Cross-Stitch Before Dying (21 page)

E
ileen Beaumont had left long before Ron Fitzpatrick had arrived, but what she’d said about Mita Trublonski lingered. I couldn’t imagine Mita harming her own child, but if she thought Henry was responsible for Babs’ death, she might strike out at him. I intended to look at the footage closely to see if Ms. Trublonski was in any of the footage and, if she was, how she’d behaved toward Henry.

Ted had called me back before coming over and asked if I’d mind another set of experienced eyes seeing the film footage. I’d said of course I didn’t, so Manu and Reggie joined our viewing party. Ted and the Singhs arrived in separate vehicles but at roughly the same time. Ron arrived at one o’clock on the dot. I’d baked some mini-quiches I had in the freezer along with brownies and peanut butter cookies. Mom had made a cheese ball and placed it on a tray with an assortment of crackers. I felt as if we were in good shape refreshment-wise.

We arranged everything on a decorative platter and took it into the living room. It was a mild, sunny day, so I put Angus out into the backyard with a granola bone until after everyone had had their fill of the refreshments. Even with the platter placed on the highest surface of the living room, it wouldn’t be safe from a dog of Angus’s considerable height . . . and appetite.

“Hey,” Ron said when he came in carrying his equipment bag. “I didn’t know there’d be so many people here.”

“Well, you know Reggie,” I said. “This is her husband Manu, and this is Ted Nash.” I decided not to reiterate the fact that we were looking for murder suspects, especially since Ron seemed a little nervous. “At the rate things are going, this might be our only chance to see any of the movie.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It might. Hope not, though. That’d be a shame. I saw Angus outside—told him I’d play with him before I leave.”

“I thought I’d bring him back in after we have our snacks,” I said.

He glanced over at the platter. “Oh, that’s smart. Chocolate is bad for dogs.”

“I know.” I smiled. “Is there anything you need to get set up?”

“Nope. I’ll just plug into your TV, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” I told him.

Ted, Mom, and Reggie were sitting on the sofa. Manu was on the armchair. I was planning to sit on the ottoman, but that left Ron without a seat. I went into the kitchen to retrieve a chair. By the time I got back, Ron had set up a computer with the digital equipment on the ottoman and pulled it close enough to the television to hook in the required cables. I went back for another chair.

Instead of sitting on a chair, however, Ron sat on the floor in front of the ottoman so he could work the equipment to show us the film footage. I placed my chair beside Manu. He gave me a smile and a nod, as if to reassure me that we’d certainly see something in Ron’s footage that would help us to discover the identity of Babs’ and Henry’s murderer or murderers. I doubted he was really all that confident. I wasn’t, but like everything else as far as investigating this case went, it couldn’t hurt.

The first clip that came up on my TV screen featured Babs in full Sonam Zakaria costume back in San Francisco. She was batting her lashes and flirting with someone offscreen. She even blew the person a kiss.

“Okay,” Henry was saying. “Can we please get the shot this time? We’re getting behind schedule. Babs, sweetie, I know you’ll nail it this time.” His
I
know
sounded more like an
I’m praying
.

Babs gave him a saucy shrug and then sauntered over to her mark.

Henry gave the command to “Roll ’em.”

Babs said her line and apparently did well because Henry called “Cut” and Babs walked off the set, winking at the camera as she did so.

The next clip was from Oregon. Again, Babs was in a flirtatious frame of mind. This time she was flirting with both Sonny and Henry. Someone said in a singsong voice that Babs had a boyfriend, and she told the man in an angry tone to shut up. The camera panned around to the other people who were on the set. I recognized Ron, a makeup artist, and Deputy Preston.

“What’s Deputy Preston doing there?” I asked.

“He was one of the patrolmen assigned to security detail,” Ron said.

On-screen, Babs was shouting, “Where’s my phone?” She followed up with the same question followed by a few choice expletives.

Ron laughed. The rest of us didn’t.

“Did she ever find her phone?” Manu asked.

“Oh, sure. It was found in her dressing room later that day,” Ron said. “It had probably been there all along.”

“I didn’t know her—I only met her once,” Reggie said. “But Babs seemed to have been pretty bratty.”

“She wasn’t after you got to know her,” Ron said. “Sure, she could be difficult—all great actresses can be—but she was so beautiful and so talented. . . . I think any man would’ve gone overboard to please her.” He laughed. “You should’ve seen us all scrambling around trying to find her phone.”

