Amanda and Doyle approached the catering table and its wondrous spread of pastries, fruits, cereals, and muffins, as well as coffee, orange juice, and milk.
“Thank God,” said Doyle. “I’m starving.”
They both piled their plates high and found a boulder near the lake to sit down.
“Is William going to be okay?” Amanda asked.
Doyle shook his head. “I’m not sure. Granted, I’ve only known him for a couple weeks, mostly while we worked on the last case. But I’ve definitely never seen him act like this. That’s for sure.”
“Relationships can be tricky,” said Amanda. “Especially when murder might be involved.”
“You’ve gone through this before?” asked Doyle.
“Maaaaybe,” she said, putting her hands around his neck and squeezing.
Doyle began coughing and wheezing.
“I’m sorry, Doyle—are you okay? I was only pretending to kill you.”
He gasped. “It’s okay. I had half a raspberry Danish in my mouth. If it weren’t for that, it would have been very cute and funny.”
She laughed. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.”
After a couple minutes of munching, Doyle said, “I really can’t imagine what William is going through right now. I can’t imagine what it would be like to think, or even hear allegations, that your significant other is a stone-cold murderer. It’s creepy.”
“It’s sad,” said Amanda. “I’ve only known him for a short while, too. But he seemed so strong and confident to me. Now, he’s falling apart.”
“He doesn’t have anyone to lean on,” said Doyle. “Except us. That can’t be too comforting.”
Amanda put an arm around him. “We’re not that bad,” she said.
“Speak for yourself, Officer Hutchins. You gonna eat that pineapple spear?”
Doyle was in the process of grabbing the fruit off her plate when
Amanda said, “Doyle, isn’t that—”
Doyle looked in the direction Amanda was pointing.
“You’re right. That’s the effects guy. What’s his name … Chip?”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said. “He’s really piling up the pastries.”
Doyle took a bite of pineapple. He looked at Amanda. Then he looked at Chip.
“Come with me,” he said.
“What? What are you doing? Should we wait for William?”
“I think it’s safe to say we’re on our own, now. I really don’t think
William will be much assistance to us, at least not for a while.”
Amanda nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Once again, Doyle and Amanda approached the catering table. Doyle tapped Chip’s shoulder.
“WHA!?” Chip shrieked, sending a plateful of pastries flying in all directions.
“You okay, there?” asked Doyle. “Chip was the name, right?”
Chip was suddenly breathing heavily. “That’s correct, Officer. How can I help you?”
“I already told you, Chip. I’m not an officer, I’m a detective. A private investigator. Ms. Hutchins, by my side here, however, is an officer. So she gets all the toys. You know, guns, handcuffs, mace, one of those sticks she uses to beat people with …“
“Only when necessary,” said Amanda.
“Usually, sure,” said Doyle.
Chip made an audible whimper.
“Do you mind if I run through a couple quick questions with you,
Chip?”
“Uhh, yeah, sure. No problem,” he said.
“Looks like you dropped your pastries,” said Doyle. “Would you care to get a new one?”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Okay,” said Doyle. “Whatever you say.”
“Can we go somewhere private?” he asked. “There’s an awful lot of people around here.”
“Somewhere private. That’s a good idea,” said Doyle. “Somewhere private … let’s see, how about Winthrop’s trailer? How does that sound?”
“What? Why there?” asked Chip.
“Well, you’ve been there before, haven’t you? Took a few photos, did ya?” asked Doyle.
“NO!” Chip yelled. “I mean yes! I mean … why do you ask?”
“Are you sure you don’t want a donut?” asked Doyle.
“Yeah, a little bit,” said Chip. “Are you arresting me? Is this my last meal?”
Amanda shrugged.
Doyle seemed to think about it for a moment. “Not quite yet. There’s still so much we need to know.”
“Who told you, anyways? Was it Ms. Coen? She’s such a bad person. You know?”
“No, I don’t know, Chip. But what I want to know is why you spent your evenings spying on people having sex rather than getting your beauty sleep.”
“The Internet barely works up here,” said Chip.
“Okay …“ said Doyle. “And … ?”
“So, I couldn’t see any … you know,” he said.
“Any what?” asked Doyle.
Chip spelled it out. “P O R N”
“It’s too bad I can’t spell, because then I would know what you’re talking about,” said Amanda, shaking her head angrily.
“Sorry … sorry, miss. I’m not good with women. I guess that’s why I was using my Polaroid camera in the first place. If anything, I figured the photos might be worth a few bucks on the internet. But once Davis Wilde was shot, well, then I knew I needed to turn in the photographs, but I didn’t want to be tied with them. That’s why I gave them to Ms. Coen. I figured that way, she could turn them to the authorities without getting me involved. She promised me.”
“Clearly, it didn’t turn out well,” said Doyle, “regardless of your good and perverted intentions.”
“Chip, did you see Eva Wong in Winthrop’s trailer?” asked Amanda. He shook his head. “No, I only saw Davis, Tina, and Mr. Winthrop. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered Eva Wong being in there. She’s very attractive.” He felt the glare of Amanda’s eyes. “You know, so to speak.”
“Ms. Coen gave us the impression that Eva was in Mr. Winthrop’s trailer during the sexual tryst, looking on. Is it possible she was in the trailer but mostly out of view? All we have is one photograph that shows the back of her head.”
“I guess it’s possible,” said Chip. “I think I would have noticed that, but maybe not.”
“Did you notice any of them leaving the trailer?” asked Doyle.
“No, I didn’t stick around that long,” said Chip. “But, now that you bring this up, I did notice Ms. Wong was strangely fascinated with Wilde. I mean, the other days on set. I couldn’t tell if she thought he was hot, or if it was something more than that.”
“But you did notice some sort of attraction between Eva and Wilde?”
Chip nodded. “Yes, definitely.”
Doyle glanced at Amanda to see if she had any more questions for Chip. She shook her head.
“Thank you, Chip. This information could be very helpful,” said Doyle.
“Am I under arrest?” asked Chip.
Amanda pulled out her handcuffs, then Doyle waved them away.
“No, that won’t be necessary … this time. Make sure you stick around. No funny business. Or else. Got it?”
Chip nodded nervously. The half-eaten donut on his plate bounced up and down, then landed on the floor.
“Careful with the pastries, Chip,” said Doyle. “Those things can kill you.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Have a lovely day,” said Doyle. Amanda followed behind him.
“Can I have the photos back?” Chip called out from the catering table.
Amanda turned around first. “Really? You want to go there?”
“No, ma’am,” he hollered back. “Sorry. Sorry again. Thank you.”