Reel Murder (34 page)

“Shut up!” Sandra yelled. “This is the problem with you shrinks—you talk all the time. I was so sick of listening to you on the set. I had to pretend to eat up all that psychobabble crap you were dishing out.”

“I thought you found it interesting,” I replied, feeling a little miffed.

“I had to play the game, sweetie. I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized I killed Adriana.”

“You killed Adriana?” So my gut instinct had been right; my jaw dropped.

“I thought the game was up,” she said, faltering for a second. “I figured that hot cop of yours was only a few days away from arresting me.”

“Rafe?” I laughed. “He didn’t have any idea; you kept everyone in the dark.” Maybe I could string her along and play this out a little. “You know, he’s already given Hank Watson the green light to take the production company back to Hollywood.” I gave her a knowing look. “You could go with them. We can just pretend this never happened. Adriana’s death will end up in a cold case file somewhere.”

“Hah. Fat chance; you’d never keep your big mouth shut.” She pointed the gun squarely at my chest.

“Wait!” I pleaded. “I just have two questions. You can grant a dying wish, can’t you?”

“This better be quick.” She was releasing the safety on the gun.

“How did you know I was here tonight?”

“That’s easy. I signed up with Carla’s new management company. She was looking for talent and I wanted to change agencies anyway. She mentioned you’d be at this party at the Delano and I was invited, too. So I followed you from the radio station. It was a no-brainer, Sherlock. You made my job easier when you decided to park here, instead of at the hotel.”

“Ah, I see.” She leveled the gun at me again.

“And you killed Adriana, why?” I said, talking quickly.

“You really don’t know? She was going to blab to the world that I’d had lap band surgery in Copper Canyon, the silly bitch.”

“She was going to spread a rumor—” I widened my eyes, remembering how Adriana had killed Sidney Carter’s career with a rumor.

“Oh, it was more than a rumor, sweetie. It was the truth. She was suspicious when I lost the weight so fast so she hired an investigator to do some digging around. He hacked into my credit card charges, and he found out I’d flown down to Mexico and hired a car to take me to the clinic. Once he had that information, it was easy to bribe a staff member to talk about the surgery. Money talks.” She gave a little snort. “Adriana would have done anything to ruin my book deal and my television show. The networks and my publisher thought I did it all with diet and exercise.”

“So you really did have bariatric surgery,” I said slowly. “I should have figured that one out. You didn’t want to talk about Copper Canyon when I asked you about it.”

“You’re not much of a detective, are you?” she said, giving a harsh laugh. “Well, none of that matters now,” she said taking a step closer to me.

And that’s when I moved. Still holding the stilettos at my side, I swung them in a wide arc, connecting solidly with her head. They made a soft whumping sound against her skull, and I thought she was going to go down for the count. But she was stronger than I thought, and instead, she lunged at me, gun in hand.

“Stop right there, sister!” someone shouted. Sandra turned her head just for a moment, and Vera Mae rushed out of the shadows, heading right toward her.

“Vera Mae, no! Stay back, she’s got a gun!” I screamed. The gun wavered as a wild-eyed Sandra couldn’t decide which one of us to shoot first. Then Vera Mae stretched her right arm straight out in front of her, and Sandra was enveloped in a cloud of noxious fumes. She shrieked as she sank to the garage floor, her hands covering her eyes.

Vera Mae was staring in surprise at the canister of pepper spray in her hand. “Wow. I was afraid this stuff might have evaporated. I’ve been carrying it around for at least five years. Looks like it did the trick, though.”

“Vera Mae,” I said, panting in fright, “do you have something to tie her up with? A belt, anything?”

“We’ll take care of that, ma’am.” A male voice, low and assured, came from behind me.

I looked up to see Officers Jiminez and Conrad from the Miami PD moving swiftly toward Sandra, who was trying to scramble to her feet. You’d think they were Crockett and Tubbs, I was so glad to see them. I turned to Vera Mae in surprise.

“You called them? But how?”

“I had one of my premonitions,” Vera Mae said. “I started to register us for the Delano party and suddenly I had a real bad feeling that something was going on back here. So I hightailed it back, just in time to see you cornered like a raccoon. I called the Miami PD on my cell, and then I came right over to help you.”

