Chapter 10
TEN
“Was that the doctor calling?” I asked Mina, as I found her in the hallway outside of the den, heading back toward the ballroom. I tried to keep my tone low enough that no one else could hear if they passed us.
With one hand, Mina worried at the bottom of her striped shirt, now untucked from her wide-legged jeans.
She’d wiped under her eyes, and her makeup had rubbed off.
Her face was slightly puffy, and her eyes red.
“No, it was Grammy calling from her hospital room. She told me not to worry and that she’s feeling fine and turning in for the night.
” She sniffled but tried for a slight smile.
“Not that I believe her, but it was good to hear her voice.”
“Did you tell her what’s happening here?”
“Briefly.” Mina’s head swiveled to Charlie and the deputy several yards in our wake. “I told her that Brett Brinkley died and that the police are questioning witnesses, but I didn’t tell her that I might be a suspect.”
“I don’t think that’s what Char—or the sheriff—intended,” I said, hoping I was right. “If that was the case, he might think I’m a suspect too.”
Her eyes met mine as we neared the ballroom, and I could tell that she’d caught on to me almost calling the sheriff by his first name. “You two seem… close?”
I didn’t confirm or deny the statement.
Mina didn’t seem to want to pry. “Well, you were the first one who tried to help, which has to count for something.”
I thought that fact should matter too, but I wasn’t sure that it would when it came to Charlie’s investigating rules of conduct. He had put my aunt behind bars, after all.
“Did Miss 1962—your grandmother—did she know Brett?” I asked, as we stepped through the ballroom doors, back to the scene of the crime.
“I’m sure she ran into him—Gram said everyone in town came to the pageant.” Mina’s eyes were piercing as she looked at me. “Regardless, do you think anyone actually knew him? Or Presley?”
The way Mina asked the question made me wonder how she felt about Brett. She was a woman about my age with long black hair and a willowy frame. Her profession kept her behind the lens of a camera, and for however long, her subject had been Brett Brinkley.
Had she felt some sort of connection to him?
“Lee and I…” Mina glanced in the direction of the person who’d pulled her away earlier to look at some footage.
Her shoulders relaxed as she made some sort of decision.
“We were on the show. Well, not on it on it. Lee was the jib operator, and I was basically a glorified gopher – did some off-screen, behind-the-scenes work, acted as an assistant, that kind of thing.”
The fifty-something-year-old man was crouched in the corner. His expression was difficult to read from this far away, but he seemed concerned. Mina went silent for a few seconds as she processed our situation. Then, she turned back to me, more pensive as she spoke.
“Years ago, I worked as an extra on this police procedural that never actually made it past the pilot, but in the episode, the detective had a piece of dialogue that stuck with me. He said something like, ‘In the court of law, you’re innocent until proven guilty, but in the interrogation room, it’s just the opposite.
’” Mina squinted, considering her line of reasoning.
“I think you’re right. I think the sheriff sees us as suspects, along with everyone else. ”
I wanted to argue with her, but my defenses sounded so ridiculous:
But I’m his girlfriend—or at least someone he’s been dating.
I attempted CPR—even though it didn’t work.
I helped him solve his last big case—and then left town.
Nope, none of those would hold water.
With the overhead lights on and the reunion attendees quickly tiring, we appeared a rather motley crew.
Charlie stepped onto the third step of the stage, projecting loudly enough to be heard, while the deputy remained on the floor, her frame facing the crowd as if acting as a kind of bodyguard for him.
My former classmates and their plus-ones stared back at him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, and I realized that to at least two-thirds of them, Charlie was an unknown quantity.
“Folks, I realize that tonight has been tough,” Charlie began. “Brett was not only a member of the class of 2015 but also a good friend to many of you over the years.”
I noticed Joe, still behind the bar, frowning, which made me wonder even more about what kind of friend he’d been to Brett.
Yes, Brett had been buddies with Joe throughout high school, and yes, dating Lacy had gotten Brett admittance into a lot of social circles, but were these people Brett’s friends?
“His death was sudden,” Charlie continued. “Over the next few hours—and into tomorrow—we’ll be conducting a full investigation of the events.”
“You think someone in this room murdered him?” Will Hurt, Valerie’s husband, called from the back. I was surprised she’d let him speak.
“Not necessarily,” Charlie answered, putting out a steadying hand. “But the body does show clear signs of something beyond a mere choking incident.”
“Like what?” Joe asked.
Once again I saw that Presley was standing only a few feet away from Joe. My eyes trailed to her, and from my angle I spotted a red light from a camera just over the woman’s shoulder. Mina’s partner, Lee, was filming the sheriff’s speech.
“I can’t get into those details right now,” Charlie answered.
I wondered if he’d noticed the camera, but since he hadn’t shut it down, probably not.
Despite the uncertainty I was feeling about our relationship, I didn’t want something caught on tape that shouldn’t be public information.
I started along the back wall toward Lee as Charlie continued to address the crowd.
“As I was saying, I know that some of you have lost someone very important to you.”
