Twenty-Three

Garrison pushed stunned crew members out of his path and ran over to Luna. He dropped beside her and rested his head on her chest. He fumbled around for her wrist and held onto it for dear life. He tapped her cheek. “Come on, Luna, talk to me.” He cast a frantic gaze around the room. “Get the medic!”

A security guard began performing CPR.

Nearby, I heard an authoritative voice asking for an ambulance and the police. Paul. He was at the RV. I texted him. I wasn’t sure how long it would take for an ambulance to arrive. My mind was numb as I tried comprehending what was happening. Anne sobbed, hands covering her face.

I inched back on my knees, giving Edward and Garrison space. Tears glittered in his eyes and his hands shook as he tried bringing her around. Luna’s lips and face were turning blue. We were running out of time.

Someone grabbed my arm, yanking me away from Luna. Olivia’s eyes blazed and she shook me. “Did you put peanuts in the cookies yesterday? She’s allergic.”

I shook my head. “No, you said someone was—”

The front door opened and slammed shut.

“What?” Edward stared at the food on the buffet and paled. “No one told me that.”

“Does she have an EpiPen?” Paul placed his fingers on Luna’s pulse, face grim.

“Find her EpiPen,” Olivia shouted. “She always carries one with her.”

Paul patted Luna’s sides then her legs. “I’m not feeling one.”

The red purse. “She was carrying a red glittery purse when the scene started,” I said.

The cast and crew started looking around the room; someone dropped to their hands and knees and peered under the couches. Vernon started tossing the purses from the party guests onto the floor, desperately searching for Luna’s purse prop.

“Hang in there, darling,” Vernon said. “We’ll find it.”

Most of the extras backed up, while a few inched closer and snuck cell phones out of pockets to snap a photo. Slipping off his suit coat, Garrison held it out, blocking the view of Paul performing CPR on Luna. Olivia and the catering staff positioned themselves around Luna, blocking the photo takers.

“Show some respect,” a tall and muscular crew hand said, holding out his beefy arms. “Anymore photos and we’ll physically remove you.”

“I don’t see it,” a man said.

“Try under the tree. Maybe it got mixed in with the presents.”

Oh no! Had Ebenezer taken it? I scanned the room. Where was he?

“Why would it?” Vernon hunched over the presents, pushing them out of the way.

“It has to be somewhere,” someone said.

“Maybe she has one in her vanity.” I scrambled to my feet and bounded up the stairs.

In my haste, I almost tripped and face-planted on the stairs. I grabbed the rail and kept myself righted and on my feet. My mind was whirling, trying to remember which drawer the EpiPen was in. The top drawer. I ran down the hall and yanked open the door, reminding myself to slow down before I collided into the clothing rack that was likely in front of the door.

The rack was there. Why the stylist and Luna thought that was the perfect placement I had no idea. It was cumbersome and squealed as I pushed it out of the way, took less time than fighting through the vast array of dresses, sweaters, and slacks.

A window slammed shut. The hair stylist waved her hands around in the air and kicked something under the vanity. “What are you doing in here?”

“Luna is having an allergic reaction. Need her EpiPen. Can’t find the one she was carrying.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she ripped the drawer open on the vanity. “How did that happen? Olivia doesn’t allow anything in the house with peanuts.”

“There was a mishap with the food delivery yesterday. The chef had some of the cast and crew helping prepare the food.” The perfect opportunity for slipping in the allergen.

“Where is it?” The woman’s voice grew frantic and she threw items out of the top drawer of the vanity. “She always keeps one in here. Said that every year, she discovers something new she’s allergic to. A week ago, she found out she’s allergic to red dye.”

“Did she tell anyone?” I ran through all the foods being made in the kitchen. Was anything red? The drinks? Luna knew about her allergy; she’d avoid consuming anything red.

“Her new assistant knew. The woman tried giving her a bottle with a strawberry drink. I’d assume Olivia knows also.” The stylist let out a happy cry and pulled the EpiPen from the drawer. “Here it is.”

I snagged it and ran, taking the stairs two at a time, heart pounding as I feared too much time had passed. “I have it.”

Paul took it from me and pressed it into Luna’s outer thigh. She remained unconscious, lips still blue and face pale and splotchy.

“Why isn’t it working?” Vernon sounded panicked. “Shouldn’t she be better.”

Paul met my gaze. I covered my mouth, holding in my gasp. The look in his eyes said he didn’t think Luna would make it. We were too late. I scanned the room and everyone in it. No one was holding the purse though an extra was cuddling a rather pleased Ebenezer. Where was the purse? Who took it?

Sirens screamed from outside and a few moments later, paramedics raced in. Edward and Ike moved everyone away, giving the medical team plenty of space to work. Quickly, Luna was placed on the gurney.

Paul handed over the EpiPen and told the paramedics everything that he’d done. Vernon hovered by the door, shifting his weight. The paramedics raised the gurney and wheeled Luna toward the door.

Vernon stepped toward them. “She shouldn’t be alone. I’ll go—”

“No. I’ll go with her,” Garrison said.

“I’m her husband.” Vernon pushed Garrison back into the house.

“And I’m her son.”

Vernon gaped at him and stumbled backwards. Silence blanketed the room followed by murmurs.

Anne squeezed Garrison’s shoulder then wrapped her arms around herself, tears flowed down her face. “Call me, okay.”

Garrison nodded and hurried after his mother.

“I’ll inform Sheriff Rhodes,” Edward said. “Keep me updated on Luna’s condition, son.”

