Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4) (2 page)

“Fine,” Gordon said. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

Was she disappointed that he hadn’t offered her a ride? Too bad. Civilians didn’t get to ride in the Chief of Police’s car, and he needed every one of those fifteen minutes to think. If she needed a ride, let her get one from the mayor.

And how long had the mayor known about this, and why hadn’t Gordon been brought into the loop before today? Did Angie know? Surely these kinds of things required advance notice. No, she wouldn’t have kept that kind of a secret from him.

As he drove the short distance to the station, Gordon focused on the overall ramifications of Marianna Spellman’s proposal from a small-town police perspective. He didn’t foresee many problems with most of the business locations, but the three days at Aspen Lake could be a nightmare for crowd control. He made a mental note to call the county and ask for deputies to supplement Mapleton’s force for those days.

He stopped by his office, grabbed a legal tablet for taking notes, and ran a printout of the calendar so he could be on top of any preexisting events that might create conflicts. He opted to walk to Daily Bread, giving him a few more minutes to process what was going to happen to Mapleton’s quiet lifestyle.

When he walked into the diner, Angie and Marianna were sitting at a back booth. Angie waved him over. Her blue eyes sparkled, and the smile on her face told him she was definitely on board. He crossed the worn floorboards of the diner, slid into the booth, and her excitement buzzed over him like summer mosquitoes. What the hell. There were a few names on the cast list he wouldn’t mind seeing up close, either.

Marianna cupped her hands around her coffee mug. “Miss Mead and I have been discussing our schedule, and she’s willing to make the necessary adjustments in her operating hours.”

The door opened, and a sudden hush fell over the diner. Silverware stopped clattering, conversations turned to low murmurs. A man, hunched into a down parka, its upturned collar obscuring his features, paused inside the entry, scanned the room, then tromped toward their booth.

“What in damnation do you think you’re doing?” His whisper might as well have been a shout.

Gordon slid to the edge of the bench and stood, a hand reflexively poised near his weapon. Marianna shook her head in his direction and lifted a palm. He lowered himself onto the seat, but hadn’t dismissed the intruder as a potential threat.

The man unzipped his parka and shoved a tangled mass of dark blond hair away from his face, which was hidden behind a scruffy beard. Puffy lavender circles that rivaled the throw pillows in Gordon’s grandmother’s parlor hung below the man’s eyes, but those eyes were a startling shade of turquoise. Beside him, Angie gave a quiet gasp. Her fingers gripped his thigh.

“Cass, relax,” Marianna said. “I’d like you to meet Police Chief Gordon Hepler and the manager of Daily Bread, Angie Mead. Chief Hepler, Angie, this is Cassidy Clarke.”

Ah. Now Gordon understood Angie’s reaction. Cassidy Clarke, the actor playing the lead in the movie. To say Angie was a fan was like saying the sun rose in the east. But right now, he didn’t resemble the man Gordon had seen on the screen.

As if someone had flipped a switch, the man’s scowl turned into a smile. His eyes brightened. Charm oozed across the table like molasses. “Pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand to Angie first, and her eyes widened as she returned his handshake. Which lasted a little longer than Gordon felt comfortable with, but he accepted it as a moment for Angie. While Gordon wouldn’t try to erase it from her memory, he’d damn sure try to make it fade later tonight.

And so what if when Gordon shook Cassidy’s hand he squeezed a little harder than normal. “Welcome to Mapleton,” he said to show he was okay with the way the man had greeted Angie. After all, the guy was a movie star. Flirting with women was probably second nature, and all an act, anyway.

“Please, have a seat,” Marianna said to Cassidy. “Would you like some breakfast? Tea?” She looked at Angie. “Cass prefers masala chai, if you can get it here.”

Angie’s grin dimmed a notch, but Gordon didn’t think anyone who didn’t know her could have read the
You think we’re a bunch of bumpkins
expression that had flashed across her face. “Not a problem. Gordon, do you want your usual?”

“Please,” he said.

Did Marianna notice Angie had called him by his first name? Did she chalk it up to being in a small town where everyone used first names? Did it even matter? Everyone in town knew he and Angie were in a relationship, so why not a few strangers?

