Free Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4) by Terry Odell

checking names off lists, would be better choices and make sure the Village was secure.
    He called Laurie, told her to make the arrangements. “Three per shift should be plenty. Until we know we can release the scene.”
    “On it,” Laurie said. “And Detective Colfax called. Said to let him know as soon as you had a confirmed homicide.”
    Before he headed to Marianna’s RV, Gordon checked in with Vicky McDermott at Finnegan’s. The crowd was significantly diminished. He assumed that meant people had been released, not that they’d staged a mass escape. The setup was similar to what he’d seen at Daily Bread.
    Vicky excused herself when she saw him, and crossed the room. “We’re almost done here, Chief. Nobody knew anything other than there’s going to be a movie shot. Most of them weren’t happy to find out Cassidy Clarke and Lily Beckett weren’t going to show up, but apparently, they were hoping either they’d make an appearance after all, or they’d see other stars. Those three—” she tilted her chin toward three tables. A man sat at one, a woman at each of the two others. “They had connections to extras, and had managed to wander the Village for a few minutes.”
    “Didn’t the security guards stop them?”
    McDermott shrugged. “Apparently not.”
    Gordon cursed under his breath. He definitely needed deputies to help. “Go on.”
    “The blonde said she’d been invited by her friend, who’s an extra. The friend told her she’d try to get her into the picture. All three said they didn’t see anything suspicious, but I figured we should put them through round two. They may have seen something and didn’t realize it was important.”
    “Did they approach, or go into any of the trailers?”
    “Just the blonde. Her friend took her into one of the lounge trailers for coffee. But there wasn’t anyone important enough—” McDermott made finger quotes around the words— “so she went to the street side where she could watch the filming.”
    The blonde was unfamiliar to Gordon. “Her name?”
    Vicky leafed through the sheets of paper she carried. “Reagan Kinzer. She’s from Centennial. Came in last night with aspirations of being discovered.”
    “Did she know Marianna Spellman?” Gordon asked.
    “Negative. Nobody we’ve interviewed claims to have a clue who she is.”
    “Okay. As long as you have contact information for everyone, they can go. But find out if Reagan Kinzer is planning to go home to Centennial. You might politely encourage her to stick around, at least until we know whether we’ll need more information from her.” He glanced at the time. After eleven. “Mick Finnegan will want his place back for the lunch crowd.”
    “I’m sure business will be booming,” she said. “You want these sheets, or should I drop them off at the station?”
    “Drop them off. I’m going to check Marianna’s RV, then start cross-referencing everything.”
    He stopped at Daily Bread to get keys from a security guard. Angie was winding her way through the dining room, pouring coffee refills. Her smile in his direction when she noticed him relieved some of the tension at his neck. But she didn’t approach. Since their relationship had progressed, she knew he’d tell her what he could when he could. And right now, there was nothing. He tipped his head in her direction, then made a quick pit stop before taking the keys and striding across the lot to Marianna’s RV. Given how much of his normal routine kept him behind a desk, he was glad for the exercise, even if the reason for it was less than desirable.
    He headed toward the blue-and-white RV at the end of the second row of vehicles. Nothing huge, but at least two or three times bigger than his office at the station. On the way, he scanned the grounds for anything that might be evidence, but the breeze had scattered stray candy wrappers, coffee cups, and plastic grocery bags across the area to the point that there would be no way to