Music City Murder: Hollywood Whodunit, #3

Copyright © 2021 Brittany E. Brinegar All rights reserved.

BRITT LIZZ PUBLISHING COMPANY

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Contents

About the Book

1.Friends in Low Places

2.Take Me to Texas

3.Some Kind of Trouble

4.Little Past Little Rock

5.Murder on Music Row

6.Walkin’ After Midnight

7.Jealous Bone

8.Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

9.Mama Tried

10.Don’t Be Stupid

11.Gone Country

12.Cowboy Casanova

13.Break Down Here

14.Coat of Many Colors

15.Cleopatra Queen of Denial

16.Outta Style

17.Suspicious Minds

18.Where’s Tammy Wynette

19.With the Band

20.Crazy

21.Lesson in Leavin’

22.Better Bad Idea

23.Fightin’ Side of Me

24.The Wrong Girl

25.Alibis

26.Hard Luck

27.I Keep Looking

28.Silver Wings

29.Nobody to Blame

30.I’m Gonna Getcha Good

31.Hey Cinderella

Sneak Peek

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About the Author

Books by Britt

About the Book

Murder's Been Committed on Music Row. Spoiler Alert, They Got the Wrong Girl

In a family of overachievers, it’s difficult to measure up. Especially if you’re a no-name actress desperate for approval. So, when Becky Robinson’s country music star cousin is accused of murder, she jumps at the chance to save the day and prove her place in the family.

With the stakes higher than ever, Becky and her team travel to Nashville to investigate. The victim, a feared record producer, is found stabbed in his nightclub after a public argument with her cousin. Talk about bad timing.

The police arrested the wrong girl and they aren’t looking for alternate suspects. To find the real killer, Becky goes undercover in the cutthroat music industry. But when a clever ruse turns reckless, someone closest to her pays the price.

Can Becky clear her cousin and gain her family’s respect? Or will the killer take her as his next victim?

Hollywood Whodunit Series Order

Book 1: Prime Time Murder

Book 2: Stand-In Murder

Book 3: Music City Murder

Book 4. Trap Door Murder

Book 5: Fool's Gold Murder

Book 6: Holly Jolly Murder

Book 7: Blue Suede Murder

Book 8: Family Reunion Murder

Book 9: Summer Vacation Murder

Book 10: Sunlight Swindler Murder

Book 11: Castle Island Murder

Book 12: Fixer-Upper Murder

Book 13: Hometown Murder

Book 14: Big Apple Murder

Book 15: Devil Wears Murder

1

Friends in Low Places

I gazed at the exposed ceiling. Bright lights and sound equipment hovered over the temporary police station. As my mind drifted, I contemplated my life decisions. Heavy thinking for three in the afternoon.

"We’re like half the cast of Friends," my best friend, Lois Vo said.

Justin huffed. How do you figure?

I tilted my head to gaze at her upside down. Which half?

Well, take this TV sound stage for example. Lois circled her arms around the room. This is our Central Perk. We’re always hanging out here when we should be working. People come to find us here instead of our homes.

Which half? I asked again.

Justin is Joey because of the actor thing.

His eyebrow arched. How you doin’? He shook his head. I think I’m more of the funny man like Chandler.

Keep dreaming, Dinosaur Boy. I flopped on my stomach. Who are we?

With your messy living quarters, neither of you better claim obsessive-compulsive Monica.

I threw a pillow at his head. No one asked you, Ross.

Could you be any more wrong with the comparison? Justin asked, channeling Chandler’s character.

I’m clearly Rachel, making you Phoebe.

Whoa, back up and freeze. I struggled to a sitting position. I think you got those backward. Phoebe is the weirdo of the group.

My point.

Maybe we should change the subject. Justin reached for the popcorn bowl. How about the game last night?

The comparison is weak, to begin with, but if anyone is Rachel, I am. I’m way more outgoing than you. And our names are similar.

That’s dumb. How Becky?

Rebecca. Rachel.

They start with an R. If that’s the criteria maybe I’m Lois Lane.

You guys like the Cowboys, right? Think they’ll string together a winning run this year? The team is built. I grew up a Chargers guy, so no room to talk. Yearly disappointments for the Bolts. But hey, you never know.

Come on, Lo. You can’t think you’re more Rachel than Phoebe. I mean neither are strong comps but honestly.

You’re right. I made a mistake calling you Phoebe. Ire flashed in her dark eyes. You’re Janice.

I gasped. Take that back.

I think you’re all nuts. The janitor rolled by with his cart. "He’s Dean Winchester from Supernatural and she’s more of a Shirley from Community or the underappreciated Watson, Sherlock’s assistant."

What about me? I asked. Not Janice, right?

You’re obviously Mary Richards.

A beaming smile spread across my face. I like it.

Justin craned his neck as the janitor rolled into the next set. See you later, Gunther.

Who’s Mary Richards? Lois asked.

"The main character from The Mary Tyler Moore Show. People forget how funny she is with the nuts around her. She doesn’t receive near enough credit for Mary or Laura Petrie."

