Murder in Real Time Page 17

  “Talk to Jesse Short. He admitted to placing hidden cameras all over the island. He might have a camera still running over there.” I blew out a long breath. If they caught the shooter, they might take all the cameras down and collect the footage as evidence, which was a good thing. If necessary, however, I’d spend a lifetime denying the footage of Sebastian and me on the beach.

  Her eyes narrowed. “He can’t do that.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I told him.”

  “I’ll have a talk with Mr. Short. I’m glad Sebastian’s crew came over today. We needed the added manpower. Sebastian’s been so busy running around the island lately, we weren’t sure he put in the call.”

  I bristled. “He always does what he says he’ll do.” Her other words prodded my brain. “Sebastian’s been here on the island? I thought he was on the mainland most of the time.”

  Todd let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s awkward.”

  I gave him a stay-out-of-it face.

  If Sebastian was on the island every day, why’d he take off in the morning and stay gone? What was he so busy doing? I barely saw him. Was he putting distance between us? At First Friday he asked why I’d moved home. Maybe he was having a change of heart. He’d catch Jimmy and go back to the mainland.

  I swallowed a lump and pushed my half-eaten burger away. The last time he stayed away from me was because he thought Jimmy had found him and he was protecting me. All current signs pointed in that direction again. The couple in Sebastian’s room. A shooting at his Range Rover. A shooting at Adrian dressed as...FBI.

  Todd stood and extended a hand to Frankie. “Todd Ramone. I’m a friend of Patience’s.” I’d rudely forgotten to introduce them. He complimented her uniform. She blushed. His smile widened and his sparkly blue eyes darkened. They moved away from the table, chatting a little closely for strangers.

  I checked out the window for Adrian again. If he was the shooter’s intended target, things were bad. Adrian was running for office. He couldn’t stay out of the public eye or he’d lose the election. His opponent Beau Thompson and his new wife, Karen Holsten Thompson, would love for that to happen. Hopefully they didn’t love the idea enough to hire a shooter. Adrian needed to win that election. Coach Peters had a lot riding on it. I cringed. The island needed Adrian, but if he kept campaigning, the shooter would have unending opportunities to finish the job.

  The Tasty Cream door sucked open and a masculine silhouette moved through the blinding light toward me in steady strides. Sebastian dropped to a squat beside my table. His careful eyes examined me head-to-toe. “Are you okay?”

  If the gunman was hired to kill Sebastian, the shooter would have more chances to get at him, too. Sebastian couldn’t solve the murders from a safe house. He wouldn’t go to a safe house even if it was an option. Sebastian didn’t hide, he barreled in, guns blazing and bad guys falling. I shivered.

  Sebastian kissed my temple and slid into the seat Todd had occupied a moment before. “You disappeared. I assumed you went with Adrian to the hospital, but when I checked on him, he hadn’t seen you. I worried you were abducted.”

  I wasn’t sure if the abduction line was supposed to be a joke. It wouldn’t be the first time I was abducted this summer, or the first time he came to my rescue. His other words registered a minute late. “You went to check on Adrian?”

  “Yeah. He’s fine. A little too happy for a gunshot victim, if you ask me. Who’s he supposed to be dressed up as anyway?”

  I choked on a laugh and busied my mouth with the straw from my chocolate malt.

  The odds of Rick and Anna’s murders having anything to do with the show dwindled, and selfishly, I hated that truth. If some lunatic on the island was literally gunning for one of my guys, they’d have to deal with me first. Resolution straightened my spine. Before I’d let something else happen to Adrian or Sebastian, things would have to get messy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sebastian walked me across the street. No sign of Adrian or Mrs. Davis, but Maple Shuster stood up on my stoop. Sebastian turned his back on her and spoke softly. “You ready for her? If not, I can come in and do my thing.”

  His thing came down to silent intimidation. If he came inside with the intention of keeping Maple on her best behavior, he would succeed, but I wanted to talk with Maple and welcomed any new information she had on the shooting.

