Up in Flames (16 page)

And none of it good. She’d come here to forget about it for a couple of hours. “Maggie already told you. I want to hear about Hawaii. Was it fantastic?”

“Forget Hawaii. I’ll post the pictures online and you can read the captions. I want to know how you happened to find a dead body. And why are you working for Zane Thorson?”

“I’m not. Hey, what was he doing at your reception, anyway? You could have warned me.”

“It was a last-minute thing; he’d said he wasn’t coming then changed his mind. Jase knows him. You know that terraced walkway up to our front porch, with all the rocks and pine trees?”

She should have guessed; it was gorgeous. “Zane did that?”

“A couple of years back. And I know you had a bad breakup with him, but that was a long time ago and we all have ex-boyfriends around town, so what’s the big deal? Jase said he’s a good guy. I think they’ve gone fishing together.” She dismissed it with an irritable wave of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Why were you operating a backhoe at Zane’s landscaping company? And how did you find a body?” She shuddered visibly. “You must have freaked!”

Zoe obviously wasn’t going to let her gloss over it. Sophie sighed, then spent the next several minutes recapping her employment at Natural Designs and her minor involvement in the police investigation. Zoe hardly seemed to notice when their food came, she was so wrapped up in the story.

“So you’re still working for Zane?” she asked.

“Not anymore. He fired me.”

Maggie gave Zoe a wry look. “That’s not the first time. They have a volatile relationship. She’s either quitting or getting fired every other day.”

Sophie shook her head. “This time it’s for good. It’s not like I’d ever go back to work for that dipshit, even if he begged me.”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “You jumped to his defense last night. You were practically hissing and spitting at Cal over the police investigation.”

A little of the indignation she’d felt at Maggie’s house came back. “Because the investigation is no more than an attempt to frame Zane for a murder he didn’t commit. Just because I don’t like the guy doesn’t mean he killed someone.”

She saw her sisters exchange a glance before Zoe asked, “Then why don’t you like him?”

She pretended sudden absorption in her chicken tortellini. “Because.”

“Well, then, no wonder.”

She scowled at Zoe’s sarcasm. “It’s personal.”

“Of course it’s
personal
,” Zoe said, as if that were the stupidest thing she’d heard all year. “I didn’t think you’d disagreed over shrubbery.”

“That means it doesn’t concern you.”

“Maybe it should. We’re talking about you spending time with a guy who might be a murderer.”

“No we’re not. He didn’t do it, and we aren’t talking about it.” She glared at Zoe, first, then Maggie.

Remarkably, Maggie seemed to have more patience with the topic, maybe because she’d already been over this ground. “Sophie, you have to admit we’d be stupid not to be concerned. Zane comes from the worst family possible, with a father and a brother who are violently abusive toward women.”

“I know,” she muttered. She also knew that in her mother’s eyes, and consequently her sisters’, there was no worse crime. They’d been taught that abuse of women and children appealed to a dangerously twisted sort of personality, one to avoid at all costs. She didn’t disagree. She simply disagreed that it applied to Zane.

“The police are convinced Zane’s a killer, yet you keep defending him, even when you say you don’t like him. We have to wonder if your judgment is sound. In every other way you’re sensible and smart, but it’s as if you have a blind spot when it comes to Zane Thorson.”

Not a blind spot
, Sophie thought.
A weakness
.

“Plus, we’re talking about a guy who’s friends with my husband,” Zoe added. “He’ll likely be at my house sometime in the future, and I need to know how big of a turd he is, and if I should even be nice to him.”

She almost smiled at her sister’s loyalty, but the thought of Zane being nice to other people while treating her like dirt killed the impulse. “You can be nice to him,” she allowed.

“But you wouldn’t.”

“Not likely. Look, could we not let this ruin our lunch? Come on, Zoe, I really want to hear about Hawaii.”

“After I hear about Zane,” she insisted. “Convince me it’s not risky for Jase to bring him to our house, or trust me to be alone with him.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Zoe!” she said, her patience beginning to unravel. “He’s not a criminal! He’s an honest businessman and a decent person. You’d be fine!” Even though defending Zane didn’t make
her
feel fine. He didn’t deserve a glowing testimonial. She stabbed one of the neat little pasta twists and scowled at it. “Just don’t let him kiss you, okay? Because it doesn’t mean anything to him.” She took a vicious stab at another piece of pasta. “Not a damn thing.”

The look that her sisters exchanged was charged with new worry. “
That’s
the kind of relationship you have with him?” Zoe asked.

“Had,” Sophie muttered. “Which is why we don’t need to talk about it. It’s over.” She pointed her fork at Maggie. “And you don’t need to tell Cal, because it’s irrelevant to his investigation.”

Maggie didn’t look happy about that.

Zoe shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t say I’m sorry that whatever you had is over.”

