Reel Murder (29 page)

“She’s into firearms and she’s an expert marksman. That little tidbit was buried in a TMZ piece about her.”

My brain finally kicked into high gear; there was no way I could ignore the latest intel. Fact number one: Lori Taylor was a whiz with firearms. Fact number two: she might have a good reason for wanting Adriana out of the picture. “So you’re saying, she’d have the technical know-how to rig the prop gun with the pellet? She wouldn’t have any problem doing that?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

My mind was reeling with this new information. I was so shocked, I could hardly take it all in. I wasn’t sure what to do next, and made a mental note to find out more about Lori.

Nick and I promised to touch base later that day, and as I hung up, I noticed the message light blinking. Oh, no! I’d missed a call from Rafe when I’d been ushering Shirley Dawson out of the studio.

Rafe’s message was characteristically short and to the point.

“Maggie, some new information has come up. Do not do anything further on the case; got it? Don’t do anything until we talk.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say something else and I heard people talking in the background, station house noises and phones ringing.
Had he come up with a new lead? Had he nailed a suspect? “
Gotta run. Talk to you later,” he signed off brusquely.

I was going to be in the dark until I managed to talk to Rafe again.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t continue my own investigation, did it? I was about to leave for home, when I saw the light blinking with another message: Lola.

Her voice was the opposite of Rafe’s, breathy and excited. She told me not to bother with dinner because she was on her way to Miami for another movie audition.
A movie audition in Miami?
Mom’s new agent, Edgar Dumont, must be more on the ball than I’d thought. She hadn’t given any details, just that she knew this was her “big break.”

Since Lola has been talking about her big break for the past thirty years, I hoped she hadn’t gotten her hopes up too high. With Lola, it’s all about catching the shiny brass ring, even if it means riding the merry-go-round a few million times hoping for the big payoff..

Live in hope, die in despair
, as Vera Mae always says.

Luckily Lola believes only the first half of that sentence.

“Was Lola excited about the audition?”

“Excited? That’s an understatement. She was over the moon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so jazzed about anything. It sounds like a big deal, the second female lead, with loads of dialogue. The kind of role she can really get her teeth into.”

Lark and I were having an after-dinner cappuccino on the tiny balcony of our condo. It was a lovely evening. The setting sun was casting an orange glow over the garden below, the bougainvillea were full of scarlet blooms, and a hint of honeysuckle wafted over us.

It’s a peaceful place, and we could look down at a pretty little fountain spilling into a pond. This is my favorite place to relax, and Lark, a yoga freak, does her early morning Salute to the Sun out here. Pugsley even has his own little canvas doggie bed on the balcony, although naturally he prefers to sit with us.

Lark was sitting on one of the navy canvas deck chairs I’d picked up at Target, her legs tucked up under her. “You should see her bedroom. It looks like it was ransacked; she must have tried on a dozen outfits before she went flying out of here.”

“Wardrobe malfunction?”

“More like a wardrobe meltdown. She couldn’t find anything that was just the right match for the role.”

“Oh, no.” I pictured Lola dressed as a geriatric version of Hannah Montana. Not a pretty picture and I blinked to erase it. I watched the copper-green metal dolphins twirling in the spray of the fountain. “How bad was it?” I asked, trying not to wince. “Tell me the truth, don’t try to spare me.”

Lark smiled. “It’s not as bad as you think. Or what you’re probably picturing in your mind’s eye.” Lark knows I have an all-too-vivid imagination and visuals tend to get locked in my head forever. Once they take up residence in my memory bank, I can’t seem to shake them. “She was all set to wear that bright yellow halter top that you hate—”

“The really plunging one? The one Lindsay Lohan wore on MTV?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Lark made a face. “I finally told her that it showed up her tan lines; it’s the only way I could talk her out of it. She finally settled on a nice tropical print blouse from Ann Taylor with white capri pants. Pretty conservative, actually. Especially for Lola.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I felt a happy little whoosh of relief. Not that I expected Mom to dress like she was going to a Junior League luncheon, but I was glad that she wasn’t dressed too outrageously. “It sounds like Edgar is doing a better job for her than I thought.”

