CHAPTER THREE
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"Whir!" Katherine said urgently to the tall cameraman on the left. "Get Maggie off of Shawn! Nicole, stop thumping Gus!"
Whir set the camera down carefully and did as he was told, and the other young women backed off, leaving Gus completely shaken and Shawn rather pale.
"Spencer, over here now," Lassiter commanded, and although that didn't usually work on him, today it did. The man was stunned. "As much as I dread sending you anywhere near the pantry, go into the kitchen and sit down."
Shawn looked at him blankly, but obeyed, with Gus in tow. Actually Gus sped past him and the closing door nearly hit Shawn in the face when he followed.
Lassiter turned to Katherine. "What happened in there?"
She glared at the girls. "Tell him, ladies."
"They were being idiots," said the wild-eyed one named Maggie. "They said Fake was a bad show and then they started critiquing our writing." She took a deep breath. "Do I need some gel-haired moron telling me not to split infinitives?"
"I kinda liked his hair," murmured one of the others, but Lassiter couldn't tell who.
"So you started beating them up," Katherine prompted acidly.
Maggie rolled her eyes. "You know we never touched them until we got out here. They're complete sissies."
Next to Lassiter, Juliet nodded slightly. He suppressed a grin. "Jonton?" he asked Maggie, since he figured she was a bit too young to fit the Daliette profile and although he wasn't sure why, he was certain she wasn't a Joniette.
She looked him over. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
He shrugged. Looking past her at the horde of women still in the great room trying to see what was going on, he said loudly, "I need the ship captains out here immediately!"
Dr. Rodahill, more mildly, said, "And I'd like to speak with you, Maggie. Bring Nicole along." He gestured, and they slowly headed toward him and the study.
Tessa, Francie and Camryn worked their way free of the throng.
"Is there another office we could use?" Juliet asked Katherine, who was trying to herd everyone else back to the great room.
"Try the sunroom at the end of the hall," she said, and they didn't wait for further directions.
Knowing Shawn and Gus were already probably halfway through the food supplies should have worried Lassiter more, but he decided he could handle them better if they were preoccupied with snacking.
The sunroom was, in fact, sunny, filled with wicker furniture and a vast number of pillows of all sizes, shapes and colors. Lassiter initially thought it was frou-frou but as soon as he sat in one of the comfortable chairs, and more importantly as soon as he realized Juliet's dark blue eyes had lit up at the sight, the feel—the very ambience—of the room, he liked it a lot better. He liked finding out what things made her happy, even though there was precious little he could do about most of them.
The captains seated themselves, equidistant from each other (ever at war), and looked at him expectantly.
"We've gotten some insight into how things work here from Dr. Rodahill," Juliet began. "But we'd like your take, since we're sure the camera doesn't pick up everything that happens in this house."
They looked at each other for a moment; then Francie spoke. "You understand why we're here?"
"Of course they do," Camryn said rudely. "They're investigating the poisoning, remember?"
Tessa sighed.
Francie ignored Camryn. "You probably think fan fiction is ridiculous."
Juliet shook her head. "I don't. I see no harm in it, and why shouldn't people be able to write their own stories about characters they love?"
Lassiter saw them all turn to him, and kept his expression and tone as neutral as possible, not wanting to end up shell-shocked like the men no doubt currently demolishing the kitchen. "I have no opinion yet."
Nodding, Francie went on, "Well, this group is probably a little more serious about everything because the prize is such a dream for all of us. And being serious means… not much tolerance for our differences."
"So we're intolerant?" Camryn snapped. "The Joniettes?"
"Camryn, do you have to be so damn angry all the time?"
"Shut up, Tessa. Go write your little non-canon pervy stories."
"Pervy?" Tessa sat up, glaring. "It's not pervy to write about people in love."
"It's pervy to write about straight guys getting it on for no reason."
"God, have you even read any of my stories?"
"Why the hell would I? It would never happen. And if Jon ever were going to go for a guy, it sure as hell wouldn't be Dalton."
"One day," Francie interjected mildly, "you will see Dalton's appeal."