  “I’m fine. Maybe she can distract me.” The air was dense with tension and clung to my skin, prickling my arms and urging every instinct I had to attention. I scanned the area for danger. Paranoia was a sure sign of anxiety and sleep deprivation. I suffered from both.

  “If you’re sure.” He turned back to the steps outside my apartment, giving Mrs. Shuster a clear view of his stern face. “I’ll check in on the team and come back in thirty. I think you should take a day off.”

  I patted his arm and walked away. I wasn’t a child. I knew what I could handle and when I needed a break.

  “Hi, Mrs. Shuster.” I slunk up the steps with a forced smile. “What’s that?”

  “Delivery.” She presented a bakery box from Half Baked.

  “Thanks.” I unlocked the door and ushered her inside. “Everything okay?” I made room for the box on the counter and worked the tape until the lid gave way. Every flat space in sight spilled over with food truck bags. Apparently, Adrian had made his rounds before the rally. I had enough junk food to sponsor First Fridays all by myself. I smiled. Claire couldn’t win this battle. Adrian hauled it in faster than she could throw it away.

  “No.” Maple’s voice quaked. “I’m not okay at all. The reporters are all over me. I’m repeating stories I never meant to tell the first time. It’s a gossip’s worst nightmare out there. I’m spilling my guts to anyone who asks, and I can’t stop. I’m sick. I need help.”

  Her wild eyes worried me.

  “Here.” I took her elbow and led her to the couch. “I’ll make hot tea and share my treats.”

  She nodded and lowered herself onto the cushions. I filled the Keurig with water and dug through the cupboard where mom dropped off vitamins and other healthy things I never opened. “I have chamomile and lavender tea.” The tea came in handy when I had a cold.

  “What’s in the bakery box?” she asked.

  “You mean this isn’t from you?” I stuck a tea bag in her hot water and lifted the cardboard box lid. “I wonder who sent it?”

  “I hope they sent a pumpkin roll. Half Baked makes a pumpkin roll to die for.”

  “Well.” I lifted a Halloween cupcake from the box. “They’re cupcakes with a holiday theme.”

  “Oh, dear.” She levered her body off my couch and crept over to me. “That’s...nice.”

  The white cupcakes were wrapped in black papers. Red gel icing dripped from the top where a tiny fondant knife jammed into each cake. The overall look was professional but creepy.

  I tore my gaze off the frosting. “Who sent them?”

  She shrugged. “The box was on your stoop when I got here.”

  “I guess they’re appropriate. Four days before Halloween, on an island crawling with ghost hunters. Someone probably thinks it’s funny. They know I hate all the hoopla.”

  “You hate the hoopla?”

  I backpedaled before “Patience Price hates Halloween” was tomorrow’s headline. “Well, the shootings are scary.”

  She took the cupcake from my hand and ate the knife. “This is delicious.”

  “Maybe you should avoid the reporters.” I unwrapped a cupcake. “If they upset you, try to steer clear.”

  “I have too much time on my hands. Never retire, sweetie. There’s nothing to do.”

  No risk of that on my end.

  She sipped her tea and savored the cupcake, humming with pleasure between bites. “I’m helping your parents at their shop.
The reporters go there a lot. They like to ask about you. I guess I could help less at the Purple Pony until this blows over. I applied at the police station for the receptionist position. If I get that job, I’ll be safe from reporters. Sheriff Fargas runs a tight ship over there.”

  “The reporters ask about me?”

  She nodded. “The Purple Pony’s more fun than the police station, though. Your dad’s running for the title of Mr. T-shirt. I’m helping him brainstorm new shirt ideas. All these tourists are sending shirts back home and putting pictures of their custom shirts online. The orders never end. He’s swamped. Business is booming.”

  “Dad’s running for Mr. T-shirt? Against who?” Dad was the only custom shirt guy on the island.

  “Oh, honey. It’s a national contest. Don’t you use the internet?”

  “I have email.” Who had time to surf the internet? I barely had time to watch the local news.

  “Look. This one was my idea.” She unbuttoned her floral blouse and stretched the fabric wide. A bright yellow shirt announced Gossips Use Their Mouths. “Do you think it’s too much?”

