Wake Up to Murder (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 2) Page 16

  “I had the chance to read the latest.” She fanned herself. “Pretty steamy stuff. What made you decide to become a romance writer?”

  “It seemed like a natural fit. My mother said I was always creating stories about relationships even when I was a little girl. My first story was about two rabbits falling in love.”

  Laughter from the faux audience.

  “What does your mother think about your books, knowing you have some pretty steamy stuff in them?”

  That wasn’t quite on script, but it was something Ricki could deal with. “My mother has always been one of my biggest fans, so she reads everything I write. In fact, she’s one of my first readers.”

  “Does it make you blush knowing what she’s reading? Does it make you blush writing it?”

  “If I’m doing my job right, absolutely.” Good answer, Ricki. “If I can’t feel that rush of emotion and passion, my readers aren’t going to feel it either.”

  “That sounds about right. Are you going to do a book tour?”

  Ricki noticed the more questions Taryn asked, the more sarcastic she sounded. As much a she tried to keep it out of her mind while having this interview, she couldn’t let go of the fact that Taryn hated her. And she didn’t know why. “I might do a tour. The details are still being ironed out.”

  “I know my viewers will be upset if I don’t ask about the recent fiasco you’ve been experiencing. It seems like some of your fans are turning on you.”

  Because Ricki had to deal with this ever since she became a published author, she was ready to answer this question. She was also ready to push a little further to get to the heart of what was bothering Taryn. “I try my best to please my fans by giving them what they want to read, but every once in a while, something like this happens.” She looked Taryn dead in the eye. “You never know why some people end up hating you. Sometimes it’s jealousy. Sometimes it’s revenge. Sometimes it’s even political. You never can tell about people. Right?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Everyone loves me.”

  More laughs from the audience.

  “I mean, some people might start a website exposing some of your personal communications. Some people might record videos of you at your worst and upload them to YouTube. Why do you think someone would do something like that?”

  Taryn flinched. “I don’t know. Personally, I think it’s cruel. My parents always taught me the best revenge is to succeed.”

  “It’s a great philosophy, but sometimes success stirs emotions in people that make them go out of their way to hurt others. Know what I mean?”

  Taryn cocked her head slightly to the side and crinkled her nose. “No, I don’t. I can’t think of any better revenge than to be happy.”

  Ricki began to feel stupid. Taryn was either trying to make her look stupid by negating everything she said or she actually believed what she said. Ricki had a sinking feeling that it was the latter and not the former. She had a pull it together or she was going to ruin her second chance on the show and her reputation beyond repair. “That’s good. You know, I feel the same way. Life is too short to be miserable because someone else has something that you think you want.”

  “Agreed. I’m sure we all have our mean girls stories. Being a creative, do you experience jealousy within your profession?”

  “Creatives aren’t immune to jealousy. It may be a stereotype, but artistic people seem to wear their heart on their sleeve a little more than the average person.” Artistic people? Ricki glanced quickly to the fake studio audience. “I’ve met some pretty passionate people in my life, have heard stories of passion taking a deadly turn.”

  “That sounds exciting. I wish we had more time to talk about those stories. Maybe you should write a book about it, especially since you’re going to switch to writing mysteries.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We’re almost out of time, so can you give us a plug for your book one more time.”

  Ricki looked offstage, searching the faces of those who stood around watching the show. Sheila was missing. “Sure. You can find my latest book online and in bookstores. It’s available in e-book, paperback, hardcover, and also audio. You can check out the publisher’s website for details about the coming tour. Also on Facebook. I would just like to personally thank all of my readers for sticking with me through the years and for supporting me, especially in the last couple of weeks when things have gone a little wonky.”

  “Well, thank you for stopping by again. We wish you much success in all your endeavors. Ladies and gentlemen, Ricki Rydell.”

  The fake audience clapped as the stage manager counted down until they went to commercial break.

