An Unfinished Storm, page 6
“Yeah,” agreed Tish, nodding. “I need to call the rest of the crew and head them off before they start showing up here. I’ll go tell Nash what the plan is. Maybe he can pick up some info while he’s here.”
Tobias nodded, and Tish went back to Nash, who was still waiting patiently by the Sheriff’s vehicle.
“I want a hug so much right now,” said Tish as she approached, “but she’s still glaring at me, isn’t she?”
“From a distance, but yes,” he agreed, and Tish groaned.
“Why is she so weird?”
“Don’t know. She barely spoke on the way up here. So, did you and Tobias work out a plan?”
“Yeah, we’re going to get out of here since it’s obvious that we’re not welcome.”
“Did you use that much sarcasm with her?”
“I may have told her there was a granola bar in your glove box, but I swear she started it.”
Nash laughed. “I mean, sure, if it works on ten-year-olds, then it most definitely works on cops.”
“Who knew that parenting book I bought would be so handy?”
“You bought a parenting book?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“I... Uh... Well, When Not to Parent Your Partner’s Child seemed applicable, and it came with checklists.” Tish believed in checklists.
“Tish, did you do homework for Claire and me?” His eyes twinkled.
“Psh. No. Maybe. Shut up.”
“You know what I’m going to do?” He leaned in very close to her, and his voice changed to a husky whisper. “I’m going to clean your grout.”
Damn it. He knows.
“You talk so dirty to me, and I love it,” she said. He leaned back with a cocky grin. He knew he had her number. “Unfortunately, I will have to wait to put that promise into action. Granddad and I are going to do the thing, so…”
Nash’s expression changed to puzzlement.
“The thing?”
“The one you disapprove of.”
“The one where you cheat at pinochle and almost cause a riot among the old folks at the Grange?”
“We did not cheat,” said Tish. “I’m just fundamentally bad a pinochle. I should not be forced to play.”
“Well, I agree, but you lost that bet. And while I appreciate that you are a woman of your word, I don’t really like having to convince old people that cheating at pinochle isn’t a crime. Or having them insist that I arrest my girlfriend either, for that matter.”
“It was really just Elayne.”
“Tobias laughed so hard I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”
Next to the car, Tobias tapped his watch and glared at her.
“But pinochle wasn’t actually what I was talking about. I was talking about the other thing.”
“Oh, the thing where you investigate a crime?”
“Uh… Well, yes?”
“Great, I’ll come with. The detective said I could feel free to go. I’ve just been waiting to talk to you. So, let’s hit the road and solve some crime.”
“You can’t come with us!”
“Why not?”
“You’re the fuzz!”
“The fuzz?”
“The pigs! The man! The po-po!
“Two out of the three of those are offensive, and the other is misogynistic.”
“The five-O. The law. The heat. The bulls.”
“I… am… I’m not sure if I’m impressed, horrified, or turned on by your cop slang vocabulary.”
“You know it’s all three,” said Tish, giving him a subtle wink.
“Probably. But I’m still coming with you.”
“No! We talk to all kinds of people, and not all of them like you. You will ruin our rep.”
“Your reputation is as a cantankerous set of busy-bodies. I swear I will not bring that down. I’m not even sure that’s within my power, really. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
Is Nash getting serious face? Over this?
“Well, it’s not like we’ve gotten to spend a lot of time together recently. And it’s not like I want a murder investigation to be our quality time, but I will take what I can get.”
“You think I don’t want quality time?” yelped Tish. “I have been trying! I’m trying so hard! And then every time I actually make it to your place, there is your damn ex-wife!”
He grimaced. “Yeah. It’s sucking.”
“Sucking!”
I just flailed like some sort of drowning naked mole rat.
“Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were the best crime-fighting duo ever. Fight me.”
Kim Possible, Disney TV series, 2002 – 2007. Teenage cheerleader crime fighting at its best.
“I’m going to stop letting you watch cartoons with Claire.”
“I haven’t been doing a lot of that either. In fact, I haven’t been doing a lot of anything. I’m tired of it, and I want my life back, but stupid people keep dying. And I want my boyfriend back, and I want my Claire back, but now she hates me.”
Shit, I said that out loud.
“She doesn’t hate you.”
Tears are imminent. I’m freaking out.
“She didn’t even get me a dinner plate!”
“I…”
He’s supposed to say something reassuring, and he’s not doing it. Probably because he thinks it’s true. Oh, God, he thinks it’s true. Claire hates me.
“OK,” said Tobias, stumping into the conversation at the worst possible time. “Whatever’s going on, let’s move it along. I want to get Brianna out of here.”
“Right, of course,” said Tish. “She was really upset about seeing the body. We shouldn’t make her stay. Why don’t you take her back to her rental, and I’ll meet you back home? I need to start making some calls anyway.”
Tobias squinted, looking between her and Nash. “Yeah, OK. Nash, are you heading back to work?”
“Yeah,” said Nash.
