“Aye. Ah’ve seen as much. Bit, did ye see she didnae lik’ ye implying thay weren’t friends, bit whin ye said it plain tae her they weren’t—she smiled even mair. Ye caused nae pique.”
Catriona nodded, impressed he’d noticed. She’d seen that flash of annoyance on Maddie’s face when she implied the women didn’t get along, but when she’d pushed on, and actually said their friendship might be fake, Maddie seemed less annoyed. That was the part where most people would have been the most angry. Instead, Maddie dropped a gear.
Catriona suspected she knew why, and could tell Broch felt the same thing.
Maddie had had time to prepare.
The first question caught her off-guard, but then she knew Catriona was suspicious. She knew better than to be visibly annoyed and raise more suspicion, so she turned on that ridiculously toothy grin to appease her accusers.
She was a practiced liar.
“You’re pretty good at this,” she said, bumping her hip against Broch’s upper thigh.
He grinned. “Aye. And ah ken ye set her up to fail.”
Catriona put her hand on her chest. “Me? Would I do that to a studio asset?”
“Ye ken she’s hiding something.”
“I do.”
“Me tae. Ye ken she did something tae the lass?”
Catriona drew her lips into a tight knot and thought about his question.
“I don’t know. It’s a far leap from jealousy to murdering your cohost because she stepped on your line.”
“Stepped oan yer line?”
“Talked over your time to speak. Your line in the play, so to speak.”
“Och. Sae whit next?”
Catriona pointed toward craft services. “I thought I’d—”
“—ask the cooks if thay saw anythin’?”
Catriona stopped and put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at Broch. “Did you just step on my line?”
He chuckled and walked on, the bounce in his step betraying how clever he thought he was.
Catriona talked to a few more people on set, but no one seemed to know where Dixie might be. They all seemed to like her more than Maddie, though, that much she was able to divine.
Catriona called Sean.
“No sign of her, no one has a clue.”
Sean grunted. “I was hoping she’d just show up by now.”
“Should I grab her address from the office and swing by her house for a peek?”
“Yes. I suppose so. When you’re done with that can you come by here?”
“Where’s here? Please don’t tell me your house.”
“My house. I’ll make you dinner.”
Catriona groaned. “You’ll have to. We’ll be on the road for days trying to get to you.”
“It’s less than an hour. We need to talk and I’d rather not do it near the studio or Fiona.”
Catriona stretched her aching shoulder.
Does no one realize I might need a day off?
They did need to talk, though. There were way too many time-travelly things going on and she felt as if she was losing track of all the threads. With Fiona hanging around and Rune possibly still in the area, now wasn’t the time to fall behind.
And anyway, all she had to look forward to at home was Fiona.
“Fine. What about Fiona? I left her at my apartment, but she can’t stay so close to Broch. It triggers the scar she gave him.”
“Right. I forgot about that. What about the guest suite?”
“That’s what Broch suggested.”
“He thinks that’s far enough?”
“He said it stops itching when she leaves the room.”
“Okay. Let’s do that then.”
“Will do. We’ll go check out Dixie’s place and then swing by your house. Dinner better be fantastic.”
“You like frozen pizza, right?”
Catriona hung up to call the Parasol Pictures office and retrieve Dixie’s address. The co-host lived in a townhouse complex with which Catriona was familiar. A lot of their new actors started there before collecting a few paychecks and moving up—or having their show cancelled and moving out. It was always one or the other.
They found Dixie’s front door locked. Broch pressed his face to the window and tried to peer past the curtains.
“Are we goan in?”
Catriona shook her head and took a spot beside him. They couldn’t see much but what they could spy didn’t look like anything they needed to worry about.
“No. We can’t just break in. She isn’t officially missing yet. She could have just had a family emergency or something.”
They walked around Dixie’s end unit to the back. Catriona tried the door to find it locked. She was headed back to the car when Broch called her back. He motioned to the door as she rounded the corner.
“’Tis open.”
“What?”
She moved back to the stoop and saw the door handle, which had been firmly mounted a moment earlier, hanging loosely from the door by one long screw.
“Did you break that?”
Broch’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Hm?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Whit? T’was open. Ye just didnae turn it hard enough.”
“Uh huh. I see how hard you turned it. It’s hanging by a thread.”
Broch glanced at it and shrugged. “Ah dinnae ken whit ye mean. ’Tis clearly faulty. It’s a fine thing we discovered the problem fur her.”
Catriona pushed open the door and stuck her head inside.
What’s done is done.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
They went inside, calling for Dixie every other step. Though the apartment had a second story, it only took them a few minutes to search the entire house. There was no sign of Dixie.
“Coffee pot is still a little warm,” said Catriona, placing her hand against it. “There’s still droplets on the shower door, and I don’t see a purse anywhere—everything says she got ready for work and left as usual.”
“Mibbee someone came through her broken door and kidnapped her.”
“Don’t push it.”
He grinned and then knit his brow. “Did she drive?”
“I don’t think she had a car.