  “Thanks, Taryn. I just have to ask one quick question before I go. Where were you on Wednesday night?”

  “Will you tell me what that was all about?”

  “I’m trying to get to the bottom of something. Can you just answer the question, please?”

  Taryn shot Ricki a dirty look. “I was spending the night with that guy over there.” She pointed toward the audience, but Ricki had a feeling she was pointing at Jim. “We’re trying to keep it discrete for now. What’s going on?”

  “Kari’s murder.”

  The color drained from her face. “Oh, that.” She took a deep breath. “Are you investigating?”

  Ricki nodded. “Anyway. Thanks for having me on the show. I really appreciate it.”

  “Before you go, I want to apologize. I’ve been so stressed that I’ve been a monster to just about everyone. Ned lectured me this morning after I bit Sheila’s head off. I didn’t realize it was showing in such an ugly way. Anyway, you better run before we come back from commercial break, or you’ll have to sit through another interview. Thanks, Ricki. I hope to see you around.”

  Ricki raced off the stage, heading straight for hair and makeup. Just as she suspected, Sheila was nowhere in sight. The next guest sat in the makeup chair, confused, as one of the stagehands clumsily brushed her hair.

  She didn’t waste any time asking where Sheila was. She already knew. Before the show came back from commercial break, she darted out the double doors and took a left toward the mechanical room. She opened the door slowly, peeking inside before stepping in. Even with the HVAC system running, she heard the sounds of rustling coming from behind the furnace. Unfortunately, she was wearing high heels and couldn’t mask the distinctive sound they made as she crept across the concrete floor toward the furnace. There was Sheila, frantically shoving things in a duffel bag like she was getting ready to leave.

  Twenty-three

  “Going somewhere, Michelle?”

  Startled, Sheila spun around. “Good lord, Ricki. You scared me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just cleaning up this mess. Jim found it a few days ago and asked me to get rid of it.” She rolled up the sleeping bag and tied it off. “What, are you stalking me now?”

  “That’s an interesting choice of words, Michelle. How long were you stalking Kari?”

  “Why do you keep calling me Michelle?”

  “Maybe you feel more like Denise today.”

  Still focused on the bedroll and the duffel bag, Sheila stopped fussing with it. “Who’s Denise?”

  “Denise Myers. Michelle Thomas. Sheila, last name not important.”

  Michelle, Denise, Sheila or whoever she was laughed and turned to face Ricki. “You’re insane.”

  Ricki had a hunch that if she brought Marty’s name into the conversation, it would push her buttons. Hopefully, it would get her talking. “You know, Marty said you were a chameleon. He said you changed how you dressed, how you did your hair, even your eye color so much he couldn’t keep up.” She waited for a reaction, but Michelle’s face never gave her away. “The first day I met you, your eyes were dark blue, just kind of run of the mill blue. You said you got them from your father. Today, your eyes are green. Also from your father. Marty said you had these big doe eyes and always wore colored contacts. Hm. Look at you. Big,
round, friendly eyes that change color like magic.”

  Michelle stood up and folded her arms across her chest. “I know you’re looking for someone to blame for your messed up life, but don’t look at me. And who in the hell is Marty?”

  “Your ex-boyfriend. You met him in Chicago. The guy I was dating before you took over his life.”

  This brought a smile of satisfaction to her face. “So, that’s why you’re in here interrupting my work? You think I stole your boyfriend? I thought you were an eccentric, but I never would’ve guessed you’re a bit off.” She tapped her temple and winked. “They’ve got medication for that, you know.”

  “Oh, and Marty also said you’re psycho.”

  “I don’t know who this Marty is, but maybe you should quit listening to him before you get yourself hurt. Remember what I said about giving it back threefold? Take my advice and back off. You’re starting to piss me off.”