Never seen it. Justin shrugged. But I’m not going to argue with the Dean comparison. We’re both awesome.

Why are they dismantling the set tomorrow? Lois rocked in the squeaky desk chair. Where will we hang out now?

The squad room already lacked the personal touches the designers agonized over. In short order, a new crew would invade our sanctuary. I’m bummed.

Justin Woods tossed a Nerf football into the air. Always happens when a show goes into hiatus. I’m used to it. Despite starring in the cable sensation, he often decided to hang out with us. For some reason, he didn’t mind slumming it with a couple of stagehands.

I sighed. "Something tells me Prime Suspect won’t be resurrected this time around."

With the season three renewal on the fence, a melancholy hung around the cast and crew at the wrap party. When Justin moved on to his movie, we’d become a distant memory.

These decisions come down to the wire. Wait until we air. Lots of hype came from the investigation stuff. He tossed the ball again.

This time Lorelai flew up the field for an interception. The Jack Russell pup flashed a toothy grin as she played keep away.

I’m bored. Lois absently braided her jet-black hair. We should do something.

Bowling? Justin suggested.

I shook my head. Too expensive.

Bowling is?

We’re on a budget, Hollywood. Between our student loans, rent, and L.A. prices, our peanut salary doesn’t leave us with much spending money.

And technically we’re unemployed now. Lois slammed her head on the desk. What a downer day this turned out to be.

You guys are a couple of negative nellies today. He flashed the movie star smile. I think you’re going through mystery withdrawal. How long since your last murder investigation?

I am perfectly content, thank you. Lois swiped blunt bangs from her forehead. Stumbling into two murders was a fluke. I think we should retire why we still can.

I think she protests too much. I swung my feet to the floor and maneuvered out of the sunken couch. You developed a taste for solving crimes. You miss it too.

Certain aspects are exhilarating, but I’m not going to go digging for a dead body. Lois frowned. That didn’t come out right.

Lorelai jingled to my feet with the chewed Nerf toy. I chunked the ball into the neighboring living room set. When do you start filming your movie?

Not for a few months. Justin crossed his ankles. Gives me time to research my role. Despite your father’s tips, I still can’t master the guitar.

Yeah well, Gallagher is no expert. Your first mistake is listening to him.

Who are you playing? Lois asked.

Colt Gentry, a country music star coming off a successful nationwide tour. When the time comes to record his next album, he hits writer’s block. He returns home for inspiration.

A small town where he rekindles a romance with his high school sweetheart, I finished.

Did you steal the script when I wasn’t looking?

I possess a keen talent for predicting the plot of a Hallmark movie. They all follow a predictable formula. I smirked. "And this is the exact storyline for George Strait’s movie, Pure Country."

Becky, you’re one to talk. Our DVR is full of each week’s new flick. And you refuse to delete your favorites.

I shot Lois a glare. I watch a lot of stuff. An aspiring actress has to do research. I cringed at the term. Could I even call myself aspiring? I lost my only audition thus far to a dead woman. And I still had no prospects.

Not exactly the type of cowboy movie I hoped to put on my resume. But at least I’m wearing a hat. Justin mimed tipping his Stetson and twirling a six-shooter. Didn’t you mention your cousin is a star in Nashville?

Aly is a supernova in our small town and enjoys a loyal following on the Austin scene. But in Music City, she’s a twinkling indie artist trying to make a living playing the classics.

I can’t decide if you answered yes or no. Justin squinted.

I downloaded her EP last week. One word - awesome, Lois said. I love the character in her voice.

I wish the rest of the industry agreed with you.

Justin twisted for his phone. What’s her name? I’ll Google her.

The band is called Clueless. The story behind the name brought a smile to my face.

Interesting choice. He typed the name on his screen. We can take a trip to Tennessee and she can show me the ropes. It would be terrific research for my role.

Lois clasped my arm. Becky, you should call her. I’m down for a vacation.

What about our money problems? I asked.

We can travel cheap. Bunk with your cousin.

Alright, I’ll check if she’s busy. If I asked, she wouldn’t decline. Aly was too polite to disappoint anyone, especially her favorite cousin. I scrolled through my phonebook and dialed her number. The call went to voicemail. I’ll try her again later.

We should start planning the trip now, so I can budget how much money to save. Lois reached into the desk drawer for a paper and pen. What kind of squad room doesn’t carry writing supplies?

Flights are cheap now. Justin displayed his phone.

I prefer to drive.

I slapped my forehead. Lois! Still?

Justin furrowed his brow. What did I miss?

Nothing.

She’s afraid of flying. I pointed a finger at my best friend. Still.

"You’re the one who made me watch Castaway."

You want to drive to Nashville? And travel in the car for more than a day. He shook his head. I’ll meet you guys.

We can work out a schedule for stops and take turns driving. It will be quicker than you think. Lois dug through another drawer. Road trips are a blast. And Lorelai can come too, Becky. You wouldn’t want her shoved in a crate down below deck with the luggage, would you?

