Wake Up to Murder (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 2) Page 9

  The live taping of Wake Up, Somerset started at seven in the morning and should be done by the time she arrived at the studio. Everyone would be free to talk with her. Since no one seemed interested in replying to her emails, not even Tayrn, she would go to them and get them to talk. Someone had to know something about Kari. Someone at the studio had to know what happened to her that night after Ricki left her in the parking lot. And since Ricki didn’t believe this was a random act, she was going to look closer to home.

  Ricki stepped inside the studio, scanning the hallways for Taryn, a producer, even Sheila from hair and makeup. The double doors to the studio were still closed. A sign hanging on the outside read: Recording. Do not enter! She checked the time on her cell phone, curious to see that they had run over their taping. Maybe Taryn was having a jolly old time skewering her guest. Despite Taryn’s modest claims the show was doomed to be a failure, the show had taken off for the short period of time it had been on the air, mostly for its provocative and aggressive way of interviewing their guests. It had turned into more of a gossip show than anything newsworthy. Even more surprising, Kari’s death didn’t hurt the show. This was all according to Becca who had read it on one of her favorite celebrity gossip websites. The site named Wake Up, Somerset as one of the Shows to Watch. It was even a trending topic on some of the more popular social media sites.

  Out in the hallway, Ricki found herself alone and curious, but she knew better than to try and snoop when the show was almost finished taping. It was a long drive to the studio and with that coffee from The Bean kicking in, she took a detour to the women’s restroom. She couldn’t think of anything worse than interrogating someone when she was busy squeezing her knees together, fighting the urge to answer nature’s call.

  She heard the double doors swing open followed by Taryn and a man arguing in the hallway. He was furious for the way he was treated. They would be hearing from him soon. Ricki could relate. Taryn only laughed and blew it off as no big deal, not too concerned that she had another unhappy customer. This wasn’t how she remembered her acquaintance from high school. That mousy girl, who everyone forgot about right after talking with her, had turned into a gossip mongering provocateur. What a shame. Ricki would rather have remembered her as the mousy girl who everyone forgot than the person she was today.

  Not wanting to alert anyone to her presence just yet, Ricki stayed put, hoping to learn more. The bathroom was the perfect spot to eavesdrop as all the voices traveled down that short hallway quite nicely.

  Ricki heard the front door slam shut. The angry guest left in a huff, sort of like she did the day she was interviewed. And then she heard Jim’s voice.

  “Great job, Taryn. I’m really proud of what you’re doing here.”

  “Thanks. I like what I’m doing here, too.”

  “I’m glad you two are satisfied with yourselves,” Ned said, the anger in his voice obvious. “While you two are having a circle jerk about the direction the show is going, I have to figure out how to salvage our reputation before it gets run into the ground and we lose the show forever.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Jim said. “You’re making your money back, so don’t worry about it.”

  “But this is not what I had in mind when I signed on for this gig. In case you haven’t noticed, I have become the silent partner even if I am the one who has the most money invested.”

  “Are we going to do this again?”

  “Look, Jim, you picked the host and she ended up dead. Now we have Taryn who, for obvious reasons, has been on your side ever since you came on board and is doing your bidding no matter how salacious it is.”

  “I resent that,” Taryn said.

  “Good. Do you remember that sweet little conversation we had about a year and a half ago when you said you wanted to start a talk show back in your hometown? You batted your pretty little eyes at me and said, let’s have a nice show to honor the people and sights and sounds of my neck of the woods. Remember that? I went along with it because I agreed with you. I didn’t sign up to ruin people’s careers, and that’s all you two want to do.”

  “I know we have never seen eye to eye,” Jim said, “but people are loving this. You’ll come around. In the meantime, Taryn set up your next guests.”

  “About that,” Taryn said. “Since our ratings are growing and the money is coming in, do you think it’s possible to get an administrative assistant and maybe a personal assistant to do the things I’m doing and not getting paid for?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Ned said. A door slammed.

  “I have it written down,” Jim said. “In the meantime, just do it. I’ll advertise.”

  Another door closed. Followed by another door. Ricki took this as a sign to come out of hiding. This place was a toxic soup of dysfunction. The sooner she questioned everyone and got out of this building, the better. As she was about to open the bathroom door, Sheila walked in, nearly crashing into her.

  She jerked backwards. “Ricki? What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk with Taryn, but I think she might be busy.” She ripped off a section of paper towel and dried her hands. “How did you remember my name?”

  “I remember everyone’s name. Besides, I read a few of your books.”

  “I hope you enjoyed them.”

  “They were all right. Don’t get me wrong, vanilla romance just isn’t my thing. I prefer things a little more on the dark side, if you catch my meaning. Your books are a little too tame for me.”

  “Got it. Anyway, I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “Is it true what Taryn said? About you?”

  Ricki took a step backwards. “What did she say?”

  “What she said on the show, that you didn’t even like romance. Is that true?”

  “That’s not true at all. I wouldn’t write romance if I didn’t enjoy it. I’m just suffering from a little job burnout, that’s all. It happens a lot more than you think with writers.”