  Ricki inched backwards toward the door. With the furnace running and the show going on, no one would hear her cries for help because, let’s face it, she would need help to fight this woman off. Her left wrist was still in a splint, leaving her with only one fully functioning arm to defend herself. “What are you going to do about it?” She had no idea why she said that, but it came out of her mouth before she could stop it. It wasn’t the smartest way to deescalate a situation. “Why did you kill Kari?”

  “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I call for backup.” Ricki didn’t have her cell phone on her, but what Sheila didn’t know would only buy Ricki some time. The one thing about this detective work she hadn’t considered was physical confrontation. She didn’t like any kind of confrontation, but this physical stuff was out of her league. Way out. Maybe another way to alleviate her boredom would be to take self-defense classes if she planned on pursuing life as a detective. “Let me paint a picture for you and you can tell me if I’m wrong.”

  Sheila shook her head, laughing. “You know, all I want to do is go to Los Angeles and get on with my life. If it makes you happy to tell me about myself, go right ahead. But I would like to wrap this up within the next twenty minutes so I can get out of here.” She put her hands in her pockets and leaned against the furnace.

  “Let’s see. Where to begin? You met Marty. You convinced him to move in with you within a week after you met him, even said you loved him. You then messed with his mind. Some might call it emotional abuse. Actually, everyone would call it emotional abuse.”

  Ricki paused for reaction, but the only reaction she got out of Michelle was a stern look on her face. She hung on every word out of Ricki’s mouth, though.

  “When he finally woke up to your emotional blackmail, he left you. That must’ve really bothered you, got under your skin, to have your plaything break free out of your prison, didn’t it?”

  Michelle laughed. “You writers have such vivid imaginations. By the way, your books suck. You’re a horrible writer.”

  “You’re not the first person to say that, but here’s the thing: I don’t care what you think of me. I care about what you did to Marty and his fiancée.”

  That got a reaction out of her. It was a subtle eye-flinch, but Ricki was paying close enough attention to notice it. Since she was pushing the right buttons, she continued pushing them.

  “Marty said Kari was like an angel sent from heaven above, especially after his relationship with you. Although, relationship is a bit of a strong word. He loved her. He loved her more than he loved you. In fact, he didn’t even love you. You had him so messed up that he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

  “Shut up. You don’t know anything.”

  “How long were you stalking Kari?”

  “I said shut up.”

  “Did you really think that killing her was going to make him run back to you? You abused him. You played with his head. And then you go and kill his fiancée. Then you tried to push me into the lake. That was you that night, impersonating Taryn just like you impersonated me the night you killed Kari, right? In fact, I bet you’re the girl I ran into on the street that day. Sunglasses, blonde hair shoved under a baseball hat. You were spying on Kari and Marty, weren’t you?”

  “Oh, Ricki, Ricki, Ricki you have no proof of any of this.”

  “The police are already looking in your direction.” This was a complete lie, but why not? “So, you knew that Kari and I were supposed to have dinner together at Hilltop Inn. You had already met me, so you knew what I looked like. You videotaped the fight we had in the parking lot and uploaded it to YouTube. Somehow you hacked into my email account, read through all the messages Marty and I exchanged, thought they’d be great fodder for the internet. How did you figure out my password? You’re impressively resourceful.”

  Michelle maintained her composure during Ricki’s accusations and only inched her way closer to Ricki, fists balled up ready to fight.

  “It wasn’t hard for someone like you to disguise yourself to look like me or Taryn or anyone. Marty said you’re a great artist, using your body as a canvas. It’s not hard to imagine an artist such as yourself would segue into becoming a makeup artist. That must be where you got your steady hand. I mean, I have never had such a perfect liquid line. That takes a steady hand, an experienced hand, an artistic hand. Isn’t that right, Michelle Thomas?”

  “If you would have been a different person, you could’ve held onto him. Instead, he found someone like me more attractive than you.”

  “If that’s supposed to hurt my feelings, you better try a little harder.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.” Michelle took a swing at Ricki’s face. She ducked out of the way. “I’m going to hurt you.”

