Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (15 page)

“You always get dressed up for meetings?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. At least I’ve never been engaged and not told you, she thought. “The place he picked … I couldn’t wear jeans.”

He nodded, but she could tell he was unhappy. “So,” she said, breaking the tension, “what does your fortune say?”

He opened his cookie. “‘Things are never quite the way they seem.’”

“Why don’t they ever say things like ‘You will be fortunate in everything’?”

Bill chuckled. “Because that’s like using a wish to get more wishes.”

“You know, that fortune may be onto something,” she said, recalling her earlier conversation with Bobby about how Myrtle chose to be the way she was.

“How do you mean?”

“Something Bobby said to me earlier today got me thinking about the theater and acting. It’s really all illusion made to look like real life. It’s never the way it seems.”

Bill thought about this for a moment. “I suppose we’re all playing roles—sheriff, chief, friends…” His voice trailed off.

It was obvious it wasn’t going to be easy getting things back to the way they’d been. She took a deep breath. Maybe things would be easier if they stuck to solving Rich’s murder. “Okay. So we both think Rich was trying to ID someone. The question is, who?”

“And is the person living or dead?”

“Maybe we should ask Fawn about that,” she joked.

“Maybe not,” he said with a frown. “She read Hayley’s tarot cards, said they indicated negative external forces were at work and to expect impending danger. Hayley’s pretty shook up.”

Despite her feelings about the actress, Colleen couldn’t blame her for being disturbed by the reading. Even if it was all carnival magic, nobody liked to hear something bad was going to happen. She felt lucky she had gotten off easy with her aura reading.

“And,” he said with hesitation, “Fawn saw someone in the cards that could protect her.”

“Good,” she said, wondering what his hesitation was about. A second later, she got it. The protector was Bill. “And who, dare I ask, is this protector Fawn sees?”

He leaned closer. “You.”

“Me? That’s absurd.”

“Not to Fawn … and not to Hayley.”

“How could I protect her? And from what?” She rose from the table, annoyed. “I wish Fawn would lay off that mystical stuff.”

He grabbed their plates and carried them to the sink. “You and me both,” he said. “But don’t be surprised if Hayley says something to you.”

“I seriously doubt after that ride she’ll want to talk to me,” she said, rinsing the plates and placing them in the dishwasher.

“I don’t like the idea any more than you,” he said, handing her the glasses.

She caught his eye. It struck her how awkward it must have been for him when he discovered his ex with his … well, whatever she was to him. No wonder he had wanted to run. Now, thanks to Fawn and her tarot cards, it looked like she was going to be spending a lot more time with the actress and that her efforts to stop the woman from shadowing her had been for naught.

“I do have one bit of interesting news,” he said. “Seems the elevator at the Whalehead Club normally rests in the basement, where the museum store is. Whoever put Rich’s body in there either knew the elevator had been hoisted to the first floor or had intended to shove him down the shaft. Either way, it’s someone who knew the building fairly well.”

“Which means whoever killed Rich is likely someone we know.”

The realization hung heavy in the air. Someone they knew, played bingo with, saw at the supermarket or walking their dog … someone they regarded as a respected member of the community had killed one of their own. She felt a mixture of disappointment and anger and hurt, and then, rising from deep within her, she felt determination. No matter what it took, she was going to catch the person who had brought death to Corolla.

Chapter 12

The morning sun
skipped brightly over the water of Currituck Sound as Colleen zipped along Route 12 on her way to the station. Like the light rain of the night before, her meal with Bill had helped wash away the dirt that had been clouding her thinking. It was hard to stay mad at a man who brought you dinner.

Sparky, too, seemed happier. They had been companions for many years and the dog knew her too well not to sense that she had been out of sorts the last few days; and when she wasn’t feeling well, neither was he. She rubbed the Border collie’s head as she cruised down Ocean Trail. She was determined to work with Bill to set things right in Corolla and expose the murderer in their midst.