  “That’s good to hear. Well, not that it’s good that you’re burnt out.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, really. It just seems that she… Never mind. I promised to keep my mouth shut.”

  Now, Ricki wasn’t a total dunderhead about a lot of things, and this smacked of a perfect opportunity to dig a little deeper. It seemed Sheila had a few things on her mind, and after the fight she had just heard in the hallway, she imagined Sheila needed someone to talk to. Ricki was more than happy to allow her to vent, to get it off her mind and in Ricki’s ears. “How are things going here?”

  “Oh, they’re going.” Sheila shook her head and leaned against the sink. With her eyes cast down at the floor, she hugged herself. “There’s just something about her, something not right.”

  “Who? Taryn?”

  She nodded. “She’s really bitchy. When she wants something she’s all sweetness and light, but when she’s through, she through.” Sheila stopped, catching herself. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. She said you knew each other from high school. What was she like then?”

  “A little different, as most kids are.”

  “I don’t know, I was the same in high school as I am today, except for the crow’s feet and laugh lines etching in my face.”

  Ricki didn’t believe her. Her skin was perfect, almost porcelain. “I happened to be in the bathroom when I heard the fight. Does that happen often?”

  “Just about every day, especially when the guest on the show throws a tantrum like today and like the time you were on.”

  “Totally justifiable. I was given questions to prepare for the show but she used a different set when Kari didn’t show up.”

  Sheila turned around and began washing her hands. “Does anyone know what happened to her?”

  “Not yet. Did you know her?”

  “Never met her, actually.” Sheila flicked water from her fingertips. “I never meet anyone until they plop their butt down in my chair. I just hope they find out who did it soon
because it’s wreaking havoc on the atmosphere here. Everyone is so jumpy. Morale is really low. As you heard from the fight, things are falling apart behind the scenes.” She shook her head and sniffled, pulling her shoulders back. “I’m talking way too much. I’m sorry to unload on you like this, but to be honest, it feels good to let it out. Anyway, do you want me to tell Taryn you’re here?”

  “Thanks, but no. I’ll give her some time to cool off before I knock on her door. I’m sorry you’re having such a bad time. I hope things get better for you.”

  Sheila opened the door to leave. “It happens more than you think with these shows. See you later.”

  Sheila gave Ricki a lot to think about. She wondered if it was a bad time to even approach any of them to talk about Kari. She stayed in the bathroom a little longer to think about it. She didn’t want to be dragged down in the mire with them, but she had to do it. She had to find out what was going on. And because her agent and publisher were making her do damage control, she had to swallow her pride and ask the producers for a second chance to do the show. As much as she hated the idea, it would provide her with the perfect opportunity to dig deeper into what happened to Kari.

  She knocked on Taryn’s door. “Come in.”

  Ricki stuck her head inside. “Is now a bad time?”

  Taryn did a double take. “Ricki. What are you— I’m surprised to see you.”

  “Are you? I’ve sent you a couple of emails in the past week and made more than a few phone calls.”

  “The phone.” She groaned. “We don’t have an administrative assistant yet. We’re working on it. We’ve been busy around here. In case you haven’t heard, things are going great.” Ricki didn’t believe her. She had been around Taryn long enough to pick up on her personality quirks. It wasn’t hard to tell when Taryn wasn’t being honest. “Unionville is such a long drive. What brings you all the way out here when a simple phone call would have sufficed? Oh right, you tried to call.”

  A cold fish. When Taryn saw her on the street, long before she did the show, she treated Ricki as if they were long lost friends. Buttered her up with compliments and praise. But now? She treated Ricki like a used tissue.

  “As you can see, I’m really busy trying to book more guests, so if you could get to the point, I can get back to work.”

  “Okay, fine. After my disastrous interview, I’d like a second chance.”

  “A second chance?”

  “A do-over. Another interview.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Taryn shuffled a bunch of papers and folders around on her desk, acting like she was super-duper busy. “We don’t usually book the same guest in such a short time frame.”

  “But it’s your show and you can do whatever you want. There aren’t any rules, right?”

  Taryn closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Let me be perfectly frank. The answer is no. I don’t see any reason to have you on the show again. The first time, as you say, was a disaster. There’s no point in reliving it.”

  “Well, I thought I’d try. I’ll let you get back to it.” Ricki started toward the door. “Oh, one more thing, mostly out of curiosity, how is the show handling the Kari situation?”

  “Fine. Just fine.” She laughed. “Why do you ask, other than curiosity?”

  “Bad publicity, that sort of thing.”

  “We’ve turned it into a positive.”

  “Lemons, lemonade, got it.”

  “Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Ricki smiled thinly and walked out. Remembering what Ned said about Taryn doing whatever Jim asked of her, Ricki realized that going to Taryn wasn’t the right way to deal with this. Jim was the man in charge. If she could convince Jim to let her back on the show, Taryn would have to do it. That should wipe that smug look off her face.

  She knocked on Jim’s door.

  “Enter.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting. Can I speak with you?”

