Chapter 36

Stage Twenty-Six, Canoodle Lot, Fairyland Studios, Los Angeles, California, United States

The cast and crew were all gathered in front of the vault as Sherlock Holmes had requested. The dozen or so people stood around in silence, watching the great detective stride back and forth, his head down and his hands clasped behind his back as he paced, thinking. Gen watched, peering nervously up at Rudolf.

"Has he solved the case?" she asked him.

The fae nodded. "Yes, but he's working out the details. He won't announce the way it happened until he knows the full motive, means and opportunity of the murderer."

"Do you know who did it?" Gen asked.

A laugh popped out of his mouth. "Of course. I told Sherlock. Now he's just trying to figure out how they did it."

"Wow, you two are quite the team," Gen admired, smiling at the fae. "How did you work it out?" She glanced around at the director, camera guy and Alexus as well as the many actors and crew, each with different motives, means and opportunities.

Rudolf pointed to his heart. "Listen with more than your ears. In detective work, use your heart. That's the reason that people commit murders, so you need to use your own to figure out who speaks the truth."

"I've deduced who murdered the previous director as well as the three other actors," Sherlock began in a low voice, commanding everyone's attention.

Rudolf grinned, pulling out a brand new flask that sounded full, swooshing with liquid. "This is my favorite part." He offered it to Gen and this time, she decided to take him up on his offer, grabbing for the silver flask and unscrewing the lid before having a sip. The amber whiskey was warm and welcoming. It reminded her of the morning that she met Emperor after he hatched.

"It makes sense that the person who is behind these crimes being disguised as a curse is someone who has access to the vault." Sherlock lifted his hand pointing at the large open door, propped wide by a chair. It had been unlocked for the detective's investigation, which didn't last long.

"It wasn't me!" the director exclaimed, all eyes looking at him.

"Well, you have access to the vault, having one of three keys," Sherlock countered, holding up a finger. "And you were the assistant director, passed over several times as others in the higher position went crazy. But you finally got your chance to be director and here you are—not going insane at all."

"This is absurd!" the director argued. "I didn't kill anyone. Why would I murder my own actors?"

"Well, you said yourself that this position will only lead to a better one," Rudolf sang, stealing the flask from Gen and taking a drink. "So it goes to reason that you'd sabotage the show so that it was canceled. Then you move on and take your good name and reputation for maintaining peace of mind while directing in a stressful, cursed show."

"I didn't do this!" The director's face flushed red.

"No, you didn't," Sherlock said, matter-of-factly. "Because although people are motivated to kill for money and positions, a crime like this was one of passion. One related to love."

Rudolf rocked forward on his toes and then back, handing the flask to Gen, sharing. "Which brings us to the camera guy."

"Me?" the other man said, his eyes wide. "I didn't do this."

"But also had access to the vault where the footage was kept and could be tampered with," Sherlock stated. "And you are in love with Alexus, who continuously turns you down. It goes to reason that you'd plant the fake love letters in her trashcan and try to break her up with her boyfriend, the previous director."

The camera man gawked. "I liked Alexus but I wasn't going to murder for her."

"And watching Alexus make out with other men and having to film it, that would be tough, wouldn't it?" Rudolf asked.

"Well, of course, but what was I supposed to do about it?" the camera guy asked.

"Nothing," Sherlock stated. "Because you were growing tired of this industry anyway and hoping to be let go, giving you a reason to get away from the woman you were obsessed with."

"But there was someone here who couldn't have the show canceled," Rudolf said, turning and looking at Alexus standing close by. "And you wanted to be the sole star, but the only way to do that would be to get in close with the directors. But you're one of those women who makes men crazy."

"I am not!" the woman yelled, her voice high-pitched.

Rudolf wagged his finger at her. "Oh, I know your type. The show wasn't cursed. It was just that there was a diva who thought she could romance her way to the top. If you had the directors on your side, then you could convince those writers to give you the lead."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Alexus exclaimed, her fists by her side.

"So you didn't try to seduce the directors?" Rudolf asked. "You didn't make them fall in love with you and then when you didn't get what you wanted, you'd dump them, making them crazy?"

"Well… Maybe. But I'm not a murderer," Alexus said, starting to sob. "I wouldn't kill my costars just to get a role."

"No, you didn't because you didn't believe the show was cursed," Sherlock stated. "And it isn't. That was just a way for the murderer to sabotage Sunrise Cove. The person who killed the previous director and the actors and is behind all the mysterious events is someone who had access to the vault."

Rudolf suddenly peeled off to the right at once, disappearing backstage.

"It wasn't me!" the director declared.

"Or me," the camera guy stated with conviction.

Sherlock turned to the vault, opening the door wide. He then removed the chair propping it open and stood back. The door slowly started to close. "You see, the large vault door is on a mechanical slow release device due to its size and weight. That way it doesn't slam shut, hurting someone exiting. But if there was someone who wanted access to the vault, well, all they'd have to do was wait until the camera guy or director put the tapes inside. Then when they were walking away, they could slip out of their hiding place and stop the door right before it closed."

He reached for the side of the vault where there was a yardstick leaning against the wall. The detective picked it up and slid it in between the door and the frame just before it closed, blocking it from shutting completely. He looked up victoriously at the crowd. "From there, this person could go into the vault and remove the extra pair of keys, make a copy and then have access to the supposedly locked space."

"So the show isn't cursed?" the director asked, looking around in awe which quickly morphed into horror. "But that means one of you is a murderer."

"Indeed someone on the set of Sunset Cove is," Sherlock stated, glaring at the director. "But it was someone who wasn't motivated by greed." His gaze swiveled to the camera guy. "Or love." Finally he lowered his chin, looking at Alexus. "Or fame."

"Who did it?" Alexus asked, her voice shaking as she looked around at the cast and crew.

Sherlock held up a finger, his chest high with confidence. "The person who planted the love letters, murdered the director, the three actors and tampered with the tapes was someone motivated by revenge."

At once, Gen knew. Everything pieced together in her mind and she simply knew who the murderer was. It made complete sense.

Rudolf materialized, dragging a man restrained by a spell. "It was, of course, the janitor."