Wild Action (8 page)

Maybe some women could separate the emotional from the physical, but she wasn’t one of them.

Besides, even if he was going to be around forever, he definitely wasn’t the man for her. He could be just
too
aggravating.

Jay Wall had only been here since this afternoon. But already, every time Nick opened his mouth around the man she found herself praying he wouldn’t say something to antagonize him.

“Carly?”

When she turned from the sink, he was standing far too close for comfort. Near enough that she could feel his body heat and see the warmth in his gray eyes.

That did funny things to her insides, so she casually edged away a few inches and tried to think of something innocuous to say.

“I’m really glad I found Dylan to help look after the animals” was the best she could come up with. “I don’t know how we’d manage without him now that we’re into the movie. And he’s so reliable. Not all high school kids are.”

“Uh-huh. From what I saw, he’s doing a good job.”

Nick seemed to be easing closer again, but before Carly had to retreat even farther along the counter, the Marx brothers began to bark and went racing to the front door—scattering the three cats in their wake.

“Company!” Crackers announced when somebody knocked.

Carly exhaled slowly, feeling a mixture of relief and something rather the opposite that she resisted putting a name to. “I wondered how long it would be until one of the movie people needed something,” she said.

When she started for the front of the house, Nick tagged along, so she added, “Jay told me they’d be totally self-contained and that everyone would be instructed not to bother us, but I knew things wouldn’t be entirely peaceful.”

She told the dogs to sit, then opened the door and discovered Jay’s number one cameraman standing in the twilight.

“You made it back from Toronto,” she said.

Royce nodded. “A couple of hours ago. Some idiot stuck the filters in a storage room. That’s how they got missed. But it didn’t take me long to find them.”

“Well, would you like to come in? Nick and I were just going to have coffee.” She half hoped Royce would say yes, so she wouldn’t be alone with Nick again for a while, and half hoped he’d say no, so she would.

“Thanks, but I only came to collect Jay. A lot of people need to talk to him—including me. I don’t even know where we’re shooting tomorrow.”

“Jay’s not here.”

“What? Then where is he?”

“He must be somewhere in your camp,” Nick offered.

Royce shook his head. “People have been looking for him for hours. And neither he nor Goodie showed up for dinner. That’s what made me figure you’d invited them to eat here. Goodie
never
misses a meal.”

“Well…maybe they went to a restaurant in Port Perry.”

“Or maybe,” Nick suggested, “they got lost in the woods.”

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured, instantly certain he was right. “Royce, was Barb Hunt at dinner?”

“Hell, I don’t know. There are an awful lot of people in the camp.”

“You’d better see if you can find her,” Nick said. “Because she went off into the woods with the other two. So if she’s not around, either…”

“She went off with Goodie? She’s liable to be in a shallow grave by now.”

Nick acknowledged the remark with a tight smile, then said, “Look, we’ll go down to the camp with
you. If none of them is there, we’ll have to organize a search party and find them before they get eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

That, Carly thought, wasn’t the only thing they might get eaten alive by. People were always spotting
wild
bears in the area.

She wasn’t sure if she should mention that or not If she did, they might end up with an awfully small search party. And as long as the searchers made a lot of noise, any bear that might be around would run the other way.

Just as she decided to keep quiet, at least until they got under way, Nick said, “You know the woods pretty well?”

She nodded. “And Gus told me which places he suggested to Jay—the ones he put on that map he drew. But they’ve been gone so long there’s no telling where they’d be by now. We could take the Marx brothers, though. They’d be a help.”

Leaving the dogs in the house for the moment, Carly and Nick trekked down the drive with Royce and started asking people if they’d seen Barb Hunt recently.

No one had, and when she wasn’t in her trailer, Royce began passing the word that Jay, Goodie and Barb were lost in the woods and that anyone willing to go searching for them should wear pants and a long-sleeved top.

“We’re lucky there’s a night search scene in the movie,” he told Carly and Nick. “We’ve got a whole carton full of flashlights.”

“Life imitating art,” Carly said.