While Angie went to deal with tea and coffee, Gordon dealt with Marianna. “According to your schedule, you’re going to be shooting at Aspen Lake the day after tomorrow. Since today’s the first I’ve heard of any of this, I’ll try to bring in county deputies to help. How much support do you need, and exactly what will you want them to do?”

“I understand. Normally, we’d have set this up much further in advance, but we needed the fall colors, and we can’t control when the leaves turn, so we’ve been more or less on standby. When I spoke to the mayor about it several months ago, he assured me he would take care of things.”

Gordon didn’t share his thoughts about what he’d like to tell the mayor about that one.

Marianna went on. “Also, we’re trying to keep the whole production under wraps as much as possible. Now that Cassidy has shown up, I’m afraid you’ll be inundated with paparazzi, especially given his recent … difficulties.” She gave the actor a pointed glare.

“I’m afraid I’m not aware of any … difficulties.” Gordon decided it was better to admit ignorance than get caught unprepared.

Cassidy returned Marianna’s glare, then lowered his head and his voice. “I had a minor substance abuse problem for a little while. The papers made a big deal out of it, but I’m fine.” He gave Marianna a defiant stare. “I’m clean. And ready to work. I’m checked in at the B and B. I assume you’ve got a driver to make sure I’m where you want me when you want me there.”

Marianna nodded and stirred her coffee, her spoon clinking against the ceramic mug in a syncopated rhythm.

Cassidy Clarke’s turquoise eyes were almost cop eyes, the way they never held still, always taking in their surroundings. However, unlike Gordon, Cassidy chose to sit with his back to the door, thus avoiding the curious glances of most of the other customers in the diner. Though he did seem to sense Angie’s approach—almost as soon as Gordon did—and when Cassidy raised his head the smile had returned, full force.

Angie carried a tray with two mugs, a teapot, and plates of cinnamon rolls. She distributed the mugs, placed the teapot in front of Cassidy, and set the rolls in the center of the table. “Your egg white veggie omelet will be up in a minute,” she said to Marianna. “Can I top off your coffee?”

“Please.”

Angie motioned to Donna, one of the Daily Bread wait staff, who nodded and patted her gray curls into place before grabbing a pot from behind the counter. Gordon noticed the flush to her cheeks as she tried to appear nonchalant while refilling Marianna’s mug, before she moved on to another table.

Marianna grabbed three yellow sweetener packets, stacked them, and ripped them open in one practiced tear. She stirred them into her coffee, then took a tentative sip.

Gordon grabbed a plate and slid a cinnamon roll toward Cassidy. “This might be the best thing about your stay in Mapleton.”

Cassidy cut a small piece of the sticky confection and forked it into his mouth. Gordon waited, watching the man’s expression as he chewed the morsel. The eyes rolled, then closed. Cassidy’s tongue darted out, capturing any errant crumbs and sugary icing. And then, the sigh as he reached for the plate and snagged another—much bigger—bite.

“I think you’re right, but I’m going to have to try more before I can agree.” Cassidy grinned at Angie. “Might take one every day I’m here before I’ll know for sure whether these are the best darn cinnamon rolls I’ve ever had.”

Angie beamed. “You’ve got it.”

Donna returned to the table with Marianna’s omelet. Trying to set it in front of the woman while casting furtive glances at Cassidy, she narrowly avoided knocking over Marianna’s water glass. “I’m so sorry.” At Angie’s slight frown, Donna stepped back half a pace. “Is there anything I can get for anyone?”

“We’re fine, Donna,” Angie said.

Marianna poked her fork around in her omelet, as if taking inventory of its contents. She took a delicate bite, and although she didn’t partake of any of the cinnamon rolls, Gordon noticed the wistful peeks in their direction.

“You can’t come to Mapleton without sampling one of Angie’s cinnamon rolls,” Gordon said. He slid a plate her way and smiled. “It’s a requirement if you expect any cooperation from the Police Department.”