He sounds grumpy. He looks grumpy, too. How is this my fault? It’s his stupid ex-wife!
“Yeah, I’ll be running down these two vehicles,” he said, jerking his thumb at the car and moped still in the parking lot. “I’ll have to turn over whatever I find to the detective, of course. But I’ll stop by later if I find out anything.”
Tobias distinctly did not look at Tish. “That would be real neighborly, and I would appreciate it, but don’t get yourself in trouble on our account.”
“That’s why it will be an in-person conversation that you will forget later.”
“I’m old,” said Tobias. “I forget stuff all the time. I can never remember where I hear things. Well-known fact.”
“Unfortunately true,” said Tish.
“Don’t start with me, young lady,” said Tobias. “See you at home.”
“See you later,” said Nash, and he left, too.
Why do I feel abandoned? I’m a strong, independent woman. I don’t need menfolk! I just like my menfolk.
Grumpily, Tish went back to the car. She was most of the way back to the car when she saw her phone buzzing with a number that she had entered into her phone as His Royal Highness of Movies – Alan.
“Hey Alan,” she said, picking up as she parked the car. “Thanks for calling.”
“Hey, 911 texts get my attention,” he said cheerfully. “But I gotta say, I’m loving the dailies. I know, I know, Skip’s a little difficult to work with, but from the footage, it looks like you know how to handle him.”
“Yeah…” said Tish. “Um…”
“OK, I really do know that Skip can be hard to take, and I read between the lines in last night’s email. You’re worried about harassment stuff. I hear you. And I already put in a call to him. As soon as we connect, I’ll get him to tone his act down.”
“Um… actually… He’s not going to be calling you back.”
“Did he pull one of his I quit stunts? Total bluff, I promise. He hasn’t even called me and demanded more money.”
And now he never will.
“Um, I got a call this morning. Skip was found up on Mt. Constitution just after sunrise.”
“That’s the tower place, right? You said you were shooting there today. Wow, I can’t believe he got such an early start. Skip is usually in bed until brunch.”
Hey, you actually did read my email. I did try to keep it short.
“Yeah, Skip was apparently pushed off the tower.”
“Holy shit.”
“The police are investigating, of course. I haven’t called the rest of the crew yet. I wanted to talk to you first. They’re going to have questions.”
“Well, but I mean, how soon until Skip gets out of the hospital?”
“Um, Skip’s dead. He was murdered.”
“I… but… I…He can’t be dead. We’re making a movie.”
“Well,” said Tish cautiously.
OK, here we go. Let’s just put the situation out there and let him react.
“Skip wasn’t really meshing with the cast or vibing with the studio-approved script. So, I’m not sure... I mean, we could stop the movie, but I was going to talk to you about finding someone with a different vision anyway.”
“But is it bad taste if we just ship you a new director?” mused Alan. “That’s probably bad, right? People will think we’re mercenary.”
“I can talk to the cast and see how they feel, but Skip was well known for his love of movies. What if we soldier on in his memory and put a dedication card on the title sequence?”
There was a silence on the other end of the phone.
“I’m not hating that. Why don’t you do a little temperature test on the cast and see how we’re feeling over there. I mean, he wasn’t actually there for any of the footage from last night, was he?”
“Nope.”
“OK, but the studio cares about our people. We would have to really show our solidarity with… people. And if they don’t catch who did it, then it just looks like we’re being callous toward Skip’s family. I’m assuming he has some. But it looks bad if we’re making movies while his killer is still wandering around.”
“You want the killer brought to justice swiftly so that we can continue in Skip’s memory,” supplied Tish, reframing the messaging for him.
“Exactly. Do you think the police can do that?”
No. Not really.
“I couldn’t say. I’ve never met this detective before. But I have already been in contact with a local private investigator who is a former CIA operative. The local police are investigating, and, of course, we support them, but I thought the company would want to have someone taking it with the utmost seriousness.”
“Yes. Yes, that is what we want,” said Alan, and Tish could hear the smile on his face through the phone. “Utmost seriousness. I appreciate that you’re acting so swiftly. This is great. Your guy will catch the guy, and then our guys will get back to business.”
“Right,” said Tish.
Oh, God, I just promised we could catch a murderer.
“Skip will be remembered fondly,” said Alan cheerfully. “I’ll talk to marketing about appropriate statements. I’ll give them your number. We may need some talking points. Keep me updated on the situation.”
“Yes, of course,” said Tish.
“Catch you later!” The line went dead, and Tish shook her head.
Chapter 8
The Crew Gathers
Tish left her third message and then texted the next four people to call her. Cell phone reception could be crap on the island, but she didn’t think she could actually text Skip’s dead as a message.
I may be Generation Millennial Zed Whyyyyyy or something, but I’m still living with a Boomer. He would bean me over the head with his cane.
While she was waiting for callbacks, she went and changed into actual clothes and started making breakfast while she considered whether or not to get out the murder board. They hadn’t ever moved the whiteboard back to the shed and were currently storing it in the mud room. They had used it last time they’d had people over and played Pictionary. It always caused commentary—what could they possibly do with a full-sized whiteboard in a residential home?
