Cobblered to Death, page 18
I knocked on the door because we filmed on a locked set now. A young security guard opened the door and smiled.
“Thank you. I’m going to take a walk on my off time.”
He nodded.
I knew I didn’t need an explanation. The set was locked down and we were trapped at the resort, but we weren’t prisoners and were free to roam the grounds. Shielding the sun from my eyes, I looked at my path choices and decided a walk to the pond would be nice. That meant I’d have to take the closed path. I shrugged and headed around the building. I knew it was off-limits, but how many times had Skylar, Shannon and I used this path and never been caught? Several, so I felt my odds were good.
I drew in several deep breaths and surveyed my surroundings. It was a beautiful place. At the time Mr. Cole built his castle home, it was an era of opulence. His success and class ranking demanded it. Did he know that in the future, his hard work would be preserved into a haven retreat to commune with nature, relax and enjoy life?
Everything the resort boasted about in the brochures were refurbished original amenities that Mr. Cole had built into his home—a tennis court, the inside bowling alley in the castle’s basement, the pond and a nine-hole golf course. He’d laid a firm foundation for a lasting legacy with the matching stone buildings, the exotic flower beds moated around the castle and acres and acres of land. Of course, over time, improvements and modern updates had been made, like sprinkler systems, energy-efficient windows, paths paved with stone.
I couldn’t help but feel the murder dampened most of the cast and crew’s use of these wonderful recreational facilities, not to mention exploring the area around the Poconos. Sadly, many people were keeping close to the resort, tucked into their rooms.
A slight breeze, flavored with fragrant honeysuckle, lifted and twirled my bangs in a friendly dance while my steps became lighter. The physical activity was just what I needed to clear my mind and give me a fresh perspective on Bernard’s murder.
I wondered if Sheriff Perry had viewed the tape and made the clothing connection yet. I didn’t doubt his abilities to solve the murder. I just wanted to get my name off his person of interest list before I turned into a suspect. Even though I knew I didn’t kill Bernard, I had to admit the evidence was stacked against me.
In no time, I wandered into the dense tree cover. The stark sunshine dimmed under the filter of the trees’ canopies. The air, damp and thick, forced me to take deeper breaths. A twig snapped. I caught a gasp in my throat. I glanced around. Was someone here? Watching me?
I stepped it up and kept my ears on red alert. After a minute or two, when I’d only heard nature’s casserole of noises, I chided myself for getting spooked. It was probably a squirrel, or possibly a deer moving through the neighborhood. My racing heart eased, and my shoulders relaxed when I saw the turnoff for the path that led to the pond.
With each step, I decided I’d relax on the bench by the pond, review my suspicions and create a plan of research action, then I’d take the long way back to the set. I’d follow this path to the castle, then return to the set via an approved path.
My mind teemed with ideas as I rounded the corner and bumped into someone, hard. I caught the blur of white and gray as I tried fancy footwork to regain my balance. In the end, I thudded to the ground, my behind taking the brunt of the fall. A jolt of shock shot up my spine. I shook my head to clear it.
I looked up and around before looking forward to see Harrison in the same position as me, legs sprawled, posterior planted and dazed. “Harrison?”
His eyes found mine. “Courtney, are you all right? I didn’t see or hear you.”
Recovered from the fall, Harrison’s posture took form. He pulled his legs together, sat up straight and, giving himself a little liftoff with his hands, stood.
“I’m fine. I think.” I wasn’t quite ready to stand yet. From this angle, I noticed mud clung to the hem of his suit pants and slicked the sides of his Italian shoes.
When he extended his hand, I clasped it, grateful for his assistance to stand. I pulled my hand away and brushed off my rear. I tried to angle around to see if I’d ruined my wardrobe with smudges of grass stain. It was an exercise in futility, so I continued to swipe my hands over my shorts. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same.” Harrison too brushed at his clothes before tugging his suit coat back into place.
I disliked this little avoidance game of his. “Yes, you could. And if you did, I would actually answer you.”
