Where are we going?” asked Amanda.
“Back to Nisswa Park. I have some interviewing I want to do,” said Doyle, applying some extra pressure to the gas pedal.
“But what about William and Eva?”
Doyle gently patted her leg. “I think you’re right. I don’t think Eva will try anything tonight. It’d be far too obvious. In fact, not doing anything will add to her defense. That’d be the smart play.”
“So, who are we going to interview?”
“Our current employer, Mr. Winthrop. Just because he’s paying for our services doesn’t mean he couldn’t be guilty in some way himself.”
“Are you having certain suspicions?”
“Nothing in particular, mind you,” said Doyle. “It’s just that Mike Cameron mentioned something about insurance, and that got me to thinking that all of what’s transpired might be well above love triangles and petty scorn. Maybe it’s all business.”
“You think Wilde may have been killed for insurance money? That’s quite a stretch,” said Amanda.
“Maybe so, but it can’t hurt to pursue that avenue.”
Amanda nodded. “Fair enough. You know, I get more impressed with you by the hour.”
Doyle looked at her, cocked his eyebrow, and said, “That’s what all the ladies tell me.”
“CAR!” Amanda yelled.
Doyle swerved, narrowly missing an oncoming Volkswagen.
“Just keep your eyes on the road, Casanova. I’ll be most impressed with you if we solve this case without dying in the process.”
“That’s good enough for me,” said Doyle.
“THIS IS WINTHROP’S PLACE, RIGHT?” asked Doyle.
“Yup, this is the one,” said Amanda.
Doyle knocked on the thin, metal door. A tall, blonde figure with excessive make-up greeted them.
“Oh, I’m sorry ma’am,” said Doyle. “We’re looking for the producer,
Mr. Winthrop.”
“Doyle …“ Amanda said. She elbowed Doyle.
“Well, I—“ the blonde began.
Doyle interrupted. “Is he here? Is he out for the evening? Are you his girlfriend?”
“No, but—“
“You certainly can’t be his wife. After all, you’re far too attractive for that. Am I right?”
“Doyle, you should stop,” said Amanda, laughing uneasily.
Doyle put his arm around the blonde. “Please, miss. Can you tell us where Mr. Winthrop is?”
“Hands off, Bub,” said the blonde in a shockingly deep voice.
Doyle took a step back.
“This is sort of a hobby for me,” said Winthrop, removing his wig.
“It’s been a long couple days here,” said Doyle. “And I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so, umm …“
Amanda and Winthrop both looked at Doyle expectantly. “You know what? Never mind,” said Doyle. “Let’s move on.”
“That would be great,” said Amanda.
“C’mon in,” said Winthrop. “Take a seat on my couch. It’s small, but it works.”
“What should we do with these?” asked Doyle, holding up a pile of wigs that lay strewn across the cushions.
“Oh, just throw those onto the vanity over there, next to the others,” said Winthrop.
“Okie dokie,” said Doyle.
“Well, have you solved the crime? Did you catch Wilde’s killer so I can start up my movie again?”
“I think we’re close,” said Doyle. “We have a few questions that we really have to ask before we proceed with the investigation.”
“Fair enough,” said Winthrop. “What sort of questions do you have?”
“First of all, insurance,” said Doyle. “Did you have insurance on Wilde?”
Winthrop nodded and answered without hesitation. “I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is yes, we do carry insurance on all of our actors and crew. It’s standard industry practice. Frankly, we’ll get from the insurance company roughly what we paid Wilde for his contract, plus an additional sum to find a replacement.”
“Are you expecting the replacement actor to be more or less expensive than Wilde?” asked Doyle.
Winthrop coughed. “This is to remain in the room, but I’ve found a replacement actor, and he will indeed be more expensive than Wilde.”
“How much more expensive?” asked Amanda.
“Substantially,” said Winthrop. “I had to find someone who looked fairly close to Wilde, and would be accessible within a day’s notice, once the murder investigation has wrapped up.”
“Who’d you find?” asked Doyle.
“Josh Hartnett,” said Winthrop.
Doyle shrugged. “He looks a little bit like Wilde, I guess.”
“Close enough,” said Winthrop. “We got lucky. He was visiting family in Brainerd, and I was able to convince him that playing Wilde’s role would be a beautiful tribute and a smart PR move. Of course, he’s a big star, and, therefore, not cheap. We’ll do some CGI work and make him look exactly like Wilde. That’ll be another added cost. This damn movie is getting really expensive.” He shook his head.
“As you know, Mr. Winthrop, there’s also been a stabbing on set. My partner, in fact.”
Winthrop looked at Amanda. “She looks great, considering.”
“Not her,” said Doyle. “William. The British guy.”
“Oh,” said Winthrop. “Ooohhh.”
“No, not like that,” said Doyle. “William’s cute, but he’s my business partner. Amanda here is my other partner … for that.”
“Doyle!” exclaimed Amanda.
“Okay, never mind again,” said Doyle. “Also, there was an assault, of sorts, involving Eva Wong.”
“I heard. The police haven’t given me all the details on that yet. Is she okay?” asked Winthrop.
Doyle looked at Amanda, trying to gauge how much information he should give to Winthrop.
“She’ll be okay,” said Doyle. “She was unconscious for a while, and there was a lot of blood in her trailer, but at this point it doesn’t appear that it was hers.”
“That’s odd,” said Winthrop.
“Quite,” said Doyle. “We’re still working on that, too. We’ll give you details when we can.”
“Am I paying extra for that?” asked Winthrop.
“Since it feeds into the case we’re working on now, we’ll consider it to be part of our daily expenses.”
“Terrific,” said Winthrop.
“A fifteen-percent gratuity may be added, however,” said Doyle.
