’s list. I’m heading out.”

Gordon couldn’t help but wonder what might have moved her up. Had Asel found something? Or had someone pressured him?

Gordon shifted his attention to Colfax. “Did you get your fill of the whiteboard? There’s still time to review it before you address your troops.”

“Seems straightforward enough,” Colfax said. “You’ve got a line between your victim and Yolanda Orozco. Who was she?”

“Wardrobe manager,” Gordon said.

“You haven’t found a connection?” Colfax fished a notepad out of his pocket.

“Other than they were both working on the production, and we found the body in the wardrobe RV, no,” Gordon said.

Colfax seemed to be considering all the implications. “But you think she was drugged, and you think the same thing might have been used on your victim, so that’s a potential connection.”

“Right now, all we seem to be able to do is wait,” Gordon said, trying not to let his frustration show. “Wait for the autopsy, wait for drug screens, wait for an official manner of death.”

Colfax wrote something, then put his notepad away. “Looks to me like you’ve done everything you can. You interviewed everyone here, you checked with known associates, and you’re keeping the scene as secure as you can.”

“I can’t help but feel I’m missing something,” Gordon said, and as he spoke the words, it came to him. “Her phone contacts. LAPD was going to notify her emergency contact, and there was another name that showed up a lot on her phone log. An old lady in Riverside, but I never got to her.”

“Given it’s unlikely she’s a suspect, I’d say wait until it’s a more acceptable hour for old-lady civilians before you call her. Start with LAPD.”

“I’ll do that. And if you pick up any hinky vibes with the movie people, let me know. The actors basically make their livings lying, so it was harder for me to read them.”

Colfax left, and Gordon went for the phone. At least this time he had an almost direct line to the person he needed at the Riverside police department.

“One minute,” the admin said. “I’ll see if I can access anything. Otherwise, unless it’s an emergency, the chaplain and the officer who did the death notification won’t be in until eight.”

Which was nine in Colorado.

“I’d appreciate anything you can find.” While Gordon waited, he went through the night reports. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that could remotely be connected to either Marianna Spellman or Yolanda Orozco. One person carrying a large black bag had been stopped, but it was a discount store tote, not the bag Kathy Newberg had described. Gordon stepped out on a limb and figured Kathy would have known the difference when she described the bag to him.

Mr. Johnson had called four times, and Gordon groaned. Now that one of Johnson’s false alarms had panned out into something requiring actual police intervention, the man would be hearing—and reporting—every creaking branch, every dog-walker, and every tin can rolling down the alley. Gordon made a note to have Vicky McDermott pay him a visit and explain the difference between being cautious and a pain in the ass. She’d word it much more tactfully, of course.

The admin came back on the line. “I found the report. Would you like me to send you a copy?”

“Does it give any information about the relationship between Avis Fontenot and Marianna Spellman?” The woman
was
Marianna’s emergency contact, after all.

He waited again, not as long, before the admin spoke again. “They’ve noted Avis Fontenot was her aunt. Not much more. She was mildly distraught, but refused any assistance, didn’t want them to call a friend or neighbor for her.”

“Would it be possible to get the number of either the officer or the chaplain?” Gordon said. “We’re trying to put pieces together, and it helps if they’re all on the same table.”

She gave him the chaplain’s number. Gordon put the call through and explained what he needed.

“Avis Fontenot,” the chaplain said. “Closest living relative, but she said she didn’t have much contact with her niece anymore. They’d been close when they lived two blocks away from each other, but now it was down to birthday and Christmas cards. Marianna would call her every couple of months, but Avis always felt they were made out of a sense of duty, not because she wanted to know what was going on.”

“Yet Marianna gave her name as her lone emergency contact—at least the only one we could find.”

“Yes, I asked about that. Apparently Miss Fontenot had stepped in and taken care of things when Miss Spellman’s parents died. At the time, Miss Spellman, who was eighteen, had no clue what to do, or how to go about doing it. After Miss Fontenot took over and spared Miss Spellman having to deal with it on top of her grief, Miss Spellman went to great lengths to lay everything out as to what she wanted done when she died, down to picking out her own casket, and what kind of flowers she wanted, music, hymns, Bible passages. She left all the information with Miss Fontenot.”

“Thanks. That explains it. Were you able to ask any of the questions I left with your department?”

“We did touch upon them briefly. Miss Fontenot was unaware of any health problems, or any issues at work, but as I said earlier, they weren’t in communication very often, and these might not have been things Miss Spellman felt worth discussing with her aunt. The aunt couldn’t come up with a reason anyone would want to harm her. I didn’t want to press any harder than that, but I did ask if it would be all right if someone else got in touch with her. She agreed, although she said she’d be busy making funeral arrangements.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know whether Marianna had a will, and if she did, who she left it with?” Gordon asked. “If she was so meticulous about her own funeral arrangements at her age, it’s plausible she had everything else covered as well.”

