Swept Up (7 page)

I’d seen Tiny and Sal have them as well.

Maybe not everyone in the world had them, but I’d always known that couples who were really in sync could have them.  Cal and I had just silently conversed about smoothies. 

Dylan and Cilla were really in sync.

They broke eye contact and Cilla looked at me, as Dylan nodded.

“I got offered a role in another movie,” Cilla said.  “A starring role.”

“That’s wonderful?” I half said, half asked.

“You’d think that it was.” Cilla nodded toward Dylan.  “Especially when Dylan got offered the male lead.”

“Hey, congrats, Dylan.”  Again, it was a halfhearted offering because I could sense that something wasn’t right.  There was no excitement in her voice.

“That seems like something to celebrate, not something to fight about,” Cal threw in.

“We were planning on taking some time off and trying to have a baby.  I want to put it off until after this,” Cilla said.

Dylan looked annoyed.  “And I pointed out that putting it off isn’t a viable option for much longer.”

“He’s saying that I’m getting old.” 

If Cilla was old then I was decrepit. 

As a woman, I knew that Dylan’s words were fighting words, and from his expression, so did he.

“Well, I.…”  I let the sentence trail off because frankly, I didn’t have a clue what to say to that.

Rather than looking mad, they both laughed.  Cilla said, “We’ve decided that we’re not going to try, and we’re not going to not-try.  We’re going to see what happens and make the movie.”

“And we’re going to look into adoption,” Dylan added.  “There are so many kids out there who need a home, and we have a home.”

I’d liked Dylan and Cilla from the start.  I was pretty sure I liked them even more now. “There’s a couple from my hometown who couldn’t have kids and so they adopted a bunch.  The paper ran a couple articles about them.”

Cilla nodded.  “We’ve talked about it and we’re going to see what happens on the baby front, but pregnancy or not, we’re pretty sure that we’re going to adopt.”

“Well, congratulations on the movie and the family,” I said.

“If someone saw us fighting, do you think that will make the cops think we did it?” Cilla looked a little nervous.  “Not that we did anything, but I don’t think being a focus of a police investigation is something I’d relish.  I know some people in Hollywood live by the adage that all press is good press…I’m not one of them.”

Now, if I were writing this as a script, a couple might be fighting because the wife found out that Mellie had an affair with the husband.  Or the husband found out Mellie had an affair with the wife.

But neither of them could stand Mellie any more than I could, so I couldn’t imagine either of them having an affair, which would lead to romantic jealousy being an issue.

And both of them had bigger roles in the movie, so career jealousy wasn’t it.

Of course, Mellie might have been the one who was jealous and started trouble…trouble that ended up with her dead.  But looking at Dylan and Cilla holding hands and talking about starting a family one way or another, I knew it wasn’t them.

I knew it in my gut.

I remembered Cal’s words of warning, but they didn’t matter.

Cilla and Dylan didn’t do it.  But maybe they saw something. 

“Could you run through everything you remember
one more time?” I asked, and as they nodded, I said, “Do you mind if I record it?”

They didn’t mind, and they also didn’t offer anything new.  They’d seen most of the cast at one point or another.  They’d spent a lot of time with Jonas and Shia—aka Cal and Tiny in the movie.  “I think they’re a couple,” Cilla stage-whispered.

Dylan snorted.  “I think that Shia wants them to be a couple.  She’s so excited to be doing real acting instead of her reality fodder, she’s jumping from actor to actor, hoping one sticks and lends her acting some legitimacy.”

I knew just what they were talking about, because I’d noticed it, too.  At one time or another, Shia had been linked to almost every available man on set.

“But they didn’t do it,” Dylan said.  “They were talking to us when the cops arrive.”

“I didn’t see anyone upstairs except you and Cal and the cops,” Cilla said.  “And of course we know that you and Cal didn’t do it.”

Well, I knew that, and I knew that Cal knew that, but if Detective Charlie was doing the same interviews I was—and I was sure that he was—would he know that?

“Well, I don’t think we’re any further along than when we started,” I told Cal as we drove away.  “We didn’t find out anything new.”

“We found out Dylan and Cilla are going to start a family.  What about you?” he asked.

“Huh?”  I had kids so I was used to conversations that took sharp turns, but I wasn’t sure where this one was turning to.

“After we’re married, where do we stand on adding to the family?” Cal asked.  “I know you have the boys.”

Adding to the family?

That meant babies.

That meant nursing, late nights, and being puked on…or worse.