“I know,” she said bitterly. “You don’t trust him. You both think he killed that girl, just because his father and brother are scum-sucking creeps, and even if he didn’t, you’d rather see him in jail, just to be sure he doesn’t try anything. Because, after all, he’s a Thorson.”

“It’s not like that,” Maggie protested, but not too hard. Her fair skin blushed and Sophie figured it was because it was exactly like that, whether her sister wanted to admit it or not. Maggie didn’t trust Zane, and it wasn’t because of anything he’d done. Cal probably had a lot of influence on her opinion, but Sophie wasn’t about to give her a pass because of it. Her sister had never been afraid to hold her own opinions in the past, even if they differed from Cal’s.

“What’s with you two?” Sophie asked. “We weren’t raised to judge people like that. Live and let live, as long as no one is harmed—remember that? Zane never harmed anyone.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “We also weren’t raised to be lambs to the slaughter. No one at the commune ever said we had to wait for someone to get killed before taking a stand against murder. And they never told us we should trip through life passing out flowers, oblivious to the evil around us.”

“Evil!”

“Murder is evil. So is rape and brutalizing women. Nate Thorson is evil. Emmett Thorson is evil. We’d be naive and irresponsible if we weren’t concerned about you siding with a member of their family who, as far as I can see, is reclusive and surly, and not exactly a fully functioning member of the community.”

“How can he be? This community has already judged him and rejected him.”

Zoe didn’t look angry, but she was obviously worried. “Maybe if you get some distance, you’ll see things more objectively.”

“The way you do?” She looked for a hint of doubt in their faces, the slightest suspicion that they might be wrong about him, but didn’t see it. They were so afraid of the threat he might present to her that they couldn’t see anything else. She laid down her fork. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m hungry after all.” One more thing to hold against Zane—he kept causing her to miss half her meals.

Maggie shook her head in exasperation, and Zoe said, “Sophie, don’t.”

She didn’t argue with her sisters often, not since they’d all become adults, but she couldn’t take any more of this. They didn’t want to believe Zane could be trusted, and after the way he’d treated her, she was in no mood to sit here and list his good qualities. She wadded up her napkin and tossed it on the table as she stood. “I’ll look for those pictures online, Zoe.”

She didn’t give them a chance to come up with pleas that she stay—not that they seemed to be working hard at finding any. She grabbed her shoulder bag and left.

Outside, the sky had filled with billowing gray clouds and the first drops of rain hit with driving force. A jagged bolt of lightning struck Tappit’s Peak, sending thunder rolling across the valley. “Great,” she muttered. Nothing about this day was going well.

She began a fast walk to her Jeep, which turned into a dash through pouring rain. She slammed the driver’s door closed as hail hit, rapping sharply on the hood, loud even over the roar of rain on the Wrangler’s canvas roof, making it sound as if she was standing next to a waterfall. It took several seconds for her to identify a lower, muffled sound as the ringing of her cell phone. Swearing under her breath, she dug the phone out of her purse and looked at the display. The Barringer’s Pass Police Department. She probably shouldn’t ignore them.

Sticking a finger in her left ear, she held the phone to her right. “Hello?”

“Sophie, it’s Cal.”

Oh, good, another tense conversation to add to her crummy day. “Hi.”

There were a couple of seconds of silence as he appeared to search for the right words, then cleared his throat. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

11

S
he could imagine
Cal wincing as he said it. Arguing with her last night wasn’t the best setup for a favor, and that request had to be difficult.

Their argument also hadn’t left her feeling generous toward him. She tested her feelings, probing past the very real resentment she’d felt toward him lately. That was recent, and superficial compared to her sense of loyalty to family, which by definition included Cal. Despite his deep suspicion of anything Thorson, she loved him like a brother and respected him as a cop.

She sighed. “Whatever I can do.” As long as it didn’t involve Zane.

“Uh, did I get you out of the shower?”

“No, I’m in the Jeep and it’s pouring. Just speak up.”

“Okay. I’ve been talking with anyone I can find who deals with exotic bugs. No one has a record of any coming to this area, but a couple of people told me to check with a guy named Artie Gilespie in Blackstone. Ever heard of him?”

“No.”

“Apparently he’s a big name among bug collectors, and sells just about anything. The trouble is, he won’t talk to me.”

“You’re a cop. Can’t you make him?”

“I could show up at his door and demand that he talk, but I wouldn’t get what I need. I’m betting the guy has brought bugs into the country illegally, and he’s afraid we’ll bust him, even though it’s out of my jurisdiction and has nothing to do with our investigation. The guy sounds paranoid. There’s no way he’ll tell me the name of someone he sold to, especially if they’re a regular customer.”

“You’re probably right.”

“But he might talk to an entomologist.”

From what she’d heard about collectors, they were a diverse group, ranging from scientists to the weirdos who thought it was cool to play with creepy crawlies. “Maybe.”