“Edgar?” Lark swept Pugsley onto her lap and nuzzled her face in his soft fur. “What do you mean?”

“Edgar Dumont, you know, her new agent. He’s the one who must have set up the audition for her today. Funny, I guess I had him pegged all wrong. I figured he was going to sign her up with the agency and then just ignore her and concentrate on his younger clients.”

“Wait a second; that can’t be right.” Lark turned to me, her eyes troubled. “I don’t think Edgar had anything to do with this audition today. Lola got a phone call from some Florida producer and he told her to be in South Beach at four this afternoon. It’s some sort of private audition for an indie film.”

“An indie film?”

“She said she’d never heard of him or the production company. I think she left a message with Edgar’s secretary but no one got back to her.”

My heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. An unknown producer calls her out of the blue to audition for an indie film? And of course Lola, being Lola, took off like a rocket to get there. Why should that surprise me? Mom has always been impulsive; acting quickly and intuitively is part of her personality style. Usually her shoot-ready-aim philosophy pays off for her. But this time I had my doubts.

“Do you remember the name of the company?”

“No, I don’t think she mentioned it. I know she tried to google it but nothing showed up.”

“Really?” Alarm bells were clanging in my head.

Lark must have caught my frown because she put Pugsley down and stood up, twisting her hands in front of her. “Lola didn’t seem too upset over it. She said sometimes producers come into town and rent space for a few days to hold auditions. So if you try to google them, you don’t get any hits, because it isn’t a permanent address. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

A horrible thought slammed in my brain. Would someone actually threaten Lola to get to me? It seemed unlikely, and I tried to quell the little twinges of paranoia nibbling at the edges of my mind.

I told myself there was nothing to worry about.

But what about the Klieg light and the two threatening notes I’d received? I flashed on the mutilated photos that were sent to the station—they were enough to make anyone paranoid. My stomach churned just thinking about them.

“Lark, do you happen to know where Lola went in South Beach? Was her appointment in the Art Deco section?” As long as Mom was surrounded by plenty of tourists and activity, I knew she’d be safe. After all, four o’clock was broad daylight and there would be people jamming the sidewalks, having coffees and taking in the sights.

“No, I know it wasn’t in the historic district. She said it was somewhere south of that. What’s wrong?”

I bit my lip. “Nothing, I just wondered what time she’d be back.” I glanced at my watch. “I guess she didn’t say, did she?”

“Afraid not.” A little flicker of fear crossed Lark’s face; she’d picked up on the distress signals in my voice. “Why didn’t I ask her? What was I thinking? I never should have let her drive to Miami alone.”

“Hey, Lark, don’t be silly.” I forced a little chuckle into my voice. “Why should you sit on a folding chair for three hours while Mom waits her turn to say four lines? That’s usually how these things turn out. She’s probably on her way home by now, anyway.” But Lola hadn’t called and left a message here at the condo. She always lets us know if she’s going to be home for dinner, so what was different about today? “She probably got tied up in traffic on A1A coming back from the studio. That’s always a possibility. “

“The audition wasn’t in a studio,” Lark said slowly. “I think she said it was in a warehouse.”

A warehouse?
Okay, now I was in full-throttle panic mode. A tangle of fear and anxiety gripped my mind and I drew in a deep breath.

Lark gave me the briefest of sideways glances. “Do you think we should call Rafe?”

I nodded. “You read my mind.”

I had my cell phone with me, out on the balcony. I flipped it open and at that very moment, it gave a shrill ring. I was so startled I nearly dropped it.

“Maggie, thank God I reached you!” It was Mom, clearly on the edge of hysteria, her voice coming in ragged gasps.

“Where are you?” I was already on my feet. “Are you all right?” A silly question. She was clearly not all right. Pugsley began running in nervous circles around my ankles. Even he sensed the tension in the air and he gave a series of nervous yips, his eyes bulging.

“Yes. No. I don’t know; I’m not making sense, am I?” She gave a high-pitched laugh that ended in a sob. She sounded as though she was on the brink of hysteria.