Harrison raised his brows. “Courtney, you ask too many questions.” He sighed. “If you must know, I had to walk off my anger. I stumbled upon this path. It leads to a pond. Did you know that?”
“Yes.” My gaze fell to his pant legs and shoes. “Did you wade into it?”
Harrison’s head dropped, and when he looked back up, panic pulled at his features. “No, I, um, found a turtle and put it back into the water. I didn’t realize I’d soiled my clothing and shoes. I’d better get back to the set and change.”
He quickstepped around me and was gone before I could respond. I watched him retreat into the wooded area of the path. Not believing the turtle story for a moment. My mind spun with reasons he’d be in this area. Harrison was fastidious. He’d never dirty his designer clothes and shoes without good reason.
A soft purr growing louder whisked me away from my thoughts. I turned to see a UTV made for two approaching. My heart sank.
I took a step back when Travis pulled the vehicle to a stop, a little too close in my opinion, beside me. Did he have depth-perception issues, or was this a form of passive-aggressive intimidation?
“What are you doing here?” Disgust dripped from every word. “This path is off-limits.”
I pursed my lips and stared directly into his eyes. His expression was hard, cold almost, to intimidate me.
“I needed to take a walk.” I didn’t bother pointing out that he’d just missed Harrison, and Skylar, Shannon and I used it quite often.
“You’ve been told not to use this path. I guess rich doctors’ daughters don’t have to follow the rules.”
I didn’t appreciate his sarcastic tone, nor the way he let me know I was a liar. Was the fact I came from a successful family the reason he disliked me? “That is not it at all.” I allowed my anger to flavor my words.
Travis heaved a sigh when he saw I wasn’t backing down this time. Although his expression and demeanor remained hard and defensive, his tone changed when he said, “Look, there is a murderer on the loose. We are using this path as an emergency access path. We need you to use the paths we are surveilling for your protection.”
I blinked. “I haven’t seen any surveillance people on the path.”
“Really, Miss Archer, do you think we’re going to be obvious and wave at people to let them know we are watching?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, I don’t expect that, but speaking of surveillance, there are security cameras on set. Didn’t they capture Bernard’s murder?”
“Geez, you just don’t get it, do you? You are a television star, not a cop. None of this is your business. Then again, you have no problem lying to the public. You’re pretty good at it, in fact. That tells me a lot about your character.” The corners of his mouth turned up and changed his expression from cold to cocky.
Anger surged through me. I knew I couldn’t take his bait or let my anger show. Besides, it wasn’t all directed at him. His words sizzled my shame at the clause in my contract that forced me to pretend to be something I’m not. There was truth in his words about lying and character. Somehow, Eric and I had to convince the network to let me tell my viewers the truth, even if we faced media backlash, poor ratings and cancellation.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d have an answer to that.” Travis moved a tennis racket lying across the passenger seat. “Get in. I’m taking you back to the set.”
This time I didn’t argue. I did what I was told. After all, I was used to it, but after this conversation, that was going to change.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Although my ride back to the set with Travis took only a few minutes, the tension-filled silence made it feel like miles. Poised for a dismount, I jumped out of the passenger seat before the UTV came to a complete stop. I marched toward the heavy wooden door, not thanking Travis for the lift or the verbal smackdown he’d given me about my true background.
Once inside, I headed to wardrobe, so they could peruse the damage, if any, to my cargo shorts. There were some streaks of mud they wanted to wash out. I started to disrobe so they could take care of the stain removal when Kinzy blew into the room.
“There you are. They are ready for you on set.”
I explained the situation, which prompted a phone call to Brenden. “He said to wear them. They will shoot you from the front or waist up from behind.”
The wardrobe person held out the shorts and I slipped back into them and stepped down to the set with Kinzy in the lead.
Brenden looked at me and shook his head. “Sorry, Courtney, I can’t lose any more time. Wardrobe can fix it during your next break.”
Skylar had called the time as scripted. I would call it alone on the second challenge. We’d count down for the third. I was needed to walk with the judges while they sampled, and decided whether the contestant created a gourmet breakfast.
