Twenty-One

A loud knock on the RV door startled me awake. There wasn’t an ounce of light in the sky. I groaned and rolled over, tapping my cell charging on the wireless base. Five thirty. There was movement in the living room. Since he was up, I’d let Paul deal with it. He had returned from the hospital a little after midnight. Anne had regained consciousness and the doctors insisted the police wait until morning before speaking with her.

I snuggled back under the sheet. Ebenezer roamed around on the bed until he found a way under the covers and pressed himself into my back. At least another hour of sleep before I tried making sense of what was going on. I wasn’t sure if finding Luna’s daughter was worth it, whoever the woman was, it might be best for her not to know. It wasn’t like Luna actually wanted a relationship with her. Who wanted all of those ugly details about the circumstances of their birth and adoption? I was leaning toward leaving my past behind me. There were some things better left buried. Could be this last woman was like Olivia and happier not knowing. Maybe that was why there were no notes on Desiree Young. She asked Marie to drop it.

Then why kill Marie?

I groaned and tugged the blanket over my head. Stop thinking. I’d never fall back asleep with my mind whirling away.

There was a light tap on my bedroom door. “Merry, Ike’s here. Says it’s of extreme importance he talks with you.”

“Tell him to try again at a more reasonable hour.”

“Either I speak with you or security will,” Ike’s callous voice filtered past the door. “Or I could call Sheriff Rhodes since you’re such good friends with him.”

“How about you tell me?” Paul asked.

“Director Yale insisted I give Ms. Winters this message directly.”

Whatever this was about, it wasn’t good. I had a bad feeling the talk had something to do with what I told Deputy Paugh last night. The director wouldn’t be happy with one of his stars—his son—being dragged into the police station for questioning. With shaking hands, I exchanged my nightwear for a t-shirt and shorts.

Paul leaned against the kitchen counter, holding a mug of steaming coffee. His stance spoke of a casual protectiveness. One word from me, and he’d put down the mug and throw Ike out. Ike sensed it as he took up a spot as far from the door and Paul as possible.

“How can I help you?” I asked

“Edward sent me to pick up Ebenezer. There is just one scene left for him, the Christmas party scene, and then he’s no longer needed. As Edward doesn’t want to reshoot scenes, using your pet is the only choice. After the scene is done filming, Edward wants you and your friend off the property.”

“I’m not giving you Ebenezer.” I was being fired. Easy to do as I had already completed most of the craft items needed and handed over the ones I bought from Sharon.

“We don’t have much time.” Ike’s voice was twinged with anger. “The sun will be out soon. The scene won’t take long at all. I promise I’ll have him brought right back over.”

I didn’t care how mad I made him or the director, Ebenezer wasn’t going anywhere without me. “Right. Your crew will take as good care of him as you did the sheriff’s cat.”

“The cat wasn’t our fault. It disappeared sometime in the middle of the night. No one was over at the house besides Luna’s personal staff.”

“Then how come Luna didn’t know the cat was gone until I told her later that morning?” I picked up Ebenezer and cradled him against my chest.

“Luna doesn’t notice what she doesn’t want to.” Ike sighed. “The cat was no concern of hers so its appearance or lack thereof wouldn’t register until she needed him for the scene. It’s how Luna treated every living thing. It was invisible until it served a need for her. As for you no longer being welcome, you can’t really expect staying on the premise was an option once you accused one of the stars of murder.”

Paul choked on a swallow of coffee.

“I didn’t accuse anyone of murder,” I said.

“After speaking with you, the sheriff and his deputy dragged Garrison off.”

  

Ike scanned the room and made checkmarks on his clipboard. “All are present.”

He was doing everything possible to ignore my presence and not create a scene. The director made it quite clear he was not happy with us being there. I held onto the strap of Ebenezer’s carrier, a slight reminder that without me, Ebenezer wasn’t available, and they’d have to reshoot a lot of scenes.

Edward stared hard at me, finally diverting his attention to the assembled cast members. “The chief of police is threatening to shut the production down later today. So, we have one chance to get this right. Since Anne is still on her way back from the hospital, we’ll shoot the reaction scenes after the victim collapses and the part when the police arrive and ask questions of the party guests. After that Anne and Garrison should be here. Anyone not an extra or film crew member, leave the set.”

“I’m here with Ebenezer and I’ll be staying and monitoring him. He has a knack for finding his way into trouble.”

Edward pointed upstairs. “His scene is in the study. It’ll be shot last. You can wait up there with the pet.”

The director yelled roll as I walked up the stairs. The carrier bounced against my hip with every step. For once, Ebenezer was nice and quiet. The movement must’ve lulled him to sleep. There was yellow police tape strung across Marie’s door. Grief welled up in me. Marie. Katrina. So many deaths surrounding the movie. Even with Ebenezer in it, this was one Christmas movie I’d never watch.

“Let’s check out your set.” I hoisted the strap onto my shoulder and opened the door to the study.

The room looked the same as the other day, except for a disorganized pile of papers on the desk. I placed Ebenezer in his carrier on the overstuffed chair in the corner then lifted up the corner of the area rug and shoved a lamp cord underneath it. “I’m going to make sure there’s nothing on the floor you can nibble on.”

Ebenezer whistled and pressed the side of the carrier.

“I know, buddy, you want out. You need to stay in there until it’s show time. I’ve already irritated the director enough.”