Keeping track of murder suspects, of course! What else do people do with their white boards?
She was about to sit down to a Tobias special of a fried egg sandwich when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she opened the door and found Frank Brooking and the entire shooting crew in the driveway. Frank was standing on the front porch while the others rearranged some equipment in the truck. His long gray hair was down today. There was a hair tie on his wrist, so she thought it was about to be corralled back into his usual hippie ponytail. He was staring toward the dog run where Coats was barking furiously.
“Coats! Knock it off!” Tish yelled.
The chocolate lab barked a few more times and then snuffled optimistically at the fence. He usually got let out to sniff the visitors at some point.
The Yearly house was set well back from the main road. Tobias had built a long gravel drive that cut in from the road down to the house before curving back up to join the road. In the U-bend between the house and the road, there was an extensive line of pine trees to block the road, provide shade for one of the storage sheds and space for additional parking. In many ways, the Yearly House—a steeply pitched A-frame—was built backward. The front of the house overlooked the view of trees and water, while the back faced the drive. It was just that once parked, no one ever walked around to the front. The common entrance was the hall and door with the postage stamp of a deck. Which was why Tish was constantly threatening to install a doorbell camera to see who was approaching the back door.
“What did Skip do now?” Frank demanded, standing on the single stair down to the gravel drive. “I finally get everyone to show up on time and he pulls some sort of stunt. I swear, he lives to screw up my shoots. Please tell me you didn’t fold to his bullshit.”
“Um,” said Tish. Half the crew was staying in Anacortes so getting them to get to the ferry on time had been problematical, so she appreciated Frank’s complaint, but she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Does he even want to shoot this movie?”
For once Frank wasn’t downplaying his feelings about Skip and his lack of professionalism.
“He’s dead,” said Tish.
“What?” Frank didn’t look shocked. He just looked confused.
There was a yelp as the gaffer fell out of the truck bed and onto the driveway.
“What?” demanded the gaffer, whose name Tish thought was Irving, from flat on his back on the gravel.
“Sometime between last night and dawn this morning, Skip was pushed off the tower at Mt. Constitution.”
“So, we can’t shoot today?” asked the secondary photographer, whose name was probably Ellis.
“Shit,” said Frank. “The studio’s going to shut us down, aren’t they?”
“But,” said the gaffer, climbing to his feet, “what was he doing up there in the first place?”
“You know he was messing with our equipment,” muttered someone in the van, but Tish didn’t see who.
“If the studio closes us up, that’s going to blow a big fricking hole in my finances. I’ve got child support to pay. How soon until they shut us down?” demanded Ellis.
“I already talked to Alan. He loved the dailies, by the way. My impression is that if the case gets resolved quickly and that everyone is… emotionally fine with continuing to work then the shoot will continue.”
Frank looked back at his crew and seemed to do a head count before turning back to Tish. “Emotionally we’re fine,” he said drily.
“Tish, can I come in and wash my hands?” asked Irving, plaintively dusting off his himself off.
“Yeah, sure,” said Tish. She held the door open and watched as the entire van full of crew members trooped into her house.
She was about to close the door when she heard the roar of an engine out on the road beyond the trees and the crunch of tires on gravel told her that someone would be coming down the drive at speed. Moments later, Kyle’s jacked Jeep whipped into view. She could see Taylor in the passenger seat, possibly leaving finger dents in the dash. Kyle screeched to a stop and Taylor tumbled out looking white.
“Skip’s dead? Kyle said the police scanner said there was a body. And then you said to call you about Skip. Never text call me. Call me is code for disaster!”
“Yeah,” agreed Tish, “it really is. And yes, Skip’s dead.”
“But, but, but…” Taylor pushed his bangs out of his eyes and then looked around at Kyle as if Kyle would have some answers.
“The crew is already here,” said Kyle, spotting the truck full of equipment. “Why don’t you go in and talk to them?”
Tish glared at Kyle.
“Good idea,” said Taylor, fumbling for his phone. “I’ve got to call Emma and my agent. This is terrible!” Taylor brushed past her, already dialing.
I would bet real money that he calls his agent first.
“The crew was leaving in a minute,” said Tish as Kyle came up to the porch. “Now I’ll have to get rid of all of them.”
“If he sticks with me, he’s going to eat like another twelve blueberries. I didn’t think you’d want him stoned out of his gourd while there’s a murder investigation going on. The cops are going to probably want to talk to him, right?”
Damn it. That’s actually correct.
“Yeah, and speaking of which, you need to steer clear of the cops. It’s not Spring this time. It’s some new detective we’ve never met. And trust me, she’s not going to be very excited about your business.”
Kyle grimaced. “Right. Yeah, I’ll keep myself on the DL, but I might need to remind Taylor to keep my name out of his mouth.”
Before she could stop him, Kyle headed into the house too. Tish glared around the yard, daring someone else to pop out of the woods.
