A Vintage Murder (19 page)

Tears welled in her eyes as she rode the elevator down. He wasn’t coming after her. Dammit, maybe she
had
made a mistake. When the doors opened there stood Marne Pickett, her photographer next to her.

“Oh no, are you crying? Dear. Talk to Marne. Let me guess: Lover’s quarrel? It does seem to be the name of the game in this business. I’m sure you’ll find yourself a new man soon enough.” The photographer raised his camera.

“Screw you,” Nikki said and pushed it out of her face. Thank God a taxi stood out front. She jumped in and told the driver to just drive as tears rolled down her face.

Marne Pickett, now there was a blast from the past—not a good blast either. Nikki closed her eyes and leaned back in the cab. “Miss? Uh, hullo? Where would you like me to take you?”

She sighed. The moon might be good for starters. She didn’t have much choice. “The Hahndorf Winery, please.”

“Good people, them Hahndorfs. Done a lot for the community. But that daughter of theirs . . . She’s a troublemaker. Heard she wrecked her mum’s car with that crazy actress. The one who died out there. Them brown snakes, gotta watch out for ’em. Kind of cold though for them to be sneaking about. Guess he was looking for a warm place to hide. He found one all right.”

Enough with brown snakes and Lucy and wineries and movie shoots. Enough already! That’s what she wanted to scream, but instead she nodded and did her best to tune him out.

Here was Derek running from her again. Enough was enough. She’d had it with men, and she still had to deal with, at the very least, a phone conversation—with Andrés.

How was that going to go?
Oh hey, sorry I let you go to Spain without me, and I ran off with Derek who has done exactly what you predicted he would do—never commit, but hey let’s be friends.
Sure.

And on top of it all, she knew that Marne Pickett would do everything in her power to make her life miserable. She’d done it once and she would surely do it again, and all over a simple misunderstanding. Nikki did blame Marne for helping her acting career go down the tubes. She’d met the woman at a publicity party for her show, and they’d chatted. It had been an amicable conversation and Nikki liked the woman, although she could pretty much see past the Hollywood glitz and plastic glamour, so she’d taken it all with a grain of salt, as her agent at the time suggested she do. But when Marne called for an interview that would be published in
Variety
and the
New York Post
, Nikki’s publicist jumped on it. The date and time were set. They were to have lunch at The Ivy, a Beverly Hills hot spot where those who want to be seen go to eat. Bad luck struck that morning when Nikki’s car got a flat on the 10 freeway and she had forgotten to charge her cell phone. She did her best to change the tire as quickly as possible, which was not quick enough.

Marne waited a mere ten minutes and walked out of the restaurant, calling the publicist and telling her that she was going to ruin Nikki Sands for standing her up. Nikki couldn’t believe it. She asked for Marne’s number, and when she finally did get the gossip columnist on the phone, Marne accused her of weak lies and that she had the
real
scoop on Nikki Sands.

Marne Pickett had written about how instead of being grateful to have survived such a horrible childhood and embrace her career and Hollywood, Nikki’d done the worst and become a first-class prima donna. She even had the audacity to make appointments with people in the business, and then be offensively late or worse—not show up. Marne followed Nikki’s short-lived career, making snide comments in her gossip columns about how Nikki was supposed to be the new “it” girl and how Marne predicted she couldn’t even do a decent job on a soap opera. Nikki never really understood why the woman was so venomous toward her, but it was true that once someone like Marne decided to go for the jugular, there was little to stop them. And now, here was dragon lady in Australia, back to haunt her. Could it get any worse?

Of course it could. After all, she’d been honest when she’d told Derek that their relationship had been one big roller-coaster ride—but then again, so had Nikki Sands’s life.

The guard at the Hahndorf’s security kiosk, who turned out to be none other than Will, let the cab through. Nikki wanted to talk with him, but at the moment all she could manage was to find Kane Ferriss, get the keys to the trailer, and go to bed. She doubted she’d be able to sleep, with the jumble of thoughts, regrets, and memories racing through her mind, and she’d made a commitment to meet Andy before the roosters even crowed in the morning.

The cabdriver took her suitcase out of the trunk for her, then left. She rolled it over to Kane’s motor home, which was dark, as was Nathan’s. The whole set was pretty quiet. Great. Where was everyone?

Leaving the suitcase by the trailer, she walked back to the security kiosk. Will emerged when he saw her.

“G’d evening,” he said in a thick Aussie accent.

“Hi.” She was already planning her strategy with him. Granted, her main goal was to find a key to the trailer, but she figured she might as well kill two birds with one stone. And maybe it would get her mind off of Derek—doubtful. “How are you tonight?”

“Oh, you know, a bit cold out here. Winter will be on next month. You’re the new actress here? Taking that other one’s place?”

That was interesting that he didn’t even mention Lucy by name. He’d had drinks with her the night she died. Was he simply trying to be professional or was there another reason? “Yes. Do you know where Kane Ferriss is, or maybe Nathan Cooley? I need a key to get into one of the motor homes.”

“A group of them went out. Took one of the other security guys with them.”

“Oh.” Nikki wondered how late they’d be out. “You don’t know when they might be back?”

