Cobblered to death, p.4
Cobblered to Death, page 4
I made record time getting out of my wardrobe and contemplated calling Eric to come to the set. I really wanted to talk to him, yet it had been a long day. Baking my cobbler and collapsing in my room took priority tonight. I’d tell Eric about Mick’s innuendos first thing in the morning.
The cleaning crew entered when I stuck the heavy, cast-iron skillet filled with bubbling cherries and dollops of sweet batter into the oven. I sat in a chair out of their way. It was interesting to see all the dirty dishes and baking gear loaded into tubs and replaced with clean counterparts. The crew efficiently wiped down the surfaces and floors. They were in and out faster than my cobbler baked.
“What are you doing in here?”
Travis’s curt tone startled me.
“I’m baking a cobbler for my live show tomorrow.”
The baking timer chirped, vouching for my statement.
Lips pursed, Travis shook his head. Everything I did seemed to irritate Travis. I rose and started to the oven.
“I meant, why are you here so late? I’m trying to secure the area.” His tone hadn’t improved.
“Filming ran over.” I bent over and peeked into the oven, hoping my cobbler hadn’t done the same. Whew! It hadn’t. I didn’t have the energy to try again.
“I’ll make one more loop over the grounds and come back. You’d better be out of here.”
“Excuse me, but it’s in my contract,” I said to no one. When I stood to make eye contact, Travis had gone. I hadn’t even heard him slip through the door.
I was tired of his attitude. I was tired of defending the on-location shoots. I was, well, just tired. The only way to rectify that was to finish this cobbler.
Turning my attention back to my dessert, I opened the oven door until it stopped. The top was golden brown. I turned the oven knob to Off, silicone-gloved my hands and pulled out the pan by the handle.
Using both hands, I sat the heavy pan on a trivet to cool. I’d pick it up tomorrow morning before filming started.
I headed to the door and pondered if I should leave the lights on. After searching around the doorframe, I didn’t find a switch. Shrugging, I left the lights on. Travis could turn them off. I stepped out into the cool evening air. A shiver sent a current of fear through me.
It was dark.
Really dark. This city girl wasn’t used to so much darkness. I looked up hoping to see a bright array of stars. No luck; clouds blocked the moon and stars. I hurried down the path.
Ahhwhooo . . .
I jumped. Was that an owl or a coyote? I glanced over my shoulder and saw nothing on the path behind me. I listened for the purr of Travis’s vehicle over the frenzied beat of my heart. If he was close, maybe he would give me a ride to the castle. Then again, he probably wouldn’t, or he’d lecture me all the way. At this point, I’d take my chances.
The only non-nature noise I heard was my own heavy breathing.
I began to walk.
A twig snapped.
I walked faster.
Another snap echoed through the still night.
I stopped and looked in the direction of the sound. A shadow loomed in the darkness, large and menacing.
My neck hair bristled. Then I ran.
CHAPTER FOUR
I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a knock on the door of my suite. I stopped in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door. My makeup artist had her work cut out for her today. I looked like a football player. Dark circles underscored my eyes. “Pasty” described my fair complexion and fatigue etched my features. Yesterday, I’d falsely assumed after a long day of filming topped off with an extra two hours of preparing my cobbler, I’d have fallen asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I hadn’t accounted for the adrenaline surge brought on by the fear of a possible wild animal attack. When I did sleep, it came in fitful spurts. My dreams startled me awake. Each time I’d been running from closing sharp talons or nipping pointed teeth, all while a soundtrack of the chilling howl I’d heard played in the background.
After a couple of hours, I stopped trying for shuteye, ordered a pay-per-view romcom and sat zombified in front of the television, counting down the hours until five o’clock to send Eric a text inquiring about wild animal noises. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy. Now, instead of doing farm chores in the wee hours of the morning, Eric worked on our show.
Closing the door that separated the bedroom from the living room and office area of my suite, I hurried to answer the door. Checking the peephole, I cranked the handle while I unlatched the security bar on the door.
Eric smiled and held out a coffee. “Good morning.”