The energetic terrier chewed on an old tennis shoe. No one would ever buy her as a comfort animal. You make a decent point.

Lois clapped. Two against one. You’re outnumbered.

Statistically speaking, it’s the safest way to travel, Lois. Justin wiggled his brows.

Why the quote? I thought you didn’t like Superman? My phone buzzed in my pocket. I twisted to maneuver the slippery device to my hand without standing. My laziness almost cost me and I snagged the call in the nick of time. Howdy Aly, how’s Music City treating you?

Becky. Thank goodness you answered. I can’t reach anyone.

I sensed the panic in her voice. A rarity for her calm, levelheaded personality. What’s the matter?

Only been in Nashville a few weeks and everything that could go wrong did.

I offered a nervous chuckle. Sounded like me after I moved to L.A. But my story still topped whatever she threw at me. You didn’t find a body at the Grand Old Opry, did you?

I didn’t find a body. Her voice trembled. I’m accused of killing one.

Wait, what? I shook my head, unsure I heard her right. Explain what you mean.

I, Aly Parker-Brown, am accused of murder.

You’re serious?

I don’t know who to turn to, Becky. I can’t find Wil and my lawyer is no help.

When did this happen? I asked.

Lois edged closer. What happened?

Shh! I held a finger to my lips and blocked out the chatter.

Two days ago. They kept me in holding and only allowed me to call my lawyer. The police didn’t charge me but they’re collecting evidence. My lawyer mentioned making a deal before it’s too late. I need you to find Wil. He’s on an undercover assignment and I can’t contact his office with this. No one else is answering. I’m freaking out.

What’s wrong? Lois asked.

I covered the receiver. Someone’s dead.

Her eyes widened. Who?

I took a deep breath. Aly, stay calm. We can help.

Mystery Madness? Think you can reassemble the old gang for me?

Fond memories flashed at the mention of our crime-solving club. Since college, we went our separate ways. But a friend in trouble made the perfect excuse for a reunion.

On the other hand, no one ever took me seriously back in the day. I played a supporting role in the gang. These days, I stood on my own. I solved a few murders here in L.A. My team can clear your name.

Thank you. You’re the best. I need all hands on deck.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Proving my innocence was one thing. Now with someone I loved relying on me, I couldn’t stand the pressure. Send me all the pertinent information. Murder vic, evidence, your connection. Don’t leave anything out.

I will. See you soon Becks.

After hanging up, I filled in Lois and Justin. I guess we’re moving up the trip. Are y’all still game?

2

Take Me to Texas

Despite attempts to change, spontaneity remained a foreign concept to me. Not to say I was boring, but I wasn’t the type of person to flit off to Mexico for a taco. So, the idea of packing a suitcase for Nashville and leaving with two hours' notice played havoc on my nerves.

Or perhaps the fact my cousin faced murder charges and expected me to prove her innocence caused the stress.

Justin rippled the map. We are turning a three-and-a-half-hour flight into a thirty-hour drive. Doesn’t the emergency time crunch change things?

Where did you find a fold-up map? Did Google crash or something?

You're missing my point. He attempted to fold the paper but struggled against the grain.

You enjoy wrestling with a map bigger than my living room?

Can’t you talk Lois into flying?

I rolled my eyes. I can’t talk Lois into anything she doesn’t want to do.

The Maria Sinclair case, the Vicky Berryhill case, Lorelai. Justin ticked the list on his finger. You’re more persuasive than you realize.

Lois secretly wanted to do those things and I supplied the push. She won’t budge on the flying thing. Trust me.

Fine. I’m sure your cousin won’t mind.

We can use the extra time to study the facts and devise a plan. I twisted my neck to examine the map. We’re taking the I10 through El Paso.

To make an excruciatingly long trip even longer?

I need to stop by my hometown to pick up a few people.

Wait. Lois rolled her suitcase down the hall. Are you saying I’m finally getting a chance to visit the infamous Lake Falls?

I wouldn’t say infamous. I collected a few toys and a sleeve of tennis balls for Lorelai’s bag. Most people never heard of us.

The stories about your home are legendary. Lois elbowed my ribs. Tell him about the reality show filmed in your town.

Reality show? Justin crossed his arms. You appeared on TV before?

I didn’t make the cut. And the show is a story for another day. I added a container of dog food and zipped the bag. This isn’t a social call. A quick stop and we’re back on the road.

We loaded our bags into Justin’s Mustang and hit the trail. For the first few hours, Lorelai hopped from seat to seat, attempting to find a comfortable spot. By the time we reached Phoenix for a bathroom break and a driver swap, she settled down.

Lois volunteered for the next shift. In El Paso, she woke me from my slumber to switch. Through the early morning haze, I navigated the long stretch of highway. Nothing put the world into perspective like a drive through Texas. You might spend half a day in the car and never leave the Lone Star state.

By afternoon we pulled