Chapter 10
It’s Just Show Business
Maria backed up against the doorway, out of Shane's reach. “I didn't kill Dave," she lied. “Don’t touch me.”
He held his hands up as if she was just a skittish animal that needed placating. "You don't understand. I don't care that you killed him."
"But I didn't,” she retorted, looking around for another way out of this room.
"Let's just say you did," he blocked her exit from the bedroom. Shane was a tall man, and he looked larger than normal in the low ceiling of his father's house. Maria wasn't afraid of him, but she didn't want to be in this room with him a moment longer. She felt the bands of nausea crawling up her throat again. Don't think of prison. Don't think of Isa. Stop thinking about prison and losing Isa. Nothing helped. She needed to get outside.
"—all I would do is try to help you," he finished, but she only half heard him.
"Help me?” She laughed, “You? With the whiteboard and your dad, and Jesus , your daughter, too? You expect me to believe that if I murdered Dave, which I definitely didn't, you guys would help me?" Her racing heart constricted and no amount of self-help podcasts or lists would calm her now.
"I know you killed Dave, Maria,” Shane said, blocking her way again when she tried to move past. “And you should have. He was a horrible person that exactly zero people—well maybe his methy brother, but no one else—will miss. And based on what you told me, it was only a matter of time before someone killed him. You just probably helped some kingpin by saving him the time and trip up here."
"So now I'm helping drug lords?" Maria asked, her voice pitching higher by the moment. Get a grip, he needs to think you think he's an idiot. Stop acting guilty.
"You know what I think?" She said, pushing her finger into his chest and forcing him to step back out of the doorway. "I think you're all smoke and mirrors. I think you're grasping at straws because you have no freaking idea who murdered Dave or this new guy and you need to pin it on someone because the cameras are rolling. Well it’s not going to be me.”
He flinched. It wasn’t obvious, but she caught the movement regardless. Maria would have normally felt about as tall as an ant at hurting him, but she needed him to doubt his assumptions. And she had to get out of this house and into fresh air.
"Do not call me again,” she said, retrieving her scarf from the couch. She stalked around the coffee table and stood as tall as her short frame allowed, punching out each syllable as she tried to tie her blanket-sized scarf around her neck. “I don't want to see you, or your kid, near my house. And I swear to Fall Jesus that I will call an attorney if I see any cameras near my home. Do you understand me?"
"Is there a Spring Jesus?" He asked, ignoring her threats. Of course he would. I'm sure Bravo has a ridiculous amount of attorneys on call.
"I'm serious, Shane Bolles. Stay the hell away from me and my family. I will tell you this only one more time. I. Did. Not. Murder. Dave."
He swore under his breath and turned away for a moment, rubbing his hands over his clean shaven face.
"Ohmygod, Maria. I know you killed him, and there's a good chance Levi Madison and the rest of this damn town know, too. It's only a matter of time before the heat gets turned back on you and all I'm trying to do is figure out a way to keep it off of you. Now you can pitch a fit, or you can help me help you."
She gaped at his audacity and gave up tying the scarf. “I don’t need any help! Especially not from some guy I just met.”
He shook his head, his stupid perfect jawline clenching once before saying, “Have you seen the news crews? The wannabe sleuths all over town? Do you want me to read you what they’re saying about you?”
Of course she’d seen the crews, but after marrying an abuser, she avoided social media at all costs, and wasn’t about to pick up the habit now. No need to see the perfect life of Claudia from 10th grade on Instagram when I married and then killed a sociopath. She crossed her arms and refocused. She needed to get control of this situation fast. "OK, Captain Savior. If you're so sure I killed my husband, how did I do it?"
"That..." He opened his mouth, then shut it. "I don't know."
She pointed her finger and the scarf at him, "Ha! Next question. Why would I kill him?"
His lips formed a straight line and he didn't speak. Her heart sank a little when she realized why. "Because I told you,” she said for him. There was no need to hear it from his mouth. “In my garden. I trusted you, and that whole time you were just using it to find a motive?" You are such an idiot, Maria. "What about the whole 'sacred space' bit of that conversation? Was that just a bunch of B.S. to get me talking? Were you recording it?"
"Would you just slow down, Maria?” He stepped closer with his hand out like he wanted to touch her but she moved back. He put his hand against his chest instead. “I would never use his abuse against you. And no. I didn't record, nor plan to record, any of our conversations. I actually like our conversations.” He ran both hands through his hair, fisting the curled ends. She dragged her eyes away from his biceps filling out his dark gray t-shirt before he dropped his arms. “I'd like to have more conversations with you," he said, resigned.
She ignored that. He's an actor. He's trying to use you for his show. "Did you tell anyone about the abuse?"
He paused, and she knew.
"Maria, wait—"
She threw open the door. You need a plan.
***
Shane's cameraman, Gary, chain-smoked another round of cigarettes in the van. "Boss isn't going to like this, Shane."
"I'm aware. Frankie seems to dislike everything I do lately," Shane replied, head in his hands. The smoke in the van didn't help his already roiling stomach.