He’d made a stop at the coffee shop in the lobby. The heavenly aroma of hazelnut delighted my nose. My favorite. I grabbed the coffee and took a sip. The creamy java wrapped around my taste buds. I needed caffeine. I took another sip to stifle my urge to tell Eric to stop showing off that he’d had a good night’s rest and felt like making himself presentable to the world. Where I’d pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a promotional T-shirt from my show, he’d paired navy trousers with a navy pin-striped, long-sleeved shirt. With his black loafers, blond hair styled trendy and laptop bag slung over his shoulder, no one would ever guess the man standing before me was a farm boy at heart.
“What’s with the cryptic text, Courtney?” Eric strolled through the door and dumped his laptop bag on the sofa.
I closed the door, sighed and flopped down on a couch cushion, thankful Eric had the good manners not to point out my haggard appearance due to lack of sleep. I took a long, bracing sip of coffee. “On the way back to the castle last night, after making my practice cobbler, I heard a noise.”
“Ah.” Eric breathed the word. “You got spooked in the dark.”
I caught the tremble in the corner of his lips. He was fighting a smirk. Had I not needed his help identifying the howl, I might have pointed out that this was no laughing matter.
“And didn’t get any sleep?” He gave me a once-over and stopped the fight. His lips curled and the corners of his eyes crinkled.
So much for good manners. I twisted my lips into a lopsided pout. “In my defense, it was really dark. There are no lights along the path until you get closer to the resort.”
“City kids. We used to turn out our car lights and drive down a gravel road by the light of the moon.” Eric chuckled and shook his head. He set his own cup on the glass-topped coffee table and traded seats with his laptop bag. “Let me get this booted up and we’ll see what you heard. I’m sure it was an owl.”
Eric was probably right. I was out of my element and an owl’s screech had scared me. I had overreacted. Another sip of my nutty brew soothed my nighttime foolishness. “Thank you for the coffee. It was just what I needed this morning. Well, and your help identifying the noise I heard.”
“That’s what friends, and producers, are for.” Eric’s gentle gaze, no longer holding mirth, met mine before he opened the laptop. The screen brightened the dim room. “Naturally.” Eric looked at me and shrugged. “It’s starting an update.”
“I hope it’s a quick one. I have to report to makeup in thirty minutes.” I finished off my coffee in one long gulp. “I need to talk to you about something else anyway.”
Leaning back into the deep sofa, Eric bent one leg in a triangle, so he could face me. “What’s up?” Although his tone was upbeat, he tapped the foot that remained planted on the floor. His tell, for he knew he wasn’t going to like this conversation.
“Well, I’m pretty sure. No, I’m very sure.” Maybe this wasn’t the right time to broach the topic because I was tired and cranky. The last thing I needed was a lecture, which I would get because I hadn’t heeded Eric’s many warnings and watched what I said. Yet he needed to know about Mick’s innuendos. I sucked in a deep breath.
The swish of his pant leg against the sofa’s upholstery picked up speed. “What?” he pressed.
I heaved a sigh. I had enough of being a coward last night, so I dived right in. “The man in the coffee shop reading the paper.” I raised my brows.
Eric answered with a slow nod.
“He’s a contestant.”
Another slow nod.
“He overheard our conversation.” The words rushed out of me. “He inferred our secret is safe with him.”
“Right.” Eric snorted the word. “I told you.” He held up his index finger.
I countered with a halting palm. “I know. It’s my fault. His name is Mick Henderson. I think he’s trouble.”
“Wasn’t he the reason filming was stopped yesterday?” Eric lowered his lifted index finger and tapped the laptop’s keyboard.
“Yes. The other contestant involved in that scene was Tabitha Miller. I think Mick and Tabitha know Harrison. I saw them in a tense conversation. I’m wondering if they are trying to rig the contest, or if he is trying to blackmail a win and Tabitha is on to him.”
“You’re not a judge, though, so what would he gain from blackmailing you?” Eric frowned. “Maybe coercion? He thinks a television celebrity brings home a big salary?”
I shrugged and rubbed my temples. “I’m really sorry. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Should I talk to him?” Eric patted my back, his tone soothing rather than seething.