“Did Mita Trublonski visit the set often?” I asked.

“She didn’t drop by all that much,” Ron said. “When she did, though, I could tell that Babs and her mom didn’t have the world’s best relationship. I always got the impression that Mita was jealous of Babs . . . that she wanted Babs’ fame and attention.”

“What about Mita and Henry?” Ted asked. “Did they get along well?”

“They were civil.” Ron pulled up the next clip. “Mostly, though, they avoided each other.”

The rest of the footage contained scenes from the movie with a couple outtakes of actors—other than Babs—flubbing their lines.

“Didn’t Babs ever make a mistake?” Reggie asked.

Ron grinned. “Not that she’d let us retain on film.”

•   •   •

After Ron left, Angus lay at Reggie’s feet and enjoyed having her scratch behind his ears.

“He certainly was infatuated with Babs, wasn’t he?” Reggie asked.

“Yes, he was,” Mom said. “And I, for one, disagree with his assessment that she got along well with all the men. A few of them might’ve been hoodwinked like Ron, but many of them saw through her petty, manipulative machinations.”

“If I were investigating this for the Tallulah County Police Department, I’d first try to determine whether we were dealing with one killer or two,” Manu said. “Detectives Bailey and Ray are adamant that Babs was killed by a blow to the head and they maintain that they have the murder weapon.”

“And yet a couple people still insist that Babs’ death might’ve been an accident,” I said.

“Maybe that’s what they want to believe . . . or want
you
to think they believe,” Ted said.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Manu said. “What if Henry’s killer thought Henry killed Babs?” He turned to Mom. “Beverly, didn’t you say you saw Henry headed in Babs’ direction after you left her that morning?”

“Yes, I did. But I never thought he killed her,” Mom said. “I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I dismissed it as being ridiculous. What made me angry toward Henry was the thought that he was the father of Babs’ baby.”

“And that’s something else that could’ve made the killer angry,” Ted pointed out. “No one seemed to know Babs was pregnant until after she was dead.”

“So what we need to determine—I mean, what Detectives Ray and Bailey need to determine—is whether they’re dealing with one killer or two and the motives behind the murders,” Reggie said.

Ted had a white dry-erase board across an entire wall in his home office. I wish I had something similar to help us brainstorm. Since I didn’t, I went into the kitchen and got a piece of paper. I made five columns: One Killer, Two Killers, Movie-Related Motive, Love Motive, and Other.

“Let’s list everything we know or can guess into these columns,” I said. “If it supports the one-killer theory, we’ll put it in that column. That way, we can sort out our thoughts and see what we’ve got when we’re finished.”

“Okay,” Manu said. “Put
unrequited love
into the two-killers column.”

“What about Eileen Beaumont?” I asked. “Should we put her into a column?”

Manu frowned. “I don’t know anything about her. Is she the wife of the deceased?” He shook his head as if to clear out the police jargon. “I mean, is she Henry’s wife?”

“She is,” Mom said. “She’s in town trying to learn whatever she can from the police, and she came to brunch today. I believe she’s innocent, but Marcella seems to think Eileen was upset enough over learning that Henry had an affair more than twenty years ago to slip some poison into his shampoo.”

“He had an affair that produced a child,” I said.

“Marcy has a point,” Reggie said. “No matter how nice someone seems, that person could still turn out to be the killer. But since Eileen Beaumont was in San Francisco—wasn’t she?—when Babs died, I think we should put her in the two-killers column too.”

“What about Ron?” I asked. “Do you think it’s possible he could’ve found out Babs was pregnant and been enraged enough at both her and Henry to kill them both?”

“Maybe, but it’s doubtful,” Ted said. “He wasn’t on the surveillance tape visiting Henry’s room that day.”

“But he could’ve put the poison in something some time other than that morning,” I said.

“All right then. Put him in the one-killer column,” Ted said with a grin.

“I’m just trying to cover all the bases,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “And you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t you guys start with the lovey-dovey stuff,” Manu teased. “We’re brainstorming here. What about Mita Trublonski? Does she raise any red flags with anyone?”

“She did with Eileen,” Mom said. “Eileen seems to think everything is Mita’s fault. She was bitterly adamant about that.”

