A Wrench in the Works Page 13

  “Well, maybe Blake didn’t care about getting fired,” I said lamely. “But he’s still her husband and the spouse is always the most likely suspect.”

  He barely kept from rolling his eyes. “Okay. I’ve heard enough. I need to get going.” He tucked his pen in his pocket.

  “But wait, there’s more,” I said, sounding like a game show host. “The Wagners have a motive, too, so I think you should talk to them. They’re very angry and volatile.”

  “I don’t know them, but I’ll speak to them. Now—”

  “And there’s someone else. When I left the production office yesterday, I saw Richie Rich—I mean, Richard Stoddard—standing at the office door, eavesdropping on Bree’s conversation with Chloe. Do you know him?”

  “I’ve heard the name. What does he have to do with anything?”

  “He’s a real estate agent in town. We think Richie showed Bree some properties while she was visiting town last month.” I winced a little, because really, this was just gossip. But I marched forward because after all, it was good gossip. “And then he showed up at the production office hotel room the day before she was murdered. Coincidence? I wonder.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve just taken a deep dive into conspiracy theory territory. And I’ve got work to do.”

  “All right, all right.” But I wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “There’s also a full staff of people who might’ve had a bone to pick with Bree. Who knows if one of them argued with her and it escalated? Oh, and Blake has a personal assistant named Chelsea who seems suspicious of every other woman who talks to him. I’m pretty sure she’s in love with him, which gives her a strong motive to kill off his wife.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk to all of them. I plan to interview the entire staff. And the film crew, too.”

  “Good.” We walked back to the front of the house and I noticed that all those staff and crew people were indeed standing around, waiting for some word on when they would start shooting. The way many of them were chatting or munching on donuts, though, it looked like nobody had heard the news that Bree was dead. But I had already told Bob and Gary, so that was strange. Apparently the two men hadn’t said a word about it. Or maybe no one cared. And how sad would that be?

  “Chloe,” I said. “What’s going on? Have you told anyone about Bree yet?”

  She had moved from sitting on the steps to leaning against the clapboard wall of the house. Tommy was nearby, studiously ignoring her, which made me wildly excited to hear exactly what she’d said to him.

  “I wanted to tell them what happened,” she said. “But Tommy thought we should wait for Chief Jensen to announce it.”

  “I’m glad you waited,” Eric said. “I wouldn’t want you to be bombarded with questions you can’t answer.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll say a few words,” he said, glancing at Tommy. “And then we need to check on the husband.” He stepped to the edge of the porch.

  Chloe and I moved farther away while Eric called for everyone’s attention.

  “Folks, I’m Police Chief Eric Jensen and I’m afraid I have some bad news. There’s been a death inside the house and we’re going to have to shut down your production for a day or two.”

  There were a few gasps and a lot of frowns.

  “We’ll need to collect your names and check you off the production rundown,” Eric continued, “so please don’t go anywhere. If you could line up along the driveway, my officers will take down your information as quickly as possible. We’ll try to contact you over the next twenty-four hours. And if you have any questions, please direct them to me.”

  “Who died?” one of the guys shouted, and the crowd echoed his question.

  Eric paused for the people to calm down. “Bree Bennett.”

  More gasps met shrieks of disbelief.

  “No way!”

  “Oh my God.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I just saw her yesterday.”

  “How could this happen?”

  A number of women and a few men started to cry. Everyone looked completely stunned.

  But someone out there knew exactly what had happened. From my vantage point on the porch, I scanned the crowd, looking for any suspicious reactions. That was when I noticed the Wagners skirting the yard and heading for the sidewalk. I ran over to Eric and pointed. “Don’t let them get away.”

  “You two, stop right there!” he shouted.

  The Wagners froze. They obviously knew he was talking to them. It was an impressive show of dominance, I thought, and gave Eric a mental thumbs-up.

  Eric waved Tommy over. “Get their information, will you, Tom? Oh, and ask them where they thought they were going in such a hurry.”

  “You got it.” He jogged down the steps and ran across the lawn to talk to the Wagners.

  Eric turned and jabbed his finger toward me and Chloe. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got to talk to Blake Bennett.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Once Eric was gone and Tommy continued to talk to the Wagners, I asked Chloe to move toward the side of the porch that was the most shaded and farthest away from the crowd.

  “Why?” she asked.

  I moved in front of her and whispered, “Because Richie Rich just walked up to the coffee service table.”

  “No way.” She tried to push me aside to get a look at Richie.

  “I want to watch him, but I don’t want him to see us. We’re in the shadows now. I think we’re okay.”

  “The last thing I want is a confrontation right now.” She glowered at him. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Maybe he just wanted to see the spectacle. Or maybe he’s meeting someone. Oh, maybe he was planning to meet Bree here. Or maybe he’s the killer and he’s returning to the scene of the crime.”

  She stared at me. “I never realized what a rich imagination you have.”

  “I wish it were all imagination. But the fact is, I keep finding myself at these crime scenes. It would be odd if I didn’t pick up a few pointers, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Chloe said, still giving me a weird look.

