Ten

Two, long, shaded carts came rolling into the parking lot and stopped behind Stewart. Each cart looked big enough to hold a dozen people.

“We’ll start with a visit to the Studio store. You’ll be able to get a cold drink or coffee and a snack before we start our three-hour tour.”

“I hope the weather doesn’t start to get rough,” I whispered to Jace.

He chuckled softly. “I’ll rescue you if it does.” He took the frailest woman’s arm and helped her to the cart, and continued to do the same with as many of those elderly that needed a little extra attention before he climbed into the seat beside me.

It took two minutes for the carts to take the group through a maze of buildings to the store that was obviously meant to sell do-dads and souvenirs to star-struck tourists. I watched the older generation while inside the store. If the studio was hoping to make a lot of money off these people, they'd misread their marketing demographic. There were some who bought coffee, but there was subtle complaining about the price. The rest window-shopped.

I filled a large cup with soda at the fountain, making sure that it was mostly ice, and found a small bag of salted cashews. After I paid for them, I went to stand by Stewart near the door, keeping a watch on his charges. He would glance at his watch every few moments.

“They’re really looking forward to this tour,” I said, carefully wording my statement.

“Yes, ma’am,” Stewart said, glancing at his watch again.

“You might not believe it, but most of these women are avid followers of Marry Me. Do you know that show?” He gave me a skeptical look. “It’s true. I guess we’re all just romantics, no matter our age.”

I kept going with something that might get me in trouble with Taylor—if she found out that I'd leaked this specific information about her show. But considering marketing tactics, most secrets in Hollywood leaked out early to create interest and drama. I might even be doing Taylor a favor—I just wouldn’t tell her about it.

“But I seriously couldn’t think how Matthew Burdette could outdo snagging two bachelor princes,” —I leaned much closer to the young man and lowered my voice to a near whisper— “until I heard that the next bachelor will be Hollywood Royalty—a star.”

Stewart’s head bobbed back, but he kept an otherwise impassive face. I noticed he didn’t bother looking at his watch again.

“Of course, I suppose that could just be a rumor. Uh, do you know where Burdette is today?”

Stewart gazed intently at me for several moments before asking, “Is it a rumor?”

“Where is Burdette?”

His stare started to worry me when he stayed so quiet. After he looked around at the faces in the crowd, he whispered, “Studio A, rehearsing for The Devil’s Cut. Is it a rumor?”

I shook my head. “No.” A minuscule grin broke out on Stewart’s lips.

Of course, I didn’t tell him it was true, either. I felt a hand squeeze my elbow. Jace tugged and I walked with him out the door. Stewart didn’t follow us. He must have suspected I was interested in finding Burdette, and he’d given him up for a bit of juicy information he’d get to pass on.

“You heard?” I asked Jace.

“I did. That was slick, Max.” He nodded to his left. “That’s Studio A.”

The walkways and small roads were filled with visitors, employees, and actors in costumes. Each had that ever-present yellow lanyard around their neck. We didn’t go straight into the studio. Instead, Jace leaned under a tree and opened the package of cashews I’d bought while I sipped the soda. We took turns watching the door.

“We could try to find another entrance,” Jace said, holding the package of nuts low enough for me to reach, and I held the soda up to his lips. He took a long draw from the straw while staring at me. My heart fluttered again.

“Why not just walk in through the front door and ask for Burdette?” I asked.

“Do you really think that would work?”

I shrugged. “There’s no harm in trying. You know, the direct approach.”

“Okay. Let’s do this,” he said before eating a handful of cashews.

I drank the soda dry and dropped the ice-filled cup in the trashcan. We walked in through the door after two women came out. They carried clipboards and were in an intense conversation with each other. They didn’t notice us slip by them.

Unfortunately, the security guard at the desk just inside the door certainly did. His eyes took in both of our lanyards, but then he asked a question that detained us.

“State your business,” the man said, standing up from his chair. He wasn’t as large as Jace, but he came close. He was probably older than Harry would’ve been—if he’d lived.

I noticed the gun on his hip was a Taser—a non-lethal weapon that hurt like hell—or so said Jace. He’d been hit once with the two tiny darts that conducted 50,000 volts of electricity. Even a strong man like Jace was brought down on his face seconds after being shot. That was something I never wanted to experience.

I took out my ID. “I’m Maxine Larabee, and this is Jace Atmore.” I lowered my voice again and leaned closer to the big man. “We’re private investigators. We have an update for Mr. Burdette. We’re supposed to meet him here.” I gazed around at the long hallway. “This is our first time here. Can you tell me where he is?”

He studied my ID before staring at me. “You’re a PI?”

I nodded.

“They’re sure making them prettier than when I was a cop.” He smiled and waved his hand down the hallway. “Go three doors down on the left. He should be in pre-production of his new show, so open the door with care.”

“Absolutely. Thank you.” As I replaced my ID in my handbag, I started walking. Jace stayed glued to my side.