  I set my cupcake on the counter and rubbed my neck. “I think you could get in a heap of trouble walking around like that.” I fought off a wave of childish humor bubbling in my chest. Half of me wanted to call and scold my dad for printing the shirt, the other half wanted to text a picture of it to Claire.

  “I like it. I have it in pink and blue. Do you think these shirts are the reason so many reporters flock to me?”

  You think? I focused my thoughts. “What do they want to know about me?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Mostly they ask if all the stories are true. Like, if you worked for the FBI and if you solve crimes and counsel folks. They also ask if you’re anything like your parents and who I think you’ll end up with romantically.” She wiggled her penciled-on eyebrows. “Sometimes they ask where you live.”

  Good grief. “You don’t tell them where I live, do you?”

  “No. I only say you live in one of the most haunted buildings in town. I’d never give your address.” She lifted her teacup and smiled. “Do you want to know something?”

  I made a cup of coffee. No tea for me. I didn’t have time for feeling calm. “What?”

  “Karen Holsten’s pregnant. She and Beau eloped when they found out so they wouldn’t end up with a shotgun wedding. They worried they’d lose the church vote if they didn’t. In about seven months, she’s going to have ‘premature’ labor.” She dropped her hands after the air quotes.

  Huh. It fit. Karen was emotional. Also, she didn’t insult me when she had the opportunity and her waist looked less like Barbie’s and more like a regular person’s.

  “You know what else?”

  I shook my head, contemplating Karen as a mother. “No. No more gossip. You said you want to get a handle on this habit, remember?” I sipped fresh coffee and cleared my thoughts.

  “Anna Copeland’s father caught a cab out of town. I saw him get in when I was on my way over here. He dropped two big trash bags into the dumpster by the harbor, flagged a cab and said, ‘Take me away from here. I’ve had enough of this town.’ I can’t imagine what was in those bags.”

  “How’d you know it was him?”

  Maple huffed. “May I?” She motioned to Sebastian’s laptop.

  I opened a browser and sat with her on the couch.

  She brought up HollywoodWatcher.com. “They’ve posted pictures of Anna’s family online.” A picture of Mr. Copeland dismantling the memorial was front-page news. “Oh. That explains the bags. Did you know he’s a Baptist pastor in a little town out West? He’s big on community rallies and fund-raising, things like that. I bet it killed him when Anna joined The Watchers. You think he hated her lifestyle choices enough to do something about it?”

  “I don’t think he’s a killer. I think he’s a grieving father.”

  Footfalls tromped up my steps. I opened the door when Claire’s laugh rang out. Sebastian, Claire and Adrian smiled on the stoop outside my front door. My heart soared. “Come in.” I shooed Mrs. Shuster off the couch and set her teacup on the kitchen table.

  She hustled out of the way. “Oh, dear.”

  Adrian leaned on Sebastian until they crossed the threshold. “There you are, sexy.” Adrian drunk-walked to me and wrapped his arms around my head. His weight tilted me off balance and I stumbled.

  He stood and wobbled backward. Sebastian had him by his shirt. “That’s enough of that, lover boy.” He led him to the couch and let him go. Adrian face planted into the cushions with an “Oomph.”

  “He’s drugged. Painkillers.” Sebastian looked at me under heavy lidded eyes. “I found him arguing with his mom and broke it up. Sounded like he was safer here than with her. I had no idea they had such issues.”

  “What kind of issues?” Maple leaned forward in her seat at my table.

  Sebastian widened his stance and anchored giant palms over his narrow waist.

  No one breathed for several beats.

  “Well, thank you for the tea.” Maple scuttled out the front door with a backward wave.

  Having a scary boyfriend was handy. I loved Maple too much to ask her to go, but I needed to talk with this crowd alone. It was shameless and cowardly of me to take advantage of Sebastian that way, but still nice.

  Claire headed out behind Maple. “See you later.”

  “Wait. You just got here,” I complained.