“Mom, calm down. Take a deep breath.” I forced my own voice down an octave, like I used to do with my patients when they were in crisis. I walked into the living room and grabbed a notepad. “Just give me an address and I’ll be there. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” she said, her voice quavering. “But it’s a miracle I’m still alive. I was nearly killed today.”

“Nearly killed?”

“Maggie, someone shot at me! I was just lucky they missed. Why would anyone do that to me?” The question ended in another gut-wrenching sob and my heart went out to her.

“Tell me exactly where you are, and I’ll tell you what to do,” I said grimly. With a trembling hand, I copied down the address she gave me. It was in south Miami. My worst fears had come true. Whoever had told me to “back off” clearly meant business. This was no prank. My heart felt like I’d just completed the last leg of a triathlon and my palms were slick.

I forced myself to take another deep breath and put down the phone while I clicked on Google satellite maps. I found Lola’s location immediately. I didn’t like the looks of the area. She needed to get to a safe location—fast.

“Mom, this is what I want you to do.” I ordered her to lock her car doors and told her to drive three miles north. That would bring her back into the southernmost edge of the historic district where there would be plenty of people. “You’re pretty close to Dolce Vita; remember that gelato place we went to?”

“Yes, I remember.” Her voice was still strained, but she seemed a little calmer.

“I’ll meet you there. I’m leaving now and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Maggie, this is silly. I think I’m probably okay to drive home—”

I cut her off. “Drive back home? No way. It’s too far and you’re going to have to be available when the police check out the warehouse.” I paused, thinking . . . “Mom, the main thing right now is for you to be safe. I want you to get away from the warehouse, do you understand me?”

In a little-girl voice, she assured me that she would do exactly as I asked her. Lola, who prided herself on being a “tough old broad,” sounded frightened, and more than a little vulnerable.

I guess being shot at will have that effect on you.

I whirled around to Lark, who was standing in the doorway to the balcony, looking stunned. “What happened? What can I do? Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’ll explain it all later, but right now I need you to stay here. Call Rafe, and give him this information.” I scribbled the address for Dolce Vita and grabbed my car keys. Goggle maps was still up on the screen. “Tell him to meet us at the gelato place and to alert the Miami Police to go there.” I pointed to the computer. “I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

“I feel terrible,” she began. “This is all my fault.”

“Lark, don’t be silly.” I smiled with more confidence than I felt. “Lola will be fine, but make that call now, okay?”

I took a gamble and decided I-95 was the quickest way to get to Miami. For once, the traffic gods were with me—it seemed everyone was driving north out of the city at four thirty in the afternoon, and I made good time.

I zipped along in the left lane, with the radio tuned to an oldies station, concentrating on the words to a Robert Palmer song and willing myself to be calm.
Addicted to love, addicted to love.
I was repeating the lyrics over and over, softly under my breath, like a mantra. This was no time to fall apart, and I wished I’d learned some of Lark’s meditation techniques. She swears meditation “calms the mind” but she’s had years of practice. It’s not something you can just call on in a crisis and expect instant nirvana.

Stay cool, Maggie.
I knew I had to be in control of my jangled nerves and I had no idea what was waiting for me in South Beach.

When I walked into Dolce Vita, my pulse jumped for a second—and then I saw her. A big whoosh of relief poured out of me. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.

Lola was sitting at a back booth facing the door, looking pale and tired, but otherwise unscathed by her adventure. At least there were no obvious scrapes or bruises. She gave a wobbly smile when she saw me and managed a brave little wave. I hurried past the customers lining up for rainbow-colored gelato and pulled her close to me for a tight hug.

A wave of emotion body-slammed me.

“Thank God you’re all right,” I murmured. I slid into the booth, sitting across from her, my eyes focused on her face. Now that I was close to her, I saw that her blue eyes were red rimmed as if she’d been crying and she was clutching a wadded-up tissue in her hand. “Rafe is going to meet us here any minute. But in the meantime, tell me everything that happened. Lark said someone called you about an audition?”