Kenzie groaned. “What is she doing?”
“That was her claim when she talked to me. She says—”
“I know what she says. We’d love to let her husband go home. But the police think that the cast and crew might be a flight risk. They’re only allowed to go to set and to the hotel. Nowhere else.”
I raised a brow. “Aren’t you considered crew?”
She sighed. “They’re making an exception for me so the show can keep running. Not everything can be delivered.”
“Like talking cats and hot dogs.”
“Pretty much.” She laughed.
Marci’s face brightened when she saw me. There wasn’t any harm in waving back. I felt bad for her and her husband. If I didn’t have such a great staff at Helping Paws, I’d never be able to take time away to solve these crimes. It had been about two weeks since the poisoning. That was a long time to be away unexpectedly.
Marci left the reporter in the dust and ran over to us.
“Addie! I’m so glad to see you here. Have you had a chance to talk to Nick?”
“Not yet,” I said. Kenzie rolled her eyes, but the disappointment on Marci’s face was real. “I traveled yesterday, and by the time I saw you, I was exhausted. I’ll talk to him as—”
“Addie’s here to solve the crime.” Kenzie cut me off before I could make any promises.
Marci narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t let this one give you the wrong idea about me or my husband. Nick only came to this show because he thought it would help his career. Not destroy it.”
“I’ll do what I can.” I stepped away from her, but Persephone lingered. Maybe it was the umbrella. I coaxed her away and picked her up. My jacket was wet, too, and didn’t offer much shelter. I’d have to find her a heater and a warm towel as soon as possible.
Maybe she could warm up in one of the Potluck trailers.
Kenzie was already in line at Chloe’s Dogs. The food truck offered a DIY menu. Choose the dog, the bun (or lettuce), and the toppings.
“Any suggestions?” My brain was jumbled after that run-in with Marci.
“You have to get it with cream cheese, caramelized onions, and sriracha. It’s a Seattle tradition,” Marci stepped in and said. “But I wish you would consider getting your lunch from any of these other food trucks. They’re full of hard-working locals. Not celebrities.”
Kenzie bit her lip again.
“I might be here for a while, and I’ll be sure to check them out.” I wasn’t exactly in a position to snub lunch from anyone associated with Parking Lot Potluck.
And George had found the way to my heart. There were fried pickles on the menu.
Kenzie placed our order.
“Persephone would probably like the salmon dogs. Hold the bun and the garnishes.”
Since we ordered for the whole crew—and the animals—we had to wait for our food to be ready. Every time someone approached the truck, Marci would ask them to consider having lunch elsewhere.
“She can’t keep doing this,” Kenzie said. “George will lose his mind at this kind of bad publicity.”
“What’s the harm in letting Marci see Nick?” I lowered my voice so only Kenzie would hear me.
“We did, at first, but then he stopped cooperating with the investigation. The police wanted to arrest him for obstructing justice, but Val asked them not to. She thought Marci would make even more trouble. And she was right.”
Talking to Nick was at the top of my list of things to do when I got back to the hotel.
“Do you mind if I blast the heat? I’ve got a wet cold cat,” I asked when we got back to the car.
“Sure. Chloe’s got blankets back there. She probably will mind if Persephone uses them, but I can throw them in the wash before she has a chance to complain.”
I grabbed one of them and wrapped it around Persephone.
“I’m gonna smell like a dog,” she said.
“Better than a cat popsicle.” I laughed and turned to Kenzie. “I’d love to set up a playdate with Chloe.”
Kenzie grimaced. “That might not be a great idea. Chloe’s a big dog, and I’d hate for anything to happen to Persephone.”
“I’d never put Persephone in danger.” Although I’d definitely have to plan better for this wet Seattle weather. “I’ve worked with a lot of difficult animals. Not that Chloe’s difficult, of course. But since Persephone’s come into the picture, I’ve been able to make amazing breakthroughs with animals at Helping Paws. Chloe’s life would be easier if she felt more comfortable around cats.”
“I’ll have to ask George.” Kenzie didn’t sound convinced.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about Kenzie being the only one who was able to leave the constraints of the sequestered area. If the person who poisoned Sig Diana was still at large, Kenzie could be in danger.
“How do you like working on the show?” Last night I’d asked her about her role on Potluck, but not what she thought about it. And after talking to Lindsay, I was especially curious about her opinion.
Kenzie’s eyes widened. “There’s never a dull moment. I love traveling and getting to meet people from all over the country.”
That was a canned answer. She was holding back. “What would you like your next job to be?”
“I’m not done with this one yet.” She gave me a sideways glance. Yesterday she’d been afraid of getting stuck in her hometown, but she seemed much more confident about her future in the industry today. “I have faith we’ll find who did this and start filming again. But if we can’t, I’d like to do something where I could keep traveling. Those shows are harder to produce because the logistics are constantly changing and it’s almost impossible to come in under budget because surprises always come up.”
Like a poisoning and murder that ground production to a halt.
“That’s what drew you to Potluck?”
Kenzie didn’t answer right away.
“I’m not interrogating you. I’m just curious. This is the closest I’ll ever get to my favorite show, and I have questions about everything. Not just the case.”
“You’d make a great producer.”
No way. I’d never imagined myself in such a role, but I’d never imagined myself solving crimes with a talking cat, either. “I don’t have any experience.”
“Doesn’t matter. You have all the right instincts. You adapt quickly to challenges, you don’t let what other people say bring you down, you’re super persistent, and you always look on the bright side. The industry could use more people like you.”
“Who knew that working at an animal shelter was great training for producing a TV show?” I liked this idea more than I should. I had a shelter that needed me. One that was apparently making a Ballers and Collars calendar. “Think there are any jobs for a talking cat?”
Kenzie’s face lit up. Maybe that was her real love, show development. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Have you ever thought about you and Persephone having your own show?”
“No.” Kenzie was just spitballing, probably trying to stop me from asking more questions about Potluck, but if Persephone’s video views online from the shelter were any indication, there was an audience for her. “My life wasn’t very exciting before I started solving crimes with a talking cat.”
With a cat bundled in a dog blanket in one arm and a bag full of hot dogs and fried pickles in the other, I followed Kenzie back to the production tent, keeping an eye out for security guards, but my head was totally in the clouds.
I probably would hate being in front of the camera, but I couldn’t stop thinking about all the good things that could come of a show like that. We could do even more amazing things for Helping Paws, other rescues, and my friends. Casey had been trying to become internet famous for as long as I’d known her.
We could make her television famous.
“Oh no.” Kenzie groaned and broke into a trot when she saw a group of people standing outside of the tent where we’d held the production meeting. I could barely keep up with her. Her pace slowed as she approached them, and all traces of concern disappeared.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
No one said anything right away. I did a quick headcount to make sure everyone was still there.
“Diana took a turn for the worse,” Maxim finally said. “We got a call from her manager in the middle of the meeting.”