  “I needed to change shoes. I’m filming a scene for the Halloween special now. I’ll be back after and we can catch up. Maybe his meds will wear off by then.” She pointed a thumb at Adrian, who was smiling at my carpet.

  I gave her a quick hug. “Deal.”

  Claire grabbed my shoulders. “The producer, Jesse, said the camera loves me and he invited me to the Halloween bash as his personal guest. Can you believe that?”

  “Wow. Hey, did you order some Halloween cupcakes?”

  She gave me a crazy face.

  Right. She was the one throwing out my goodies.

  “Never mind. Congratulations. Have fun today.” I waved goodbye as she bounced down the steps to her car.

  Inside, I caught Sebastian’s gaze and groaned. “I don’t trust that producer or his stupid hidden cameras.”

  Sebastian secured the door behind me and went for the cupcake box. “These are weird.” He lifted one and turned it in his palm.

  “They’re from Half Baked. I’m guessing they’re from Missy or Melinda, but they didn’t enclose a note. Missy said they use Half Baked for help on orders for baked goods she and Melinda can’t fill. I saw her there earlier this week. They are weird cupcakes. In honor of Halloween this week, maybe?”

  He grunted and ate a little knife.

  Adrian rolled onto his side. “What’d Maple tell you? I missed her today. I like to check with her after my morning jog. She fills me in on the new gossip.”

  I sighed. “You shouldn’t encourage her. She wants to break the habit. I think she gossips because people expect her to, so stop asking.”

  “Okay.” He nodded several seconds too long. “What’d she say?”

  I bit my tongue. Adrian would appreciate one nugget of information more than anyone else I knew. Besides, everyone would know soon. It wasn’t like she could hide it forever. I crossed the room to sit with him. “Karen and Beau eloped because she’s pregnant.”

  Adrian cackled. “Ah, good for them, man. Good for them. That’s wonderful. Beau will make an excellent father. How’d you take the news? I know how you feel about babies.”

  Sebastian lumbered near. “What’s he talking about? How do you feel about babies?”

  “Fine.” My cheeks burned.

  “She doesn’t want kids. Never did.”

  My tummy knotted. He was right. In the p
ast, I hadn’t. I’d had a clear idea about life when I was younger. Before college. Before the FBI. Before moving home and meeting Melinda and her family. I didn’t know what I wanted now. A few weeks without a near-death experience was on my short-term goal list. Down the road...I didn’t hate the idea of having a family. It wouldn’t be terrible to have a husband or push a stroller through the sand.

  “Is that true?” Sebastian’s voice had an edge to it I didn’t recognize.

  “Yep,” Adrian babbled. “I’d say she was the perfect woman if it wasn’t for that.”

  “What?” I appraised his face. His eyes were glassy from painkillers. Still, I couldn’t help myself. “You never said you wanted children.”

  “Last time we talked about children, I was eighteen. Of course I didn’t want children then. I do now.” He raised onto one elbow. “Why do you think I bought a house with seven bedrooms?” He flopped back and smiled. “I’m going to teach my kids to swim and kayak and cook shrimp.”

  “What about football?”

  He was a college football star. What about that?

  “Ah. Football comes later. I don’t care if they play ball. I want them to love our island, though. That’s first.” Adrian looked at Sebastian. “What about you, tough guy? You adding any little soldiers to your army?”

  Sebastian gave him a sour look. “You should rest.”

  Adrian’s eyes drifted shut. He looked helpless lying there and my heart tugged. I needed to figure out who the gunman’s true target was and then make sure he never had another chance to hurt someone I cared about.

  “Company.” Sebastian nodded at the door and disappeared into my bedroom.

  A two-headed shadow appeared outside my door. I rushed to let them in. “There you are.” Dad hugged me and plopped a stack of shirts onto my table.

  Mom opened a trash bag and shoved food truck food inside.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s going on? Mom, stop cleaning. That’s Adrian’s food. You shouldn’t throw it out.” I curved a protective arm around my cupcakes. She emptied the counter and started wiping it down with baking soda and half a lemon.