Vernon stepped outside only to be dragged back in by his cousin.

“No one else is leaving until I find out what happened,” Chief Quinn said.

“I need to be with my wife.”

“I don’t think she’d want you there. She is divorcing you.” Quinn kept a tight hold of her cousin’s arm. “Someone start explaining.”

“She had been patting her throat. She seemed frantic.” The words fell out of me fast and furious. A coldness washed over me and I wrapped my arms around myself. “I thought she was choking. Real choking not fake choking.”

“We believe she ate or drank something she was allergic to,” Ike said.

“I thought that was why Luna employed a private chef and never ate in town.” Quinn frowned. She released her cousin and nodded toward him. An officer walked over and stood beside Vernon, keeping an eye on him.

What had the chief found out that had required her putting a guard on Vernon?

“There was an incident with the food for the scene,” Ike said. “We were a little haphazard—”

“We weren’t haphazard,” Olivia screeched. “I still monitored everything that was prepared. There were no peanuts used. Matter-of-fact, no nuts at all.”

“Or red dye,” I said.

The sound of glass shattering had everyone staring at the sous chef standing in the dining room. He held a silver platter in his hand, one side tipping down. Shards of glass were around his feet.

“Red dye.” The young man shook. “Ms. Carmichael couldn’t have red dye?”

Olivia shook her head. “It was on her newest list of allergens. Didn’t you read it?” There was a sharpness to her words.

“I thought I read the most updated one.” His voice shook. “The candy cane cookies used red dye.”

“The candy canes bought were mint,” Olivia’s voice rose with every word. “There was no red in it. They were green and white.”

He shook his head back and forth, horror growing on his face. “Mint isn’t used in the dough. Candy cane is the shape of the cookie. I split the dough and colored one red and left the other white, then I made strips and twined them together.”

Gazes went to the dessert buffet table. There were a few candy cane cookies on the cookie plate. The white-and-red dough wrapped around each other, making the strips for the cane, and the tip of the cookie was curved down

“Luna didn’t eat them,” I said. “I saw her drink water and eat some pita chips and some dip. None of those were red.”

“Or made with peanuts,” Olivia said.

Fear churned through me as my mind listed all the pranks that had befallen on the movie. But putting an allergen in the food was something different. It was vicious. Dangerous. Murder. But—

“We’ll collect the food and save it.” Quinn motioned for two officers to step forward and begin collecting what might become evidence. “Tests will be run to determine what caused her reaction.”

“What if someone did it on purpose?” My gaze locked onto the buffet table.

The extras holding plates dropped them to the floor and edged away, looking as if the items on the plate could jump up and do them in.

Ike paled. “No one would do that.”

“Really. Marie is dead. Katrina is dead. Anne was attacked. And now—” I turned and focused my gaze on Vernon who hovered near the door. “What if they didn’t think it would kill her? Just make her sick. The cat escaping. The fire that took out some of the props. The coffee urns spigots being jammed. The food cart being knocked from the caterer’s grasp yesterday.”

“That was an accident,” Ike said.

“Not from where I saw it,” I said. “I was in Marie’s room and watched what happened. Vernon bumped into the guy. On purpose. Who knew about her allergies?”

“Me. Garrison. Ike.” Anne shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Luna didn’t like everyone knowing.”

“Her assistants,” I said. “Probably ex-husband.”

Vernon flushed. “Rhodes knew about it also. I swear it was an accident. The siren startled me.”

“Rhodes isn’t here,” Quinn said.

Vernon’s eyes widened and he shook his head, inching back toward the door with his hand reaching for the doorknob.

Chief Quinn walked purposefully toward Vernon. “What did you do?”

He swallowed hard and held up his hands. “I didn’t do that on purpose. It was an accident. I’d never hurt her.”

“A convenient accident,” Edward said.

“Chief, I found these in the trash.” An officer held up an empty jug of peanut oil and a funnel.

Olivia gasped. “The pita chips were fried in olive oil. I don’t keep peanut oil here. There would be a difference in the smell.” She turned to her sous chef. “It was olive oil. Correct?”

The man grew paler and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t remember. The bottle said olive oil and I used it. I didn’t pay attention to how it smelled. I never thought…”

Chief Quinn’s gaze zeroed in on her cousin who was inching toward the door. “Take the pans and the bottle of olive oil.”

Vernon slammed into Sheriff Rhodes who was coming through the door.

The sheriff took hold of Vernon’s arm. “Why are you rushing out?”

“I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t hurt Luna. I love her.” There was a mix of anger and despair in Vernon’s face as he stared at his cousin. “You have to believe me.”

“Isn’t that the problem?” Sheriff Rhodes commented. “She has been listening to you and ignoring evidence. Unlike your cousin, I checked your phone records. You and Katrina had called each other quite a few times. Her last two messages were to Ms. Anne Lindsey and you.”

“Katrina Emerson’s case is mine,” Quinn said. “You have no right poking around in it.”

“I found proof it tied into mine. That gave me the right.”

Quinn removed her handcuffs from her utility belt. “But the sheriff is right, I have believed you and look where that’s gotten me, Vernon. I have no choice. I’m bringing you in for questioning on the attempted murder of Luna Carmichael.”

“Based on what?” Vernon’s face turned red.

“Really want me announcing that here?” Quinn asked.

Vernon opened his mouth then closed it, swallowing hard before trying again. He turned, placed his hands behind his back, and leaned forward. “Take me in. But I’m not saying anything else until I consult my attorney.”