“Interesting tweak on the truth there, Max.”

I gazed innocently up into his pretty eyes. “I told him who we were, didn’t I? And I didn’t make it a secret that we were on a case. So?”

Jace slid his hand around my back and gave me a quick one-armed hug. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“So, lying is high on your list of attributes you admire?” I stopped at the closed door the guard directed us to. “You’re an interesting man.”

“Not in everyone.” Jace pushed a lock of my hair over my shoulder. “Just in certain people.” He opened the door, letting me go inside first.

The subdued lighting encompassed most of the big room except where there were spotlights glaring on a small set. I’d researched Mathew Burdette and found photos of him. Of course, in those Internet pictures, he’d been dressed for formal events. Here, he wore a green striped shirt and khakis on his rotund frame. The headphones on his head nearly disappeared in his curly blond hair. He was standing beside a man sitting in a tall director’s chair watching something on a view screen. While he might not have Jace’s height, Burdette was average for a man, which made him taller than me.

I started to move toward him until Jace caught my arm. “Let me take this.”

I looked up at him and mouthed, “Why?”

Jace moved his face close to mine. “Why should you get all the fun?”

Those eyes were already having fun. “Go for it.”

“I will.” He winked and let go of my arm. I hung back a little, watching him move next to Burdette and tap him on the shoulder, getting his attention.

“What is it?” He swung one headphone cup off his ear and it snapped higher on his head. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” Burdette asked without pause. The tone left no room for misunderstanding—he was angry. Now I was glad Jace had wanted to take the lead on this questioning. I get into yelling matches too easily.

Jace had his wallet already out. “I’m a private investigator, Mr. Burdette. I need to speak with you. It concerns Taylor Hodges.”

“My assistant producer? She’s on location. What do you want from me?”

Jace made an obvious point of looking around at the other people in the room, who were now raptly staring at them like starving people would at a buffet full of aromatic fruits and meats. “Sir, it would be in your best interest if we went someplace where we can speak in private. But if you’d rather discuss Abigail Morris-Mansey here—” Jace lifted his broad shoulders, showing his indifference.

Burdette tore off the headphones, tossing them onto the director’s lap. “That’s enough!” He stormed away. Jace rushed to follow him—which meant I had to run—again. After the door closed, Burdette swung around. “What are you accusing me of?”

“How well do you know Taylor Hodges?”

Burdette’s brows pinched together. “I’ve known Taylor since I hired her as my assistant last year.”

“And she was promoted to field producer when she secured Royal Prince Dante of Monterra for your show Marry Me?”

“That’s true. It was brilliant for ratings.”

“What is Taylor’s new show about—the concept, what is it?”

“It’s about office romances—” I felt like I was kicked in the stomach. She’d been getting me to talk about my life, and probably recording our conversations. “But it’s not set in concrete. Things can change. How do you know about that, anyway?”

“So why are you backing it? Did she blackmail you into it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did Taylor get your support by threatening to expose your affair with Abigail Morris-Mansey?”

Burdette took a sudden step closer to Jace. That took guts, or a lot of stupidity. “Did Prince Dante…” He rubbed a fist around his stomach. I had to wonder if Burdette had an ulcer.

“Did Taylor know about your affair?”

Burdette dropped his hand and pushed back his shoulders. “Why do you need to know so badly?”

That was a confirmation in my book.

“Someone is trying to kill Taylor,” Jace told him.

“You’re joking.” Burdette blinked several times. “Someone paid you to pull a prank on me, didn’t they?”

I noticed he didn’t deny it. He also didn’t have that shocked look like Lemon had.

“Where were you this past Saturday morning?” Jace asked.

Burdette headed for the door. “None of your business.”

When he came by me, I told him in an offhand way, “Then we’ll just go ask your wife.”

“Don’t you go near my wife—” Burdette shoved me in the chest with one heavy hand. I hit the wall behind me and tumbled to the floor. I wasn’t hurt. In fact, I wanted to see how fast he’d lose his temper. He strode out the door before Jace could stop him.

“Max—Max,” Jace landed on his knees in front of me, taking hold of my hands. “Are you hurt?”

I grinned up into his concerned face. “He had that affair, and I’m sure Taylor knew about it. He’s a viable suspect.”

Jace ran his hands around the back of my head and down to my shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay, but Burdette has a quick temper.” I rubbed my hands together, dusting them off. When Jace’s warm hand cupped my face, I gazed up into his eyes and held my breath while his thumb softly stroked my cheek. It sent delightful shivers coursing along my skin. He moved closer.

“That was incredibly…”

My phone pinged before Jace could tell me how brave I was—or how foolish. He dropped his hand to let me get my phone. I opened the text.

“It’s Bullet, he says they tracked the IP address. The computer’s registered to—” I gasped. “Taylor Hodges.” I looked up at Jace’s blushed face. “She set herself up?”