On my hands and knees, I crawled around peering underneath the desk and the chairs. Scooting backwards, my feet hit the bookcase that was right behind me. There was a thud and a clink. I groaned and lowered my head for a second. Hopefully, whatever it was didn’t break it.

I rose and dusted off my knees, turning and facing the massive bookcase. One of the photographs had fallen over. Carefully, I picked it up, relieved that the glass hadn’t broke. It was the photo of a young woman who resembled Luna and a young child who I could envision was Garrison. The resemblance was uncanny.

I brought the photo closer to my eyes, studying it. The script called for Luna’s character reconnecting with the estranged son she had sent to live at a boarding school while she traveled the world for her modeling career—a son she told everyone was her nephew.

Garrison had called her Luna. Not Ms. Carmichael as the other male members of the cast. Marie had said only men related to or married to her called her by her first name. Had Luna written the script based off her life? What if the movie itself was Luna’s tell-all? Was that what Sheriff Rhodes had meant the other night? The sheriff knew Garrison and Luna were related and it was a secret that needed to be revealed. Who wanted to keep the relationship quiet, Luna or Garrison? How did Garrison feel about Luna searching for her long-lost daughter? His sister. The most confusing question was why hide it?

The door opened. I shoved the picture back into its spot. Or at least tried. It was too close to the edge and fell onto the ground by a pair of feet in black oxfords. Garrison. He gazed down on it and then at me, tilting his head to the side.

“Checking out the décor,” I said.

“I see that.” He squatted down and picked up the photograph, gazed at it for a long moment before sighing and placing it back on the shelf.

“It’s amazing how the director found a picture of an aunt and nephew that resemble you and Luna so much.”

Garrison closed the door and stood in front of it. “Yes, it is.”

I should’ve moved toward the door before I mentioned anything. I studied Garrison’s expression, hoping to gauge his attitude. It was hard to tell; the man was so calm. No frown. No smile. Completely and utterly neutral. Was he acting?

He moved away from the door and sat in the office chair. He placed his hands on the desk, palms up. “Just ask me. I’m trying to be as unthreatening as possible.”

“Ask you?”

“I’m not stupid, Merry. You know there are secrets being kept on this set and one…or some of them…is why Marie and likely Katrina were killed. For the record that person wasn’t me.”

I grabbed the straps of Ebenezer’s carrier and lifted him from the chair, wanting him in my arms for a quick escape. “Is Luna your mother? I never believed the rumor saying you were having an affair with her.”

Garrison grimaced and turned a little green. “Yes, she is.”

“Anne knows the truth, doesn’t she? I heard her demanding Ike defend you to the crew or tell Luna so she could stop the rumors.”

Garrison let out a bark of a laugh. “That explains why Anne has been hovering around me so much. Kind of sweet she wants to protect me.”

“Was that why you texted Anne last night and said you were in trouble? You knew she’d help you.”

His eyes narrowed. “I never contacted her. If I was in trouble, Anne would be the last person I’d call. I’d never want her hurt, especially because of me.”

“Anne said you were in trouble. That was why she ran out of the diner. She went looking for you.”

He paled and plopped onto the office chair. “Someone texted her about me.”

“You didn’t?” I knew what I heard. Anne had said Garrison was in trouble. Had someone called her threatening him? “Who did?”

“I don’t know. That’s why the police let me leave after checking my phone.”

“Anne’s phone! They should—”

“It’s gone. Either the person who knocked her out and tossed her into the lake took it or it’s lost in it. Anne can’t remember who contacted her. The doctor says it’s not that unusual after a head injury to be confused about what happened. The sheriff said it’ll be days before they can get the records.”

There was one reason Anne might’ve been concerned about Garrison being in trouble, someone else knew the truth about him and Luna. Something the pair wanted hidden. “Why did you and Luna hide the fact that she’s your mother? How were you able to?”

“Luna has always been good at hiding parts of her life. Luna Carmichael is her stage name. It’s rare to see a picture that isn’t of her being part of a cast. Plus, it was easier forty-some-odd years ago to keep secrets. Information wasn’t at everyone’s fingertips.”

“Desiree Young. That was her real name.”

“No.” An emotion flashed in his eyes and he quickly blinked, chasing it away. “Where did you see that name?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer, so I went with asking another question. “Do you know if there are any other secrets your mother is keeping?”

“You two done gossiping about me,” Luna snapped at us.

We spun toward the door. We were so engrossed in our conversation we hadn’t heard the door open.

“It’s not gossip, Mother, if it’s the truth.” There was no mistaking the snideness in Garrison’s tone when he said mother.

“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on,” I said.

“You’re not my daughter so there’s no reason for you to care.”

“Marie was killed. Katrina was killed. That’s more than enough reason for me.”

“Wouldn’t even matter if she was.” Bitterness flowed from Garrison. “Not all moms care about their children. Luna played the mom role once and it didn’t take. It was the year that picture was taken. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time she tried and decided it wasn’t for her. I should appreciate the fact she left me on my father’s doorstep and didn’t dump me in a trash can.”

Luna grabbed his arm, her whole body shaking in anger. “Who told you that? Edward? I didn’t throw anyone away.”

“Really? Because I’ve watched you do it my whole life, including to my dad. You know he’d never say a bad thing about you.” He peeled her fingers, one by one, from his arm. “Even it was true. As you said there’s no reason for us to care. The person who has the most to lose about the truth coming out is you—and you’re one person I no longer care about.”