"Don't count on it, Grandma."
"What is your problem?" Tessa persisted. "Why can't you just accept the existence of other viewpoints? Some of the other Joniettes do. Most of the Jontons do. And seems like all of the Daliettes do."
Camryn folded her arms across her chest tightly. "The other viewpoints don't matter. I intend to win this competition. In fact, I will win it. And even if I don't, it's not like the producers for Fake would ever agree to film a story from any of the other ships, right?"
"The point is to write well enough to win, not to be allowed to submit our personal view of how the show should be," Francie said. "I certainly wouldn't expect them to use a script about Dalton and Mariette boinking like bunnies, just like you shouldn't expect them to use a story about Jon proposing amid flowers and rainbows and immediately wanting a house and kids and a car payment."
Camryn looked as if she couldn't decide whether to spit or throw a pillow; she settled back into her wicker chair and looked thunderous.
"No comeback?" Tessa inquired sweetly.
"Oh, blow it out both bloomer legs."
Juliet nudged Lassiter's arm and he glanced at her. "Oh, right," he said, interpreting her 'do something' expression. "As entertaining as all this is, we are actually interested in finding out who poisoned the water. I'm sure you're all innocent," he said with only the slightest of sarcastic tones, "and I'm sure you think all your shipmates are innocent, but someone in this house definitely tampered with the bottles, and you guys outnumber the house staff and production crew, so let's hear it."
"What does the psychic think?" Camryn asked, and her sarcastic tone wasn't slight at all.
"Well," Lassiter shot back, "when we talk to him we'll find out if he's as good as you all are at seeing things no one else can see."
She glared at him, her big dark eyes giving him a moment's pause. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"I don't think you have any idea what I'm talking about either," he retorted. "Just tell me why I should believe none of the Joniettes did this."
"Look. Jon is one of the good guys. We love him. He wouldn't poison anyone, so neither would we." She said it as if no one could possibly challenge her logic.
Tessa, however, did. "You do realize he's not a real person, right?"
"You do realize he's straight, right?"
Francie sighed. "People do terrible things out of love all the time."
"Oh, yeah? Like write stories where supposedly noble Dalton tries to steal Mariette away from Jon? How cool is that?"
Tessa shook her head. "Girl, you need a beta to check you out before you talk."
"Yeah? Well, maybe in your demented little AU, you need to find out what real whumping is."
"Uh-huh. So exactly how many Mary Sues do you have hidden on your laptop, sweetie?"
"The same as the number of Mpregs on yours," Camryn snarled.
Lassiter gazed at Juliet. "This language they're speaking. What is it?"
She sighed. "I'm not familiar with all the jargon. I think AU is alternate universe, and—"
He held up one hand. "No, no more. I think you just explained everything right here. Ladies!" he barked.
But Camryn was still on a tear. "You know what's funny?"
He sighed. "I was just about to make a list."
"I'm a nice person. Writing Joniette makes me happy. I like bunnies and puppies and I'm nice to all my aunts. But I've been stuck in this house for two months and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everyone here. I actually pushed back starting college for this, but I'm doing it because I want to win, and I don't feel like being nice anymore!"
"Maybe when you're a little older you might learn how to handle unpleasant things without alienating everyone else," Francie commented without rancor.
"And maybe if you were a little younger you could still—"
"Enough!" snapped Juliet. "Camryn. Tessa. Francie. Do you understand that a crime has been committed? And that if it's traced back to any of you or the groups you represent, there'll be no more competition, no script for a TV show, and very likely no college?" The last was directed at Camryn, who glowered but subsided.
Tessa said, "Look. My team is cool. After two months of 24/7 bonding, I know none of the Jontons have it in them to try to wreck everything like that."
"Same here," Francie said. "Not to mention I can't imagine any of us wanting to poison ourselves."
Lassiter frowned. "Six in your group were affected, right? Out of ten?"
"Yes, and before you ask," she said with a smile, "the other four are especially nice people."
"Could have been one of the six, to throw off suspicion," Juliet remarked. "How is everyone doing? You were one of the victims, if I remember."