Royce laughed. “Only if you consider a Jay Wall film art.”

By the time someone had located the flashlights and everyone who’d needed to change clothes had done so, it was completely dark beyond the perimeter of the camp.

“Okay, here’s the drill,” Nick told the assembled group. “When we get to the woods, everyone’s going to fan out in a long line. And as you’re walking, make sure you can always see the lights on either side of you.”

Someone asked a question, and he was just answering it when Garth Richards swept through the crowd—trailed by his wife. He marched up to Nick and imperiously announced, “I’m Garth Richards. And you are…?”

“Nick Montgomery.”

“Well, Mr. Montgomery, I’m not sure having anyone go out into the woods at night is a good idea. Someone could get hurt. Or more people might end up lost.”

“It’s okay, I know what I’m doing. I’ve organized searches before.”

“Even so, I think the appropriate thing would be to call the police and let them handle it.”

“It would be sometime tomorrow before they could provide as much manpower as we’ve got right here.”

Garth’s dark eyes flashed with annoyance. “Even so, I—”

“Mr. Richards, this is my property. Ms. Dumont’s and mine,” he added, nodding toward Carly. “And if people are lost on it, we’re going to go looking for them. If you don’t want to join us, fine. But those who do are coming with us right now.”

While Carly was wondering whether her sister
would still be a Garth Richards fan if she’d seen that little performance, Nick turned and stalked off toward the house without a backward glance. Everyone with a flashlight started after him.

“Good Lord,” she whispered, falling into step beside Royce. “That Garth’s a real charmer. You’d think he
wanted
them to be lost all night.”

“He probably does,” Royce whispered back. “Jay, at least.”

“Oh? Bad blood?”

“The worst. Jay had an affair with Sarina a year or so back. After he dumped her, she patched things up with Garth, and it’s pretty obvious there’s no love lost between them and Jay.”

“Then why on earth are they making a movie with him? And why would he cast them?”

Royce shrugged. “We’re talking Hollywood types. Who can explain half the stuff they do?”

When they reached the house, Carly quickly changed into jeans and a jersey, then sat down on the floor with the dogs and explained the situation.

“They can’t really understand English, can they?" Nick asked when she was done. “I mean, beyond simple commands?”

“It’s hard to know exactly how they get the message—it’s partly the words and partly the tone. But they’ll know I want them to look for people. They’re really smart.”

Once they went back outside, the search team started across the clearing—the Marx brothers bounding along in front.

“Royce,” Nick said as they neared the tree line, “you anchor one end of the line and I’ll take the other.”

“Okay, everyone,” he added more loudly, “Carly has some ideas about which way they might have gone, so she’s going to walk a few yards ahead of the line.”

“Oh, and everyone make a lot of noise,” she put in. “So they’ll hear us when we get close.”

“And so the wild animals will hear us and get out of the way,” one of the searchers called.

His remark was greeted with a round of laughter. Carly didn’t join in.

“Keep an eye on Carly’s light and watch your footing,” Nick said. “We don’t want any broken ankles.”

Imagining how fast Garth Richards would say he’d told them so if there were any mishaps, she started into the woods with the dogs excitedly darting into the underbrush.

Not much moonlight made it through the trees, but between the little that did and the beams of the flashlights, she could more or less figure out where she was going. She headed for one of the areas Gus had recommended to Jay, and when that produced no results, she led the way to another. By the time they reached it, there’d been so many sounds of people slapping their skin that she knew the mosquitoes were tormenting everyone.

Then, ahead in the distance, Harpo began to bark. Within seconds, Chico, Groucho and Zeppo joined in.

“I think we’ve found them!” she called excitedly.

“Jay?” Nick hollered. “Goodie? Barb?”

Carly hurried in the direction of the barking, and sure enough, the dogs had done their job.

“Shee-it, am I glad to see you,” Jay called when she was close enough that they could make out who she was.

“We thought the dogs were wolves before they started barking,” Barb cried. “We thought we were goners.”