“That’s about the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Winthrop.
“Well, we’re strange detectives,” said Doyle. Amanda rolled her eyes.
“Clearly. Anything else, detectives?”
Doyle shook his head, but Amanda stood up.
“Mr. Winthrop,” she said. “Does this couch turn into a bed, by any chance?”
“It does. Why do you ask?”
Doyle immediately realized what Amanda was getting at. “You lead a fairly active social life, do you not?” asked Doyle.
“What does that even mean?” asked Winthrop.
Doyle coughed. “Did you have a nasty, sweaty orgy on this bed a few nights ago?”
“Good Lord, you couldn’t be a little more subtle?” Amanda asked.
“I tried that, but he didn’t pick up on it,” said Doyle.
Winthrop held up a hand.
“I did, indeed. How did you know?” asked Winthrop.
“Chip took some photos,” said Amanda. “We’re not positive, but it sounds like Maura Coen may have put him up to it.”
“Maura? But why?”
“We don’t have all the answers yet, but we’ll get them,” said Amanda.
Winthrop nodded. “I see.”
“Is there anything that happened during that evening of … socializing that might be of importance?” asked Amanda.
“I don’t think so,” said Winthrop. “Listen, this is very important to me. If you have any specific questions, I’ll answer them. But I don’t much care for discussing my personal life, and I especially don’t want it going anywhere beyond our small group here.”
“Did you bite Wilde?” asked Doyle. “Pardon?” responded Winthrop.
“Did you bite Wilde on his thigh?”
Winthrop thought about it for a moment. “I haven’t bitten anyone in years. I’m not the rough type.”
“Did you see anyone bite him?” asked Doyle.
“No, I didn’t. Honestly, it was a very pleasant evening.”
“Did you get the feeling that any sort of jealousy was flaring up between the four of you?” asked Doyle.
“Three of you,” said Winthrop.
“Three?” asked Doyle.
“Yes, it was Davis Wilde, Tina, and me. Who else claims they were there?” asked Winthrop, appearing truly confused.
“The photos very clearly show Eva Wong,” said Doyle.
“Do you have them with?” asked Amanda.
“I do,” he said, digging into his coat pocket.
“This whole concept is preposterous,” said Winthrop.
“Why?” asked Amanda.
“Eva Wong had no interest speaking with anyone on set, let alone having sex with them. If the photos show her in here, then they were definitely doctored on that PhotoShack or whatever they call it.”
“Mr. Winthrop,” said Doyle. “Are you trying to tell me that this is not definitive proof?”
Doyle held up one particular snapshot of the orgy. The one that showed a brunette watching intently from somewhere within the trailer.
Her hair and part of her face was visible.
“Ha!” bellowed Winthrop.
“What? What’s so funny?” asked Doyle.
Amanda got it before Doyle.
“Look where the windows are,” she said. “The bed is here, which means the photographer was behind that window, next to the vanity.”
Doyle looked toward where Amanda was pointing. Then he looked at the photograph. Then he looked back towards the window.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Doyle. “It’s not Eva Wong in the photo. It’s a wig on a mannequin head.”
Once again, Ronald Winthrop cackled with laughter.
“I can’t even remember what I’m paying you, but I’m positive it’s too much,” Winthrop said.
“You have to admit, it closely resembles Eva Wong,” said Doyle.
“Absolutely, if she were an inanimate object,” Winthrop said, holding his chest, attempting to subdue the laughter.
“You know, this is rather interesting,” said Amanda. “Maura Coen was positive that Eva Wong was responsible for the murder, and she actually handed us these photographs as if they were proof supporting that theory. Did she really have any idea if Eva was in the trailer or not? Or did she just see the photos, saw what she thought was Eva, and try to pin the blame on her?”
“But why?” asked Doyle.
“Allow me to offer a little insight into the minds of both of these women,” said Winthrop. “Eva Wong I’ve only known for a short time. What I can tell you is that she is extremely professional, although not terribly social. She did in fact have an attraction for Davis Wilde, which anyone with eyes could easily notice. Same with Maura. However, one thing I can tell you positively about Maura Coen is that once you cross her, you can never make it up to her.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” asked Amanda.
“I’ve known Maura for several years. I actually met her while she was a film student at NYU, well after her brothers had already made a name for themselves. We met at a party on campus. She was speaking at great length as to why she was Jean-Luc Goddard’s biggest fan. Naturally, I had to refute her argument by claiming that I was indeed Jean-Luc Goddard’s biggest fan. Truth be told, neither of us liked Goddard’s work, but it was NYU, and one doesn’t get ahead in NYU without extreme pretentiousness. Should the director’s name ever arise in conversation, she will give me such a fierce glare that the devil himself would wet his trousers.”
“That’s quite the image,” said Doyle.
“So do you think she could have done this?” asked Amanda. “Out of jealousy for Wilde? She didn’t want Eva to have him, so she took him out?”
“I really doubt it,” said Winthrop. “While she does carry incredible grudges, and can be vicious as a Doberman, I can assure you that this film is far more important to her than any physical attraction. I’d say the number one goal in her life is to make a more successful film than her brothers. Obviously a murder on the film set would jeopardize that goal. I don’t think she’d risk it.”
“Could she possibly think that Fargo II would be more successful than the original?” asked Doyle.
“Stranger things have happened,” said Winthrop. “At any rate, it’s worth trying.”
“We should get going,” said Doyle. “I want to get back to William.”
Amanda nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. We’ll go through our information and get this case solved. The sooner we do that, the faster your filming can commence.”
Winthrop wiped some sweat from his brow, accidentally taking some foundation with it. “Absolutely. Really, if any other questions come up, don’t hesitate to ask me. Stop by any time.”