She smiled at the officers, who had handcuffed a dazed-looking Sandra and were guiding her into the backseat of a cruiser.

“These two fine young officers happened to be doing crowd control at the Delano. That’s how they got here so fast.” She stared at Officer Conrad, looking tall and rugged in his perfectly pressed uniform. A wistful look passed over her face. “I’m telling you, Maggie, if I were twenty years younger . . .”

She let her voice trail off and I leaned weakly back against the BMW. “Vera Mae, you’re the best,” I said simply. “You risked your life for me.”

“Well, we gals have to stick together, hon. WYME just wouldn’t be the same without you, now would it? Who would I have to talk to and make jokes with?” She playfully punched me on the arm, but I noticed that her eyes were misty.

“Ma’am? Dr. Maggie?” Officer Jiminez said. “Can you come down to the station to make a statement? We need you, too, Miss Vera Mae.”

“You bet we can, sugar. And don’t forget to call Rafe Martino, up in Cypress Grove,” she added. “After all, this is sort of his case.”

“I think he already knows,” I said, checking my cell phone. It was still turned on, and that meant Sandra’s whole confession must have been caught on tape.

And there was Rafe’s number on the display screen.

“Rafe, are you there?”

“Always, baby. I called the Miami PD, too. Who’s there with you?”

“Jiminez and Conrad,” I said. There was a squeal of tires and four more squad cars came racing up next to us. “Oh, wait a minute. A few more cruisers just showed up; there’s probably a dozen cops on the scene now. Hey, it looks like
CSI Miami
down here. You must have been worried about me.”

Rafe laughed. “I always have your back, Maggie. Don’t you know that?”

“So let me get this straight,” Lola said. “Frankie Domino never had anything to do with this?”

It was after midnight and I was sitting at the round oak table in the kitchen with Vera Mae, Lark, Rafe, and Lola. Vera Mae and I had given our statements to the Miami PD a couple of hours earlier and Sandra Michaels was safely in custody. She was charged with Adriana’s death, plus attempted homicide because of her attack on me in the South Beach parking garage.

“Who’s Frankie Domino?” Vera Mae asked.

“He’s just a low-level mobster from New York,” I piped up. “Like somebody you’d see on
The Sopranos
.”

“Yes, but you said he was hanging around the set a lot.” She watched as Lark sliced a homemade banana-walnut loaf and helped herself to a piece. “I wonder what was he up to?”

“I can answer that one,” Rafe said. “It seems that Hank Watson’s production company was about to go under last year and Hank borrowed a big sum of money from the mob to keep it afloat. Not the smartest thing to do but he was desperate. He figured he could pay it all back if
Death Watch
was a success. That’s what he was counting on. Frankie Domino was hanging around the set to make sure that the film stayed on schedule; he was trying to protect the mob’s investment.”

“What’s going to happen to Hank’s movie now?” Lark asked.

“Who knows?” I shrugged. “Sandra’s arrest will create a lot of buzz about
Death Watch
and Hank may finally have a hit movie. All of Sandra’s scenes have already been shot, so the production can go on without her.”

“I still can’t get over that girl,” Vera Mae said with a shudder. “She was such a sweet-looking thing; who’d think she was a cold-blooded murderer?”

“She felt she was going to lose everything if Adriana told the press about her bariatric surgery,” I said. “She saw her whole life going down the tubes—the TV show, the book deal, her chance at big money and a huge career. And Adriana was so jealous and such a mean-spirited person, I can picture her telling the world how Sandra really lost the weight.”

“Why would anyone take such delight in hurting someone?” Lark asked.

I shook my head. “You’d have to know Adriana to understand. There was something twisted deep inside her. It would take years of analysis to figure out.”

“It would be quicker to hire an exorcist,” Vera Mae suggested. “Some people are just plain evil through and through.”

I thought about Sidney Carter. Adriana’s treatment of him had certainly been diabolical. She’d delighted in spreading a false rumor about him that had ruined his career. I remembered being surprised at how outraged Sandra had seemed on Sidney’s behalf that night at the Seabreeze. Now it made sense to me. Adriana had already ruined one career and Sandra knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. And this time she’d be the one in the crosshairs.