“I suppose a taste won’t hurt,” she said. She forked off a piece even smaller than Cassidy’s first sample and nibbled. “Oh, yes, these are delicious.” She finished the bite she’d taken and then went back to poking around her omelet. Dabbing at her lips between bites, she ate about a third of it and pushed her plate aside.

“Angie, honey,” Marianna said, “if you have anything else to do, this next part doesn’t deal with our scheduled shoots in your little restaurant. I’ll bring you up to speed later.”

At the abrupt dismissal, color rose in Angie’s face. She gave a brief nod, then spun away toward the kitchen.

“Wait up.” Cassidy scooted out of the booth, stuffing the last bit of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

Angie turned, her blush still evident, but Gordon expected it was for an entirely different reason now. Cassidy caught up to her.

“I’m not needed for this discussion, either,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the scenes in the diner. I’d love to see where you make these phenomenal cinnamon rolls.”

Angie cocked her head toward Marianna, who lifted a hand and waggled her manicured fingers. “Go.”

Marianna leaned across the table, her expensive perfume outweighing the aroma of the cinnamon rolls. “Your mayor assured me you run a tight ship here, Chief Hepler.” She paused, and again, Gordon wondered if she was waiting for him to say “Call me Gordon.” Still wasn’t going to happen.

With a flip of her hair, Marianna continued. “In reality, we’re not going to have too many scenes requiring a huge cast. Ten actors, some extras, and then the crew. The faster we can get in and out, the better, both for the picture itself and for our budget. I’ve got a small crew coming in later today to start shooting the backgrounds. The only place that will fall within your jurisdiction for these shots, as I understand it, is Aspen Lake. We’ll be shooting elsewhere as well, and we’ll be doing that often, to take maximum advantage of the turning leaves.”

“I understand,” Gordon said, although he
might
have a short chat with the mayor when this was over. He checked the time. “If you like, I can introduce you at the morning briefing, and you can let my officers know what you expect of them. Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to deal with official business, but I’ll be free by nine to go over specifics.”

She seemed to ponder that, as if slighted she wouldn’t have him at her beck and call around the clock. “A brief introduction will be fine, so your officers know who I am, but I’ll leave the rest to you. We have our own security people for the actual shooting sites and our staging areas, but keeping rubberneckers at bay is best left to law enforcement.”

“Are you going to need security for these preliminary background shots?” Gordon asked.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, but if we run into problems, may I call you?”

“What kind of problems do you anticipate?” Gordon prepared himself for what Marianna considered problems worthy of police intervention.

“Not having access to places we’d like to be, or, if there are too many people milling about, a police presence helps convince them to stay out of our way. We don’t object to people watching as long as they’re not interfering with the shoot, and as for backgrounds, noise isn’t an issue. But we don’t want to find someone has managed to insert himself into our footage. Sometimes we need traffic diverted.”

Gordon was sure she already knew the answers to everything she’d presented, and had covered it as part of her job. Was she trying to prove to him she knew what she was doing? Didn’t matter to him. He answered her questions. Maybe it meant more to her if they were delivered face to face. “For Aspen Lake, or anything in Mapleton proper, you can call my office. I assume you have contact information for the county deputies for anything outside Mapleton’s city limits. And for the major highways, it’s the State Patrol.”

She nodded. By not asking for his number, he assumed he’d been correct. The mayor had probably given her his direct line, too. And his cell.

“How many officers do you usually need for a typical shooting day?” he asked. “You understand this is a small force, and everyone has regular duties.”

“Five or six should be plenty,” she said.

Half a shift? He’d definitely need to bring in extra personnel. At least the mayor couldn’t complain about the overtime budget.

When the door opened, Gordon automatically checked to see who was coming in. A woman this time, familiar because he’d fixed a mental image of her when he’d read the cast list. The oversize sunglasses and a bright green scarf over all but a few wisps of her trademark red hair weren’t enough of a disguise. Lily Beckett. He schooled his features into his professional demeanor as the woman strode toward their table. Her expression wasn’t much different from the one on Cassidy Clarke’s face when he’d stormed across the dining room.

Maybe fall wasn’t going to be his favorite season in Mapleton after all.