Page 45 of Pied Sniper

I glanced back towards the stairs we just descended. “We’re covering all bases, right?” I said, and Solomon nodded. “Why Tiffany and not some other online starlet?”

“I need to make that call to the taskforce. You did the right thing persuading Abigail to let us handle this. You made a good impression last night and she obviously trusts you.”

We reached my desk and I stopped. “If we get it wrong…” I gulped, thinking about Tiffany’s final words.Next time…

“We won’t.”

I waited for Solomon to reach his office before I placed the laptop on my desk and opened it. I pulled off the sticky note on which Lucas wrote the password and copied it into the password box. The screen opened to a large photo of Tiffany pouting and cuddling her dog, Elf. I couldn’t help wondering where Elf was and if he were okay. I hoped he didn’t have any long-lasting memory of last night’s awful event. I wished for Tiffany to come home and fuss over him soon. He certainly seemed like a well-loved and pampered pooch.

Tiffany’s desktop was cluttered with folders and icons. Plenty of them, I expected: shortcut to her emails, video editing software, photo editing, a photo file that held more than twenty thousand photos from the past year alone. There were a few files dedicated to campaigns she worked on and I recognized several of the brands from her social media feeds.

Then I found a folder within a folder, withinanotherfolder, that made me frown. It was titled simply “Publicity Stunts.” I opened it, wondering what kind of stunt Tiffany was cooking up. I already read her numerous emails and documents detailing her sponsorship commitments and the types of things they wanted her to post on her social media channels but this, I realized, was something very different. This document detailed the kind of ruckus Tiffany needed to create to generate big publicity from magazines and newspapers; the stuff that garners fame for doing relatively little. It was the types of things the general public ate up and the gossip blogs went wild over.

As I scrolled through Tiffany’s notes, few of them more detailed than a one-line concept, I realized I was looking at the inner workings of her mind. She was desperate for relevancy and fame. She even ruminated on getting arrested for minor infractions or leaking semi-explicit photos. Those ideas were all written off as potentially too embarrassing and career-limiting. There were notes on performing public service, perhaps working in a soup kitchen or reading to impoverished children, stories that she could ensure would be leaked to the press so the paparazzi were on standby. How eager they would be to record “the real Tiffany Rose’s private charitable acts away from the public gaze.” Next to it, she penciled in “BORING.” Next came a “dramatic break-up post about JB” and “breaking my silence.” Below that, she scribbled a list of the men she could be seen to date, and “BOYFRIEND MATERIAL?” There was a novel plan to “accidentally” lose her bikini top whilst emerging from the ocean, but that was written off as “too cold.” Included below, “ask for free trip to Bora Bora from whoever does their PR.” She contemplated a pregnancy announcement, a vicious spat with her online nemesis, Flavia, a burglary, and auditioning for some acting roles.

The next item ensured a gasp slipped from my mouth.Get kidnapped, Tiffany wrote.Make sure someone sees it, and tips off TMZ. Ask for huge ransom. Tearfully escape with torn clothing. Go into hiding for at least a week. Ghostwrite book. Speaking tour? Magazine covers? Exclusive to Vogue?!

I rocked back in my seat as I reflected on the enormity of what I just read. “Tiffany,” I said, softly, “you’re really a shameless jerk.”

Chapter Ten

“That’s ridiculous!” Abigail’s voice came through loud and clear on my cellphone, which I positioned in the middle of the boardroom table. Solomon, Lucas and Delgado all took their seats and waited patiently while I explained what I’d found to her.

“Is it?” I asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“Objectively… not entirely,” replied Abigail with an audible sigh. “Tiffany came up with a lot of hare-brained ideas for publicity. She knew how to court the media but she would never do something that stupid. Plus, she was badly injured! She wouldn’t do that to herself!”

“Assuming it was she who got injured,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to make of the crime scene or the video. It all looked real but was it? “It could have been faked.”

“Really? How can someone fake losing that much blood?” asked Abigail. “Plus, Tiffany hates the sight of blood. She’s so squeamish.”

“Some perps use blood donations to spray around a scene to enhance the drama and urgency,” said Solomon. “Thanks to the clotting factors in old, degraded blood, it’s now pretty easy to disprove. The police will test for that and for DNA.”

“Is that all true?” asked Abigail.

“Yes,” I said.

“But they specifically warned no police involvement. They were very explicit!”

“They had to know the police would respond to the crime scene, since it was committed live onscreen and due to the comments on her video. The kidnappers don’t care about the crime scene technicians processing the scene.” I tugged my ponytail in frustration. “Okay, assuming it’s all bona fide, I’m pretty sure they meantno involvement with the ransom.They don’t want you to tell the police about it and you haven’t. We informed them very discreetly a few minutes ago.”

“It is bona fide. Tiffany would not deliberately hurt herself,” Abigail insisted. “You already said she discounted most of those crazy publicity schemes. We have regular content meetings and I always rule out anything so stupid. So would her PA! And even Jonathan!”

“Are you sure about that? There’s already a lot of publicity,” I pointed out. “Not the least of which was her kidnapping in front of tens of thousands of people.”

“I believe that sheconsideredfaking a kidnapping, but I am one hundred percent positive she wouldn’t hurt herself to accomplish it. Tiffany is Tiffany’s favorite person! She would never deliberately injure herself, not even for fame!”

“There was a lot of blood,” mouthed Delgado. He threw his hands in the air, clearly exasperated. I knew why: he firmly believed Tiffany was shot. I must admit I was leaning that way too, which made the whole thing even more puzzling.

A knock sounded at the door and one of the guys stuck his head around to see whom it was. Solomon held up a hand and the guy nodded. The man stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click, and waited patiently for us to finish. I glanced at him, assuming he was the guy Solomon recently hired. He’d been quite pleasant so far but I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to him personally.

“We have to go but thanks for taking the call,” I said.

“Is there a new development?” Abigail asked hurriedly.

“Not yet. But if you can urge Grace again to call me, it really is imperative that I speak to her. As Tiffany’s PA, I imagine she knew a lot more about Tiffany’s daily activities.”

“I left her another voicemail. I’m still working on the money too, just in case,” Abigail added.

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