“Tell them about Brett’s body,” Presley interrupted. Joe stood behind her now, his hand extended to her shoulder as if he were gently pulling her back. “Tell them about the signs of foul play.”
“As I said, I can’t go into specifics right now but”—Charlie’s attention flickered to me as I scooted along the periphery of the crowd, but it didn’t linger—“as soon as we have any more information from the official—”
“He was killed,” Presley cut in, her tone certain. Joe did pull her back this time, but not before she ground out three final words: “By someone here.”
Silence descended and the entire room seemed to hold a collective breath.
I was the only one moving an inch, but even I paused, realizing that Presley had apparently either changed her mind about her bisnonna’s supposed curse, or now believed that there’d been some kind of human help involved in carrying it out.
“We don’t know for sure that Brett was killed,” Charlie corrected, breaking the silence. His tone had taken on a slight edge that others not attuned to his voice might not even hear.
“We all saw what happened,” Valerie called to Presley. “No one touched him.”
“There are other ways to kill someone,” Presley shot back.
As I inched past Presley toward the camera, I noticed that her eyes were dilated, indicating that she’d had more than one drink from the bar.
Charlie didn’t respond directly to Presley, saying instead, “We’ll need an accounting of everyone before we let you head back home or to your hotels, so most of you will likely be staying here overnight.
Savilla Finch has been kind enough to allow all of you free accommodations.
If we haven’t already spoken to you, we’ll call your name soon, and if we have, please sit tight. We may have further questions.”
A murmur spread across the room and a couple of people asked follow-up questions, but I was no longer paying attention to the details because I’d reached Lee and the steady red light of his camera. I tapped the cameraman on the shoulder, startling him.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s Lee, right?”
The man took his eye away from the viewfinder but didn’t answer or turn off the camera.
“Why are you still filming?” I asked, moving in front of the lens so Charlie would be blocked.
“Presley told us to keep filming, said she could use it. Just following orders.”
I tried to think whether or not Presley Lombardi currently had her own reality show, but came up with nothing.
I wasn’t exactly a TV aficionado. Presley could be airing herself nude every night on cable, and I, stuck in the lab with a dissected cat’s heart, would have no idea.
Regardless, it didn’t really matter because the point was that Presley Lombardi was asking Lee to film something that certainly required consent from law enforcement.
She was also using the moments after her boyfriend’s death as a kind of entertainment.
Brett was dead and she was the single star. Camera gold.
I stuck out a hand and lowered the camera. “You can turn it off for now, okay?”
“I don’t think you have the authority to make that kind of decision,” Lee said, standing to his full height, which was a few inches taller than me.
I started to tell him exactly what he could do with his camera when Mina intervened. “You’re primarily the lighting guy anyway, Lee,” Mina said, her voice easy as she took the camera from his shoulder. “And it’s probably a good idea if you tell Dakota what you told me.”
Lee’s eyes shot from Mina to me, and he stuck out his bottom lip.
“She’s good people, just trying to help,” Mina said about me. “Go ahead.”
Lee cleared his throat, suddenly seeming nervous. “We… Mina and I… we…” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “We filmed Brett’s death. Accidentally.”
I froze. The crime—or at least the end result—had been caught on film. That was the real camera gold, at least for investigators.
“We didn’t mean to film it,” Lee said. “We were just doing our job.”
“Lee was getting a pan of the room,” Mina added.
“I was checking the lighting so we could get different angles after the party was in full swing. Then Brett started…” Lee’s words were coming rapidly.
Maybe he was anxious about reliving the memory or perhaps he was more concerned about being seen as withholding evidence.
“I dropped the camera when Mina ran over to help with CPR, but it was still filming.”
That was odd. Why would he drop the camera if he wasn’t the one hurrying to help with CPR?
“Where did you go during all of this?” I asked Lee, trying not to sound judgmental.
“I was…” He blinked several times as if trying to recall. “I was here, in the ballroom. I just… I was so flustered, I don’t really remember…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer, which made him seem guiltier than he might be.
“We need to give the footage to the sheriff,” Mina said, her words firm as if she were finishing a conversation she’d already been having with Lee. “Maybe it has something that can help the investigation.”
“I don’t know.” Lee frowned, looking at her with concern. “Although… it could clear things up.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Especially because it makes one person in particular seem pretty guilty.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose. “Presley?” I asked.
Lee shook his head. “Some Black girl dancing with Brett.”
My eyebrows rose to my hairline and my mouth went dry at the way he’d thrown out the generic description with derision. Some Black girl. Not for the first time that night, I had the urge to slap a person.
I knew that Lee was talking about Lacy, one of three Black students in our graduating class. Aubergine High wasn’t exactly a melting pot, and she was also the only person of color at the reunion who’d been dancing with Brett.
“Still…” Lee moved as if to take back the camera from Mina. “We can’t just hand over footage that belongs to the production company.”
“It’s the Finches’ production company, and yes, we can.” Mina’s tone was sharp as she stuffed the camera inside a bag and held it out to me.
I took it as four words stuck in my mind: The Finches’ production company.