Alexander key witch mo.., p.11
Prime Time Murder, page 11
“Crafty.”
I sighed. “Unlikely.”
“This is a classic frame job.” He swung his arms outward. “The murder is too sloppy. I work on a cop show and know what not to do.”
“Such as?”
“First, I wouldn’t assault someone using a weapon with direct ties to me. Second, I would wipe off my prints. Third, I would destroy the evidence.”
“Excellent, you’re making notes for your next killing spree.”
His shoulders slumped. “Come on, Becky. You know how these procedurals go. It’s all about forensics. At the very least, you attempt to clean the crime scene.”
Doubt formed like knots in my stomach. Justin made a valid argument—one I made as I tried to fall asleep the night before. You’d have to be stupid to leave behind so much evidence. But when it came to the Hollywood Hunk, I wasn’t sure if I could trust my gut to be impartial.
“If you didn’t kill her, who did?” I asked. “Who would want to frame you?”
“Beats me. M.J. lived for ruffling feathers. When she didn’t get her way, lookout.”
“If you expect me to believe your story, I need alternative suspects. Plausible leads.”
He rubbed his temples, his frustration evident. “Someone on this set has it out for me, and they’re using Maria’s death to destroy me.”
“Who?”
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken fears and doubts. Justin might be innocent, but he remained the prime suspect until I could prove otherwise.
Resolve hardened his handsome features. “I don’t like the idea of accusing people I work with of murder. Especially with no proof.”
“Fine. Enjoy spending your golden years in the hoosegow.”
“Barnett Sinclair. His app is a colossal flop. He’s been hitting up investors coast to coast, but no one is taking the bait. He blows through money like it’s a sport, and he’s competing in the Olympics. Maria prepared to cut him off and kick him out.”
“But if she dies, he inherits the entirety of their trust funds?”
“Giving him motive.”
I tucked a flyaway behind my ear. “Interesting theory, but he alibied out. Anyone else?”
“This is pure guesswork without evidence and probably not what you want to hear.” He sucked in a breath. “Ashton Ashley gives me a vibe. She swaps out personalities like most people change socks.”
“I noticed.”
Justin narrowed his eyes. “I thought she fooled you with the inspiring speech.”
“I fibbed to wind you up.” I tapped my chin. “If I believe your story, and I’m not saying I do, why would Ashton frame you?”
“She’s smarter than people realize. I’m the easy patsy. I have motive, means, and opportunity.”
“But with the state of her career, she needs this show to happen. Losing two leads is risky.”
“But perhaps a worthy gamble. Her name climbs the ranks with me and her nemesis gone.”
“I don’t picture Ashton taking a bat to someone’s head. Even her enemy.”
Justin shoved his hands in his pocket. “I learned early on not to underestimate her. Beyond the outer candy is a rotten center.”
“Did you pull the metaphor from some cheesy dialogue?”
He chuckled. “That cheese is all mine.”
His charm irritated me. Mainly because it was effortless and believable. Was I a fool for believing him? “What do you think I can do?”
Justin crouched to my eye level and held my shoulders. “I see in your eyes that you buy my story, if only partially. And that’s enough for right now.”
I hated how my stomach fluttered when we locked gazes. Crushing on an anonymous actor I never thought I would meet was one thing. But now he was a murder suspect.
Shaking the daze, I tried to remember if he asked me a question. A girl could get lost in his emerald smolder. “I’m confused about what you think I can do.”
“I need someone to help me find the truth.” He cracked his knuckles. “Who better to hire than the snoopy gal who found the body? At least we know you didn’t kill her.”
“About that…”
His eyebrows arched. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Of course not. But my name might be right below yours on the suspect list.”
“How?”
“I dropped my ID badge, which somehow wedged under the body. The specifics are hazy, but the CBI isn’t too bright and thinks a tiny piece of evidence makes a murderer.”
“Sounds like we found common ground—a reason to continue the investigation. Are you in?”