“Makes sense, but sorry, I didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer.”

“I’ll give her a call.” Gordon thanked the chaplain and made a note to call Avis Fontenot later, when he called Edna Mae Withers. He wondered if they knew each other, and drew a large question mark and a line connecting their names on his notepad.

A knock on his door jamb interrupted. Gordon finished making his notes, glanced up to see Mayor McKenna in the doorway. “Come.”

What now?

The mayor strode inside. “I had a chat with Lionel Dawson. He was in touch with the studio, and he said they’re going to pay for a private lab to rush all the forensics in order to avoid the backlogs at the county facilities. Would you mind letting the right people know?”

“Not a problem.” Gordon checked the time. Not quite eight. “You on your way to the meeting at Daily Bread?”

The mayor shook his head. “Over and done. Since everyone was there, Lionel started early. The sooner he can get filming, the happier he’ll be.”

And you do love keeping people in Mapleton happy
.

The mayor continued. “They’re setting things up for the street shots, and because all the necessary equipment was stored away from any of the off-limits areas, I said it was all right.”

“Detective Colfax gave his okay as well?”

The mayor’s hesitation told Gordon there had been some
discussion
of the topic. “Yes, he did. Since the studio lounge trailers are not accessible, Mick Finnegan is supplying food and beverages today—non-alcoholic, of course—so they can set up interiors at Daily Bread.”

Gordon made a note to let Connie and Titch know so they could make sure officers were covering Finnegan’s. They’d probably have to block off traffic along the side street as well, since Finnegan’s main entrance was around the corner from the shooting site. Chief Stuff.

“Anything else I can help you with, Mayor?”

The man hesitated, as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to word it. Probably
Why haven’t you caught the killer yet?

We don’t even know we have a killer is reason number one.

“Officer Solomon’s on his way to observe the autopsy,” Gordon said, offering the only answer he could to the unasked question. “They’ve moved her to the top of the line, so we might have answers sooner than we expected.”

Tempted to show the mayor to the door, Gordon sat at his desk with what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face as he reached for the folder of night reports and opened it. Let the mayor think Gordon was busy with Chief Stuff, even though the folder was in his outbox for Laurie to file. When it came to dealing with bureaucrats, looking busy was more important than being busy.

Mayor McKenna took the hint, thanked Gordon again for something he really hadn’t done, and left.

Gordon shoved the file folder into his outbox. He went to Dispatch, updated Connie, and had her relay the information to Titch, who was already on patrol. The station seemed overly quiet, with everyone who could be spared out on assignment.

He called the emergency clinic and asked for an update on Yolanda Orozco’s status. More time being transferred, more time on hold. Sometimes he thought people enjoyed making him wait as their way of showing they were more powerful than the police. Eventually, he was put through to someone who said he’d help. Not the doctor who had treated Yolanda yesterday—he wasn’t on duty—but at least Gordon found a human being willing to talk to him. And after all that, the only information he could garner was Yolanda Orozco had been deemed well enough to go home and had been discharged at seven p.m. last night. Nobody knew where she went, who she went with, or how she got there.

“Did you get the lab results?” Gordon asked, tamping back his irritation. It wasn’t the doctor’s job to know where a patient went when they left, so that information wasn’t in Yolanda’s records.

A silence, which Gordon hoped meant the doctor was consulting a chart before answering. “If the patient was discharged, the tests would have been cancelled,” the doctor said.

Gordon stepped into the deep end. “I know you don’t have the patient, but might your lab still have the sample you gave them? I know things often take a while to work their way through the proper channels, so maybe the lab hasn’t acted on that cancellation order yet. Would it be possible to send it somewhere else? To a private lab?”

A longer silence. “I suppose so.”

“Let me know what it will take. It could be a vital part of an ongoing police investigation.”

The doctor said he’d notify the lab to save the sample. “But you’ll have to have someone here no later than noon.”

“I’ll see that it happens.”

Gordon called Colfax and explained what he needed. “It’s outside our city limits. Can you get a tech to the clinic before noon, have him drop the sample at the lab?”

“You making demands, Hepler?”

“I believe I worded it as a request.”

“Words. Tone. They didn’t match.”

“Shit, Colfax, I can call myself. I thought you might have more clout.”

“Consider it done. Your buttons are
so
damn easy to push.”

Yes, they were, and Gordon knew he needed to get over it. But Colfax sure knew how to punch them. “Oh, and was Yolanda Orozco at the meeting?” Gordon described her.

“Pudgy Latina, mole on her cheek? Nope. Not there.”