As the other searchers converged on them, Goodie said, “It was the damn map that got us lost. We couldn’t find a single site that was marked on it, and by the time we realized it was all wrong we didn’t know where the hell we were.”

“What?” Carly said. “That doesn’t make any sense. Gus knew these woods like the back of his hand.”

“I’m absolutely covered in bites,” Jay complained.

“You think you’re the only one?” Goodie snapped.

“I’m
so
glad I thought to slather on bug repellant before we started out,” Barb said, causing both Jay and Goodie to glare at her.

“Could I see the map?” Carly asked.

Jay dug it out of his pocket and thrust it at her.

Shining her flashlight on it, she slowly turned it around, trying to make it bear some resemblance to reality.

“Jay?” she said at last. “What did you do with this after Gus gave it to you?”

He shrugged. “Stuck it in a folder, along with some other stuff I wouldn’t need till we got up here. Why?”

“Just wondered. It
is
kind of inaccurate, so there’s no sense in your trying to use it again,” she said, putting it in her pocket. “I’ll draw you a better one. And I’ll also take the three of you out first thing in the morning and help you get your bearings. If we start about seven, we should be able to look at all the places Gus suggested by lunchtime.”

“But it’ll be too late to set up and start shooting,”
Goodie muttered. “Which means another wasted day.”

Carly glanced around to locate Nick, then motioned him to step away from the others.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nick, Gus didn’t draw that map.”

N
ICK, CARLY NOTED AS
he paced across the kitchen again, was getting very adept at stepping over the dogs. But she still wished he’d come and sit down at the table with her.

For one thing, he was annoying Crackers. The cover was over his cage, but she could hear him rustling around instead of sleeping.

On top of that, something about the way Nick moved made it difficult not to follow him with her eyes—and she didn’t want him to catch her watching him again.

If he decided she was attracted to him, she had absolutely no doubt what he’d do. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d closed in on her by the sink earlier. And before that, she’d caught him watching
her
a few times.

She forced her gaze from him, thinking that all the fresh air she’d gotten in the woods had helped to clear her head, as well as strengthen her resolve. Even if the chemistry between them was sizzling, she’d be making
such
a big mistake if she—

“You’re absolutely certain?” he asked once more.

She looked at him again. He was standing by the far wall, eyeing her.

“Nick, how many times do I have to tell you? Gus did
not
draw this map.” She tapped it with her finger for emphasis. “The places marked on it are nowhere
near where they actually are. And the printing isn’t Gus’s. It looks a lot like his, but it isn’t. So someone must have taken his map out of Jay’s folder and substituted this one.”

Nick paced across the room one more time, then finally sat down. “Well, if that’s the case, then anyone who figures
Two for Trouble
is jinxed is way off base. This isn’t bad luck, it’s sabotage.”

“What?”

“We’ve got a saboteur on our hands. That’s how
I’m
adding things up.”

The possibility struck Carly as far-fetched, but Nick
was
the detective here. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Someone put a misleading map in Jay’s folder so he’d get lost in the woods. But how would that sabotage the film? He certainly wasn’t at risk of freezing to death in July.”

“No, but Goodie said it meant a wasted day. And he sounded as if that was darned significant.”

“Yes, of course. Except for the cast, everyone’s paid by the hour. And, on location like this, there are all those rented vehicles and equipment and…Oh, a whole lot of things. Falling behind schedule can get really expensive.”

“And they
must
be falling behind schedule, right? I mean, given all the problems we’ve heard about?”

Carly nodded.

“And when you think about it, every single one of them could have been caused by someone in the cast or crew. Except for the lab screwing up. That would be getting us into some sort of conspiracy.”

“Not if the lab didn’t actually screw up,” Carly pointed out “The people there claimed the film must have been exposed before it was shot, remember?”

“Right. Good thinking.”

She managed not to smile, but his compliment pleased her far more than it should. Then she had a thought so horrible it drove the pleased feeling entirely away.

N
ICK GAZED ACROSS
the kitchen table, his uneasy feeling getting stronger by the second. Carly was wearing her there’s-a-problem expression, and he could tell this one was something serious.