  I huffed out a breath. “Would you put it past Richie to kill Bree?”

  “I can’t think of anyone who would actually kill someone. But then again, Richie’s such a creep.” She leaned around me to get another look at the man. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past him to do something awful like that.”

  “I wouldn’t, either.” I had never liked him, and knowing the way he’d treated my sister did not improve my opinion. And then seeing him eavesdropping the day before made it even worse. “He’s probably a sociopath and he’s certainly corrupt, so he’s pretty much the perfect suspect.”

  “I know you’ve seen your share of crime scenes, but this is my first. Maybe you have a better picture of what constitutes a killer.”

  “Not really. It’s always a shock.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. “So just how many . . . I mean, hmm.” She winced. “Sorry. Never mind.”

  “I know what you’re asking and hey, even my best friends wonder.” I gave a strained laugh. “A few months ago I was having dinner with Jane and Emily and some others, and they started counting up the bodies. It was gruesome and weird, especially as a dinner conversation.” And it had been appalling to realize just how many murders I’d been involved in. “So don’t feel bad. Anyway, I think we’re up to eight. It might be more. And I’ve been attacked a few times myself.”

  “Good grief, Shannon.” Chloe’s eyes went wide. “That’s just terrible. I think I need to come home more often just to keep an eye on you. I hope you carry a weapon with you.”

  “Mostly I carry hammers and pipe wrenches. They’re pretty effective weapons. And yes, it’
s terrible. I don’t know why I’m always the one who discovers the bodies around here.” I threw my hands up. “At this point I’m waiting for my friends to cut me loose. I mean, who wants to hang around someone who’s got a reputation for finding murder victims?”

  “That’s a good point. Luckily, though, you have some very loyal friends.” She hugged me. “And, you’ll always have me.”

  I held on to her for a long moment. “Thanks, Chloe, I love you, too. But as for my friends, I don’t know how much longer they’ll stick with me if this keeps happening.”

  She chuckled. “You’re being silly.”

  I hoped she was right. I knew my friends loved me, but honestly, who wanted to be around a murder magnet? On the other hand, talking about this was at least a good way to keep our minds off the sight of Bree Bennett’s body on that cold marble hearth.

  Ugh.

  Chloe was silent for a moment as she gazed at the side of the house. “This corner molding is completely warped.”

  Relieved at the change of subject, I turned to look. Touching the wood, I managed to poke my finger right through it. “It’s rotted straight through. This entire porch is shot. We’ll have to redo everything.” I ran over and got a hammer out of my toolbox and came back. “And it’s not just the moldings. Look at this corner beam.” I was so grateful to be doing something normal. Something helpful. I used the claw end to rip the beam right off the house. It didn’t take much effort.

  “That’s not good.” Chloe scanned the porch area and pointed up. “And check out that header beam. It’s completely waterlogged.”

  “I noticed that earlier. The wood has probably turned to sponge by now.”

  “No doubt we’re taking our lives in our hands just standing here on the porch.”

  I gave her a hopeful smile. “We’ll probably be okay for a few more minutes.”

  She sighed. “I’m much happier looking at rotten wood than dead people.”

  “Me, too.” I smiled and glanced around. “This is my happy place.”

  She gazed out at the lawn. “Is Richie still out there?”

  I took a quick peek over my shoulder.

  “Yes. He’s talking to . . . um. Hmm.” I moved to block her view, but she pushed me aside.

  “Who? Tell me.”

  “He’s talking to Suzanne,” I whispered.

  “What? No.” I was surprised when she stepped behind me. “I don’t want them to see me watching.”

  “Okay. She just handed him something. Looks like a piece of paper.”

  Chloe frowned. “This is weird. How would she know Richie?”

  “I don’t know, but they seem kind of friendly.” I watched for another few seconds until Suzanne walked away. “Who knows? It may be nothing. But you might want to warn her about him.”

  “Good idea.” She scowled. “He’s got a lot of nerve showing up here at all. What’s he doing now?”

  “Looks like he’s just staring across the yard. I’m not sure why. There’s nothing to see. It’s just Tommy, talking to the Wagners.”

  Her eyes widened. “Shannon. I wonder if the Wagners are Richie’s clients.”

  I thought about that possibility. “Now that makes perfect sense. They all deserve one another. We should find out for sure because if it’s true, I can just imagine Richie bragging to the Wagners that their house was definitely going to be used. And that might be the reason they’re so angry.” Something else occurred to me. “What if he was demanding a kickback from them? That would piss them off even more.”

  Chloe scowled. “Richie’s definitely the kickback type.”

  I nodded slowly. “We’ve got to find out for sure.”

  She sneaked a peek at Richie, who was grabbing another donut while blathering to someone at the coffee table, trying to make a point. “I know I said that Bree would never sleep with him, but now I wonder. He’s strutting around like he owns the place.”

  “Would Bree really cheat on Blake?”

  “I guess I don’t know anymore. I mean, she was really putting him down during our meeting. It’s just not fair. Blake is really cool.”