Francie grimaced. "It's like the aftermath of a stomach bug. The doctors said the poison wasn't particularly strong, which was good news. But Detective, even if you were right and one of the six is the culprit: why? We were all back here the next day and nothing changed. We're still writing, watching Fake and squabbling."
"We've been getting a lot of pointless cases lately," Lassiter said. "That could be it."
"So Camryn," Tessa challenged, "what's your answer?"
"A civil one," Juliet warned her.
Camryn said coldly, "Apart from the fact that I know none of my team did it, or could have done it, Francie's right. There was no point to doing it at all, so why would we?"
"I was thinking spite," Tessa muttered.
"Stop," Juliet warned again.
"I'm done," Lassiter announced, because he was. "What about you, O'Hara? You done?"
Her response was to stand up immediately. "Yep. Thanks, ladies." With a glance to him, she started out the door; with no glance to the women, he went after her.
In the hall, she said, "Do you think there's anything left of the kitchen?"
"Stalk of celery. Maybe some stale croutons. At least one pea."
Juliet laughed, and he felt good despite this frustrating nearly-non-case, and when she pushed open the door to the kitchen he wasn't surprised that Shawn and Gus had not only met the cook but convinced her to whip up some scrambled eggs for them.
"Oh! Look, Amanda, here's our favorite detectives." Shawn beamed, obviously over his earlier trauma. "I think you might need to scramble a few more eggs. Doesn't Lassie need fattening up?"
Amanda looked between Lassiter and Juliet. "Do I have to answer that?"
"Please don't," Gus said from his spot at the head of the table, where he was eating a piece of pumpkin bread.
Amanda returned to her egg preparation, apparently grateful.
"Spencer, Guster, hall, now." Lassiter put his hand on the door, waiting.
"Who's Hall?"
From Gus: "And where's Oates?"
"Check the pantry," Shawn advised. "That's where I keep oats."
"Shawn," Juliet said firmly. "We need to talk to you, and we're armed."
"Never ignore the lady with the gun, Shawn."
"Gus, my father taught me that when I was still sleeping in onesies."
"That was only last year," Gus countered, and Shawn laughed, and Juliet stepped over and latched onto his arm, dragging him into the hall through the door Lassiter already held open.
"Fine," he said breathlessly. "What's more important than our eggs?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said sarcastically, "maybe that you're being paid to help solve a case?"
Shawn and Gus looked at each other for a moment. "Pretty sure we disagree, Jules, but I see your point."
Lassiter let out a sigh. "Between fondling bras, pissing off thirty women and emptying the pantry, have you picked up anything about these people regarding the poisoning or not?"
"Of course I have," Shawn insisted.
"Namely?"
"Well, it wasn't Alison. Or Charlie Young."
"Who the hell is Charlie Young?"
"Dude. You didn't meet Charlie?"
"This house is filled with women, Spencer. And Frank Stephens, who… well never mind."
"What about Whir? You saw Whir. Charlie's the other camera man, man!"
"Shawn," Juliet interrupted, "have you discovered anything or not?"
Gus said, "I have. I discovered these women are maniacs, and I have a bruise where that Nicole chick hit my shoulder."
"Hang on," Lassiter said. "Which one's Alison?"
"The crazy brunette. Lassie, don't you pay attention?"
Lassiter once again suppressed the urge to backhand him. "So in other words, fondling bras, pissing off thirty women and emptying the pantry is all you've accomplished. Thanks, Spencer. Helpful as always." He turned his back on them, trying to decide the next move, knowing Juliet would probably make nice and tell him later he was too hard on The Beaver.
But to his surprise, he heard Juliet say, "Yeah, Shawn. You've brought so much to this investigation so far," just before she came to stand in front of Lassiter, arms folded, frown in place. "We should get the water bottles over to the lab and—"
"Hang on," Shawn said. "Just hang on. I'm serious about who's been eliminated, you know. Those two plus all of the Daliettes. Also Kirsten—and it is Kirsten, by the way; she got quite irate when Gus called her Kristen."
"Stop lying, Shawn. You called her Kristen."
