Page 67 of Romance Is Dead

“Jerk.” I thwacked him on the shoulder and he pretended to wince, screwing up his face and rubbing the muscle.

Footsteps padded down the hall behind us, yanking both of our attentions. Natasha, entering the conference room for her own interview. Wordlessly, we both eyed the room next door.

“You think it’s soundproof?” Teddy asked. “We probably couldn’t hear anything.”

“Only one way to find out.”

We scurried into the room, locking the door behind us. Feeling very much like a cartoon character, I crept across the floor and pressed my ear to the shared wall. After just a few moments, I heard familiar voices.

I motioned frantically and Teddy joined me, pressing his own head against the striped wallpaper.

“Would you say you’ve been feeling a lot of pressure lately, Ms. Vossey?”

“Not particularly.” Natasha’s voice was casual, with a defiant edge.

There was a faint rustling of papers. “So this hasn’t been on your mind at all?”

Teddy and I glanced at each other in alarm. What had they shown her?

“No.” Natasha’s voice was firm. “That happened two years ago and was a total accident.”

I pressed my ear harder to the wall, but despite my cartilage audibly crunching, it failed to make Natasha or the police any easier to hear.

“Of course. It did cost the production company millions of dollars, though, didn’t it?”

“I fail to see what this has to do with my current project.”

“Nothing at all.” A table creaked, like someone had leaned forward on it. “Just. . . that you might be feeling a little pressure for this production to go off without a hitch.”

“I try my best to do that on all my movies. Are we about done here?”

“One more question.” More paper-flipping. “Is it true that you argued with both Trevor Hill and Brent Milburn on the mornings of their deaths?”

Natasha was quiet for a long beat, so long I thought she might have stormed out. But then there was a sharp intake of breath.

“Yes. But if you asked around, I think you’d find that I argued with almost everyone on those days.”

Natasha, I had to admit, had a point.

As they continued their conversation, Teddy and I pulled out our phones. A quick Google search found that Natasha’s last three movies hadn’t just done miserably at the box office; they’d also been universally panned by reviewers. Worse, we found that two years ago, a stunt woman had been paralyzed on one of Natasha’s sets after a stunt went horribly wrong. The woman had sued the production and won, netting herself—and costing the company—millions.

I felt a pang of empathy. I knew firsthand how terrible it was being the subject of scathing press. “Poor Natasha. No wonder she wants this movie to be a success so badly.”

“‘Poor Natasha’?” Teddy side-eyed me. “Her carelessness ended up with a woman paralyzed.”

“True.”

My mind whirred, trying to put the pieces together. It was possible Natasha’s increasingly erratic moods were simply caused by anxiety about her career. Not only had her reputation as a director been tanking but she was actively losing people millions of dollars. If she didn’t have a hit soon, it was very likely no one would hire again.

But it was also possible that she was careless on her sets, and that she didn’t mind hurting or killing someone to try to get her career back on track.

Chapter Twenty-two

SUSPECTS LIST

Scott—Has motive, was near Trevor shortly before death

Natasha—Has motive, is desperate

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