“Which goes back to my reasoning that she could be our killer,” I said. “Even if she
was
in San Francisco, she could’ve got someone to hit Babs over the head and push her over the ledge.”

“We’ve moved on from the subject of Eileen,” Mom said. “Right now, we’re talking about Mita Trublonski and the fact that she’s just as probable a suspect as anyone.”

“She might do Henry in,” I said. “But I don’t think she’d kill her own daughter.”

“I can’t imagine her killing either one,” Reggie said. “She didn’t really strike me as a woman of much substance. Why would she get rid of either of her meal tickets?”

“What about the movie angle?” Ted asked. “Could there be someone that was so desperate this movie not be made that they were willing to kill to stop it?”

“I don’t know why they would,” Manu said. “Sonam Zakaria isn’t that big a name in the United States. I can’t imagine any of her family or fellow countrymen sabotaging the movie because they dislike its content.”

“Maybe they were spending too much money on it,” Mom said. “Henry was pulling out all the stops for his little princess. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the film was over budget despite the short time we’d been filming.”

I looked over at Ted who had his chin resting on his steepled fingers. “What is it?” I asked him. “You’re giving something some serious thought.”

“I keep thinking back to the gunman we found dead there on Monday morning,” he said. “Maybe instead of looking at the possibility of there being three isolated murders, we should consider the fact that they might all be related somehow.”

Manu inclined his head. “I wonder if Detectives Bailey and Ray have looked at that.”

“We should find out,” Ted said.

M
onday morning, I was sitting in the sit-and-stitch square working on my impressionist cross-stitch project. Once again, Angus had stayed home with Mom. I missed him, but I realized she needed him right now. He’d hopefully be back at the Seven-Year Stitch where he belonged soon, and Mom would be out from under the dark cloud of suspicion and back at work.

The bells over the door jingled, and I looked up to see Sadie. She joined me in the sit-and-stitch square, peeping at my project before sitting down on the sofa.

“That looks majorly complicated,” she said.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I think it’ll be pretty when it’s finished,” I said. “I’m going to frame it and give it to Mom.”

“She’ll love that.” Sadie glanced around the shop. “Did Angus stay at home with her again today?”

I nodded. “It does her good to have him with her. He stays right by her side, and she spoils him rotten.”

“So it’s a win-win . . . at least for them,” she said.

“Yeah. It gets lonely here for me. If it wasn’t for the fact that the media is still hanging around, she could bring him here and hang out.”

“Yeah . . . I guess the media swarm is even worse now that Henry Beaumont has died.”

“At least they aren’t camped out in front of my house,” I said. “The police have done a good job of keeping the fact that Mom found his body out of the media. I don’t think it’s even been leaked to any blogs.”

“That’s good,” Sadie said. “Has any progress been made on the investigation into Henry’s death?”

“They learned on Saturday that he was poisoned.” I gave Sadie a wary look. “They searched my house and yard. I brought Angus here, and Vera and Paul watched him and minded the shop.”

“That’s terrible!” She frowned. “Of course, they didn’t find anything . . . did they?”

“No . . . and they searched Sonny Carlisle’s hotel room too, so Mom wasn’t the only suspect.”

“Did they find anything on Sonny?” she asked.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “The Tallulah County Police Department is keeping most of their information to themselves with regard to the murders of Babs and Henry. They’re only sharing what they absolutely
have
to with Manu.”

“How’s your mom holding up?”

I shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Right now, she can’t do much more than wait to see what happens next.”

Sadie smiled. “I know that’s not all
you’re
doing.”

I grinned too. “I’m doing everything I can to help the Tallulah County detectives find the real killer, despite the fact that they desperately don’t want my help.”

“I need to be getting back, but before I go, I want to ask you, Ted, and Beverly to dinner before class tomorrow evening,” she said. “I’m taking tomorrow off, and Blake is going to leave at five o’clock. I’m making chicken cordon bleu, and I’d love to have you guys join us.”

“That sounds great,” I said. “I’ll check with Ted and Mom and make sure that works for them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you can make it.”

Sadie left as a customer came through the door.

•   •   •

I was helping a customer find a sturdy needlepoint yarn later that morning when Deputy Preston came into the shop. He was out of uniform, and today he wore jeans and a V-neck sweater. He gave me a polite wave and then wandered around the shop while he waited for the customer to make her purchase and leave.