Before I could answer, the trailer door swung open.
“You’re a tough one to find.” Agent Cornwallis dangled handcuffs from his finger. “Are you going to cooperate, or am I gonna need these?”
13
Downtown
My heart hammered as I focused on the handcuffs swinging in Cornwallis’ grasp. I gasped for air and struggled to think logically. Were the trailer walls closing in? It certainly felt like it. The room spun, and the various sports memorabilia became a blur.
I pointed a finger at my chest. “Are you talking to me or him?”
“Huh? Roberson, why do you keep showing up everywhere?” The CBI agent blinked as if noticing me for the first time. “You, actor boy, put on the bracelets.”
“Am I being arrested?” Justin asked.
“Looks like we’re heading in the general direction.” Cornwallis combed through his thin, russet hair. “Unless you can offer a reasonable explanation at the station.”
“You’re after the wrong guy,” Justin said.
I touched his arm. “Your story reads like every criminal claiming innocence.”
“I thought you believed me?”
I made a face for the agent’s benefit and lowered my voice. “Do yourself a favor and lawyer up.”
“I’ll look guilty.”
“Newsflash, Hollywood. According to a viral blog, you already are guilty.”
Justin extended his wrists. “Alright, Corny. Make sure to call my lawyer when we arrive at HQ.”
“You want to play this card? Fine. But attorneys get in the room and muddle things up. I can’t help you.”
I bounced on my tiptoes. “You’re hauling in one of New York’s finest, not a two-bit dealer. He is aware of his rights.”
“Whose side are you on, Roberson?”
“R-O-B-I-N-S-O-N. I’m on the side of the truth.”
“Now, who’s speaking in cheesy movie lines?” Justin ducked as he exited. “Agent Cornwallis, I’m willing to answer your questions because I am innocent. But my lawyer will be present in case you already decided on my guilt.”
The agent pointed a stubby finger at me. “Don’t forget, you and I still need to talk.”
“Looking forward to it, Chief.”
Lois charged into the props department and bent at the waist. She wheezed, winded from the sprint. “Did you hear?”
“About?”
“The arrest. Everyone is chattering about Woods being hauled away from the studio in handcuffs.”
“Justin is innocent.”
Lois’ entire body slouched, conveying her irritation. “Not this again. Your silly celebrity crush is melting your brain.”
“Before the crack CBI team arrived, I interviewed Justin. He plugged all the holes in his story and provided a solid alibi. I believe him.”
“What alibi?”
“He was out for a jog.”
“Oh my. Talk about ironclad.”
“His Fitbit confirms the route. I didn’t come to this conclusion lightly.” I led Lois to a park bench and recapped my conversation with the actor.
“What about the secret file he snatched from Maria’s safe? Did you forget about his snooping in her trailer?”
“It didn’t come up.” My mouth twisted. “I’ll ask him next time I run into him.”
“Behind bars?”
“He hired us to find the real killer.”
“A wannabe actress and a struggling director? Sure, who wouldn’t hire us?” Lois combed bangs from her face. “With the show likely ending, we can use the extra rent money. How much is he paying?”
“We didn’t exactly discuss price.”
“Well, he isn’t in a position to negotiate. I’ll draw up a contract.” Lois jotted a note with a neon gel pen.
“You realize, Lo-Vo, if you cut out your pen expense, we can save enough for three months' rent.”
The nickname elicited an eye roll. “These are fancy pens. They write super thin and pretty.”
“And cost more than my entire outfit put together.”
“Anyway, if Justin isn’t the killer, who is?”
“He mentioned the brother.”
Lois crossed her arms and rubbed her chin. “Hmm. Barnett provided an equally hackable alibi.”
“But I’m getting a stronger vibe from Ashton Ashley.”
Lois nodded. “This we can agree on.”
For the next few minutes, we discussed the actress’s blowup and her multiple personality disorder. “Interviewing her is tricky. I worry that mention of the murder will spark our demise. And if we lose our jobs, no more inside track to investigating.”