  He wasn’t nearly as surprised to see her as Taryn was. “I was supposed to send you an email, wasn’t I? Come on in.”

  “I know you’re busy, so I’ll get to the point. I would like to do another interview.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I wasn’t very happy with the way things turned out. Granted, it was a hectic morning and everything was insane because of poor Kari—”

  “Yeah, how is that going?”

  “Except for the police questioning us at every turn, it’s been okay. Kinda weird. Never experienced anything quite like it before.”

  “I imagine not.” Knowing Steve was also questioning them gave Ricki some comfort. Maybe he was only scaring her, hoping she’d crack under pressure. “You were good friends with her, right?”

  “Mostly just work colleagues. For a while we were on the same trajectory, but she stood out. Once they saw what she was made of…” He whistled. “Her career took off.”

  “What a stroke of luck to get her to do this show, huh.”

  “To be honest, when I saw her résumé, I was shocked. Didn’t even think twice about hiring her, though.”

  “She nailed the interview, then?”

  “Didn’t bother with an interview.”

  “Did she say why she wanted the job?”

  “Not really. Said it was personal; I didn’t pry.”

  Not wanting to wear out her welcome, Ricki nodded. “I guess I better shove off. Thanks for giving me another chance.”

  “My pleasure. It seems like the fair thing to do.”

  “Great. You have my number and email address, so just let me know.”

  “I know Taryn should be booking the show right now, so I’ll get back to you within the next couple of days. Sound good?”

  “I can’t wait to hear from you. Have a good day.”

  Ricki left Jim’s office feeling taller and triumphant. If Taryn thought she was going to have the last word on how people saw Ricki Rydell, she had another think coming.

  Fourteen

  When Ricki got up from her desk to answer the door, she never expected to see Marty standing on her front porch. Hair greasy, clothes wrinkled, full beard, looking like he hadn’t slept or taken a shower in days. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he stared at his feet.

  “Come in.”

  Marty’s eyes were bloodshot, the bags underneath more prominent than ever.

  “How about some breakfast? Coffee is ready.”

  Marty only nodded and headed toward the kitchen like he had been in her house just the day before instead of two years ago. He automatically went to the cupboard where Ricki kept her mugs, almost as if knowing she wouldn’t bother changing the kitchen around.

  “Scrambled eggs, toast? I have some turkey bacon in the freezer. It’s gross, but you can have it if you want it.”

  “That’ll be fine.” His voice was low and gravelly. “I can throw it in the microwave so you don’t have to cook it on the stove. I know how you hate the smell of grease.”

  “No, I can do it. You sit and drink your coffee.” Ricki got busy trying to rip slices of frozen turkey bacon apart before giving up in frustration. She put the frozen mass on a plate and plopped it in the microwave.

  Marty was hurting and in need of someone to talk to, but what could she say to him that wouldn’t make him feel worse? She wanted to be empathetic without being trite. In certain circumstances, every word was the wrong word. This was one of those circumstances. “How are you holding up?”

  There was a dead silence in the kitchen for what felt like the longest time. Thankfully, Rumpus woke up from his nap upstairs and bounded into the room, sniffing Marty like he was a long-lost member of the pack. “Hey, boy. Long time no see.”

  The unanswered question hung in the air like the horrible smell of the turkey bacon searing in the microwave. She would let him call the shots, steer the conversation in the direction he wanted to go, needed to go. There wasn’t enough empathy or imagination in the world that could help her understand what he must have been g
oing through over the past week. She could keep quiet and listen or talk about dumb things. She chose talking about dumb things. It was better than the silence that felt like an uninvited guest sitting at the table.

  “Do you want ketchup? I know you like salsa on your eggs, but I don’t have any. If I do, it probably has mold on it.” She took the turkey bacon out of the microwave when it dinged. She eyed the shriveled, greasy mess, scrunching up her face before passing it off to Marty. “I’ll get the toast.”

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. I appreciate it, though. It’s the first hot meal I’ve had in days.”

  “You of all people should know you can’t go into a Rydell house without getting your face stuffed with something.”

  He let out a strained laugh. “I still think of your mom’s meatloaf.” He took a long, slow sip of coffee. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  “Not really. If you want to talk about something, we’ll talk. If you just want to sit here and eat food and drink coffee, we can do that. It’s my favorite activity.” Rumpus put his front paws on Marty’s knee. “Get down. Don’t feed him any of that turkey bacon. It’s too salty.” To distract Rumpus from Marty’s food, she opened his container of treats and gave him a chew bone to keep him occupied. “Do you need to talk?”

  He stopped eating and let out a sigh. “I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced so much pain in my entire life.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “Even after my father died, and he was my idol.”

  “Maybe it’s the circumstances.”

  “That’s what my sister said.” He kept his eyes on the half-eaten plate of food. “I made Kari take this job. She didn’t want to. Did you know that?”

  Ricki picked at a piece of toast to keep her hands busy. “Why didn’t she want the job?”

  “She was overqualified. But I pushed her because I wanted to move back home.” He stared up at the ceiling. “And now she’s dead.”