“Hey, there,” I said, approaching him as the customer walked out the door.

“Morning, Marcy,” he said. “I’m off today, but I worked yesterday and saw the report on where they’d searched your house and all. I’m glad they didn’t find anything incriminating on your mom, but I know she must be upset over everything. Is she doing okay?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Thanks for asking. You . . . you don’t know whether anyone else emerged as a more viable suspect after Saturday . . . do you?”

Deputy Preston laughed. “Now, Marcy, you know I’m not at liberty to tell you how the search went at Sonny Carlisle’s hotel room . . . even if they didn’t find anything there either.”

“Thanks . . . I mean, for explaining why you can’t tell me.”

The sunlight glinted off the medallion he wore, and I examined it more closely. The letters TCMSA were embossed on the round pendant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I was just noticing your medallion. What do the letters stand for?”

“Tallulah County Mud Slingers Association,” he said.

“Mud Slingers? Is that a political group?”

“No.” He laughed. “We ride dirt bikes.”

“Oh, I get it. That’s cool,” I said. “I think I’ve seen a medallion similar to this before. It was where the movie was being filmed. Is that a popular bike-riding trail?”

“Yeah, a lot of guys ride over there . . . experienced riders, that is . . . even though they’re not supposed to. The terrain is challenging, but the view is beautiful. Or so they tell me.”

“Did you know the guy who was found shot to death on the trail just before Henry Beaumont began filming there?” I asked.

“No.”

“Hmm. I thought maybe he was a mud slinger,” I said.

“Why would you think that? Was there a bike found near him?” he asked.

“No, but there was a dirt biker coming over the hill just before we stumbled upon the body,” I said. “Of course, you probably read all that in the report.”

“Yeah, I glanced at it,” Deputy Preston said. “But, to be honest, I was more interested in the movie than I was in the body. I know that sounds bad, but I got caught up in all the Hollywood excitement.”

“That’s easy to do,” I said. “By the way, you were caught on film when one of the cameramen was recording an outtake. You looked pretty impressive. Have you ever considered a movie career?”

He chuckled and lowered his head. “Me? No way. I don’t think I have the talent for that. Besides, I’m taking criminal justice courses at Tallulah County Junior College. I just want to move up in the career I already have.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do that,” I said.

Just then, one of my regular customers, a woman in her midsixties named Christine, came barreling through the door. Christine is normally a bundle of barely contained energy, and today the energy was less contained than usual.

“Marcy,” she said breathlessly, thrusting a piece of felt in my direction. “Please help me with this blanket stitch. It’s driving me bananas.” She glanced at Deputy Preston. “Sorry for interrupting, but this is an emergency.”

He grinned and waved good-bye. “See you later, Marcy.”

“Enjoy your day off, Deputy Preston.”

“Deputy?” Christine asked. “I figured he was just some hoodlum in here hitting on you.”

I laughed. “Nevertheless, you have an emergency. Let’s sit down here and work on that blanket stitch.”

•   •   •

At lunchtime, Ted brought burgers, fries, and a new chew toy for Angus.

“I didn’t know whether he’d be here or whether you’d leave him home with your mom, but we can always give it to him later,” Ted said.

“You’re so thoughtful.”

“What can I say? You bring out my sensitive side.” He winked.

I locked the front door and put the clock on the window stating that I’d be back in thirty minutes. Then Ted and I went into my office to eat.

“Before I forget, Sadie came over and invited the two of us and Mom to have dinner with her and Blake tomorrow before my class,” I said. “She’s making chicken cordon bleu. And trust me, Sadie makes fantastic chicken cordon bleu.”

“Sounds good,” he said, getting our food out of the bag while I retrieved sodas from the mini-fridge.

“It’s been a little hectic today, so I haven’t called Mom to ask her yet. Maybe I’ll get a chance later this afternoon.” I opened the box of fries. “Deputy Preston came by this morning. It’s his day off, but he said he was concerned about Mom. In a roundabout way, he let me know that nothing was found in Sonny’s hotel room either.”

“Deputy Preston was concerned about your mom?” Ted asked. “Has he even met her?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he met her on the movie set. He did strike me as being a little starstruck over the whole Hollywood thing.”

“Yeah, wasn’t he the one in the outtake yesterday?”