Shane never dealt well with confrontation with anyone, so the fight he and Maria had that morning was putting him over the edge. He popped open the back of the van and grabbed his pullover, desperate for some fresh air. Reporters from all over the state now joined the first wave of wannabe detectives. The picturesque town square was overrun with people Shane had zero interest in interacting with, so he headed in the opposite direction, away from Main Street. His phone started vibrating before he even passed the first block of homes. Might as well deal with this now.
"Hi Frankie," he said, already dreading the next four minutes of his life.
"What are you doing?" Frankie shouted through the line. "That last run was even worse than the one before it. You have a homerun in your pocket with that murdered trucker on the heels of Dave Fever and you're phoning it in. I don't even think you did your hair before that last shot. What is wrong with you?"
"I told you Frankie, I'm not reading the script they sent over. It isn't Maria Fever. I like the theory of the drug runners, why aren't we running with that?"
"I don't give a damn if Mickey Mouse murdered them. Who cares who actually killed them? I only care about what makes a good story. So if you can make this a good story without the wife, do it. But do it fast, we don't have time on our hands like we normally do."
At some point you were OK with this, Shane thought, disgusted with himself . "Look, we've only taken on cold cases. This isn't my wheelhouse. And regardless of how we've done business in the past, I need to find out who is responsible."
"Shane, I invested everything I have in this show. And in you. I don't have the luxury of you suddenly getting a conscious if it means you can't act. You have a contract to fill for this season. Now this running away bit to get your kid's head straight is one thing. I can cover for you for a couple weeks. But more than that? You're going to get yourself in Bravo court and you're dragging me with you."
Shane knew Frankie was right. He should have his attorney look through his contract because the idea of going back to LA right now was off the table. He should also tell Frankie about the kidnapping, but it would only lead to more questions. And once Frankie wanted answers, he didn't stop.
"I have an idea," Shane said, resigned. He hated this idea.
"Does it suck?"
"It'll be good TV."
"Oh yea?" Frankie sounded doubtful, the flick of his lighter clicking in the background. "What is it?"
"I don't think you want to know, but I can't take Gary with me. I need to do this on my own."
Frankie actually paused mid-inhale of another cigarette. "Are you going to take the camera into the morgue?"
"Jeez. No. Why would I do that?" Frankie always pushed the envelope. "No one wants to see dead people."
"It's America, Shane. A lot of us want to see dead people. I already got approval from the only relative Dass has, in case you do." He sounded downright giddy. "You think Maria Fever would give us the green light to show Dave's body?"
"I am not taking a camera into the morgue, Frankie. Just trust me."
"Don't hang—"
Shane hung up. He might be able to kill one bird with two stones, but he'd need black clothes and the GoPro in the van to do it.
***
Maria didn't think her day could get much worse, but Rosa Cruz had a way of surprising her.
She was helpful that way.
"Mama, why are there rosaries on my walls?" She asked as she dropped her keys into their spot by the door.
Rosa either ignored her or didn't hear so Maria looked to Isa. Isa shook her head back and forth as if in warning.
Maria touched her mother's shoulder, only to realize she wasn't just muttering to herself... she was praying in Spanish. That was never a good sign.
"What happened?" Maria asked.
Isa swung her legs back and forth under the round breakfast table, causing her pile of color pencils to quiver. She looked up for a minute and said, "Abuelita said something about El Diablo coming to town? I dunno."
Isa shrugged and went back to coloring, but at the mention of the Devil, Rosa crossed herself and prayed faster. "Okay..." Maria said. "Isa, why don't you give me and Abuelita a minute? I saw that Evelyn and Cindy are home from their cruise."
Isa squealed and ran out the door to find her favorite neighbors. Maria shouted after her, "Hug them hello for me!"
She turned, hands on hips, and said, "Enough, Mama. God doesn't care if we have more rosaries."
"You clearly haven't watched the news then, mija ," Rosa said, finally pausing her prayer.
"I'm actively avoiding the news lately, but I promise to watch it again if they catch the devil walking down Main Street."
"This is not a joke," Rosa hissed. "They're saying it's a cult." She clicked her heels over to her fuchsia purse and grabbed her phone. Rosa waved the pink case in front of Maria's face. "Read this and then you'll be grateful for my rosaries."
"Facts 4Ever Media? Really, Mama? I thought we were past this. Just because someone has a website does not mean they're telling the truth. Look here. Their first headline is that the president is doing experiments on kittens in the basement of the White House. I'm pretty sure we can ignore anything else."
"Scroll down," Rosa said, her toes tapping on the old hardwood floors.
Maria huffed out a breath and read aloud:
"Quaint New England Town Home to Murdering Satanic Cult"
Rosa waved her on to continue, so Maria rolled her eyes and kept going.
"At approximately 6:45 a.m. EST the corpse of murdered Dave Fever was discovered in a SATANIC RITUAL at Memorial Hospital in Western Vermont. This comes days after the grisly murder of Massachusetts man, Nathan Dass. Locals on the ground believe a SATANIC CULT is afoot in the charming New England town of Hinnewatcha—"
Maria paused. "Why do they keep capitalizing the satanic bits?
Rosa swatted her and took the phone, "Now are you happy with the rosaries?"