“Okay, what is it?” he said.

She didn’t make him drag it out of her the way she usually did; she merely said, “Actually, there’s more than
one
‘it.’ But I just realized this saboteur could try something with the animals. I mean, he could easily toss poisoned meat into Attila’s field. And everyone knows the Marx brothers are in the movie. The rabbits and the owls, too. So what if he figures he could cause a major delay by…”

When she looked as if she were about to burst into tears, Nick reached over and took her hand.

It was soft, despite all the outside work she did. Soft and warm. Trying not to wonder if she felt so good all over, he said, “I think the rabbits are okay. They’d be easy enough to replace that nobody would target them. And the aviary’s locked up tight, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“And the dogs are safe with us, which just leaves
Attila. So how about arranging a twenty-four-hour watch for him?”

“You mean ask Jay if some of his crew would…" She stopped midquestion when Nick shook his head.

“Uh-uh. With no idea who the saboteur is, we can’t trust any of the crew. I was thinking of high school kids. Three shifts would do it, and Dylan can’t be the only one who takes on odd jobs.”

“No, of course he’s not. And I’ll bet he’d be happy to line up some of his friends. Do you think it’s too late to call him tonight?”

“A teenager? No, they never go to bed early.”

Slipping her hand from under his, Carly hurried over to the phone—then looked back across the room. “Would you mind going and turning the pole lights on in Attila’s field? Just in case?”

“Sure.”

The walk down the hill and back took several minutes, but when he returned, Carly was still on the phone. At his curious glance, she whispered, “The line was busy.”

He sat down and watched her as she talked—her long hair silky smooth, her dark eyes full of concern—and he couldn’t keep from thinking how darned sexy she was. That had to be why he’d kind of stopped reminding himself about her negative traits.

He’d also kind of pushed the idea of being careful around her to the back of his mind. But he could tell she was being careful around him.

He’d catch her gaze and she’d look away; he’d get too close and she’d step back.

Maybe he just didn’t appeal to her. But that wasn’t what the electricity between them was saying, so it
was more likely she simply had no interest in a casual affair. And since she knew as well as he did that’s all there could be between them, he’d bet she’d be pretty quick about putting him in his place if he got too friendly.

She said goodbye to Dylan and hung up, clearly relieved.

“He’s going to get right on it,” she said, heading back to the table. “And if he can’t find anyone else to come over tonight, he’ll be here in a while and take the first shift himself. Oh, Nick, that was such a good idea.”

“Well, I’m not just another pretty face.”

When she laughed, he felt an incredibly strong urge to reach for her hand. But not being crazy about rejection, he simply leaned back in his chair and reminded her she’d said there were a
couple
of problems.

“Right,” she said, looking unhappy once more. “You know, I’ve been telling myself that maybe there wouldn’t be any more trouble during the filming, but after that map…Well, now we know the problems aren’t just going to magically stop. And if this shoot turns into a total horror show, word will get around. The cast and crew always put out the word.”

“And?”

“And…do you figure Jay Wall would willingly take responsibility for a disaster? Or is he the type who’d relegate blame to everyone else involved—-the cast, the crew and us.”

“Ahh. You mean, so much for our reputation." And, as he’d been aware from the start, if Wild Action’s reputation took a dive, his inheritance would be worthless.

That thought had barely formed in his mind before he realized it wasn’t his major concern. Carly cared so much for the animals that he actually felt more worried about what would happen if she was forced to give them up.

He’d make out, one way or another—get a job on a different police force or start working as a private investigator for someone else’s agency. Neither option was what he really wanted, but he’d simply be putting his dream on hold for a while longer. When it came to Carly, though…Hell, if she lost those animals, it would break her heart.

He gazed at her for another moment. Then, in his most reassuring cop tone, said, “Hey, let’s not start assuming the worst just yet. Don’t forget you’ve got a detective for a partner. And all we have to do is figure out who’s behind the trouble and stop him— or her.”

