Free A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2) by Joanne Phillips

to make Eduardo think twice, or maybe it was Jack’s glowering presence. After a beat, he lowered the sword and stepped back. He spat on the ground by Alberto’s feet, said something in Spanish, then turned and stomped away.
    Raquel wandered over and spoke to Celeste. She ignored her husband, who was wiping the blood from his neck with one of Gabriella’s cotton pads. Celeste suddenly turned on Raquel, her eyes blazing.
    ‘No, he shouldn’t have just gone ahead and done it. What kind of a person are you to say something like that about your own husband?’
    Flora sighed and followed Eduardo to the van. Leave them to it, she thought. It was starting to dawn on her that this level of drama might be entirely normal for the members of Rojo Productions. On camera or off, they were an intense bunch.
    The Shakers van had been set up as a kind of restroom once the cameras and lights and props were unloaded, with a coffee machine on a fold-out table and sandwiches from the local deli. Eduardo was brooding in a plastic chair, but when Flora reached the top of the steps he jumped up and held out his hands. The specially designed sling-cum-cast hung uselessly from his neck like a discarded scarf.
    ‘What I do? Tell me, what? That man, he is …’ He seemed to be searching his knowledge of English for the appropriate word. Flora poured herself a coffee. She tipped her head to one side, then the other, trying to ease out the tension in her neck.
    ‘A monster. That’s what he is.’ Nick supplied the word for Eduardo, climbing into the van and wrapping his thick arm around the younger man’s shoulders. ‘You’re not the only one who wants shot of him, my friend. Trust me on that.’
    ‘You could get rid of him, Nico. You sack him, no?’
    ‘You know I can’t, probably for the same reason you can’t get out of your contract. He’s far too clever for that.’ Nick laughed his mirthless laugh. Flora shuddered. She busied herself in the depths of the pantechnicon, ostensibly sorting through some packing crates. She wondered what the two men might let slip if they forgot she was there. At least Nick seemed to share her own lack of knowledge when it came to Spanish, despite having lived there for years.
    ‘He crazy,’ Eduardo said. He slammed his fist on his knee. ‘Dirty crazy man.’
    In her peripheral vision, Flora saw Nick move his head closer to Eduardo’s. ‘Be patient, my friend,’ he said softly, then he patted the actor on the back twice and left.
    Flora straightened up and brushed imaginary dust off her shorts. Eduardo glanced over and gave her a sheepish smile.
    ‘I stupid, eh? Threatening old man like Alberto.’
    ‘You feel passionately about it,’ she said, shrugging. ‘You are protective. It’s only natural.’
    Eduardo helped Flora down from the van, and they headed back across the cobbled square. Alberto was packing the cameras away, while Celeste leaned against the stone church wall, smoking. Flora raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
    ‘Eduardo, tell me something. Why does Nick want shot of Alberto?’
    ‘How you say it – artistic differences? Alberto spend too much money, has no class. Nico wants to take Rojo Producciones to America, make action thrillers. Alberto always love scenes, sexy.’
    ‘But if Nick is the producer, if he holds the purse strings like Celeste says, then isn’t he the one in control?’
    ‘Purse strings?’ Eduardo looked confused.
    ‘Never mind.’ Flora watched Raquel approach her husband and whisper something in his ear. The director threw back his head and laughed; Raquel gave him a disgusted look and walked away.
    ‘He control her too,’ Eduardo said. ‘With his fists.’
    Flora’s face must have registered her surprise and doubt. Alberto looked no match for the pneumatic Raquel.
    ‘So they say.’ Eduardo shrugged, like he didn’t much care either way.
    Flora watched the director’s wife strut over to Vincenzo, who was sitting astride a throbbing