“He was. I asked him if he was interested in a movie career, but he said he wasn’t.” I poured a packet of ketchup on the empty side of my burger box. “He says he just wants to advance in his law enforcement career and is taking criminal justice classes at the community college.”

“Well . . . good for him.” Ted frowned as he took a drink of his soda. “I might have to watch that guy though. It sounds like he might have a crush on you.”

“Nah. Like I said, I get the feeling he’s starstruck. When the movie people ship out, he’ll move along,” I said. “Besides, my heart belongs to someone else.”

He grinned.

We both dived into our food. After a couple minutes, Ted told me that while I’d had a hectic day, his had been fairly quiet.

“I even had time to do a little on-the-side investigating,” he said. “Remember the outtake where Babs had lost her phone?”

I nodded.

“I managed to find out the name of Babs’ accountant, and on a hunch, I called and asked him if any of her financial accounts had been hacked.”

“Had they?” I asked.

“Yep. Two of her credit card accounts had been hacked and the bills ran up the day Babs died,” Ted said. “The accountant said she was livid over it.”

“And you think the fact that the credit card accounts were hacked had something to do with her losing her phone?”

He nodded. “It’s the same MO as the gunman and his partner. That was one of their rackets—steal smartphones and hack financial accounts. They’re bound to have felt like they hit the mother lode when Henry Beaumont brought his film crew to Tallulah Falls.”

“But how is that possible?” I asked. “The gunman was dead by then. He died the day before the film crew arrived.”

“True,” said Ted. “But he had a partner. Just because the partner was tired of the gunman didn’t mean he was tired of the money they were making off their criminal activities. My guess is that he found another hacker.”

“And another victim—Babs,” I said. “Maybe you were right yesterday when you said that it’s possible all three murders are connected.”

•   •   •

During the afternoon lull in business that often comes around three o’clock on weekdays, I called Mom and told her that Sadie had invited her, Ted, and me to dinner tomorrow evening before I head back to class.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Is that doable?”

“Yes, that works for me,” she said.

“Are you all right? You sound tired. Did you sleep okay?”

“Hey, who’s the mom here?” She chuckled softly. “I’m fine. I am a little tired . . . or maybe weary is the better word. I love being with you, Marcella, but not under these circumstances. I want all this to be over. I want to go home.”

“I want that too, Mom.” My eyes widened as I considered the possibility that she might misunderstand what I was saying. “I mean, I want the murder investigations to be over. I don’t want you to go home.” I didn’t like the sound of that one either and decided to try once more. “What I’m saying is that, I want you to go home when you’d like to go home, but—”

“Relax,” she interrupted. “I get what you’re saying.”

“Thanks. Hey, were you on the set that day when Babs lost her phone?”

“Yes. I thought it was mainly just another excuse to throw an elaborate tantrum,” she said. “Babs was famous for those. Why?”

“Ted checked with Babs’ accountant and learned that two of her credit card accounts were hacked on the day her smartphone went missing,” I said. “He thinks now that all three murders—the gunman Reggie stumbled upon in the woods, Babs and Henry—could be connected somehow. If the gunman-slash-hacker had a partner who stole Babs’ phone to hack the accounts, then he might’ve ultimately killed Babs and Henry.”

“Wait,” Mom said. “I’m not following you. If the gunman-slash-hacker was dead, then why would his partner steal Babs’ phone? And furthermore, why would he kill her?”

“Ted thinks the partner has found another hacker. Maybe Babs caught the thief putting her phone back, and he killed her.”

“I don’t think so,” Mom said. “Babs had her phone back before she died.”

“Okay,” I said. “But Ted said the accountant told him she was livid that her accounts had been hacked. Apparently, the thieves ran up some serious bills on her.”

“Again, I think that was just Babs being dramatic,” she said. “Sure, it’s horrible that her accounts were hacked, but I’m certain that the companies wouldn’t make her pay since she caught it in time. I mean, that’s what they have fraud insurance for, right?”

“That’s true. Maybe the three deaths aren’t connected after all,” I said. “But it would be kind of nice if they were . . . if they had nothing to do with the movie whatsoever . . . then you could be cleared to go home.”

“Since two of the main players in this movie were killed, though, I doubt that’s the case,” Mom said.

“Yeah . . . I suppose you’re right. But it
was
a nice thought.”