  “Except.” I held up my tool. “Blake can’t swing a hammer.”

  She giggled. “Is that a metaphor?”

  I began to laugh. “That was bad. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You made me laugh. For a while there, I thought I’d never laugh again.”

  “I know what you mean.” I looked away, distracted by more activity in the yard. “Okay, Tommy is headed toward us. And it looks like the Wagners are leaving. Oh, look. There goes Richie.”

  Chloe turned around. “He going after the Wagners?”

  We both watched as Richie began to jog across the lawn.

  “Hey, Rolly,” Richie yelled.

  Both Wagners turned and stopped. They glanced at each other and then at Richie. Rolly Wagner folded his arms tightly across his chest. They were not happy campers.

  “They must be his clients,” I murmured. “Look how angry they are. That’s the only explanation.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said, “I have a feeling most people react like that to Richie.”

  Richie got closer and I couldn’t hear what he was saying to the Wagners, but he looked alternately contrite and annoyed. A few seconds later it appeared that the conversation was over. Then all of a sudden, Rolly Wagner hauled off and punched Richie in the jaw.

  “He just hit him!” Chloe cried.

  And it was a heck of a punch. I was ashamed to admit I enjoyed it.

  Richie staggered backward and spun around. Rolly started toward him again, but his wife grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “Rolly, no! There’s cops everywhere!”

  “Tommy,” I shouted, pointing toward the fracas. “That guy just punched that other guy.”

  Tommy whipped around, saw what was happening, and ran back to stop the fight.

  “This day just gets better and better,” I muttered. “I’m going down there.”

  “Shannon, wait!”

  But I was tired of waiting in the shadows and took off down the steps. I wanted to hear what all those losers had to say for themselves.

  As I ran across the wide lawn, I could see Tommy trying to push Rolly Wagner back from grabbing Richie. Tommy was strong, but Wagner had major weight and muscle on his side. Meanwhile, Richie was sitting on the ground, looking dizzy and sick.

  I stared in disbelief as Rolly pushed Tommy back. Big mistake, I thought, watching Tommy reach for his handcuffs. Just when I thought Rolly might take a swing at Tommy, I saw Eric come running from across the street. Eric grabbed Rolly Wagner from behind and slapped handcuffs on him faster than I could even say the word.

  “Wow,” Chloe said. “Impressive. He’s like the Flash or something.”

  I whipped around and saw my sister right behind me. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I wasn’t going to be left behind.” Chloe rolled her eyes at the thought.

  I couldn’t blame her. “Well look, we don’t call Eric the Flash, but I occasionally think of him as Thor.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe said with a slow nod of appreciation. “I can see that.”

  Wagner’s wife started shouting. “Leave him alone! My husband isn’t the bad guy here.” She pointed at Richie. “That guy sold us a bill of goods. He’s a liar and a cheat and you should put him in jail.”

  “She’s got that right,” Chloe murmured.

  I almost laughed, but Eric had a look on his face that told me I’d better stifle it. He turned to Tommy. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go check on Bennett for me, would you, Tom?”

  “You bet.” Tommy took off running toward Blake’s trailer, but he turned to throw a dirty look at Rolly Wagner, who deserved that and more.

  “Garcia! Payton!”
Eric barked out the names. “Get over here.”

  Carlos and Mindy were already standing nearby and stepped up to help.

  “Take this guy to the station and book him.”

  “Yes, sir.” They each took hold of one of Rolly’s beefy arms and led him off to a squad car.

  “Noooo!” Mrs. Wagner cried. “It’s not fair. We were robbed!”

  Eric pierced her with a look. “You were robbed, ma’am?”

  “Well, sort of.” She backpedaled so fast, I expected to see sparks. “I mean, he promised we would be on the show and now we’re not. So it’s not fair that—”

  “Let me stop you right there, ma’am,” Eric said, holding up his hand. “Your husband just assaulted a police officer. We can discuss the fairness issue down at the station if you’d like to join us.” Then he walked away.

  “Boom. Mic drop,” Chloe whispered. “I’m really getting to like your Thor.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  “Figure of speech.”

  I shook my head and went back to watching Eric’s next move.

  “But what about him?” Mrs. Wagner whined, waving her hand at Richie. “Aren’t you going to arrest him?”

  But Eric kept going. I couldn’t blame him for walking away from these horrible people, but I would’ve loved to see him slap some cuffs on Richie Rich. No one deserved it more.

  Chapter Eight

  The excitement was over.

  The Wagners were dragged off to the police station. Tommy had gone over to the trailer to check on Blake Bennett and to hopefully spring Mac. The entire production staff and most of the crew were at loose ends, waiting for word on what they were supposed to do next. Chloe had talked to Suzanne and the other production people to figure out whether they should take the rest of the day off to honor Bree’s memory and then report back first thing tomorrow morning.

  It was barely eleven o’clock in the morning when Chloe and I crossed the lawn and climbed the front steps to retrieve our tote bags and my toolbox.