Waiting For A Star To Fall (Autumn Brody Book 2) (18 page)

"It was. My dad was a cop. Killed in the line of duty when I was five. My grandmother moved in to help my mother out. She was the dreamer. She was a Rockette, in her younger days. Whenever I got too serious or too wrapped up in my bitterness at a world that stole a good man, Grandma always had the same solution: 'Come on, Morgan. We're seeing a show.' With her connections, we often saw them for free, or special house rates."

"Sounds like a lovely woman. She wanted to keep you balanced."

Morgan smirked. "She also wanted to flirt with the actors. Colm Wilkinson was a favourite of hers. My God, she adored him. She was a good woman."

Catching the past tense, Autumn understood without asking: Grandma Barrington had passed on.

"It's why the guys always push me into the Broadway cases, or anything involving celebrity. Like any world, it has its own language, its invisible borders. People remember Grandma. They know I understand what it takes to survive in this business. They're forthcoming with me, and I respect their methods." Signaling for the bill, she tapped the case file. "For the record, I've cleared your friend, Evan Kowalczyk. I hope you understand that we have to be thorough."

"I do. I'm sure Veronica will be happy to hear it. She's always been a great judge of character, and she can be stubborn when her loyalty is challenged." Autumn gestured to the file. "With the book... Will you be able to find him?"

"I hope so. Clearly, given the level of detail, this is someone very familiar with your writing. I'll be looking closely into anyone with intimate knowledge of the story, as well as access to Ms. Bradley."

Shaking hands, the women parted ways. Barrington seemed to believe she was better informed that before, but Autumn was left with more questions. While she'd briefly considered that the stalker had done this before, she'd pushed it aside quickly to focus on her friend. Natural? Certainly. But it wouldn't help them find a suspect. Narrow vision made for narrow avenues of exploration.

Maybe there are other actresses who've been stalked before...
But how would she ever find out? Most women dismissed stalking behaviours. Even Veronica had dismissed the first few letters as typical "rabid fan" behaviour.

Who would have access to other actors and actresses? Who would know the gossip behind the scenes?
Leaning against the elevator wall, Autumn suddenly thought of someone who might know more than anyone expected.

Best part: her source was one text message away.

* * *

"I told you not to use my blank Moleskin for your stupid doodles!"

Autumn winced as the brusque voice of Zoe Ferguson carried down the corridors of the O'Rourke. Known for cutting straight to the core of anyone in her path, the stage manager was currently shredding their intern for mistaking an unattended notebook in the supply closet as free to take. Why Zoe wouldn't keep her belongings in her office was beyond Autumn, but she wasn't in charge. Zoe helmed the ship most days, ensuring cues were met, equipment was maintained, and actors met their duties.

Her experience on several major productions in the last five years was what intrigued Autumn. That, and her rumoured fling with Parsons. If Veronica's stalker was partial to this theatre, Zoe would know of it. If he was merely partial to Broadway, she had likely heard something through the grapevine.

"Alright, I'm here!" Zoe announced bitterly, storming into Veronica's dressing room. "What fire am I putting out for you now?"

"Close the door," Veronica ordered her.

"Whatever!" Slamming it behind her, she leaned against it, arms folded across her chest. "This better be good, Veronica. The security hoops we're all jumping through have added a good hour to our daily routines."

"I'd say finding this guy and throwing him behind bars would make all of our lives easier," Autumn proposed.

With a sideways glare, Zoe groaned. "Is Nancy Drew on the case? You know, there are actual cops working on this thing."

"You know what happened when the cops were called about the ex who was stalking me? They knew where the guy would be and lost him. I don't take chances with the safety of my friends. I prefer results," Autumn stressed. "I assume you do as well."

Her tone softened, but only just. "Stop kissing my ass and tell me why I'm here."

"You heard about Sophia Bradley?" Veronica asked.

"Who hasn't? She's the CW's latest pet. The entertainment news outlets won't shut up about her."

"Well, her apartment looked like a scene out of a book. My book. The police are starting to think that Veronica's stalker has a taste for what he does. That maybe he's done this before. Which brings us to you," Autumn concluded, gesturing to the haughty manager. "Stage managers see and hear everything. If an actress had a stalker, or was just being bothered by an ex, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

"Damn right I would," Zoe replied, relaxing her posture. "The amount of shit I have to coordinate for a show—security, media, construction—I don't have a choice. If one of the cast is going to have the runs if they sniff avocado, it's my job to keep the guacamole out of the theatre. It's a pretty thankless job."

Veronica frowned. "Then why do it?"

Mulling this over for a moment, Zoe smirked. "You know, I once wanted to act. I think every little girl who grows up poor wants to be famous at some point. You think, 'If I had money, my parents wouldn't divorce. They wouldn't fight. I would have clothes that were new.' TV makes it look so perfect. They didn't make Barbies for girls like me," she added, gesturing to her caramel skin. "I think she had a black girl sidekick in that collection. No, I had Halle Berry. I had Aaliyah. I had the women who went out and busted their asses to be powerful. And even still, Oprah aside, look at how the media frames us: we're not allowed to be assertive or empowered. Women of colour in particular are always just 'bitches'. Women in general are hormonal, crazy, and weak. I caved early on and decided I didn't want the spotlight and the scrutiny. I love theatre, but I can't play the Hollywood Sweetheart."

"But you do play the part, don't you?" Veronica prodded. "You give them what they're expecting."

"I can be a bitch," Zoe agreed slyly. "If they choose to underestimate me, that's their problem. I play their game and I get ahead because I'm tough. I've worked with a higher calibre of productions than most as a result."

Autumn understood Zoe's stance. Hadn't she told Andrew precisely what the media expected her to be? How she would play along, just to make it all easier?