"It's not a cult," Maria replied. "The police think it's just a bunch of kids messing around with Halloween pranks."
"What about 'Satan's Hand?'"
Maria rubbed at her temples. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mama, and this has been an awful morning."
"Nathan Dass," Rosa said, arms out as if Maria was the biggest moron in town. "His name is an anagram. It spells out Satan's Hand if you rearrange it."
Maria snorted, only to get swatted again by her mother.
"It's not funny, Maria! Someone did a satanic ritual on your husband's dead body, and then they murdered their own member at the only gas station you go to."
"Dan's Diesel is literally the only gas station in town, Mama. It's the only gas station all Hinnewatchans go to." Maria needed something stronger than tea and made her way to the kitchen.
Rosa’s heels clicked right behind her, shooting tiny shock waves to the headache building in Maria’s head. "Then why is there a cop parked outside our house?"
Maria dodged that one as she rifled through her shelves for a wine glass. "Eh, they're just being cautious since the murder. More cops on all streets type thing." The last thing Rosa Cruz needed to hear right now is that Maria thought she was being followed.
She looked like she didn't believe her in the slightest, but she let it go. Instead, her mother took her by the shoulders, forcing her to pause her rifling in the cabinets. "Maria, I failed you once. I turned my back on you when you needed me the most.”
“What are you talking about, Mama?” Maria softened. She rarely saw her mother tear up. She raged, she laughed, she loved hard, and hovered like hell, but Rosa Cruz was not a crier. She took her mother’s manicured hand in her own. “You never failed me.”
Rosa looked up to the kitchen ceiling as if gravity would push her tears back in. She used the edge of her hot pink pinky nail to fix her winged eyeliner and said, “I did. Two years ago when you and Isa needed a place to stay I told you no. I’d read all these parenting books and I thought it was tough love. I should have–”
“Mama, no. I needed to find my own place to land, and it wasn’t going to be my mother’s house. And because of that, I found this town and–”
“And Dave,” Rosa interrupted, shaking her head and thumping her tanned fist against her own chest, her gold bracelets banging together. “You found Dave because I was too angry to let you come home. If I just let you come home, you wouldn’t have had to–”
Maria held her hand up before she could say the words that Maria dreaded the most. If her mother knew, if she aided her cover up in any way, Isa might not be able to go to her if the worst happened and Maria was arrested. She drew back her shoulders and looked at her mother unflinchingly. “Mama, I need you to listen to me. The rash girl that left home before finishing high school to follow some boy is gone. The girl that would take the first man that offered even a smidge of kindness is gone. And the woman that put up with any man that hurt her or threatened her child is now dead.”
Rosa’s face crumpled. Maria didn’t tell her about Dave’s abuse, but she found out towards the end regardless. It was her stupid pride, and misplaced shame, that made her feel like she couldn’t ask for help when she needed it the most. But she imagined that her mother knew something was amiss when she made excuses to not go home or allow her to come visit. She had already begun plans to get Dave in the ground by the day Rosa walked in and saw the bruises while she changed shirts. Any arguments and anger they’d harbored about their past were forgotten then, and her mother’s words that day had become a mantra to her in the following weeks. Never again.
Maria squeezed her mother’s shoulders so she would look at her. “Do you remember what I told you that day when you wanted to go to the cops?”
“To trust you,” Rosa said quietly. “That you were fixing the problem.”
“Exactly,” Maria said, nodding. “And now I need you to trust me again when I tell you that I am fixing the problem. I know you think this house is a wreck. I know you think my life is a disaster, and believe me,” she laughed and pushed back at her own watering eyes. “I know, more than anyone, that elements of my life have been disastrous. But no more. I am capable of protecting myself and Isa, and no one, not even a Satanic cult, will change that now.”
“I never doubted you, Maria,” her mother said as she cradled her hands on either side of Maria’s face. “You are a great mother, and a woman that every great, single man within a hundred miles of here should be tripping over themselves just to talk to.” She smiled, and cocked one arched eyebrow up as she continued, “Obviously. You are my daughter after all.”
They laughed and each dried their eyes. Her mother cleared her throat after a few moments and said, “But I still want us to wear these.” She held up two red string bracelets and wiggled them in front of Maria. “Isa already has hers on.”
"Mama,” Maria chided as she finally retrieved the wine glass from the back of the cabinet. She poured a glass of rosé from the bottle she opened the night before. “ You were the one that said Lita was a superstitious old coot and laughed when I came home with my Mal de Ojo bracelet."
Rosa sniffed, "Yeah, well I learned too late that my mother was always right. You should learn from my mistakes.”
“Fine,” Maria said as she slipped her bracelet on. She saluted her mother with the glass and the wrist that now held the Mal de Ojo bracelet and headed for the back door.
Her mother called out, “ Now where are you going?"
"To the garden, Mama. I love you, but I need to think."
"The Mayor is calling another Town Meeting tonight,” Rosa said before the door shut. “We should go."
"Then I am definitely going to need more wine," Maria said, backtracking for the full bottle. She tucked the cold rosé bottle under her arm and grabbed the slim notepad covered in flowers she kept by the door along with her favorite pen. She had another list to make for tonight’s preparations.