It was good having a plan. As fire chief Jerry Smith had once famously said, “The very worst fire plan is no plan. The next worse is two plans.” She knew if they had any hope of catching the murderer, she and Bill must work together—even if he didn’t like the idea. His concern about the danger wasn’t lost on her. The person they were seeking was someone whom, until now, they had never suspected of evildoing. The fact was Corolla hardly had any serious crime … until recently. No, their killer was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. If she was going to stay safe, she’d need to keep her guard up, especially around anyone connected with the production. Who knew theater could be so deadly?

She didn’t relish the thought of making nice with Hayley, but it was better to face the reality of the woman and her past with Bill head-on. Maybe she’d even gain a little insight into Bill—probably why he was less than thrilled at the idea of the two women being together. The last thing a man wants is his ex and current interest comparing notes—not that she had any notes to compare.

Bill had agreed to return to Rich’s house and gather the ear photographs. They now suspected that one of the ear photos had its perfect match on one of the citizens of Corolla. She had learned through her recent research that the ear was the least looked at and yet the most important part of the face for identification. She and Bill would have their work cut out for them. Not only were they not in the habit of examining ears but the body part was often hidden by hair. They’d have to be sneaky; otherwise, it might be awkward and suspicious peering around someone’s face to see the person’s ears. Given everything she had learned so far about earology, she wondered why the Department of Motor Vehicles didn’t have both front and profile pictures on driver’s licenses. That would give authorities an ear database to use for comparison and supplement fingerprint information in their efforts to catch criminals.

Colleen slowed at a pedestrian crossing to allow bikers to cross Route 12. She tried to study their ears, but they were covered by helmets. This was going to be harder than she thought. The road cleared and she picked up speed. She noticed Rodney, Bill’s deputy sheriff, down Schoolhouse Lane and behind him the film crew. She decided to swing by and see how he was doing before going to the station. She crept down Schoolhouse Lane into Old Corolla Village and slowed to a stop.

“Morning,” she said, pulling up to the deputy. “Looks like you’ve got film duty.”

“Sure do,” he said cheerfully.

It was clear Rodney was enjoying his assignment. The crew was using the front porch of Island Bookstore for the scene they were filming. Hayley was on the porch, doing a scene with a handsome male costar, booms held above their heads, out of the frame. The sound, lighting, and makeup crews were nearby. Hayley’s assistant, Jason, and the production manager, Wendy, huddled together. The director stood near the cinematographer, looking at the monitor. Beyond the perimeter stood a small crowd of curious onlookers and what Colleen imagined were Hayley Thorpe fans.

She was surprised to find Myrtle, Lane, and Nellie among the background players. She wondered if the film director was getting on any better with them than Adam had been back at play rehearsal. The extras were pretending to mill about with books and shopping bags in hand. She was about to turn away to head to work, when she noticed Marvin in the group. Her brows furrowed. Given how she knew he felt about the theater company and Doris’s involvement with it, she found it strange that he’d signed on to be an extra.

“Something wrong?” Rodney asked, sensing her change in mood.

“I’m not sure,” she said, and cut the engine. “Don’t go anywhere.” She left Sparky in the car with the windows down and strode toward the film set.

She quietly crossed the fifty or so yards toward the bookstore, never taking her eyes off of Marvin. Unlike the other extras, Marvin was not pretending to buy books or talk to fellow shoppers. Instead, he was staring intently at Lane, whose back was to him. Marvin inched closer to Lane, and she picked up her pace.

“Cut,” said the director.

The extras and crew relaxed while the director hopped onto the bookstore porch to speak with Hayley and her costar. Colleen joined the perimeter, where the crew members were standing. The assistant director crossed to Myrtle, Lane, Nellie, and the other background players.

“Now, ma’am,” the AD said to Myrtle.

“The name’s Myrtle. I’ve told you before.”

Uh-oh. This guy was clearly experiencing Myrtle’s charm.

“Right,” the young man said. “Myrtle, if you could stay on the mark that I gave you, that would be great.”

“This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, you know,” Myrtle said with indignation.

Nellie suppressed a giggle.

“Just stay on the mark, ma’am,” the AD said, trying not to lose his patience.

“But that mark is back there,” she said, pointing to an area behind the extras and clearly off-camera. “Nobody will see it’s me because of this one’s big head.” She pointed a finger at Lane.

“Exactly,” the man said, and scurried away.

Myrtle scowled. Lane snickered.

