Chapter Seven #3
Eventually, Jenny came around and collected our answer sheet, whispering that if we wanted to go on our break, we could do so quietly, and I tore myself away.
Once away from the bright stage lights, I waved to Lieutenant Caceras and tilted my head toward the locker room.
Unfortunately, Howard, directly in front of him, assumed I was gesturing to him, and both men started heading in that direction.
Once off the soundstage, we were able to talk normally.
“Those questions are tough,” Caceras said. “You guys must be really good at this trivia stuff to even be here, but I don’t think that’s what you wanted to talk about.”
“You looked as suspicious as I felt,” I said.
“You think he was poisoned too?” Howard asked.
“Bert was poisoned?” Mort said, returning from the restroom.
Lieutenant Caceras gestured a decrescendo like an orchestra conductor, then leaned closer.
“We don’t know that anyone else was poisoned.
I’d like to talk to the medic and your doctor when they’re done.
We have no indication right now that this contestant is suffering anything other than a natural health emergency.
Add a little too much stress to an already unhealthy person, and the results can be quite dramatic. ”
“You know, something similar happened yesterday,” I said. “The brothers got into an argument and turned bright red. Seth said their heart rates were through the roof.”
“You’re making my case for me, Jessica,” Caceras said. “People get hot under the collar; their body responds. If those two bicker a lot, they’d be a walking cardiovascular time bomb. Only a coincidence that it happened so soon after Ray’s death.”
“But they don’t.” All eyes turned to Howard.
“Bicker a lot, that is. I was talking to their alternate, Kim, and she said they almost never argue, much less get so violent about it. She said they were so sorry they’d lost their tempers that they stayed up half the night, unable to sleep, apologizing to each other. ”
“Unable to sleep because they were upset?” Maureen asked. “Or too agitated to sleep?”
“What do you mean?” Caceras asked.
“Remember that first day when I was a real bear?” Maureen said. “I blamed it on nerves or the coffee being too strong. But I couldn’t sleep that night either. I just felt agitated, like someone had filled my clothes with itching powder.”
“Come to think if it,” Mort said, “I was kind of on a hair trigger too, getting all upset about Batman, for instance. And there’s no way any of you would know this, but we had a little tiff that night.”
“But you both seem fine today,” I said. “And yesterday.”
“It’s also when we stopped drinking the coffee,” Maureen said.
“But if the coffee was poisoned,” Caceras said, “people around here would be dropping like flies.”
“Any thoughts on the attendant?” I asked, tipping my head toward the perky blonde once again at her station.
Caceras shrugged. “Since we knew Ray Flores had been poisoned, I asked Wardell about her. Says he’s worked with her for years and has yet to receive a single complaint. He seemed rather offended by the idea that we would question the integrity of anyone who worked for him.”
“Yet someone in this studio is a killer,” I said.
Seth returned to the locker room and joined our little circle.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Caceras said. “We were wondering if that contestant could have been poisoned. Is he all right?”
Seth rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “He’ll be fine. And no need for alarm. Whatever caused the incident was certainly not methyl cyanide. The symptoms aren’t the same, and luckily for our friend Bert, neither is the outcome.”
“His heart then?” Caceras asked.
“Seems strong, although both the medic and I recommended he follow up with a cardiologist when he returned home. Oh, and cut out the caffeine. It frankly seemed more like a panic attack.”
“Could really strong coffee have triggered it?” Maureen asked.
Seth waggled his head as if to say, Maybe, maybe not.
“You know, just to be sure,” Caceras said, “I think I’ll mosey on over to craft services and grab a nice cup of coffee to take back to the lab. Excuse me.”
I watched as Caceras approached the line, filled a disposable cup with black coffee, and grabbed a cheese Danish for good measure.
“Oh, so typical. Just what do you think you’re doing?” Bobby Brandon, a dressing robe thrown over his shirt, put his hands on his hips. “Stuffing your face when we’re all in danger? Tell me, is it true? Did someone murder Ray?”
All eyes in the greenroom turned in their direction, and I could see Caceras’s jaw tighten while the rest of his face retained his personable and relaxed demeanor. Probably the result of practice.
“It’s one avenue we’re pursuing,” Caceras said vaguely, after a pause.
“Well, then you’d better get a move on with that pursuit.” Bobby pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to the lieutenant.
I left my team to wander over and poorly feign waiting in line just behind Caceras. As he opened the envelope and pulled out a small card, I leaned back to a position where I could see over his shoulder, fumbling for my reading glasses.
I didn’t need them, however. The letters on the card were large enough to read from where I stood.
YOU’RE NEXT.