LeeAnne tried making eggs Benedict. The separated hollandaise sauce served over rubbery eggs earned some harsh words from both Harrison and Shannon. Although, they agreed, it did qualify as a gourmet breakfast.
“Scrumptious!” Harrison declared after a bite of Otto’s scrambled eggs and caviar. Otto served it with toast points of brioche with a smear and a thin slice of smoked salmon.
Shannon and I took a sample at the same time. I agreed with Harrison’s description. The salty caviar and creamy eggs tasted like perfection. However, Shannon gulped twice before she managed to swallow her bite, then chased it with a large bite of toasted brioche.
“The eggs texture was perfect, and the butter brioche complemented it well.” She smiled, and so did Otto, from ear to ear.
We followed Harrison to Barb’s kitchenette. Shannon leaned close and whispered, “I don’t know how y’all ate the caviar without gagging.”
“I’m afraid my breakfast casserole isn’t gourmet. It’s just an old, everyday dish I’ve made for my family during the holidays for years.” Barb looked down at her cast-iron like it was a naughty child.
“We’ll be the judge of that, right, Harrison?” Shannon smiled at Barb.
“Yes. What is it?” Harrison looked at the dish with genuine interest.
“It’s a cremini and brie strata.” Barb’s tone held disgust. “It’s all I could think of to make for this challenge.”
Harrison’s laughter boomed through the set. The mirth on his face a welcome change to his usual serious demeanor. He reached over and clasped Barb’s hand. “Dear woman, I’m not sure you know the meaning of gourmet.”
The surprise on Barb’s face was priceless, and it was all caught on tape. When this episode was edited and, hopefully, aired, it’d make a great television moment.
She earned high praise from Harrison, Shannon and me, although mine didn’t really count.
Again, Harrison led the way to the next contestant. As Shannon, two cameramen and I snaked along behind, it was obvious he was avoiding Tabitha. We sampled three more stratas with varying ingredients; though tasty, they couldn’t compare to Barb’s.
The only contestant left to judge was Tabitha. Harrison’s demeanor changed. His shoulders and back stiffened. His lips pursed.
“Why don’t I take the lead on this one?” Shannon stepped ahead of Harrison.
“I saw that,” Tabitha said. “I also saw how you purposely left me for last. You’ve been trying to oust me since I arrived.” Tabitha stared at Harrison to leave no doubt to whom she was speaking.
Harrison met her glare with one of his own.
Brenden strode over to the group. “Are you two trying to sabotage the show? We already have bad karma with a murder on our set; we don’t need any more delays in filming. I am giving you two minutes to taste, judge and react to this dish.” He looked at the cameraman. “I am serious. When I say cut, this segment of judging is finished so we can reset.”
Tabitha’s glare turned to wide-eyed surprise. She opened her mouth.
“No.” He pointed at her. “The time starts now.”
“What’s your gourmet breakfast?” Shannon smiled through her question.
Tabitha, mouth still agape, turned her attention from Brenden to Shannon. She furrowed her brows, then Brenden’s warning must have clicked a switch in her brain. She blinked and smiled. In a voice sweet as sugar, she said, “I made shirred eggs with spinach and paprika over Virginia ham slices.”
Harrison used a knife and fork to cut two bites from a ramekin fit between two others in the cast-iron fry pan. He and Shannon forked the egg into their mouths.
“Hmmm . . . this is creamy. The texture is perfect, and the meat has enough seasoning in it that it flavors the eggs.” Shannon laid her fork on the counter.
Tabitha smiled wider.
“Well done. Also, it was an excellent choice. No duplicates.” Harrison emphasized his praise with a curt nod of his head.
“Thank you.” Tabitha managed a grateful tone while blinking back the moisture that had sheened her eyes.
After Brenden yelled “Cut,” the contestants filed to the door to be whisked away for their lunch. The cleaning crew descended on the kitchen, while the rest of us hit the catering table.
“You need to grab your lunch and head to wardrobe,” Kinzy prompted me.
