Chapter Seventeen #2
Caceras was already inside. “Jessica!” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I heard there was another attempt on Bobby Brandon’s life,” I said.
“If you want to call it that.” He held up an electrical cord already sealed in a clear evidence bag. I pulled my reading glasses from my purse to take a closer look. The insulation was cleanly sliced away, exposing the copper wires near the plug.
“Why?” Mort asked. “What do you call it?”
Caceras grinned. “I call it another attempt to fake an attempt on Bobby’s life. And this time, thanks to all those hidden cameras Marty Wardell installed, we know who did it.”
“Who?” Mort asked.
“Someone who wanted to make sure that Bobby had adequate cause to walk away from his contract here,” Caceras said. “And the only person to enter or exit this dressing room.”
“Evelyn Grider?” Maureen guessed.
“Bobby,” I said.
“Bingo,” Caceras said, “and the cash prize goes to Mrs. Fletcher of Cabot Cove, Maine.”
“Why would Bobby Brandon want out of his contract?” Mort said. “I thought he was being paid a boatload of money.”
“Presumably because someone was offering him more,” I said.
“Oh!” Howard said. “I was just reading that there’s a rumor the host of one of the big three game shows was about to call it quits.”
Caceras crossed his arms in front of him.
“That solves one of our little mysteries quite nicely, don’t you think?
It also jibes with the fact that Bobby’s were the only fingerprints on his threatening note, and the ink is a perfect match for the Sharpie he kept in his vanity drawer for signing autographs. ”
“Are you going to arrest him?” Mort asked.
“No hurry,” Caceras said. “I don’t know that he’s a threat to anyone, unless one of his stupid plans backfires on him.”
“Is it even a crime to fake an attempt on your own life?” Maureen asked.
“It’s a crime to waste my time,” Caceras said. “We generally call it obstructing an investigation.”
“Bobby’s actions clouded the facts,” I said. “It made us all focus on an unseen enemy trying to shut down the whole show. This should un-muddy the waters a little, but it probably doesn’t help us with any of the bigger questions.”
“Why’s that?” Seth asked.
“Because Bobby likely just used Ray’s death as a convenient way to forward his own agenda,” Caceras said. “Make it look like there was an active threat against him, that whoever killed Ray was after him too. But in reality…”
“They’re not connected,” I finished.
“What about the audio track?” Mort asked. “Were your people able to enhance it at all?”
“We got a few more words out of it,” Caceras said. “They were also able to brighten the video quite a bit to bring your buddies Gaelan and Jake into focus.”
“How does that help?” Mort asked.
Caceras raised a finger. “More than you might think,” he said. “I got our department lip-reader working on the video now. I should hear something soon…maybe. Depends on what happens with the cell-phone blocker.” He winked at me.
“Oh, there you are, Lieutenant,” Marty Wardell called from the doorway.
“Let me guess,” Caceras said. “Bobby Brandon wants to know how long it’ll be before he can get back into his dressing room.”
Wardell looked at our team quizzically for a second, possibly wondering what we were doing there.
Caceras headed him off. “Jessica Fletcher, as you probably already know from the contestant bios, is a renowned mystery writer. What you might not have known is that she has consulted with multiple police departments in the past, which is how I made her acquaintance many years ago, and Mr. Metzger here is also in law enforcement. We should be grateful they just happened to be here.”
I noticed Mort stand up a little straighter.
Wardell voiced no objections. “Actually,” he said, “Bobby is now insisting that he’s not setting foot back in this dressing room.
He wanted me to fetch a few items that he needs for the show.
I convinced him to finish the day, but I don’t know if he’ll show up next Monday.
” Wardell rolled his eyes. “After all he put me through to get this job.”
“I heard that you had open auditions for the part as host,” I said, “and that Evelyn Grider was in contention.”
Wardell’s jaw wavered, just for a second, and his eyes narrowed before he reclaimed a more unconcerned expression.
“I should have gone with her. She was better for the part anyway, and now, unless I can negotiate something with Bobby, we may have to explain to the audience why we’re switching hosts after one week. ”
“Why did you go with Bobby?” Mort asked.
“Lots of reasons,” he said. “For one, he has more experience…”
“And he’s your brother-in-law,” Mort added.
“And perhaps,” I said, “he knows who is living in your condo near the studio.”
At this, Wardell’s face blanched. “All right.” The producer walked to the entry, poked his head out while he took a quick scan of the hallway, and then shut the door behind him.
“I’m going to be up front about this because I know you’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Bobby learned about Lorraine, and he threatened to tell my wife if I didn’t give him the job.
But now he’s flip-flopped and threatened to tell her unless I let him out of the contract. ”
“And you love your wife and don’t want her to find out?” Maureen said. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated on her.”
“Love her? Maybe once,” Wardell said with a bitter laugh. “But my wife is a total shrew who will take me for everything I’ve got. I can’t afford a messy divorce now, especially with a show that’s teetering on the brink of becoming a viral success. So I’ll ask, does all this have to come out?”
I looked toward Caceras, who ran a hand along the inside of his shirt collar. “I’ll do my best to be discreet, sir, but I can’t promise anything.”
“I guess I need to see if Evelyn is still interested in the job,” he said.
“I’d hold off on that right now,” Caceras said.
Wardell’s brows knit in confusion, but when the lieutenant didn’t offer an explanation, the producer gathered a thin garment bag from the back of the door and a brush from the top of the vanity table and left.
Wardell poked his head back in a few seconds later. “Mainely Brilliant, I think you’re wanted in makeup.”
“Better get going,” Caceras said, herding us toward the door. “It’s showtime.”