“And everything Sandra said to you in the parking garage was caught on tape?” Mom asked.

“Every word.” Rafe gave a satisfied smile. “She decided to come clean with the Miami PD and she’s already signed a written confession. She admitted to everything—Adriana’s murder, the attack on Maggie in the parking garage, and those threatening notes to WYME. And one other thing—she really did shoot a prop gun at Lola in the warehouse. The best she can hope for now is a plea bargain.”

I suddenly thought of something. “Did Sandra tamper with that Klieg light?”

“Not as far as we can tell. She denied doing it and I think she’s telling the truth.” Rafe leaned back in his chair, shooting me an intense look with those dark, sexy eyes. “That was just an accident. It was a lucky break that you stood up to get an iced tea when you did. Another second and you might not be sitting here with us.” He reached over and laid his hand on my thigh, just for an instant. It was so fast it was practically subliminal, but a wave of heat went through me.

Lark quirked an eyebrow and smiled at me. She was sure that blind luck had nothing to do with my narrow escape. She prefers to think that positive energy and good karma saved me from being brained that day. We all were silent for a moment, sipping cappuccino and musing over the night’s events until Mom spoke up.

“Tell me again about Carla Townsend.” Her eyes looked troubled. “She wasn’t trying to set you up tonight, was she?”

“No,” Vera Mae answered swiftly, “the party at the Delano was legit. Carla really did join a talent management company out on the Coast and she’d signed up Sandra as one of her first clients. It was just a stroke of luck for Sandra when she heard that Maggie was going to be at the Delano party tonight.”

“Does Carla know what happened tonight?” Lola asked.

Vera Mae nodded. “She sure does. As soon as she heard the news on the wire service, she called me on my cell to see what was going on.”

I remembered the Death Chair TV feature and frowned. “That means we’ll be seeing another Carla Townsend exclusive splashed over the network news.”

“I’m afraid so, sugar. It will be her last one, though; she really has quit the tabloid business.”

“So what does this mean for all of us?” Lola pondered.

“Well, I guess it means I’m never going to meet Matt Damon,” Vera Mae said. “Or Brad Pitt, for that matter.”

“And my work on the set is obviously finished,” I offered. “How about you, Mom? You don’t have any more scenes to do, right?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m done.” Her tone was vague, as if she had something more pressing on her mind. She glanced at her watch. “You know, if it’s one o’clock in the morning here, that means it’s only ten in the evening out in L.A.”

“And your point is?” I said, baffled.

She stood up, picking up her cell and heading for her bedroom. “I’m thinking of giving Carla a call. You know, I’m really not happy with Edgar Dumont as my agent.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “And all his clients seem to be in their teens. So I think it’s time for new representation, someone out in Hollywood.”

That’s when I finally got it. “Mom, you can’t be serious. You’re actually thinking of asking Carla Townsend to represent you? You said she was despicable.”

“Well, she might be despicable,” Mom said, flushing a little, “but she’s joined that big talent agency on Wilshire Boulevard and she has really good connections. She knows all the A-list directors and producers in L.A.” She paused. “You don’t think I’m too terrible, do you? You know what they say, ‘business is business.’”

“I say, go for it, sister!” Vera Mae cheered.

A few minutes later, I walked Rafe to the front landing. It had been a tough night for both of us and Rafe had to be at work in just five hours. He looked pale and drawn as he turned to face me on the step but he still had a sexy smile that made my heart go pitter-patter.

“You look beautiful, Maggie,” he said, touching my hair. “It’s hard to believe you can look this good after everything you’ve been through tonight.” I knew that was a stretch; my hair was as fuzzy as a Brillo pad and my face was shiny—the light foundation I’d put on that morning had worn off hours ago.

“Well, land sakes, Detective Martino, you do know how to turn a girl’s head,” I said, doing a spot-on imitation of Vera Mae. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were courtin’ me.”

Rafe laughed, a deep husky sound that made my nerve endings buzz. “Maybe I am.” He reached out his hand, and for one crazy moment, I thought he was going to draw me into a hot embrace. Instead, he touched my nose with his index finger, big brother style.