At her reminder, my gaze dropped to Harrison’s pant legs and shoes. Not a speck of mud in sight. Had he made it to wardrobe to have them clean up the mess? Or did he have several of the same style and color suits with him?
What had he been doing in the wooded area anyway? Harrison was not the outdoorsy type. I filled my plate with an herbed chicken breast and sautéed vegetables and headed upstairs. Once I’d slipped out of my shorts and robed up, I accessed a search app on my phone so I could do some research on Harrison, Bernard and Tabitha while I ate.
I started with Tabitha. She had a page on every social media site available. All were set for public viewing. I scrolled through her friends and pictures. Not one of Bernard Stone or Harrison. No surnames matched theirs either. I did learn she was married with a five-year-old daughter, which made me reconsider the love triangle theory. Every picture showed a happy, contented family.
I kept scrolling. A three-month-old post caught my eye. She’d started the post, “It happened again . . .” With interest, I read on. She’d lost her job in a four-star restaurant. By the comments of commiseration and encouragement, this was about the sixth time.
Pushing my phone aside, I finished my lunch. The post didn’t say where she’d worked or why she was fired. Had it been one of Harrison’s restaurants? Had she come here to seek revenge by blackmailing or maybe framing Harrison for murder? Had she known some dirt on Harrison and tipped off Bernard?
I tapped my chin, wondering what the best course of research would be concerning Tabitha. We weren’t on friendly terms by any stretch of the recipe, so bringing it up in casual conversation would be out of the question. I guess I could point-blank ask. Either way, it would turn into some kind of confrontation, like the first time I’d tried.
Wardrobe hadn’t brought back my cargo shorts, so I searched for Bernard Stone stories again. Several hits popped up; all were stories on his recent investigations. I found many duplicates due to different media websites reporting the news.
The creak of the door pulled my eyes from my phone. Shannon peeked in through a narrow crack. “We still on for tonight?”
Tonight? I drew my brows together while searching my memory. “Girls’ night! Absolutely!” I’d been so focused on trying to get my name off the person-of interest list, I’d spaced on Shannon’s and my plans. “Sushi bar?” I smiled. If Shannon didn’t care for the caviar, I doubted she’d be a fan of sushi.
She grimaced. “I’m thinking the steak house. I could really go for some surf and turf. Besides, they have a martini bar.”
I couldn’t hold in my laughter.
Shannon laughed. “Stop messing with me. You knew if I couldn’t eat caviar, sushi would never be a dinner choice. I have to make a quick phone call to the hubs to remind him we won’t be Skyping dinner tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m really looking forward to some girlfriend time. See you downstairs.”
I stared at the closed door. I was really looking forward to girlfriend time with Shannon. In just a few days, she’d become a good friend to me. I couldn’t say the same thing about me. I was deceiving her, and that wasn’t what friends did. I hoped I didn’t ruin our night out, but I’d decided to tell Shannon the truth about my background tonight. She’d already made too many references to me being a farmer’s daughter.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I tapped out my plan in a message to Eric and hit Send.
* * *
Once released for the day, I’d walked via an approved path straight to the resort. My fingers, and mind, itched to do some more internet searching. Now that the world knew about Bernard’s death, many of the news media sites were running reports on some of his old exposés. I calculated I had at least an hour, maybe two, to do some online sleuthing before meeting Shannon for our girls’ night out.
The day got off to such a slow start, Shannon and Harrison had to stay and film a segment discussing the cooking challenges and the contestants’ end results. The special set, with the white, wicker bistro table and chairs, sat on the edge of a lovely wildflower garden. A baker’s rack stood behind the table. The shelves held the bakers’ finished products of the day, good or bad. It might seem backward, because we’d ended the day’s filming and LeeAnne had already been sent home, but that was how shows were filmed. The chronological order of scenes came during the editing stage. Although the judges had determined LeeAnne’s dinner was passable, she’d failed the breakfast and snack challenge. Otto had won the day. Of course, on camera he was a gracious winner. Once Brenden hollered “cut,” he’d strutted around in front of the other contestants while uttering, “It’s about time.”
