Upstaged by Murder Page 4

  Ms. Eyebrow spoke up from the last row. “How will we keep our designs a secret until the judging?”

  Tyrone turned and looked at her, mumbling under his breath, “Does she think someone is going to copy her design?”

  Olivia stared hard at Tyrone, channeling that sergeant. “Each living room has a door that you can lock at the end of each day. Believe me, you will be too busy to pay attention to anyone else. Any other questions?”

  I raised my hand. “Can we purchase items from Antiques and Other Things downstairs?”

  “Absolutely. It will save you time.”

  I whispered to Tyrone. “We may have to find space for that lovely wooden trunk Josh has.”

  Olivia went over several other things, answered more questions, and then assigned each team a living room number. We drew number three.

  “Before you head to your areas, stop at the table behind you and see Sam, our audio guy, about getting fitted for lavs—wireless mics for you civilians. Please take your mics off or at the very least turn them off at inappropriate moments, if you know what I mean.”

  At Tyrone’s puzzled look, I said, “Restroom breaks.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” Tyrone let out a loud snort of laughter.

  I shook my head. “What’s with you guys and bathroom humor?”

  We waited for our turn to get hooked up to audio. Sam handed Tyrone a Lav. “You can attach the transmitter or mic pack onto your waistband or strap it around your leg near your knee, whichever one feels more comfortable.” The transmitters were about the size of a deck of cards. Tyrone hooked his transmitter to his leg as though attaching an automatic weapon.

  I hooked the mic near the neckline of my shirt and inserted the transmitter into the waistband at the back of my jeans. “Where does this transmit to?” I asked Sam.

  “The sound gets fed to an audio board in the control van outside. We’ll key into your mic whenever we aim a camera at you. The rest of the chatter gets screened out.”

  I remembered Chris Channing’s warning about being careful what I said and cautioned Tyrone.

  “Are we going to have to communicate with hand signals?” Tyrone mimicked sign language.

  “No. But if there’s something we don’t want anyone to overhear, we can write notes or switch the mics off.”

  After being fitted with lavs, we followed the others to the row of large cubicles and slipped into number three. Nita’s brothers had done a remarkable job getting them completed on time.

  The design challenges jumped out at me as soon as we entered—the types of things that made me grimace when I entered clients’ homes. A facsimile of a fireplace wedged into a corner of the room. A wall crammed with a tall window and a much smaller window. Another wall with two doors, leaving little wall space. On the plus side, the cream-colored walls, soaring over ten feet high, along with the generous width and breadth of the room, provided a spacious area that would be good to work with. Trying to include hanging lamps or chandeliers without a ceiling would be difficult but not impossible.

  Reaching into my canvas bag, I pulled out a notebook and pencil. “Okay, before we go crazy chasing furnishings, let’s decide on a style and color scheme.”

  A knock echoed through the empty area. I opened the door, surprised to find the dapper Simon Tate standing there, a jaunty cravat at his neck. I introduced Tyrone, but Simon barely glanced at him. He was busy staring deep into my eyes as though I were the most important person in his life. It felt like a scene from a 1930s movie, and he would next kiss my hand. It was a bit unnerving, and I resolved to dodge him at every opportunity.

  “Just dropping by to say hello.” With that, he kissed his fingertips and blew the kiss at me. “Remember, stage it with panache.”

  After Simon left, Tyrone whistled. “Man, he’s hot for you.”

  I groaned. “He gives me the creeps. Don’t ever leave me alone with him.”

  We spent the rest of the morning throwing out ideas, eventually settling on either a mountain cabin or coastal cottage theme. “Our biggest challenge is going to be that awkwardly placed fireplace. With it wedged in the corner, it’s going to be hard to make it the focal point.” I studied the fireplace. “I know where we can get a wall treatment that will mimic stone to apply to the fireplace. What do you think?”

  Tyrone mulled that over. “Sounds good. Then the wooden trunk would fit right in. We can place a tray on it and use it as a coffee table.”

