Page 32 of Romance Is Dead

“Well, Ms. Nosy, after Trevor apologized, I drove around trying to find a replacement lamp, which I also have the receipt for, and then to the beauty supply store for liquid latex so I could finish our pal over there on the bench.” He nodded toward the head, which was still staring at us bleakly. “Anyway, I didn’t get back here until after midnight.”

“Did you notice anything strange?” Teddy asked. “Anyone sneaking around?”

Scott hesitated. “I didn’t think of it at the time, but. . .”

My ears perked up. “What?”

“The light was on in the attic before I left to find a new lamp. I thought it was weird, because who would need to be up there? Anyway, I was standing out there staring up at the window and I saw a face.”

A chill tripped up my spine. “Who was it?”

“Beats me. I couldn’t make them out. They were just sitting up there, staring down at me. Like they were waiting for something.”

“Well, that was a bust.” I hopped into my car, grabbing the seatbelt as I slipped the key in the ignition. After the long walk back from the props trailer, the adrenaline from confronting Scott had ebbed away and been replaced by something else—brutal disappointment.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Teddy climbed in and slammed the passenger-side door closed. “Now we know it’s not Scott.”

“You believe the story he told us?”

“It was a pretty solid alibi.” He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t remember the last time I saved a receipt. Hope I’m never suspected of murder.”

I sighed as I switched on my music and pulled onto the road. The Smiths played through the speakers, Morrissey whining about being miserable. How appropriate. It was silly to have thought we’d solve the mystery on our first attempt, but it was still discouraging.

“We’ll figure it out,” Teddy said cheerfully.

“I guess.”

Teddy elbowed me in the shoulder. “Come on, it could have been worse. What’s up?”

“I just didn’t picture my la—” I froze, catching myself. No one besides Mara knew this was going to be my last film, and I preferred to keep it that way. “I didn’t picture the movie starting this way. Hunting down a murderer is my character’s job.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t picture my first movie going like this either.”

This did make me smile. “It could be worse, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“When Jack Nicholson was filmingThe Shining, they fed him cheese sandwiches for two weeks straight. He hated cheese sandwiches. They wanted to drive him literally crazy to better his performance. Stanley Kubrick was so mean to Shelley Duvall she lost her hair.”

“Damn.”

“While filmingTexas Chainsaw Massacre, the cast had to spend over twenty-four hours in an abandoned house filled with dead animals and rotting food. In one-hundred degree weather. With no air-conditioning.”

“Ok, that one might beat being in a real-life murder mystery. But barely.”

I laughed. “At least we have air-conditioning.”

We fell silent, but I could feel him watching me. I squirmed, uneasy under his stare.

Teddy twisted in his seat. “I promise we’ll figure this out. And in the meantime, I won’t let anyone hurt you. There’s no getting past these guns.” He rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt, which he was still wearing, and flexed his bicep in a convincing impression of Gaston fromBeauty and the Beast.

I smirked, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach at the thought of him wanting to protect me. “That’s awfully confident.”

“What can I say? You can’t argue with pure, muscular strength.”

“Oh my God, gross.” I reached over to smack his shoulder. His bicep was solid under my hand, and I fought the urge to remember the way those arms had gripped me in his hotel room, pulling me against him before I’d slammed on the brakes.

I flipped through the songs in my playlist, desperate for a distraction. Teddy started humming along, his mood shockingly light for someone who’d been questioning a man not a half an hour ago about whether he was a murderer. I was surprised—I didn’t take him for someone who would be familiar with thePixies.

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