“Did you develop a rapport with her?”
I swished my hand in a ‘so-so’ signal. “Flattery is our best shot.”
Lois swiped her phone and read a text message. “Sherry called an emergency, all-personnel meeting. Hopefully, we can interview Ashton afterward.”
We hustled across the studio and entered a packed conference room. Sherry banged a thermos on the table. “Settle down. This isn’t gossip hour.” She donned her reading glasses. “I just came from a discussion with the producers and our showrunner. Losing Justin is a huge blow to our morale and the show itself. However, we decided to push onward with season two.”
“I’m shocked,” Lois whispered. “How?”
“To cancel now is ridiculous,” I said. “Free press alone will skyrocket ratings.”
“No one can predict Justin’s future, and we don’t want to speculate.” Sherry read from her script, and the words lacked her typical conviction. “Therefore, we are proceeding without his character. The writers are working on an alternative B story to fill the void.”
Ashton Ashley raised her hand. “This may be unorthodox, but did you consider recasting his part?”
“We are exploring numerous avenues. In the meantime, filming will continue with our other actors.” Sherry clapped. “Business as usual, people. I don’t want to discover otherwise from your superiors.” She dismissed the meeting, and the gossip resumed.
I elbowed through the crowd and trailed Ashton outside. Lois tugged on my sleeve. “Are we sure about this?”
“No.” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Ashton! I’m so glad we caught up with you.”
She squinted, attempting to place the recognition. “Hello.”
“We met this morning at craft services.”
“Oh, the clumsy girl.”
Lois snickered. “Quite the name you’re making for yourself.”
I ignored the snide remark. “How are you holding up, Ashton? This must be incredibly difficult, losing two co-stars.”
Her hand covered her heart. “I’m honestly in shock. Literally shaking. But I can’t worry about outside forces. This season is a tribute to our fans.”
“Too many bad omens.” Lois waved her arms. “This place carries a troublesome aura. Cloudy mojo.”
I frowned at her insincere, superstitious Asian role. She came off sounding only a little stitious.
“I sensed the same about this area. Can you conjure ancient Chinese remedies to put us back on track?” Ashton arched a perfectly shaped brow. “How stupid do you think I am? What are you two after?”
“We decided to play Nancy Drew.” I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “Turns out Justin provided an alibi for the murder.”
“Says who?” Ashton scoffed. “The police arrested him.”
“All for show so they can draw out the real killer,” Lois said.
“And you two are what, going to find him first?”
“Or her,” I added. “I managed to sneak a peek at the suspect list Agent Cornwallis is compiling. Surprised me to catch your name at the top.”
“My name? What possible reason would I have to kill Maria?”
I lifted my shoulders. “His note said, you can’t account for your time during the murder window,’ which means you had opportunity.”
“I gave the little troll my alibi. He is probably too busy drooling over meeting a star to remember. I attended a yoga class with fifty other women. I live Tweet my routine every other morning and check in on Instagram. Millions of people can confirm I didn’t bludgeon Maria.”
“What a relief.” I swiped a hand across my forehead. “I don’t think the show would survive losing you.”
Lois braided a small section of her hair. “A few names on the suspect list surprised us.”
“What do you know about the Chalet on the Hills Country Club?” I asked.
“Is someone associated with the club under suspicion?”
My eyes drifted as I pretended to recall. “I can’t remember the name, but a lady witnessed Maria arguing with an influential member.”
“This is typical. The same day I’m confirmed, Maria manages to block me from the grave.” Ashton cocked her hip. “For months, my aunt fought to get me confirmed, but Maria swayed the board time and time again. She kept logs of blackmail on everyone. But Vera Killgallen doesn’t scare so easily.”
Where did I know that name? My breathing hitched. The old woman I spoke to at the pool was a board member named Vera. The woman is Ashton’s aunt? What are the odds?
