Chapter 12
“Hands in the air and don’t move!” Bel snatched her Glock from its holster and aimed it at her stalker, thumbing off the safety with deadly ease.
“Oh god!” a feminine voice shrieked, and Bel watched in disbelief as the stranger slid to a stop, slipped on the snow, and plummeted to her backside. “Ow!”
“Miss Monroe?” Bel leaned forward to get a better look, but there was no mistaking the actress. “I almost shot you! What on earth are you doing here at my home?”
“I’m sorry,” Taron Monroe moaned as she rubbed her tailbone. “Can you put your gun away?”
Bel glanced from her weapon to the pretty woman andthenheld her aim steady. “Why are you here? Are you following me?”
“Kind of,” the actress admitted.
“What is wrong with you?” Bel asked. “Stalking a police officer? I realize you only play one, but you should know better than that.”
“I’m sorry. I figured you would recognize me. Please, can you put the gun away?Ijustwant to talk.”
“How do you know where I live?” Bel flicked the safety on and slipped her Glock back into its holster before pulling out her phone. She didn’t know why Taron Monroe had followed her home, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d learned her lesson about innocent encounters turning deadly, so she thumbed open her text thread with Eamon and typed two words.
Bel
Cabin. Now.
“I waited until you left the station and then followed you,” Taron said, still lying on the snow. “Can you help me up?” She extended her hand, but Bel had half a mind to leave her where she sat.
“Following a police officer home is extremely inappropriate, if not illegal,” Bel said without moving to help her. “If you wish to speak to me, pleasestop by the station.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private.”
“We could’ve done so there.”
“Clearlyyou don’t pay attention to my show.”
“Not really.”
“Aesop’s Files is one of the most watched shows on television right now,” Taron said, finally realizing Bel wasn’t going to help her. “I can’t go anywhere without being photographed and plastered all over social media.” She stood to her feet, still rubbing her backside. “If I went into the station during business hours, it would end upon the internetwithin five minutes. It’s quiet here. No fans followed me, sothat’s whyI came… can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
Bel stared at the actress, taking stock of the woman’s form. She was athletic in a Hollywood way. She looked great on screen, but necessity hadn’t forged her musclesas it didBel’s. Ever since Abel had locked her in his basement, she’d made a point to strength train and hone her hand-to-hand combat skills. It had served her well when Dr. Blaubart kidnapped her. She’d been handcuffed, yet still fought him off. Pretty Taron Monroe had nothing on her… but then again, Bel’s elderly neighbor had turned out to be a witch so powerful she could control Eamon. Size didn’t matter when magic was involved.
“I swear I’m not here to hurt you.” Taron glanced behind her as if she expected the paparazzito suddenly materialize from the snowplow’s dirty mounds. “I just want to talk.”
“Fine.” Bel beckoned her visitor toward her door. She had her Glock and her pitbull… and Eamon. As long as the actress was human, Bel was the dangerous one.
“I have a dog,” she warned as she unlocked the front door. “He’s?—”
“Oooooo a baby!” Taron bent over and shoved her hands out for Cerberus’ exuberant greeting, and Bel couldn’t tell whose tail wagged harder, her dog’s or the actress’ metaphorical one. Cerberus instantly took to her, so maybe she wasn’t a threatafter all.
“Wow! Okay, big boy, woah.” Taron toppled backward… again, falling to the snow as Cerberus blew past her and into the yard. He lifted his leg to pee and then bolted for the darkness. For a split second, Bel’s heart lodged in her throat until she heard the low rumble of a man greeting his favorite animal.
“Your dog is so cute,” Taron said as Bel helped her to her feet this time. “I can’t have a pet since I’m so busy, and I hate it.”
“You likepitbulls?” Bel asked as she led the woman into the warm kitchen, and afterthey removed their coats and shoes, she gestured for her visitor to make herself comfortable.
“I’m notreallya breed or species person,” Taron said, settling at the table. “I’m more of a ‘I would pet a crocodile if it wouldn’t kill me’ kinda person.”
“You sound like me,” Bel laughed. “But I’m partial topitbullsnow that I have one.”
“I don’t blame you. His meaty head is ridiculous.”
“Tea?” Bel held up the teapot as Eamon blew through the front door, Cerberus tucked under his arm as if he were a chihuahua and not a seventy-pound bundle of muscles.
“Yes, please…” Taron trailed off as he stormed past her, her entire body recoiling in fear at the pulsing aggression wafting off his towering form.
“You okay?” He ignored the actress as he settled beside Bel at the kitchen stove.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “She scared the crap out of me, though. She followed me home, and I almost shot her. I almost shot Taron Monroe.”
Eamon’s glare flicked to their visitor, but Bel grabbed his forearm to rein him in.
“She wants to talk to me in private,” she said.
“Couldn’t she do that at the station?”
“She doesn’t want the public finding out.”
“Why?”
“We haven’t got that far yet. It’s why I texted you. She’s probably harmless, but she also followed me home.”
“You did the right thing texting me.” Eamon kissed her forehead before setting Cerberus down on the kitchen floor.
“Thanks for coming so fast. Tea?” She squeezed his arm again, and when he nodded, she filled the kettle with enough water for the three mugs. “Miss Monroe, this is Eamon Stone,” she said as she set her collection of teas on the table for the actress to pick from. “He occasionally helps the Bajka police, and he’s discreet. You can trust him,” she half lied. She wouldn’t play all her cards until she learned what game she was involved in.
“Mhhmmm.” Taron nodded, and Bel couldn’t tell if her expression was because she was terrified of Eamon or wildly attracted to him. Or perhaps it was both.