No, wait, it meant pregnancy first.  Swollen ankles, puking for months. 

My boys were all out of the house now and when Cal asked me to marry him, I’d put it on hold for a year because I wanted to try being on my own…well, on my own with him by my side.

What I’d decided is on-my-own wasn’t all its cracked up to be.

I missed having the boys under foot.

I even missed coming home and finding their mess and noise.

“Cal, I’m forty.  I don’t know if I could get pregnant.  My eggs are old.  Frankly, there’s a good chance my eggs are fried.”

“Getting pregnant isn’t the only way to have a child, Quince.  Dylan and Cilla said as much. There are kids out there who are looking for a home.  More than that, for a family.  Maybe we’re who’ve they been looking for?”

“You’d be willing to do that?”  To have a kid and not have swollen ankles…that didn’t sound like such a bad deal to me.

“Listen, I’ve been around for almost two years, and I love your boys.  They’re not my blood, I wasn’t there for around when they were little, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think of them as family.  When I said I was sure you could kill someone to save them, I knew that because I could, too.”

Now, maybe talking about murder like that didn’t sound sweet, but in this context, it was.

“Frankly,” he continued, “one of the things I love about you is how you and Jerome have always put the boys first.  You might not be married anymore, but you’ve parented together.  And I really love that you have never looked at Peri as a threat, but as one more person to love your boys.  How could I not have realized that blood doesn’t make a parent, or a family?”

I felt myself tear up and I didn’t know what to say.  But I should have known that I didn’t need to say anything.  Cal understood because Cal always understood me. 

He reached over and patted my hand.  “Just think about what you want and we’ll talk about it.  As for me, I don’t need to procreate, and I could spend the rest of my life with just you, me and our friends and families.  But I think there’s a chance there’s a child out there waiting for us to find them.”

“Right now I think the only finding we have to do is find the murderer, and then we’ll talk weddings and adding to the family.”

He reached over again, took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze.  “True that.”

“Please, never, never say that again.”

He laughed.  I laughed.  And I realized I didn’t feel any stress in coming to a decision because I knew that whatever I decided, Cal would be okay with it.

I squeezed his hand back.

I was a lucky woman, despite the fact I’d found my second dead body.

Chapter Six

About a half hour after we got home, my cellphone rang and I knew I couldn’t put off this particular call another minute.

“Hi, Mom,” I said with as much chipperness as I could muster.

“Quincy, how could you let us get on a plane when you’d found another dead body?” my mother asked loudly over the phone.  And since Judith Quincy Mac was a
Lady
with a capital
L
, she wasn’t prone to speaking loudly. 

Firmly.  Decisively.  Yes. 

But not loudly and certainly not shrilly.

I’d never tell her, but there was a chance that in addition to loud she was just a bit shrill at the moment.

“Mom, things happened so fast, and by the time I could call you the plane was on its way back to Erie.” 

“And when you did call, you left a message, and you haven’t answered my calls since.”

“I did, too.”

“Saying,
Mom, I can’t talk now, I’ll call when I can.  Just talk to the cops when they call you
, doesn’t count.”

Yes, I’d been putting off this call, I’ll admit it.  To myself.  Maybe even to Cal.  But I wasn’t about to tell my mother that.

Here’s the thing, I loved my mom and she loved me.  And I suspected there was a chance she’d offer to come out and help.  And I didn’t want her anywhere near some crazy murderer.

As if on cue, she said, “I would have helped you find out who murdered Mellie.  Although, having met Mellie, I’m not shocked someone finally lost it with her.  She made a pass at your father.  Did I tell you that?  Her and that Shia-person who played Tiny.  They both made passes at him.  Although, when that Shia-person found out he was
only a doctor
—that’s what she said,
only a doctor
—she unpassed.  Mellie didn’t care if he was a doctor or not.  And she also didn’t care if he was married or not.”  She sniffed, then added, “I don’t know how you work with people like that.”

“I don’t.  Not really.  I mainly work by myself or with Dick.”

I knew my mother loved Dick.  Not in a way that was threatening to my father, but in a way that was just a bit of a girl-crush.  Mom and Dick were best buddies. 

“Now, Dick is a true gentleman,” she said.  “So tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t have much to report.”  Frankly, I didn’t have anything to report.

“Did you set up your white-board?” Mom asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.  “And Cal took some time off to help me look into this.  The detective on the case, Detective Charles Randolph, isn’t threatening to arrest me.  He said to come to him if I found something, but I haven’t found anything.”