  At noon, we sat outside our cubicle, eating box lunches a crew member handed us. It held so much food I gave half of mine to Tyrone. Just then, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

  “Laura…uh, this is Josh. Get down here right away…please. That trunk…there’s a body in it.”

  Chapter 8

  When looking to upgrade prior to sale, spend money where it will count the most—new appliances, an updated HVAC system, or a new garage door.

  Placing my finger to my lips to caution Tyrone not to speak, I quickly mimed for him to switch off his mic and follow me. The freight elevator would be too slow, so I led the way to the stairs, and we descended as fast as our feet could take us.

  “What’s up?” Tyrone raced beside me, barely winded, while I gasped for air.

  “Since it’s close to Halloween, Josh has either set up something hoping to startle us, or he has run into a spot of trouble.”

  When we reached the ground floor, I pushed open the door to the area just inside the loading dock where the wooden trunk had been that morning. “If Josh is playing a joke….”

  I abruptly stopped, with Tyrone plowing into me from behind, his tall frame nearly knocking me over.

  Josh stood next to the trunk. He was running his hands through his hair and leaning over as though in pain—or about to be sick. Hearing our approach, he looked up.

  “Sorry, Laura, I shouldn’t of called you, but this is bad. Really bad. I didn’t wanna face this on my own.” He wasn’t smiling.

  “What happened?”

  Josh looked at the trunk as though it might explode at any second and slowly lifted the lid, looking away as he did.

  I’d experienced discovering some surprising things before, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. A cascade of red hair and a cobalt blue scarf. Beth Crawford wouldn’t be showing up for work that day or any other day.

  Tyrone gasped. “What the….”

  “Did you call 911?” My head spun, and I felt sick. Poor Beth. Who could have done this to her? I pulled myself together. “We should check to see if she’s still alive.”

  Josh nodded. “An emergency crew is on its way.” He waved his cell phone to show he was still connected.

  As though on cue, EMTs and a uniformed policeman rushed through the loading dock entryway. Josh pointed to the trunk, and then he, Tyrone, and I moved to the far end of the dock.

  While the EMTs examined Beth, the uniformed policeman spoke into a device on his shoulder.

  I sank onto a nearby bench that wobbled when I landed on it. Josh sat cross-legged on the floor, his head in both hands.

  “You okay, Josh?” Tyrone squatted down next to him. “Can I get ya something? Maybe some water.”

  “Thanks, but I couldn’t drink anything,” Josh said, nearly green. His hands shook. “You’re awfully calm.”

  “Instinct,” Tyrone said. “My grandmother’s a retired nurse.”

  I put my hand on Josh’s arm. “You need to think about your responses to the questions the police are going to ask you. What made you look in the trunk?”

  He hesitated. “Um…I went to move it into my shop…you know…get it ready for display. When I went to pick it up, I couldn’t lift it. That surprised me. I’d carried it from my truck a few days ago with no problem. That’s when I opened the lid.” He gulped and blinked several times. “I’m tellin’ y’all, I got the shock of my life.” With each word, h
is Georgia accent became more pronounced.

  Someone nearby cleared his throat. I looked up to see Detective Spangler, with his dark hair and rugged good looks, towering over us. His thick dark eyelashes and brilliant blue eyes as mesmerizing as ever. I sighed. Some women might find him appealing—handsome and single, but not me. Couldn’t they have sent a different detective?

  “Why doesn’t it surprise me to find you here, Ms. Bishop?”

  Detective Spangler and I tangled from time to time. He’d once compared me to Agatha Christie’s elderly Miss Marple. I probably wouldn’t have been half as offended had he compared me to Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone or Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum.

  Jumping up from my wobbly seat, I lost my balance. The detective caught me before I toppled over. His touch was like an electric shock, and I began to stutter. “Tyrone…and I…are here because Josh…called us to come down. His discovery stunned him, and he didn’t want to face it alone.”

  “Called you to come down from where?” Detective Spangler asked.