“So, you want to talk to me?” Bel pulled her attention back to their conversation, and Eamon settled out of sight on the couch with the dog.
“Right… yes… um.” Taron glanced at the imposing millionaire one more time before focusing on Bel. “And call me Taron, if you don’t mind. I’m in your cabin drinking tea. Miss Monroe seems so formal.”
“Okay.” Now that her alarm had subsided, it dawned on Bel just who sat at her kitchen table. Taron Monroe. America’s sweetheartdetective,and she curled her fingers around the quirky teacup as if she were Bel’s friend… her very pretty and famous friend. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited Eamon to hang out with one of the most beautiful women in the world.
She handed him his mug before returning to the kitchen table, and while her visitor was busy sweetening her tea, Eamon’s hands shot out and lightly slapped her ass. It was subtle and intimate and unbearably sweet, and Bel rolled her eyes at herself. Eamon didn’t care that Taron Monroe sat four feet away from him. He saw only one woman in this cabin, and she was the exhausted one wearing the clearance rack jeans.
“So, what’s wrong that you couldn’t visit me at the station?” Bel asked as she slipped into the seat across from the actress.
“I heard through the grapevine that you talked to the producers about possible suspects and obsessed fans who might have killed Gwen and Ellery,” Taron started, and Bel sat to attention. This was not the direction she’d expected this conversation to take. “Evelyn probably gave you… oh, what’s his name? Tony Rays?”
“Tony Royce,” Bel corrected.
“Yes, him.”
“Your producers did give us Royce’s name. We already looked into him and ruled him out. Royce feels passionately about Willow Moon’s departure from the show, but he isn’t a murderer.”
“I know. He was just the easy answer. A way to help you without actually helping you.”
“What do you mean?” Bel leaned forward again, extremely thankful she hadn’t shot Miss Monroe.
“They needed to appease you with plausible information, so they purposely helped youin the least helpful way,” Taron explained. “They know that kid is harmless, all talk and no bite. We all know it. He’s obsessed with the show, and no matter how much grief he gives us about me replacing Willow Moon, he still watches every episode. He’s irritating at best, but he’s no threat. It’s obvious to everyone, but they needed to give you a suspect, so they gave you someone who’d get you nowhere.”
“Why would they do that?” Bel asked.
“Because if a serious threat linked directly to the show, they’d have to shut down. It would lose them a lot of money, and the studio doesn’t want that if they can avoid it. The murders didn’t occuron set, sothey won’t halt production. And on the one hand, I understand. I think Gwen and Ellery would’ve wanted their legacy to live on. Aesop’s Files is so much bigger than one person, and as long as the show isn’t at fault, there’s no reason to stop filming. But if it’s proven that a crazed stalker is killing crew members, and the studio knew about it, there’d be trouble. It’s why they gave you a patsy.”
“I understand the pressures of running a multimillion-dollar business, but why is the studio so resistant to pausing their schedule when faced with a double homicide?” Eamon asked from the couch, and Taron flinched as if she’d forgotten he was there.
“Have you heard of syndication?” she asked, the look of fear and attraction flooding her features again.
“I have,” he answered.
“I haven’t,” Bel said.
“Syndication happens when a show reaches one hundred episodes, and they can license it out,” Taron explained. “Normally when a show first airs, it remains on its home network or platform, but once it hits one hundred episodes, it can start airing on multiple streaming platforms and networks. We’re almost at episode one hundred, and the minute Aesop’s Files crosses that threshold, we’re looking at a massive payday.”
“Why one hundred episodes?” Bel asked.
“Because it allows networks to work it into their regular yearly rotation without having repeats,” the actress said. “One hundred episodes give them months to air every season before they have to start over with episode one, therefore increasing watch time on the network that licenses it. The more episodes, the better. They can schedule multiples per week, and constantly have viewers because nothing was being repeated.”
“Got it,” Bel said. “So halting production would ruin that. How close to number one hundred are you?”
“They’re the episodes we’re filming in your town.”
“Right… so theyreallydon’t want murderers or crazy fans stopping anything.” Bel dropped her head into her hands. The more she learned about this studio and its famous show, the more she hated it… except for Taron Monroe. The pretty woman liked her pitbull and was risking the company’s wrath to be here. Hopefully, she was exempt from the toxicity.
“That certainly explains a lot, so thank you,” Bel continued. “But unfortunately, we already realized Tony Royce wasn’t a threat. I appreciate you being honest with us. It’s the first time anyone from the show has been, but there’s little I can do with this information.”
“I’m not here because of him,” Taron said, suddenly too serious, and a pit yawned wide in Bel’s stomach. “I’m here because I’m terrified. Because all the women working on Aesop’s Files are terrified. Two of us are dead, and we’re afraid of who’s next. So I asked around when I learned you were on Gwen and Ellery’s case. Everyone says you’re the person to talk to if you want something done… especially the guy at that cute coffee shop. He believes you’re to be trusted.”
“I am,” Bel said. “I solved his wife’s murder.”
“She was murdered?” Taron leaned back in her chair. “That’s terrible. I figured by his statements that she’d died, but he didn’t say how. Although speaking highly of you should’ve clued me in.”
“It was a difficult case.”
“So I can trust you, right?” Taron stared so deeply into Bel’s blue eyes that she felt her gaze in her soul. “And you too?” She threw a glance at Eamon.
“You can,” Bel said. “I realize you don’t know me, and Idid just tryto shoot you, but I take my job seriously. I don’t care who you are. If you need help, I help, but if you’re guilty, I’ll take you down no matter the cost.”
“Good.” Taron nodded and gripped her mug tighter. “Because I have a real suspect for you.”