I wrinkled my nose and found Eric’s gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe I should let it play out a little more. He knows I’m not a farmer’s daughter and I find my show stale, yet he hasn’t threatened me in any way. Or maybe he’s going straight to the press or network.”
Eric changed positions and logged into his system. “I doubt that.” Eric glanced my way. “He has no witnesses to corroborate his story. It’d be hearsay. I’ll leave it alone for now. But you,” Eric’s index finger wagged at me, “watch what you say and keep me informed of anything he says or does concerning this issue. Stay out of trouble.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Okay, now let’s find out just what noise you heard last night.”
* * *
Eric had walked me down the main path to the building because the sun hadn’t risen. I opened the heavy wooden door. One fluorescent light at the top of the stairs illuminated the staircase, while the set remained dark. With last night’s scare fresh in my mind, I opted to pick up my cobbler once the set lights brightened the room.
Wardrobed up, I plopped my tired bottom in my makeup chair. “Sorry I missed our time to walk to the set together. Eric and I got wrapped up in some . . . um . . . business details.” I threw Shannon an apologetic look.
“We’ll do it tomorrow. I know all about business meetings.” She waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air. Wardrobe had dressed her in brown jeans and a turquoise print top. I felt certain a matching jacket hung somewhere close. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, I suspected to show off her turquoise-and-silver dangle earrings.
I swallowed hard. Guilt twisted through me. I’d just told Shannon a white lie. I hated it. This was not the way to start out a friendship, but if I divulged the nature of Eric’s and my meeting, she would question me. A farmer’s daughter would know the difference between a coyote’s yelp and an owl’s screech. Sadly, not one animal hoot, growl or squeal Eric played sounded like the horrible noise I’d heard. We ran out of animals indigenous to the area, leaving me to wonder what I had heard.
“Courtney?” Shannon snapped her fingers, pulling me back to the present.
Skylar chuckled. “Hey, we’re all tired after yesterday’s long day of filming. She zoned out. Give her a break. Her day didn’t end when ours did.” Skylar sported a long-sleeved, black polo shirt with black dress pants, which made sense because they’d dressed me in a bright green sheath with platform stilettos to make up for the height difference between us.
I flashed a weak smile at Skylar. “Thanks. My cobbler turned out great. I can’t wait to show everyone.”
I looked past Skylar at Harrison, dressed, as always, in a suit and tie, who made no attempt to join the conversation. I righted myself in the chair. The makeup artist stuffed tissue paper around the neck of my dress to avoid makeup stains. Skylar rolled his eyes at me.
“Well, I for one,” Shannon enunciated the words and looked in Harrison’s direction, “am anxious to see your creation.”
She smiled and gave me a wink.
Harrison sighed, long and loud. “Okay, I’ll play along. Courtney, I can’t wait to see your cobbler. I’m sure it’s unlike any cobbler I’ve ever seen before. Shannon, how did you spend your evening?” He didn’t attempt to hide his sarcasm.
Shannon smiled like a cat ready to lap up cream. Sarcasm or not, she’d pushed the right button and won. “Well . . .” She drawled out the word. “I worked too. I’m in the throes of recipe arrangement for my new cookbook, and I Skyped with my husband. Bless your heart for asking, Harrison.”
I ducked my head so Harrison wouldn’t see me snicker.
Eyes wide with innocence, Shannon leaned forward a smidgeon. “What’d y’all do last night, Harrison?”
Harrison’s pursed lips told us he knew Shannon was asking to aggravate him, not out of interest. “After an adequate dinner in the resort’s steak house, I power walked around the grounds for over an hour. It helps me relieve my aggressions.” He cocked a brow at Shannon before sticking his nose back into his magazine.
“Doesn’t anyone want to know what I did?”
“Mr. Daily,” Harrison said, never looking up from his reading, “of course, we want to know. Do tell.” Harrison’s tone as dry as week-old bread.
Skylar shot Harrison a look that, in truth, he didn’t see, and turned his chair toward Shannon and me. “I ordered room service and vegged out watching a movie.”
