Page 60 of Amore
“Does it look like someone broke the lock?”
“No. It was just opened.”
“Can you send me a picture of the photo and the roses?”
“Sure thing.”
“Don’t touch anything,” I warned.
“I won’t.”
“All right. Thanks, Arnold.”
“Not a problem, Officer Davenport.”
“Please call me Luke.”
“Bye, Officer Davenport.” He insisted on calling me Officer Davenport, no matter how many times I told him to call me Luke.
After I hung up with Arnold, I went back inside the bookstore where Frankie and Brody were filming a scene where they just happened to bump into each other after the snowball fight, which hadn’t been shot yet.
Arnold texted me the pictures. Looking at the deadbolt, there was no sign of it being tampered with, so how did the person get in, and why did they leave the door open? Did they get spooked? Was anything taken from my place?
The picture Arnold texted me had red roses and the knife through a photo of when Frankie and I were loading boxes into our cars at her house. There were two people I could think of that it could be. The first was Candace, but since she was a cop, I didn’t think she would make the mistake of leaving the door open. The other person was the perpetrator that had attacked Frankie, but how would he know where I lived? Since he was out on bail, did he follow us the day the picture was taken?
Or was it someone else?
“And cut!” the director shouted. “Let’s break for lunch. Stand-ins, be back here in an hour.”
It amazed me how many takes it took to do one scene. I had no idea that a three-minute scene in the movie took two to three hours to film. And that was just Frankie’s time on set. There were stand-ins getting the lighting and shots correct before Frankie and the other actors set foot on set. Countless people were moving about as I stayed back to watch, and I finally understood why the credits at the end of movies were so long.
Frankie and I headed to her trailer in the parking lot behind the bookstore. Amore greeted us at the door, and after addressing him, we sat. Emily had already gotten us lunch, so Frankie unwrapped her sandwich and started eating, but I couldn’t eat, my head still swirling with the news about my apartment.
“You’re not hungry?”
I unwrapped my sandwich and took a bite, not replying.
“Everything okay?” Frankie asked around a bite.
Before I could say anything, my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw an LA number calling. “I need to take this.”
She eyed me curiously as I stepped outside. If I were to tell Frankie someone had broken into my apartment, I knew it would freak her out, and there was no reason to have her worried while we were all the way in British Columbia. However, I knew I would have to tell her eventually. I just hoped I would have more news to avoid any extra stress, especially while on set.
“Davenport,” I answered.
“Officer Davenport, this is Detective Nolan. Do you have a minute?”
“Yes. I’m assuming you’re calling about my apartment?”
“I am. Your apartment manager tells me you’re in Canada?”
“Yes. My—” I cleared my throat. “The client I’m detailing is in British Columbia for a few weeks.”
“Yes, Mr. Lee mentioned you’re in Canada while Frankie Borelli shoots a movie.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“All right. Do you know who would have broken into your apartment?”