Carly eyed him uncertainly. “You really think we could?”

“You’re doubting my abilities?”

She hesitated for a split second, then firmly shook her head. “Of course not. Oh, and if we
could,
Jay would be so grateful he’d say nothing but good about Wild Action for the rest of his life.”

Knowing Jay, that was undoubtedly a vast over-statement, but Nick didn’t dispute it.

“Okay, Mr. Detective, where do we start?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “we start by not saying anything to anybody—which means it’s a good thing you didn’t tell Jay that map was a phony.”

“I only kept quiet because there were so many other people around. But you really don’t think we should say anything to him or Goodie?”

“No. They don’t strike me as very circumspect. And…Oh, there are a lot of cop-type reasons that aren’t worth getting into. But let’s just play things close to the vest for the moment.”

When she nodded, he went on. “You know a lot more about the movie business than I do, so give me the worst-case scenario. What happens if the filming falls further and further behind schedule and Goodie’s looking at having to pump in more and more money?”

While she considered that, he watched her, knowing he shouldn’t. Looking at her made him want to do more than look, and hadn’t he told himself not five minutes ago that it was obvious she’d put him in his place if he tried anything?

“The worst-case scenario is that they’d stop production,” she said at last “But that almost never happens, because then
everybody
loses. So, either Goodie keeps pumping in more money or they begin cutting corners or both.”

“Cutting corners how?”

“Well, first they’d start scrimping on the shooting. Jay would have to do fewer takes than he might like and print some scenes even though he’s not entirely happy with them. Then they’d cut back on postproduction—put restraints on the editors and that sort of thing. Which means the picture would suffer and the odds on its being a flop would increase.”

“And a flop would get us back to the problem of Jay trying to lay the blame on everyone else.”

She nodded.

Before Nick could ask another question, the Marx brothers jolted awake and went into their guard-dog
routine, barking furiously as they raced for the front door.

“Bad dog! Bad dog!” Crackers screeched from under the cage’s cover.

“Gus and I said that too often when they were puppies,” Carly explained, starting after the dogs.

Nick followed her down the hall, not
quite
able to keep his eyes off her cute little behind.

When she opened the door, the man standing on the porch was wearing an angry expression and a white cook’s outfit with Chef Raffaello embroidered on the chest pocket.

If he’d come wanting to borrow a cup of sugar, Nick thought, he could at least have worn a smile instead of standing there looking like a character you’d see on “America’s Most Wanted.”

“Yes?” Carly asked.

“I need a gun,” he said.

C
ARLY HURRIED DOWN
the drive with Nick and the chef, her heart in her throat as she tried to see everywhere at once. If there was a bear cub in the camp’s kitchen, mama probably wasn’t far away.

“I didn’t even get the light turned on before I saw it,” the chef said. “But there was enough light from the camp to make out its fat, furry shape. And I just closed the door again so damn fast…”

Chef Raffaello apparently ran out of breath or words, so, after a moment, Carly said, “Nick?”

He looked at her.

“Bear-hunting season is in the spring. This late in the summer that cub’s not likely an orphan. And a mama bear separated from her baby is one of the most ill-tempered animals on earth.”

When Nick glanced at the rifle of Gus’s he was carrying, she began desperately hoping there’d be no need for it. They certainly wouldn’t have to shoot the cub. One way or another, she’d get it safely out of the trailer. But if mama came charging, there’d be no option but to shoot her.

That thought alone was enough to fill Carly’s throat with tears. But there really
wouldn’t
be an option. Not with all those people gathered around the kitchen trailer.

Jay was screaming at everyone to stay back, but nobody seemed to be listening.

“Dammit,” Nick muttered as they plowed a path through the bystanders. “We could sure use better crowd .control.”

Jay spotted them and yelled, “We wouldn’t have needed your help if this country didn’t have such stupid gun laws! You know we couldn’t bring a single gun across the border?”

Carly offered up a tiny prayer of thanks to Canada Customs, while Nick shouted to the crowd. “Listen, everybody, get the hell inside. If there’s a mother bear around the camp, you don’t want her to catch you in the open.”