  “The fourth floor. We were there with the CLTV crew.” I shook my head. “Never mind, that’s not important. Is she dead?” My voice faded as I got closer to the word dead.

  “The EMTs are still examining her, but it appears she’s been dead for several hours.”

  “Poor Beth.” I tried to keep my voice from breaking. I didn’t know her well, but it was tragic to see a young life snuffed out and shoved into a trunk.

  “Beth? You know her?” Detective Spangler pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket.

  “I only saw red hair and a blue scarf in the trunk. Since she has red hair and was wearing a blue scarf when I last saw her, I assumed it was Beth. Her name is…was Beth Crawford. She worked as a production assistant on the filming crew here for the CLTV competition.”

  Detective Spangler made notes in the small notebook.

  He turned to Josh. “Mr. Sheridan, you were the one who found her?”

  When Josh nodded, Detective Spangler directed Tyrone and me to wait near the entryway into Josh’s shop until he could question us separately.

  As we walked away, I turned back to the detective. “Shouldn’t someone tell the producer or director of the program what’s happening? She was a member of their crew, and they have been searching for her all morning.”

  His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. He had accused me before of telling him how to do his job. “We’ll see to it, Ms. Bishop. Please don’t insert yourself into this investigation.”

  That time I gritted my teeth. “I have no intention of inserting myself.” Let him figure out the person he should talk to on the crew.

  Detective Spangler brought in additional forces and cordoned off an area to take statements. It took hours to question everyone and thoroughly search the building.

  By the time I gave my statement, telling the police the little I knew, the afternoon sun had faded. I was tired and anxious to go home.

  As I prepared to leave with Tyrone, I watched Olivia approach Detective Spangler.

  “I understand you’re the one in charge.” Without waiting for a response, she went on. “It’s tragic what happened to Beth. I don’t want to appear hardhearted, but when can we get back onto the set? We have a very tight schedule, and this delay is disastrous.”

  It couldn’t be as disastrous as what had happened to Beth Crawford. I gave him high points for not losing his cool.

  “Until we can search the whole building, we can’t allow anyone back in. We’ll work as quickly as possible. You should get back onto the fourth floor tomorrow.”

  Olivia didn’t appear satisfied with the news, but she was wise enough not to say anything.

  As we turned to head for the parking lot, Chris brushed past us, staring straight ahead, his shoulders hunched.

  “Chris, wait up,” Sam, the audio guy, called out.

  “Not now. I’ll see you later.”

  Sam looked up, realized he was blocking the way, and stepped aside. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

  “No problem,” Tyrone said. “Is Chris okay?”

  Sam shook his head. “He and Beth had a thing before she broke up with him. He’s shattered at her death. I’m worried about him.”

  Chapter 9

  If you only have one bathroom, consider adding a second. Consult a real estate agent to gauge the return on your investment.

  Dark had descended by the time I arrived home to an empty house. Aunt Kit had gone out for the evening, and only Inky greeted me. His soft purring as I stroked him eased some of the distress I’d been feeling since seeing Beth Crawford’s body.

  I fed Inky and gave him fresh water with the two ice cubes he liked. Next, I called Nita to tell her the news about Beth. She was stunned and saddened by the news and worried about Tyrone and me possibly being near a murderer for the rest of the competition. But not enough to encourage us to drop out.

  After talking to her, I ate a turkey sandwich and changed into my nightgown, ready to escape into Connie Berry’s latest Kate Hamilton Mystery. Reading mysteries was my escape, and I desperately needed escapism. I no sooner crawled into bed than I heard knocking at the front door.

  Putting my book aside, I got up and pulled on a bathrobe, wondering what else could possibly happen that day. When I reached the front door, I looked through the window at the top and saw Tyrone and his girlfriend Kayla standing under the porch light. A petite girl, who looked young enough to still be in junior high, hunched behind them, shivering in the cold night air.

  I swung open the door. “Well, hello. What brings you all here? Halloween isn’t for a couple of weeks.”