“Nope. Don’t keep a schedule.” He laughed. “Let them in and let them out. That’s about it.”

“Thanks.”

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” She only had on a light sweater over a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She’d stormed out of the hotel so quickly that she only now realized she’d left her heavier jacket there.

“I wish I had a key for you. You can come stand in here with me. It’s a bit warmer,” he said, referring to the kiosk. “Or here, I can give you my jacket.” He started to take it off.

“No, no. Keep it on. Please,” she replied.

“I insist. Take it. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s kind of you.” He handed her the jacket. She didn’t feel right putting it on, seeing that all he had was a long-sleeved button-down. It did warm her, though. “You’re Will, right?

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I was there the other day when you got reamed out by Andy on the set.”

“Oh. I kind of messed up there. Forgot my manners. My mum is always telling me that I have horrible manners and don’t think of others.”

“I don’t think so. Gosh your mom should see you now. You just gave me your jacket. I’d say that’s pretty gentlemanly.”

From the dim light shining inside the kiosk it looked as if Will was blushing. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now, don’t call me ma’am. Call me Nikki, although again your manners are impeccable.”

He smiled. “Wish you could tell my mum that. She gets after me quite a bit, always telling me when to be home, where I can go, what I can do. That sort of thing. She’s a bit controlling, I suppose.” He laughed. “But, she’s my mum.”

Nikki knew she was looking at him oddly, because the fact that he was a grown man living at home seemed strange; but then, maybe his mother was ill, or they didn’t have a lot of money. She shouldn’t judge. She didn’t know his story, but the story she did want to know was what happened the night Lucy died—the night Will had drinks with the gang.

“Have you gotten to know anyone on the set besides Andy?”

Nikki picked up some hesitation on his part before he answered. “A few people.”

“Really? Who?”

He did a sideways glance as if what he was about to reveal was secret information. “I could lose my job if the word got out, though.”

“Lose your job? Why? Because you’re friendly with the actors or crew members?”

He nodded. “I’m not supposed to, you know, associate with the actors.”

“Who said that?”

He shrugged. “I’m not supposed to do it. That’s what I know.”

Nikki wondered if that was a rule Kane had established or possibly even Liam, who’d supposedly gotten Will the job. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Heck, no one around here will really talk to me. I could use a friend. It’s hard. Maybe if you know some of the people on the set, you could help me out.”

Okay, so she was playing the damsel in distress with the “poor, pitiful me” act, and she was even working the whole doe-eyed, eyelash-blinking trick that so many men fell for. Granted Nikki found it appalling, but there was a murder to solve here.

“I know Johnny Byrne. You met Johnny yet? Good guy. Had some drinks with him. He does the makeup, you know.”

“Right. That’s all?”

He sighed heavily and frowned. “Oh, you seem like I can trust you, and you said you need some friends, I can be your friend.”

“I would love for you to be my friend.” Poor kid was one big oaf. She could totally see Lucy playing with him just because she could. But at the same time, big oafs can snap; had he? The thought made her wonder about her own safety. Was she out here playing with fire with her flirting to get answers? Still, she’d better go with it. Surely Kane, Nathan, and the rest would be along soon.

“That’s nice of you. I know what you mean about friends. I don’t have a lot either. My mum is real particular about who I can be friends with. I’ve been friends with Hannah since we was kids, but even with her, my mum sometimes has a problem.”

Boy, his mother sounded like a piece of work. Nikki wasn’t necessarily keen on the Guru Sansibaba that Marco idolized and Simon used to, but she’d read some of his literature and one of his seminars might do this kid some good—allow him to cut that umbilical cord his mother seemed to have choking him. “That’s a shame. You know you could get some books on maybe how to distance yourself from your parents without it causing a rift. It’s none of my business, but maybe you could talk with your mom about needing some space to live your own life.”

“You think? Maybe I could talk to her.”

Now what was she doing? Here she was supposed to be fishing for answers, instead she was doing family therapy. “You should, especially because it is your life and you deserve to hang out with whoever you want and do whatever you want. So, was Hannah the one who introduced you to Johnny?”

“Yep, and you can’t tell no one, ’cause only Johnny and Hannah know, and they swore they wouldn’t tell no one, ’cause I don’t want to get fired.”

“Tell no one what?”

“I met Lucy, too.”

“No!” If he only knew that Johnny had already told her this. That kind of bothered Nikki in and of itself. If Johnny had made a promise to Will, who was so sure he’d be fired if anyone knew he’d been out with the three of them, then why would Johnny tell her—someone he’d just met—especially since he’d been on his high horse about not talking smack. Something wasn’t kosher with that.

“Yep.” He nodded.

“What did you think of her?”

He shrugged. “I . . . thought she was pretty.”

“She was. Very pretty.”

He nodded and Nikki thought she saw his eyes water. “And she was nice to me. We all had some drinks together the other night.”

“You did?” This was going to be much easier than she’d anticipated.

“Yes, and she told me that she wanted to be my girlfriend.”

“She did?” This one surprised Nikki. “What did you do?”

“I said that would be nice.”

“Wow. Do you think she was being honest? Sometimes when people drink, they can say things they don’t mean.”