“Wouldn’t it be like a groupie meeting a rock star?”

“Possibly. But if he actually breeds exotic bugs, those guys tend to know a great deal about the species they deal with. In his mind, my degree might not be worth the paper it’s printed on. Book learning versus experience.” Which she’d never again denigrate, thanks to Zane.

“Well, hell. This guy’s my only lead.”

The dejection in his voice played on her regret over their recent disagreements. Family members should support each other whenever possible. “That doesn’t mean I can’t try. Give me his number.”

“Great! Thanks.” She wrote it down, then had him repeat it, even though the rain on the canvas roof had died down to the level of a fountain. “I owe you for this one,” he said.

“I might not get anything for you.”

“I owe you for trying.”

He didn’t owe her anything, but she couldn’t let the opportunity go by. “Then take another look at the possibility that someone besides Zane killed Rena Torres.”

“We are looking, Sophie. But all the evidence points to him.”

“Look harder.”

She heard a sigh. “You really believe in this guy, don’t you?”

“I believe in his innocence.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Which might be nothing. “And buy me dinner. It’ll cover the cost of gas.”

He chuckled, no doubt relieved by an easier request. “Done.”

She ended the call and looked at Artie’s phone number, then her watch. Blackstone was an hour away—easy enough to do today. She called.

After three rings, she heard a click followed by a curt recording: “Leave a message.” Obviously, Artie didn’t concern himself with first impressions.

“Hello, Artie. My name is Sophie Larkin, and I’m an entomologist. I understand you’re an expert in exotic insects, and I’d like to talk to you about it if you have the time. You can reach me at this number.”

She ended the call and stared out the window at the rain. It had let up a little, but the low clouds looked like they had plenty of moisture left to drop. She wasn’t crazy about going home to her tiny apartment where she’d undoubtedly stew about Zane’s sadistic tendencies. It might be a good time to visit the commune, maybe spend some time with her mom. Kate had been excited about her newest line of jewelry, and Sophie hadn’t had a chance to see it yet.

Right after she got some lunch. It had really hurt to leave that tortellini.

She reached for the ignition, then paused as the phone rang. She looked at the display:
A. Gilespie
.

“Hello, Artie. This is Sophie.”

“How’d you get my number?”

The voice was young, and the tone suspicious.
From the police
was probably the wrong answer. She tried to think of a likely reference who wouldn’t sound threatening. “From a guy I knew in grad school at the University of Colorado.”

“Who?” Artie demanded.

Crap. She couldn’t think of anyone who might have connections to a reclusive bug geek and possible smuggler. She decided her best option was to be as evasive as Artie. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to say.”

Silence. She waited it out for ten long seconds. “What do you want?” he finally said.

Cripes, if she’d known she’d be dealing with this degree of paranoia, she would have taken the time to come up with a cover story. She scrambled for something that might catch his attention without scaring him off. Flattery seemed best. “I’m working on a project involving camel spiders and I’ve had some problems getting them to reproduce. I’ve been told you’re the one to talk to when it comes to breeding spiders.”

“True.” He sounded more matter-of-fact than impressed. “U.S. species?”

“Middle East.”

That caused another few seconds of silence. “They aren’t that easy to come by. Why are you using them?”

She was ready for that one. “I can’t say. But I can tell you it’s for the government.”

“Oh.” With the recent military actions in the Middle East, American soldiers were encountering a lot of strange species, even spreading wild tales about them on the Internet. That the government might investigate how to deal with them seemed plausible. At least she hoped it would to a bug geek.

“I’m about an hour away from you. Do you suppose I could come see you, maybe get some tips on what I’m doing wrong, and what I should try?”

“How do you know where I live?”

Good lord, how secretive did a bug dealer need to be? It wasn’t as if he smuggled drugs. “I was told you were in Blackstone. I don’t know where; you’d have to give me an address.”

More silence. Maybe he needed a nudge. “Look, I’m not interested in telling anyone about you. I wouldn’t want the government to know I needed outside help. It makes me look bad.”

He snorted derisively. “It sure does.”

She bit back a smart remark about her years of higher education and her 3.99 GPA. Let him feel superior. “So can I come see you?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Jeez, what did he expect, money? “Gratitude—that’s all I can offer. And a professional contact if you ever need it.” She hoped like hell he never did.

He made noises that sounded like he considered the offer pitiful. Finally he said, “Can you come tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Eighty-six ten Cottonwood, apartment C. Six o’clock. Bring a Big Mac and fries. And a chocolate shake.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Artie,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll see you then.”

“Be on time.” She heard a click, followed by dead air.

Cal was going to owe her an expensive dinner.