“Quincy, I—”

I didn’t want Mom offering to come out and help find a murderer, because I didn’t want her anywhere near whoever killed Mellie.  So I decided to sidetrack her in the most efficient way I possibly could.  “And, Mom, it’s official.  I’m engaged.”

“What?” 

Wow, Judith Quincy Mac was loud twice in one conversation.  That was some kind of record.

So I told her what happened. 

“Congratulations, honey.  Tell Cal for me, too.  When will you be coming home?”

I was going to say I didn’t know, but then she finished her sentence.  “We’ve got a wedding to plan.”

“I thought Cal and I would just do something small here and I—”

“Quincy you eloped with Jerome and I didn’t say anything, but you and Cal?  I want a wedding.  I deserve a wedding.  I was mother of the groom when your brothers got married, and though the ceremonies were lovely, your sisters-in-law and their mothers did the heavy planning.  I want to plan.”

“But Mom, I really don’t want—”

“That’s fine.  You don’t worry about a thing.  I’ll call Tiny.  I’m sure she’ll agree to help me put this together.  And Peri.  She’ll help, too.”

Peri was one thing, but Tiny?   “Oh, Mom, don’t call Tiny.  Please.  She’ll help you plan it all right.  I can’t do it again.  I’ve barely recovered from her planning her own wedding.  Please don’t let her fill her office with magazines, swatches, and samples.  I beg you.”  Really, that sounded pathetic, but I’d only just survived Tiny’s wedding.  And she was a good friend.  She’d go even more overboard on mine.

“I’ve talked to your detective, but I need to hear from you.  And congratulations again.  I’ll give Tiny a call as well.”

“Mom—”

“As for the case, call Dick.  Between you, Dick and Cal, you’ll find the murderer before I come back to LA to meet with you, Tiny, and Peri about the wedding.” 

I’m pretty sure she put more faith in Dick than in me and Cal.  Despite the wedding-threat, I smiled.  Then I had an image of Tiny’s pre-wedding office and tried again.  “Mom, you’re a doctor.  You can’t just leave your practice to plan a wedding.”

“Watch me.”

I hung up and groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

“I told my mom we’re officially engaged.”

“And she wasn’t happy?”  He looked concerned.

I shook my head.  “No.  Saying she was happy would be like saying the ocean’s kind of big.  She’s over the moon, Cal.  And she’s coming back to California soon to help plan the wedding.”  I hummed the theme of
Jaws
.

Cal obviously realized this might not be a good thing because he said, “You did tell her we want to keep it small?”

“Oh, I did,” I assured him.  “She’s cutting me out of the planning and going directly to Tiny and Peri.”

“Oh, no,” Cal said.  He’d listened to my Tiny wedding woes more than once.

“You can say that again.”

I stared at the white-board, but visions of orange bridesmaid dresses and doves kept intruding.

I walked over and started crossing off more images.

I crossed off Dylan and Cilla.  I crossed off Shia and Jonas.  Though I knew I wanted to talk to them both, they’d been alibied.

I’d already crossed of Peri and Jerome.  Not only did I know they didn’t do it, but they’d been playing hosts.

Cal handed me a cup of coffee.

“You okay?”

“Sure.  I mean, a dead actress was found in my son’s bed.  My friends and family are all on the suspect list.  And my mom is going to enlist Tiny and Peri to plan my wedding.  And truth is, I’m a fraud. I’ve solved thr—” I cut myself off.   I hadn’t even told Cal about my Christmas mystery.  “Two mysteries by total luck.  I don’t have a clue who to look at and what to do.”

“I don’t want to add to your annoyance, but.…”  He slid the local paper at me.

LA’s Maid for Murder Does It Again

Local business owner,
turned screenwriter and Mortie winner, Quincy Mac, had her evening of celebration interrupted by another dead body…

Oh, come on.  I’d accepted the fact that the Erie media was going to cover the murder, but LA is a huge market.  There had to be bigger stories.

But there it was in black and white.

Well, boogers.

“So we’ll keep going,” Cal said when I’d finished reading the name-dropping article. 

“Keep going?”  I had no clue where to look next.  How could you keep going if you didn’t have a direction to go in?

“Yes.  That’s what you did before.  You simply kept talking to people and taking notes, and eventually—”

I thought about my laundry basket analogy.  I was afraid I could keep collecting facts from now till I was old and gray, and I’d never find the killer.  “I lucked into the right answer.”

“You know what Dick says about luck?” Cal asked with a grin that said he knew exactly what Dick said.