  Ricki kicked Michelle in the crotch. Where she found the frame of mind to do it, she had no idea. If Michelle were a guy, this would have been a perfect moment to escape, but the kick only startled her instead of incapacitating her. Stupid, high heels. It gave Ricki a moment to make a run for it.

  She raced out of the mechanical room and headed straight toward the double door, ignoring the recording in session sign. An alarm bell went off, alerting everyone in the studio. All heads turned. She expected to see Michelle chasing after her, but when she turned around she saw that Michelle was heading out the front door.

  “Call 911,” she said, pointing to Jim. “Tell them I know who killed Kari.”

  The show was still taping, and since it was a live show, the viewing audience now knew that Kari’s killer was in the area. Half of the work was already done, but Jim whipped out his cell phone without hesitation. To Ricki’s surprise, Taryn jumped up off the stage and ran toward her. She snapped her fingers at the camera crew and pointed toward the door. “Do you need any help?”

  Ricki didn’t answer the question. She only grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her along. “Can you run in those heels?”

  “I’m an expert at running in heels.”

  Ricki didn’t bother for clarification. “I don’t know where she ran to, but if you see her, do everything you can to stop her from getting away.”

  “I always thought there was something fishy about that woman.”

  “Who hired her?”

  “Jim did all the hiring.”

  “We’ll blame him, then.”

  Ricki and Taryn bolted outside. Michelle was trying to break the window of her car with a rock. Evidently, she ran out of the building without the keys to her car. “Let’s split up. You go that way. I’ll go this way.”

  Taryn took off in a sprint, impressing Ricki with her expert skills at running in heels. She headed to the right of Michelle’s car while Ricki headed to the left. Michelle was picking up anything in her reach and pounding it against the car window, swearing profusely. After many attempts, the window finally cracked, but once she saw that Taryn and Ricki were coming after her, she stopped.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Look at this. The Princess and her court jester thinki
ng they can take me down. Girls, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

  “Give it up, Michelle,” Ricki said. “The police are on their way and everyone knows you killed Kari and tried to kill me.” She motioned over her shoulder to the cameraman and crew taping the entire situation. “Don’t bother trying to fight it.”

  Upon seeing the crew standing behind Ricki, Michelle took off down the hill toward the main road. Ricki flung her heels off and followed. The grass was stiff and icy from a morning frost, making Ricki’s feet ache from the cold. Taryn was not far behind, her skirt hiked up on her thighs so she could run without interference. Michelle checked over her shoulder as she ran, not seeing the clump of earth sticking out. She tripped over it and did a face-plant, sliding on her belly further down the hill. Ricki picked up speed. When she got close to Michelle, she jumped on her. Before she knew it, Taryn had jumped on Ricki’s back.

  Even with two girls on her back, Michelle pushed against both of them, knocking them to the ground. She stood up and took another swing at Ricki. Ricki stepped backwards and drew her arm back. Her fist met Michelle’s face rather rudely. “That’s for Marty.” Michelle fell backwards to the ground like a plank of wood.

  Behind her, people cheered and clapped. Sharp pain, like a thousand hot needles, shot up from her hand to her wrist and up her forearm. She groaned and flicked her right hand a few times to shake it off. Sirens advanced in the distance, growing louder as they came up the hill.

  “Did you get all that?” Taryn asked the crew. They gave her a thumbs up. She reached over and patted Ricki on the back. “Good job. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

  “I never knew I had it in me.”

  “Does it hurt bad?”

  “It doesn’t hurt good, that’s for certain.” Ricki turned her head away from Taryn and bit down on her lip. By now, the pain had really sunk in. She had never even punched a wall before, so she had no idea what it was like to hit someone in the face. She looked down at Michelle, struggling to wake up from the force of Ricki’s punch. “Don’t move or I’ll do it again.” She added that threat for effect. Ricki had run out of usable hands to do anything more to Michelle.