Time slowed to a crawl when she had nothing to do but clean her apartment. It was either that or apologize to Maggie so she could help out at Fortune’s Folly, and that wasn’t going to happen. When her phone rang shortly after three, she was bored enough to answer, even though she didn’t recognize the number or the out-of-state area code. Even chatting with a telemarketer was preferable to cleaning the toilet.

“Hello?”

“Miss Larkin? This is Carl Reznick. I got your number from Zane Thorson.”

It took her a couple of seconds to recognize the name of the producer Zane had been working for. “Why?”

“I heard you were no longer working for him, which happens to suit my purposes perfectly. I want to offer you a job.”

She lowered herself to a chair, trying to think of a reason a movie producer might want to hire her, and coming up blank. Stories of being plucked from obscurity to star in a major motion picture only happened to actors for whom “obscurity” was ten years of bit parts and endless auditions. She’d never had an ounce of interest in the entertainment field.

But she had plenty of interest in a paycheck. “What sort of job?”

“I need someone for my next movie who knows how to handle reptiles and insects. Snakes in particular. I know that’s not your field of expertise, but I saw you with that bull snake, and I know you’re comfortable handling snakes.”

“You want a snake handler?” Whatever the heck that was.

“I want an animal wrangler. That’s the person in charge of the care and training of animals used in movies. In my case, I need someone who knows how to handle the snakes we’ll be using, and how to get them to slither around for a shot, or act aggressively, or crawl up an actor’s leg—whatever is needed. Someone who knows snakes and insects.”

This wasn’t a career option that had ever been discussed by her school advisors. “Why are you asking me? Don’t they have people who do that professionally?”

“Yes, and I had someone. But he was cited for abusive treatment and conditions, and I fired him. Now I’m stuck one week prior to production with no one to do the job, and no one available on short notice. Except you, if you’re interested. I’m willing to pay extra for the short notice.”

She’d heard salaries in Hollywood could be generous. She leaned back in the chair, staring at nothing as she tried to adjust to the idea of working in the movie industry. Just because she hadn’t considered it before didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea. “You need someone right away?”

“Yes.” His voice perked up. “Are you interested?”

“I might be.” She was curious, anyway. “How long will the job last?”

“For this movie, only two months. We have a tight schedule, so you can pretty much count on that time frame. But after that you’d have experience. You’d probably be able to find another movie soon enough, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Maybe she should be, but this month’s bills were enough to concern her for now. She wasn’t looking for a new career, just something to tide her over until she could find a good position as an entomologist. “Are you shooting in that little studio behind your house?”

“Oh, no!” He chuckled. “That place is much too small; I just use it for small low-budget stuff. This one is shooting in Costa Rica. We’re using an old plantation, and a lot of filming will be in a nearby swamp. Don’t worry, I’ll see that your housing is provided, and that it’s first class.”

She hadn’t heard anything after Costa Rica. “It’s not in Colorado?”

“Most movies aren’t,” he said, and she could hear the humor he held back. The question must have sounded naive.

She was glad she’d asked it. Costa Rica was a long way from her family, and two months was a long time if one of them became sick. It had been hard enough when she’d been in Boulder during Feather’s cancer scare and Pete’s heart attack. She didn’t want to go through that again. She’d move back to the commune if she couldn’t pay her rent, whatever it took to stay in B-Pass.

Plus, if she left, there would be no one to protest if they decided to pin a murder rap on Zane. Not that he appreciated her efforts, or even deserved them. It was the principle of the thing. It was a civil rights issue taking place in her own town, too obvious to ignore. Certainly nothing personal.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reznick, I can’t go to Costa Rica.”

“Why not? Zane told me you wouldn’t be working for him any longer, and he assured me you had no obligations that would keep you here.”

“He did, did he?” The bastard had probably been overjoyed at the chance to get her out of the country.

She heard a small hesitation. “Is that wrong? Maybe I misunderstood.”

“No, I’m sure that’s what he said.”

“Look, if you have another job prospect, maybe they’d let you put it off for two months. I could really use your help. And this would be a unique experience for you, something to tell your friends about.”

She almost laughed. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, Mr. Reznick.”

“How about impressing yourself?” The words came fast, like a practiced sales pitch. “You’d be working with some well-known names in the business. Ever heard of Terence Porter? Who hasn’t, right? He plays a reclusive tycoon in the movie. And how about Rob McKnight? I
know
you’ve heard of
him
. His character has a lot of scenes in a snake-infested shack in the swamp. You’d be working directly with him. The two of you and the snakes.” Reznick chuckled. “That sounds a little erotic, doesn’t it?”

She winced at the image he’d conjured up. “I’m sorry, I’m not impressed by celebrity, Mr. Reznick. And I can’t leave Barringer’s Pass right now.” Because of her family, of course. Zane was incidental.

“Are you sure? I really need to find someone soon, Miss Larkin. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“Think about it,” he urged. “Talk it over with friends and family. See what they say.”