I was never going to learn to mind my own business. Not even when it meant preventing hurting the people I loved the most in the world. I should have listened to Dad when he tried to reason with me all the way to his truck while I marched him to the door.
“This is terrible timing,” he said. “It’s not going to go well, Fee. Let me find the right time to tell her, please.”
I should have stayed out of it, let him sort out how he was going to do the big reveal without sending Mom into a spiral. While my blood boiled with the need to drive him to his house myself to ensure he got there in one piece so Mom could take him apart personally for lying to both of us.
Yeah, should have just backed off and focused on murder.
Didn’t.
Which meant, fifteen minutes after pulling out of the parking lot behind Dad’s truck and following him all the way home in a rather self-righteous mood, I stood in their living room with my heart on the floor and my dad next to me with his head hanging. While my mother—my normally kind and thoughtful mother—shrieked at him at a volume and intensity that made it almost impossible to make out the individual words she was saying. Probably for the best because the few I did catch weren’t nice at all and could be misconstrued as serious threats to his safety and cast doubt on his parentage.
Killing off any doubt I’d made a horrible, drastic and crippling mistake.
Dad took her audible assault for about a minute before he seemed to swell into this towering volcano of pending explosion and then he was shouting, too, his deep voice echoing through the house while Mom’s counterpoint banshee wailing cut through my eardrums like a hot knife through butter.
I backed slowly away from the pair of them while they shouted profanities, accusations and the kinds of private things I really, really didn’t need to know about their personal life, wishing I could take it all back. Just rewind time and not run into Dad at the Lodge, not let Mom enter the stupid damned TV show, protect her from Vivian’s vitriol, just never come home to Reading after all.
Does it make me a coward I fled without trying to stop the fight? In all fairness, there wasn’t anything I could do that wouldn’t put me at risk of bodily harm. Okay, I’m going a bit far. I was about 99% positive Mom wouldn’t hurt Dad and 100% the opposite, so it wasn’t like they were going to really murder each other or anything. No, it wasn’t their physical wellbeing at risk. I stood on the front porch a long moment, aching inside, kicking myself mentally over and over as the house echoed from the sound of their continuing fight.
I’d never, ever in all my years ever witnessed them argue. Yes, they discussed things and at times Mom could get cutting with words, Dad a bit harsh. But a fight? A real, honest-to-goodness shouting match of epic proportions, the likes of which carried on inside right now?
Never. And if someone told me they’d had this fight and I wasn’t here to witness it? I’d have laughed in their face and told them to present video evidence or it didn’t happen.
I was so lost for what to do, how to help, I finally left, stumbling to my car, getting behind the wheel while tears trickled down my cold cheeks. I barely felt the chill in the air, registered I was driving before I found myself back on the highway to the Lodge, needing a distraction, anything to help me forget I may have just caused a giant rift between my parents.
No, wait. Not me. I would not claim this guilt as purely my own. I didn’t sneak around behind Mom’s back, lie to her, hide things from her. That was all Dad. Still, there had to have been a better way to drop this on her than in the middle of her own identity crisis.
Way to go, Fee. Nice job.
My phone rang, the cheery sound making me feel ill. I answered hands free, tapping the screen and letting it talk through my car speakers, barely registering who it was on the other end in my misery.
“Fee, it’s Molly.” She sounded nervous and when I finally paid attention, I remembered why I was going to the Lodge in the first place. The shadowy figure with their hands full of what I was pretty sure had to be gelatin-laced something for Janet’s kitchen, sneaking on set just before Ron Williams was killed. “I need to see you. Can you meet me at the stage? I have something to show you.”
“Is Crew there?” I wiped at the tears on my cheeks. At least I could get this right and not screw up his case.
“The sheriff?” She sounded confused. “No, I don’t think so.”
Damn, I must have missed him. Didn’t matter. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Fee. See you soon.”
Mom and Dad were on their own for now. I had a murderer to out.
I parked and was circling the building toward the back door when I hesitated, so focused on making this right I realized I probably should call Crew. But when I tried his number it was busy. I left a hasty message as I entered the back door by the ski lift, not wanting to be seen entering the sound stage. I had something to check first before I talked to Molly and I needed a moment of privacy to do it.
He’d just have to catch up with me.
The stage was quiet, empty. I circled around and checked the maintenance door again, found it clear, looking down the side of the construct to the front of the room where the camera took in the full space. The bulk of the front wall of the Cake or Break set cut off the view of the security feed into the murder scene, but, as the video Alicia shared proved, the line of sight to this door was free and clear. Some fingerprint powder and a comparison would reveal that my guess to the sneaking figure’s identity was correct. Considering that person had no reason to use this particular exit paired with the video… looked like I had myself a murderer.
I hurried to the set kitchens, looking under the counters. I’d expected the contents to be gone, and I was right. That sent me into the green room area. My luck was with me, at least. The crew had packed everything into big plastic bins, each marked with the number of the kitchen set. Janet’s had been #1, Molly’s #2 and Mom’s #3, before it became Joyce’s. When I dug into the box I was looking for, I pulled out the dish and tasted the sugar.
That’s all it was, just powdered sugar. Wasn’t it? Right. Gelatin was odorless and tasteless. The only way to know for sure was to take it and test it. But maybe I was wrong and the gelatin had been in the flour. Or something else in this kitchen was sabotaged. Janet wouldn’t have made that accusation lightly, I was positive of it, and the gelatin made the most sense. What didn’t was who I suspected of cheating. I guess because I just wanted to believe there was good in people after all.
Didn’t change the fact someone was lying to me and I had a few questions as to why.
I turned to the exit of the room, heading out into the halted deconstruction zone on the other side. I’d have this jar tested, and tell Crew to bring the rest to the lab just in case. Head down, so focused on the container in my hands and what I thought it meant, I almost missed the scuff of feet nearby, the furtive movement of air close to me. I spun, too late, to the slow, silent collapse of the wall beside me as it crushed me under its weight and carried me to the floor.
***