  Ushering them into the house, I led the way to the kitchen. People in Louiston always gathered in the kitchen. The sheepish girl stared down at her feet. Turning my back to her, I cast Tyrone a look that telegraphed what’s going on?

  Tyrone spoke first, his expression serious. “Sorry to bother you, Laura, but we need your help.”

  I pointed to the kitchen table. “Okay. Let’s sit down, and you can tell me what this is all about.”

  The girl blurted out, “I didn’t want to come here, but Tyrone said you could help me. My dad is going to kill me, so I can’t go back home. I need to get to my grandmother’s house.”

  My eyebrows shot up almost enough to hit my hairline. Was this a teen fleeing from an abusive parent? Alarm bells began sounding in my head.

  “Don’t worry,” Kayla said, patting the girl on her back. “Laura will help you.”

  I had Aunt Kit staying with me. Was I now going to be taking in a runaway teenager as well?

  “Tyrone?” My tone was probably every bit as stern as his grandmother’s.

  “Sorry, Laura.” He leaned over and whispered, “We tried to take her home, but she pitched a fit. I’d have taken her to Gran, but she’d be in bed by this time.” He pointed to the young girl. “This is Nicki Spangler.”

  Hearing Nicki’s name, I froze. “Any relation to Detective Alex Spangler?”

  “He’s my dad.”

  My heart sank. Detective Spangler and I had been on opposing sides on some police cases, including the one today. But over time, we were slowly reaching détente. Learning that he might be an abusive parent surprised and distressed me.

  Seeing my expression, Tyrone jumped up. “No, it’s not like that. Nicki ran away from home because she—”

  “He won’t let me do anything!” Nicki wailed, and her lower lip jutted out like a young child.

  Relief flooded through me. Detective Spangler’s wife had died years ago, and being a single parent of a young girl couldn’t be easy. That, and being a policeman, probably made him overly protective of her. I remembered all too clearly how restrictive my mother had been. I lost count of the number of times I’d wanted to run away from home.

  “Kayla found her hiding i
n the ladies’ room at Vocaro’s just before I closed up for the night,” Tyrone said.

  Kayla’s face screwed up in distaste at the idea. “She was going to spend the night there. Tomorrow she plans to find her way to her grandmother’s house in Pittsburgh.” Quite a challenge since it was nearly a hundred miles away.

  Hoping to defuse the situation, I pulled a tin of ginger cookies I had baked earlier in the week and placed it on the table. Kayla took a cookie and passed them to Tyrone.

  Not being a parent, I hadn’t faced situations like this. Nita had told me enough about dealing with her children to be grateful I didn’t have to. But now, looking at the three sets of eyes staring at me expectantly, I realized I’d at least have to try. Nicki was looking to me for help getting to her grandmother’s house. I needed to convince her to return home.

  “Is your grandmother going to let you do the things you want to do?”

  Nicki’s face broke out in a broad smile, showing metal braces on her teeth. “Sure, she’s great and lots of fun.” She took two cookies.

  Well, that hadn’t worked. Grandmothers usually were fun. Although, I didn’t know that firsthand since I hadn’t had any grandmothers in my life.

  “Won’t you miss your friends?” I asked her. That gave her pause. It was obviously something she hadn’t thought about.

  “Yeah. But I’ll make new ones.” This girl was determined. I poured three glasses of milk and passed them around. Tyrone reached for another cookie.

  I decided to take a different approach. “Don’t you think your dad is frantic wondering what’s happened to you?”

  “I left him a note saying I’d be okay.” Perhaps scaring him had been her intention—punish him for being so strict.

  “But being a policeman, he could think someone kidnapped you and forced you to write that note.” Tyrone rolled his eyes at my words. With my love of mysteries, I had resorted to melodrama.

  Kayla slapped her hands on her cheeks as though in dismay. “Oh, my, gosh, Nicki! They’ve probably put out an Amber Alert about you, and the whole police force is looking for you.” She saw where I was heading with this.