"Potato, tomahto. Anyway, I really don't think any of the women who were in the great room for the tussle had anything do to with this."
Lassiter turned reluctantly. "Because?"
"Because of the wonderful things he does—"
Gus punched him in the arm. "Stop it. Lassiter's about to kill you."
"Thank you, Guster. Spencer?"
Shawn was rubbing his arm, wincing. "It's what I do, man. You know that. Besides, on a more earthly plane, since I know you dig that sort of thing, none of the contestants had anything to gain by poisoning the others. If you wanted to remove competition, you'd pick 'em off one by one to prolong the contest. You don't just take them all out at once because then the whole show shuts down."
"Right. That's what we thought, too." Juliet tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So that leaves the crew and house staff."
"A much more manageable number of suspects," Lassiter agreed. "All right, let's collect the water and get back to the station."
But before he could act on this, Katherine and Frank came out of the great room, trailed by the camera operators. "Thanks, Whir," Katherine said absently. She seemed to have become exhausted in the short time since they'd last seen her, and Frank was a mere shell of a man.
Seeing them, she looked wearier. "Shawn—that is your name, right? You and your friend managed to rile up my ladies to a fever pitch of ire. They're in there fighting amongst themselves now like Chihuahuas on crack, and that includes the Daliettes, who until you showed up were really a pretty docile bunch."
"What did I do?"
"You renewed their arguments with each other, to nearly unfilmable levels. Thanks so much."
He glanced at Gus. "I'm getting thanked a lot but no one seems very sincere."
"He also convinced your cook to make them an early lunch," Juliet said helpfully in a way Lassiter knew wasn't even remotely intended to be helpful. Damn, she could still surprise him.
Katherine's expression was glacial. "Really? What is it?"
"Eggs and sausage," Shawn said, his glee undisguised, "and I bet they're ready."
"Good. I am a bit peckish. Thanks for thinking of me." She moved to block the kitchen door and stared at them. Even the spikes of her blonde hair looked icy.
"Um, can we get by?" He sounded plaintive. Gus looked plaintive.
"No, but you can get lost."
While Shawn was flinching as if physically struck, Frank sort of… lurched by and on down the hallway. He might have been whistling, but more likely he was moaning. They all watched him silently.
"All right," Lassiter said impatiently after Frank was out of sight. "What's the deal with him? I get this is a high-stress job but the man's a basket case."
Katherine rubbed her temples. "He's the best assistant I've ever had, but he was about to move to Chicago for a lucrative and far steadier position in his father's business when this project was greenlighted. I convinced him to stay for one last job while his family went on ahead, but he's been going crazy missing his wife and kids, and with the hours we keep, he hasn't been able to get home since we started." She gestured half-heartedly at the great room. "As you know, this has been an unusually stressful project, much worse than we anticipated. I just need him to hold it together for another month."
"Since you're busy talking, may I go have my eggs?" Gus asked politely.
"That's why you were trying to get him a three-day-weekend," Lassiter mused.
"Yes, but it can't happen now unless these women settle down enough to let us get some decent footage." She poked her head in the kitchen door. "Amanda? We're going to need the tiramisu early today."
"And Gus's eggs," Shawn said. "Oh, and mine."
"We'll just take the water bottles," Juliet interrupted. "And we'll take these two out at the same time."
"I hope she doesn't mean 'take us out' the way Lassie usually means 'take us out," Shawn stage-whispered to Gus.
Juliet smiled coolly. "It's good to have hope."
"I'm going to the car," Gus said flatly. "Goodbye."
Shawn's uneasy gaze flitted from Lassiter to Juliet and back. "Uh. He probably needs help."
When the massive front doors had closed, Katherine relaxed. "Please don't let them come back."
Lassiter's smile was deliberately faint. "Are you familiar with the expression about trying to nail jello to a tree?"
"No, but I've got a nailgun, and if they turn up here again I'd be happy to try it out on them and one of the trees in the back yard."
"I hear that," Juliet murmured.
Hell, Lassiter could see it. He smiled. Maybe this case wasn't so frustrating after all.
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