time. Keep the natives from getting too restless. He shifted into briefing mode, lifted his hands. Another ripple of murmurs, then silence.
“Thank you for your patience, everyone. I know you all have questions, and I wish I had more answers. For now, all I can say is Marianna Spellman was found dead in one of the RVs a short while ago. The entire Village area is off-limits until the county’s investigative unit gets here.”
“Was she murdered?” a man called out.
“We don’t have a cause of death at this time. It’s standard police procedure to investigate all unattended deaths as suspicious until proven otherwise. That way, we don’t miss anything. My officers are going to be talking to each of you, and until they do, I appreciate your understanding that you’ll have to wait here. And, while you’re waiting, the staff at Daily Bread will be happy to make sure you don’t go hungry. The city of Mapleton will be picking up the tab.” He cast a pointed glance in the mayor’s direction. McKenna’s eyes widened slightly before he covered with a smile and a nod.
“I do have one question for everyone,” Gordon said. “I’m looking for Yolanda Orozco. How many of you saw her this morning?”
Mai’s hand was the only one raised. And she’d said the other actor on this morning’s schedule had been to wardrobe before she had. He searched his memory for the man’s name. “Is Ian Patrick here?”
Silence.
Gordon excused himself and stepped out the rear door. He called Solomon on the radio. “I need confirmation that everyone who was in the Village was sent to Daily Bread. Confirm with Jost and Gaubatz and get back to me.”
“Got it, Chief.”
While Gordon waited, he needed to keep everything else moving. He returned to the dining room and addressed the group. “If anyone else who was part of this morning’s schedule comes in, please have them report to Officer Titchener, and tell them they’ll have to wait here until we can release the Village.”
Murmurs and nods rippled across the room.
“Thanks. I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Officer Titchener.”
Titch strode to the counter. Gordon joined him. “We’re going to draw up some questions. I’ll have an officer deliver them. You’re on point here.”
Titch straightened to full attention. “Yes, sir.”
Gordon assigned Gaubatz to keep the scene secure, then headed for Finnegan’s to deliver the same message to the locals. As soon as he opened the door, the aroma of coffee hit him, a switch from the usual beer and grease. Then again, Finnegan's wasn't usually open at this hour. Mick Finnegan, a disgruntled expression on his face, stood behind the polished wood bar, washing coffee mugs instead of beer glasses. Beads of sweat glistened amidst the remaining black strands of hair combed across the top of his head. The lighting was also cranked up, both from the overhead fixtures and the curtains at the window, open now instead of covering the glass. The big screen television was set on the morning news show, but nobody seemed to be watching.
Here, the people weren’t as understanding. Many of them had shown up at the film site to see what was going on, but had other appointments, jobs, and responsibilities. And, not being part of the movie production, they had cell phones.
Gordon’s first order of business was to request they not use them to say anything about what was going on. “It’s important for the investigation that we keep things contained until we have more information.” He could only hope they’d comply.
There were grumbles of protest, but most of the group put their phones away.
Gordon held up a hand. “People, we’re going to move as fast as we can, and we’ll try to take those of you who have to be somewhere else first. Anyone who’s willing to hang around a little longer, we appreciate it. Give me about half an hour to meet with my officers, and we’ll get the interviews rolling.”
He told
“Thank you for your patience, everyone. I know you all have questions, and I wish I had more answers. For now, all I can say is Marianna Spellman was found dead in one of the RVs a short while ago. The entire Village area is off-limits until the county’s investigative unit gets here.”
“Was she murdered?” a man called out.
“We don’t have a cause of death at this time. It’s standard police procedure to investigate all unattended deaths as suspicious until proven otherwise. That way, we don’t miss anything. My officers are going to be talking to each of you, and until they do, I appreciate your understanding that you’ll have to wait here. And, while you’re waiting, the staff at Daily Bread will be happy to make sure you don’t go hungry. The city of Mapleton will be picking up the tab.” He cast a pointed glance in the mayor’s direction. McKenna’s eyes widened slightly before he covered with a smile and a nod.
“I do have one question for everyone,” Gordon said. “I’m looking for Yolanda Orozco. How many of you saw her this morning?”
Mai’s hand was the only one raised. And she’d said the other actor on this morning’s schedule had been to wardrobe before she had. He searched his memory for the man’s name. “Is Ian Patrick here?”
Silence.
Gordon excused himself and stepped out the rear door. He called Solomon on the radio. “I need confirmation that everyone who was in the Village was sent to Daily Bread. Confirm with Jost and Gaubatz and get back to me.”
“Got it, Chief.”
While Gordon waited, he needed to keep everything else moving. He returned to the dining room and addressed the group. “If anyone else who was part of this morning’s schedule comes in, please have them report to Officer Titchener, and tell them they’ll have to wait here until we can release the Village.”
Murmurs and nods rippled across the room.
“Thanks. I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Officer Titchener.”
Titch strode to the counter. Gordon joined him. “We’re going to draw up some questions. I’ll have an officer deliver them. You’re on point here.”
Titch straightened to full attention. “Yes, sir.”
Gordon assigned Gaubatz to keep the scene secure, then headed for Finnegan’s to deliver the same message to the locals. As soon as he opened the door, the aroma of coffee hit him, a switch from the usual beer and grease. Then again, Finnegan's wasn't usually open at this hour. Mick Finnegan, a disgruntled expression on his face, stood behind the polished wood bar, washing coffee mugs instead of beer glasses. Beads of sweat glistened amidst the remaining black strands of hair combed across the top of his head. The lighting was also cranked up, both from the overhead fixtures and the curtains at the window, open now instead of covering the glass. The big screen television was set on the morning news show, but nobody seemed to be watching.
Here, the people weren’t as understanding. Many of them had shown up at the film site to see what was going on, but had other appointments, jobs, and responsibilities. And, not being part of the movie production, they had cell phones.
Gordon’s first order of business was to request they not use them to say anything about what was going on. “It’s important for the investigation that we keep things contained until we have more information.” He could only hope they’d comply.
There were grumbles of protest, but most of the group put their phones away.
Gordon held up a hand. “People, we’re going to move as fast as we can, and we’ll try to take those of you who have to be somewhere else first. Anyone who’s willing to hang around a little longer, we appreciate it. Give me about half an hour to meet with my officers, and we’ll get the interviews rolling.”
He told
Similar Books