Briefly, I wondered if it was the same romcom I’d ordered.
“I found an old horror film on a classic network. The effects were so cheesy.”
“I’m sure that is something you know a lot about.” Harrison’s tone hadn’t improved.
In that instant, the air in the makeup room thickened. Again. Skylar’s cheeks blazed red and Shannon rolled her eyes at me. Harrison had managed to stop all conversation except that of the makeup people, who talked in hushed whispers to each of their assignments.
The time Kinzy arrived to get us yesterday came and went. Thirty minutes later, she burst through the door. “Sorry, we’re running late. Brenden’s ready for you now.”
Obliging, we all followed her, with me leading the group. I wanted to get my cobbler. If we were ready to film, bright lights would flood the set. Painful as it was to admit, I still had a case of the heebie-jeebies from last night. I did hope my cobbler wasn’t in a contestant’s way.
A worry I didn’t need to have. The set remained dark and eerily silent. Still about twenty minutes before daybreak, the natural light filtering through the high windows made everything look shadowy.
I shivered, remembering last night’s encounter with a looming silhouette.
“Where is everyone?” Skylar asked.
“Well.” Kinzy sighed. “We can’t account for all the contestants. Brenden didn’t want to pay the crew to stand around, so he postponed filming for an hour. Because you’re ready for filming, I’m taking all of you back to the resort to shoot some promos. Brenden is waiting in the lobby with a skeleton crew.”
Kinzy started to cut a path for the door.
“Wait a minute,” Harrison’s tone commanded.
Stopping, Kinzy turned around.
“Who is missing?” Harrison crossed his arms and planted his feet. Making a stance, I guessed, until he got the information he demanded.
“Mick Henderson.” Kinzy sighed.
Harrison’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he left the premises, do you?”
I shared Harrison’s interest in the answer to that question. Was Mick making plans to go to the press?
Shrugging and throwing up her palms, Kinzy said, “He might have. We don’t know where he is. We can’t find him.” Her short, quick answers reflected the frustrating morning she was having. “Now, please follow me to the castle.”
“Can I take a quick minute to pick up my cobbler?” I kept my tone light and polite so as not to add more stress to her day.
“Sure. Where is it?”
“In the last kitchenette.” I pointed toward the darkest corner. “Could we turn on the lights? I don’t want to trip over anything.” I lifted a foot to emphasize my six-inch heels.
“Um . . . I don’t know where to find the switch. It’s not by the door. I looked when I stepped in this morning. The crew usually turns on the lights.” Kinzy shrugged.
“Use your cell phone flashlight.” Skylar demonstrated with his own.
“Good idea.” I tapped the app and slid my finger across the screen. The area in front of me lit up. I moved it around a little to get an idea of the circumference of the light stream. Not perfect, but adequate. “I’ll only be a minute.”
I kept my eyes to the floor, stepping over thick cords around the perimeter of the set. Once in the set and clear of floor debris, I shined the light at the countertop where I’d left my cobbler.
It wasn’t there. I frowned and moved the beam of light along the countertop it should have been on. The light illuminated nothing but bare countertop. “My cobbler is missing.”
“Maybe a mouse ate it.”
My head snapped in Kinzy’s direction. I spotlighted the group of people waiting for me.
“A mouse couldn’t move a cast-iron fry pan.” Shannon’s tone held no politeness.
“There better not be rodents in this building.” Harrison’s command drew a frown from Kinzy.
“Who would take it?” My tone edged with panic. I didn’t have time to make another one. As a matter of fact, I didn’t have time for filming to be delayed. I had a show to film at six. I searched my coworkers’ faces, hoping for a valid answer.
“Maybe someone moved it to the refrigerator?” Shannon called louder than she needed. Her words echoed off the high ceilings.
I shivered. For some reason, the echo of her suggestion reminded me of last night’s high-pitched yowl. I shone the light on the length of the counter once again in case I’d missed seeing the cobbler the first time or it had magically reappeared. The still-bare counter propelled me down the center aisle. Heels clicking on the tile floor, I focused on my destination, the back corner of the room where the refrigerator stood.