Dick was always spouting
helpful
sayings when I got stuck on a writing project.

“
Luck means being in the right place at the right time
. 
So you’ve got to keep moving forward and looking for that place.
”  I sighed.  “I don’t think it’s one of his better sayings.”

“But he’s got a point.  That’s what I do when I work on a case.  I keep looking at people until something comes up that makes me take a second look.  We need to keep crossing people off our suspect list and when we get the potential murderer pool down enough, something will come up.  I don’t think it’s really luck.  It’s more perseverance.  That’s how you solved your ot
her two cases, and that’s how we’ll solve this.  Now, we’ve had Cilla and Dylan alibi Shia and Jonas.  That’s four more people we’ve eliminated.  Let’s check with Shia and Jonas.  We’ll make sure their stories mesh with Cilla and Dylan’s, and see if maybe they saw something different.”

He sounded far more optimistic than I felt.  To be honest, sometimes when you gathered up minutia in a laundry basket you just ended up with a bunch of dirty clothes.  “Fine.” 

Cal kissed me.  It was simply a non-thinking sort of kiss.  An everyday sort of thing.  And maybe that’s what made it so sweet.  Kissing me was just second nature to him now.

I turned and kissed him back in a much more thinking-about-it, but equally second nature sort of way.  He didn’t seem to mind.

When I pulled back he said,  “Quince, I know it’s not very glamorous but that’s the real truth about cop work.  It’s not glamorous.  We don’t solve cases in an hour show like
The Closer
,
Major Crimes,
or
Law and Order
.”

“I wish Mary McDonnell were in charge of this case.”  Sharon Raydor would have her crack team from
Major Crimes
on it, and they’d have not only solved the crime but coerce a plea deal from the murderer.

“Even she couldn’t solve this in an hour.  And I don’t think any departments have a
CSI
quality crime lab that finds forensic evidence and makes the arrests themselves like the show does in under an hour.  Police work is mainly nose to the grindstone, slogging through enough facts until you figure it out.  Forensics gets a lot of the glory, and maybe our team will find something, but in most cases its just nose—”

“—to the grindstone and dumb luck,” I finished.

“Nothing dumb about putting yourself in the right place at the right time.”

“So we start.…”

“We start crossing names off the list, one by one.”

I nodded.  “Let’s start with Shia and then Jonas.”

Cal nodded.  Sounds like as good a place as any.

Shiantay Miller was known as Shia to her coworkers and the millions of viewers of the hit reality series,
LA Shore
and
Casting Callers
.  She was driven, beautiful and while not the most talented actress ever, she was competent.

Her birth name was Sheila Dubrinski.

We went to the address that the studio had given us.  It was a middle class ranch that sat on a small incline only a few blocks from my house. 

A giant, burly man who looked vaguely familiar opened the door.  That was the thing about Hollywood.  So many people worked at bit parts on shows that there was an overabundance of the population who looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah?” the guy said, in a not overly friendly way.

“Hi, I’m Quincy Mac and I’m looking for Shia?”

“I know who you are.  Shia doesn’t live here.”  The man’s tone was less than cordial.  To be honest, it was rather hostile.

Cal slipped into super-cop mode at the sound.  His body went ramrod straight, his expression was serious and gave nothing away, while his tone was all business.  “This is the address the studio gave us.”

“She lives in the apartment.”  He jerked a finger at the garage.  A set of stairs climbed to a second story.  “She’s been so busy with acting gigs she hasn’t had time to find a place of her own,” he defended, though neither of us had said anything about the fact she lived over a garage.

“You’re her landlord?” Cal asked.

“Her father,” Mr. Grumpy Pants said.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet Shia’s father,” I said and shook his hand.  At first he seemed unwilling, but then he returned my greeting.  “She was such a joy to work with.  I can only imagine how proud you are.”

Finally, he gave me a brief smile.  “I am.”

Cal nodded.  “Have we met?  You look familiar.”

Shia’s father paused, and when he spoke the animosity was gone.  “I don’t think so.  I stopped in at the party after the Mortie’s.  Sheila invited me,” he added quickly, as if he was afraid we might think he crashed.

“That must be it,” Cal said.  “If you were there, would mind telling us what if anything you saw?”

“You mean the murder?”

“Yes,” I said.  “That’s what we came to see Shia about.  We’re trying to collect everyone’s memories of the party, while they’re still fresh.”

He opened the door and let us in the house proper.  “Can I get you all anything to drink?”

“No, we’re fine.  Do you mind if I record you?  My note taking sucks.”