Myrtle caught Nellie’s eye. “Why don’t you and I switch places, Nell?”

“I don’t think the assistant director would like that very much,” Nellie said, and turned away so that Myrtle couldn’t see the grin break out over her face.

Colleen probably would have enjoyed the moment of Myrtle’s comeuppance, too, had she not been concerned about Marvin’s unexpected presence on the set.

“Places,” the AD called at the signal of the director.

Hayley, her costar, and the extras moved to their designated locations. Myrtle shuffled unhappily to the back of the crowd.

“Roll camera,” the director said.

“Speed,” said the cameraman.

“Cue background,” the AD added, signaling the extras to begin moving about. Seconds later, the director called, “Action,” and the scene was under way, and so was Myrtle.

“The biddy’s on the move again,” the AD muttered under his breath.

Despite his instructions, Myrtle was pretending to read a book and nod to passerby extras while slowly inching her way toward the front of the extras and the camera.

But it wasn’t Myrtle who bothered Colleen. It was Marvin, who was lurking among the background actors. Why isn’t he interacting with anyone? Where’s his prop? What is he up to? She wondered. She signaled Rodney to join her with a subtle wave. He left his vehicle and swiftly made his way to her.

“What’s up?” he whispered, catching his breath.

She indicated Marvin. The man slipped behind an extra who was adjusting a large sun hat and, as the woman pretended to browse the books, followed closely behind her. Colleen felt her muscles twitch. Marvin trailed the woman until she passed Lane. He stopped a few feet behind Lane, stood eerily still, and stared at the actor’s back. I don’t like this, she thought. Marvin’s hand slid up the side of his leg toward his pocket. She squinted. Was there a weapon in his pocket? Her eyes darted to the director, hoping he’d call “Cut.” Marvin’s chest heaved as his breathing grew heavier, and then suddenly, he reached into his pocket and lunged.

“Home wrecker!” he yelled, and jabbed at Lane with a Taser.

Lane jumped to the side, just avoiding being shocked. Colleen and Rodney rushed at Marvin. There was a scream from one of the onlookers, and the director yelled, “Cut!”

“He has a gun!” someone yelled.

“Duck!” shouted another.

Colleen grabbed one of Marvin’s arms and tugged on his shoulder while Rodney grabbed the arm holding the weapon.

“You couldn’t keep your hands off of her, could you?” Marvin spit at Lane, trying to zap him.

She and Rodney dragged Marvin away from the others. She was surprised by how strong the man was. Given his age, she didn’t think he would have been capable of putting up such a fight. But rage is a powerful emotion, and he was seething with it. She and Rodney forced him toward the deputy’s vehicle.

Rodney wrenched the Taser from the man’s grip and it dropped to the ground. “I got him,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked. Rodney nodded. She released Marvin’s arm, retrieved the Taser, and returned as Rodney pressed Marvin into the backseat and slammed the door.

“I’ve never seen Marvin like that,” Rodney said. “How’d you know something was up?”

“Just a feeling.”

“You think he did in Rich?”

Despite his violent outburst and his recent threats, she found it hard to believe the retiree muttering in the back of the deputy sheriff’s car was their murderer. The person who had killed Rich had been sneaky, cunning, and ruthless and had committed the crime without witnesses. Marvin was obvious, naïve, and emotional and had not only attacked Lane in public but with cameras rolling. The two profiles didn’t match. She wanted to question him but didn’t want to jeopardize the investigation in case he was indeed their man.

“If you’re okay with Marvin, I’m going to talk to folks and see what I can find out,” she said.

“I’ll go ahead and call it in.”

Bill would certainly want to know why Marvin had shown up at the film set, what he had planned for Lane, and if he’d had anything to do with the deaths of his wife or Rich. Marvin had made himself suspect number one in their homicide investigation and his motive was as old as time—jealousy. The lesson was not lost on Colleen. She was glad she had pulled herself off that dangerous ride.

She strode toward the chaotic set. Cast, crew, extras, and onlookers were all abuzz with what had happened. “Is everything okay?” “What’s going on?” “Who let that guy on the set?” “What happened to security?” These were the questions she heard as she approached the group.