“You heard him!” Jay screamed. “Get moving.”

Some people headed off. Others didn’t, apparently more willing to risk a charging bear than miss the excitement.

Goodie, who was practically hopping up and down, closed in on Carly and said, “This means there are bears in those woods we were lost in, doesn’t it?”

Nick turned to her, waving Goodie off as he did. “Okay, you open the door and stay behind it. I’ll go in.”

She made sure that nobody was
too
near, then whispered, “Are you forgetting you’re not really a bear expert?
I’ll
go in.”

“Look, I’ve faced armed men and—”

“Fine, but I’ve faced unarmed bear cubs.” Before he could argue further, she turned to the chef. “Where’s the light switch in there?”

“Just to the right of the door.”

She stepped over to the door and cracked it open. There wasn’t a sound from inside.

Hoping against hope the cub wasn’t directly under the switch, she slid her hand across the wall and found what she wanted. When she flicked on the light, there was still only silence inside the trailer.

Cautiously she pulled the door open further and peered in. And then she started to laugh with relief.

“What?” Nick demanded, so close behind her he was breathing down her neck.

“Look at our bear cub.” She opened the door the rest of the way to reveal Rocky Raccoon sitting on a counter with one paw in a jar of jam and several shredded cookie bags beside him.

“He’s a whiz at opening doors,” she explained. Then she looked over at Rocky again and told him he was a bad boy. But she was so glad he wasn’t a cub with a mean mama that she couldn’t make herself sound angry.

“False alarm,” Nick told the crowd. “It’s just a tame coon.”

“Your
trained
tame coon?” Jay demanded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well I sure as hell hope
Attila’s
not trained to go into trailers.”

S
HORTLY AFTER CARLY
and Nick retrieved Rocky from the camp’s kitchen, one of Dylan’s friends arrived to take the night shift with Attila.

By the time they got him settled in next to the field—with a deck chair, a couple of flashlights, a bottle of bug repellant and a thermos of coffee—it was past midnight.

“If you’re taking people out scouting locations at seven in the morning, you’d better head straight to bed,” Nick said as they walked back to the house.

Carly nodded wearily. It had been an awfully long day. Even so, she doubted she’d be able to fall asleep—not until she knew exactly how he figured they were going to ID their saboteur.

Once they were in the kitchen, she asked.

“You’re not too tired to talk?” he said.

“I’m almost too tired to breathe, but I’ll feel a lot better if I know.”

She got a glass of iced tea for herself and a beer for him, and they took them out onto the front porch—the Marx brothers following, then scurrying down the steps to give the lawn a late-night check.

The cast and crew knew there’d be no early call in the morning, so a lot of them hadn’t turned in yet. There were still lights on all over the camp, and the occasional murmur of voices and laughter drifted up the drive.

It made tonight entirely different from the norm. Usually, the only light came from the moon and stars, the only sounds from crickets and an owl or two. On nights like that, the porch often put her in mind of a perfect movie setting for a first kiss.

Stealing a glance at Nick’s rugged profile, she told herself it was just as well the night seemed less romantic
than usual. Then she tried to ignore the imaginary voice that asked if she was sure she meant that.

He pulled the other chair around to face hers, lowered himself into it and took a swig of beer.

She watched the cords of muscle in his neck, too tired to make herself look away. “So?” she said when he lowered the bottle.

“Okay. We can come at things from three different directions. One, we consider motivation. Two, we decide who our prime suspects are. And three, we keep our eyes and ears open and hope our saboteur makes a mistake. But let’s start with motivation.
Why
would someone cause trouble? Who would have anything to gain from it?”

“Well, nobody has anything
obvious
to gain, because everybody working on a film wants it to be a box office smash. And everybody’s stigmatized to one degree or another if it’s a flop.

“I mean, its hardest on the director’s reputation, but it’s a black mark against the actors, too. And when word gets around about which crew members worked on a stinker, they sometimes don’t get offered many jobs for a while.”