Lois’ eyes widened. “Maria conspired to keep you out of the club?”
“Astonishing, right? As if my presence would taint the water. I think she grew jealous and panicked about losing her position in the community.”
“Your aunt often disagreed with Maria?” I asked.
“Yeah. But the police are crazy if they think Vera is capable of murder. Sure, Maria was a nuisance to us, but it was only a matter of time. With my influential fans and connections to the media, the club couldn’t find a legitimate cause to deny my application. And Vera is up for president. When she wins, she will overthrow Maria’s cronies on the board.”
“Unless Maria decided to run.”
Ashton’s face paled. “No matter. I’m in now, and after my confirmation tomorrow evening, there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“Thank you for your time, Ashton.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Watch your backs. Your little investigation could get messy.”
Lois shivered. “Did she threaten us?”
“Who can tell?” I waved. “Vera Killgallen is now near the top of our suspect list.”
“Ugh. Are you going to suggest another trip to the club?”
“Not quite yet. I need to visit an old friend first.”
14
New Evidence
I yanked the peaked cap lower over my eyes as I snuck downstairs into the coroner's office. The police costume bulked around my short arms as I reached for the door handle. I cracked it just enough to peer inside and knocked on the frame. “Dr. Eklund?”
The M.E. spun on his stool and lifted a face shield. “Officer Robinson, right?”
My nostrils flared as I caught a whiff of antiseptic and ammonia. I held my finger under my nose, hoping to weaken the assault. “Splendid memory. How did your wife like the flowers?”
“Smashing success, Officer. I owe you one.”
“Is it rude if I cash in right away?”
“Name your price. I’m forever in your debt.” He slid his stool closer and clasped my hand. “I impressed Esmeralda by taking the time to find her birth month flower thing. Probably saved my marriage.”
“I’m happy to help.” I looped a thumb through my belt, attempting cop posture. “Can you provide an update on the Maria Sinclair case? Are the labs back on the murder weapon?”
“Give me a second.” He jerked at the loud Hawaiian shirt collar protruding from his lab coat and rolled over to the computer. “A Louisville Slugger is consistent with the victim’s head wounds. Trace found slivers of maple in the wound track. Fingerprints are a match to lead suspect Justin Woods.”
“His prints are in the system?”
“Uh, no. The boys printed him this afternoon, confirming the identity.” Eklund adjusted glasses straight out of the 1980s. “We pulled an unidentified smudge on the barrel.”
I cocked my head to the side. “It didn’t match Justin?”
“Only about ten percent of the latent print is usable, but it did not belong to Mr. Woods.”
“Any news on the footprint? Or DNA under the vic's fingernails?”
He nodded as he searched the computer file. “DNA is still out, but we verified the sample is female.”
I froze. “The skin cells under Maria’s nails are from a woman?”
“Yeah. The defense attorney will have a field day with that one.” Eklund smacked the band of his rubber gloves. “Between that and the mysterious fingerprint—if the glove don't fit, you must acquit. You’re probably too young to remember that.”
“I watched the mini-series.” My pulse raced. Was Justin telling the truth in his trailer? Could somebody be framing him? “What about the bloody t-shirt?”
“Ah, yes. The weird one.” He opened a folder. “Blood type matches the victim. The smear pattern suggests the killer didn’t wear the shirt during the murder but used it to wipe blood.”
I squinted at the photos. “Splotch, not spatter.”
“Precisely. The strange part is we found no skin cells, sweat stains, or trace elements on the material. Out of the box new.”
“Meaning what?”
“All considered, I don’t think we collected enough to hold the guy.” Eklund shoved a hand through white-blonde hair. “An ID badge under the body places a woman at the scene. Along with the female skin cells, we’ve got reasonable doubt in spades.”
A wave of nausea swept over me, and it had nothing to do with the morgue smells. I stumbled into the autopsy table and spilled a tray of instruments. “Sorry.” I scrambled to pick them up.