"Have you heard anything about other women with obsessive fans? And by obsessive,” Autumn clarified, “I mean 'whole other level' obsessive."

"Hmm... It definitely happens. Usually, we see more of that shit when a Hollywood name decides to dabble in the stage. Denzel Washington had a few special ones. Daniel Radcliffe had a handful of weirdos—my friend worked on
Equus
and was horrified by some of the letters she'd screen. There was this forty year-old die-hard who came from London to see him on Broadway. But recent shit? Nothing on this scale. Which isn't to say it doesn't happen," Zoe added. "There's just a level of this crap that all stars put up with like it's part of the job."

Veronica slumped in her chair. "That's what I figured. No one talks about it."

"Hey... I'll put out some feelers tonight, alright?" Zoe offered warmly. "I'm sorry this shitbag is harassing you. If there's anyone out there who knows anything about this guy, I'll find out."

"Thanks, Zoe. I'd really appreciate it." Autumn squeezed her friend's shoulder lightly. "We both would. We don't want anyone else to get hurt."

With a faraway look in her eyes, Zoe sighed. "Neither do I."

* * *

With Veronica safely under watch during her evening performance, Evan and Autumn found themselves debating the rest of the night's activities. Veronica was scheduled to perform at Joe's Pub as part of a charity fundraiser for AIDS research, alongside several other Broadway performers. Her evening security, Mirza, had already looked into the venue and the attendees as best as he could, ultimately deciding Veronica could go if she didn't linger. Evan, on the other end, was strictly against it.

"It's a public event!" he snapped. "The less she's on display and accessible to this guy, the better."

"She can't stop living her life, Evan. In fact, that's exactly what this jerk wants. He wants her to feel isolated and afraid, that his communication with her is all she has. And besides, the protective services group is reviewing the list of people with access to my book, narrowing down possible suspects. If we continue to go out in controlled settings, we might just catch a glimpse of someone who's on that list."

Autumn had been spinning in circles for the last half hour, Evan refusing to budge on the issue at all. She'd tried every possible rationale: Veronica's autonomy; flushing out the stalker; the need for normalcy to balance out what was a horrible experience. Not even Mirza had been able to persuade him.

"She's not live bait, Autumn." Reaching for her left arm, he turned it over, pointing out her lengthy scar. "You practically ran around campus, waiting for a killer to come at you. We almost lost you."

Autumn winced, recalling how devastated Evan had been when he'd come to visit her in the hospital. He'd felt like a failure for not being approachable about her missing teenage doppelgängers. Consumed with the
what ifs
and how close she'd come to a similar fate, she'd been forced to promise to never hide anything from him again.

"Evan, it's not the same. Mirza will be there. The entire venue will be on high alert.
We'll be there
."

Without warning, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Knowingly, she hugged him back, understanding that it was as much about his fear of loss as it was about the danger both she and Veronica had faced. Like any brother, he was her protector, her counsel in rough times. It was her turn to reciprocate.

"I can't lose her." Hoarse with emotion, she could feel tears seeping through the shoulder of her shirt. "I won't. Not when I almost blew it forever."

"We won't let that happen. I promise, Evan."

Rubbing at his eyes, he loomed over her yet seemed so small. "Mirza really thinks it's okay?"

Autumn nodded. "He wants her to arrive just before her performance and leave after it ends. Ray will be there as well. Gabriel's coming too, I think. This means a lot to her."

Evan relented at last. "Okay. But if anything goes wrong, or seems off... we leave."

"Of course. Mirza and Ray are running things. Veronica knows it." With a warm smile, she gestured down the street. "Let's walk a little. I could use the fresh air before being rammed inside a crowded bar."

The heat wave had abated, but only just: still summer in the city, Autumn's legs bore the sheen of a light sweat as they made their way towards her hotel.
At least I had the sense to switch to shorts
, she thought happily. She'd change into a dress for the fundraiser, but for now, her denim cut-offs were heavenly.

"So where's your other half?"

"Filming. He's doing a piece on the post-Occupy world, profiling some of the active members of that movement. He's contrasting those who continue to take action with those who fell out of the scene after the hoopla. He's not even sure he'll make the fundraiser."

Evan gently jabbed her in the arm. "Andrew miss an event like this? Doesn't sound like him. You two okay?"

Autumn hesitated. They were... strained. After her meeting with Barrington, her sudden interest in probing Zoe Ferguson for more information had led to a heated argument about how involved she was becoming in the case. Specifically, Andrew was concerned that she was at risk of salting the raw wounds of her past brush with a killer. Her assurances that this was different—no more than a journalist would do—were met with disgruntled silence. While he'd kissed her goodbye before leaving for his interviews, it had been a cool brushing of the lips. Forced, even.

"I hope so," she replied wearily.

"Uh oh, are you following big brother's lead and screwing up your good thing?"

Autumn shrugged. "I don't know... I promised him I wouldn't let this consume me like Nikki's death, but it's kind of hard not to be involved. Someone's using my book to pick ways to murder people."

"We don't know Sophia is dead," Evan interjected.

"Yes, we do. Because the missing student from my chapter five ends up being found dead. Also, Barrington showed me a photo from the crime scene. It was too much blood for anyone to have survived."

They stood at a red light, waiting to cross like the obedient Canadians they were. Some people moved between the crawling cars, refusing to be delayed. Autumn was in no rush to get back, uncertain as to whether it would be better for Andrew to be there or still be gone.

"Some advice?"

Autumn sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope, but I find people are more responsive with the illusion of control." They walked on at the crossing's behest, dodging between harried locals and meandering tourists. "Andrew has every right to worry. We've seen what you've been through. Maybe you don't remember just how bad it was back then. We had to tell you to eat. You were sitting in class, but your mind was elsewhere entirely. None of us want you to get like that again, Veronica included."