Page 56 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Because if a serious threat linked directly to the show, they’d have to shut down. It would lose them a lot of money, and the studio doesn’t want that if they can avoid it. The murders didn’t occuron set, sothey won’t halt production. And on the one hand, I understand. I think Gwen and Ellery would’ve wanted their legacy to live on. Aesop’s Files is so much bigger than one person, and as long as the show isn’t at fault, there’s no reason to stop filming. But if it’s proven that a crazed stalker is killing crew members, and the studio knew about it, there’d be trouble. It’s why they gave you a patsy.”

“I understand the pressures of running a multimillion-dollar business, but why is the studio so resistant to pausing their schedule when faced with a double homicide?” Eamon asked from the couch, and Taron flinched as if she’d forgotten he was there.

“Have you heard of syndication?” she asked, the look of fear and attraction flooding her features again.

“I have,” he answered.

“I haven’t,” Bel said.

“Syndication happens when a show reaches one hundred episodes, and they can license it out,” Taron explained. “Normally when a show first airs, it remains on its home network or platform, but once it hits one hundred episodes, it can start airing on multiple streaming platforms and networks. We’re almost at episode one hundred, and the minute Aesop’s Files crosses that threshold, we’re looking at a massive payday.”

“Why one hundred episodes?” Bel asked.

“Because it allows networks to work it into their regular yearly rotation without having repeats,” the actress said. “One hundred episodes give them months to air every season before they have to start over with episode one, therefore increasing watch time on the network that licenses it. The more episodes, the better. They can schedule multiples per week, and constantly have viewers because nothing was being repeated.”

“Got it,” Bel said. “So halting production would ruin that. How close to number one hundred are you?”

“They’re the episodes we’re filming in your town.”

“Right… so theyreallydon’t want murderers or crazy fans stopping anything.” Bel dropped her head into her hands. The more she learned about this studio and its famous show, the more she hated it… except for Taron Monroe. The pretty woman liked her pitbull and was risking the company’s wrath to be here. Hopefully, she was exempt from the toxicity.

“That certainly explains a lot, so thank you,” Bel continued. “But unfortunately, we already realized Tony Royce wasn’t a threat. I appreciate you being honest with us. It’s the first time anyone from the show has been, but there’s little I can do with this information.”

“I’m not here because of him,” Taron said, suddenly too serious, and a pit yawned wide in Bel’s stomach. “I’m here because I’m terrified. Because all the women working on Aesop’s Files are terrified. Two of us are dead, and we’re afraid of who’s next. So I asked around when I learned you were on Gwen and Ellery’s case. Everyone says you’re the person to talk to if you want something done… especially the guy at that cute coffee shop. He believes you’re to be trusted.”

“I am,” Bel said. “I solved his wife’s murder.”

“She was murdered?” Taron leaned back in her chair. “That’s terrible. I figured by his statements that she’d died, but he didn’t say how. Although speaking highly of you should’ve clued me in.”

“It was a difficult case.”

“So I can trust you, right?” Taron stared so deeply into Bel’s blue eyes that she felt her gaze in her soul. “And you too?” She threw a glance at Eamon.

“You can,” Bel said. “I realize you don’t know me, and Idid just tryto shoot you, but I take my job seriously. I don’t care who you are. If you need help, I help, but if you’re guilty, I’ll take you down no matter the cost.”

“Good.” Taron nodded and gripped her mug tighter. “Because I have a real suspect for you.”

“His letters initially seemed harmless,”Taron said. “Someone goes through my fan mail to assess the safety before it ever gets to me. Is something harmful in the package? Would it be damaging to my mental health? Does it include content that warrants dialing 911? If she doesn’t find anything concerning, she passes the mail on to me, and this fan seemed innocent, if nota littlenonsensical. Written in beautiful prose, his letters read like the ramblings of a well-spoken poet, but then I noticed this.” She slid her phone across the table. “They look like normal hand-written correspondence.” She pointed at the photograph. “But see how some words are penned darker than others. It’s not instantly noticeable, but when you keep getting flowery letters delivered to you repeatedly without rhyme or reason, you start searching for meaning. At first, I wondered if it was just the pen running dry, and the author needed to press harder, but for curiosity’s sake, I wrote those words down on a separate piece of paper, and his messages suddenly made sense.”

Bel grabbed the expensive phone and pulled it closer, her eyes trailing over the darker words on the written page. “You wore that red scarf I love,” she readthe hidden message out loud, her stomach clenching at the fan’s mention of red clothing. “It fluttered behind you, and I wondered what would happen if the wind blew too hard. Would it choke you? Would you die? You would be so pretty sprawled out on the sidewalk with crimson around your throat. It would be like a scene from your show. I watch every episode. I love them all. You would be so pretty if you died, but I would miss you. The. W. O. L. F… the wolf?” Bel’s eyes shot up to Taron’s before flicking to Eamon. “Do you know who sent this?”

“No,” Taron said. “All I know is that he always traces the letters W, O, L, and F darker after the word The, so I think he calls himself The Wolf. There’s never a return address on the envelopes, and because his mail is whimsical yet meaningless, they make it through the screening process.”

“He did that on purpose,” Bel said. “If he wrote that line about the sidewalk outright, the letters would’ve been delivered to the police.”

“I know,” Taron said. “But the dead on the sidewalk isn’t the scariest part.”

“What is?” Eamon asked.

“The red scarf,” Taron said. “The paparazzi and random social media users post photos of me all the time, so it’s easy to reference what I wear, but every letter The Wolf sends mentions something he shouldn’t know. Likethe scarf fluttering in the wind. Before I received this one, I’d gone out for coffee alone, so that day stuck in my memory. I felt safe going by myself because it was freezing, and I was bundled up. No one recognized me, but there was this massive gust of wind that almost ripped my favorite red scarf off my throat.”

“He was watching you,” Bel said.

“I think so. Everything he says is always slightly off-color and personal. Like the letter where he mentioned he didn’t like when I cursed when my heel got stuck in a crack. I remember muttering itunder my breathbecause people were taking photos of me. The last thing I wanted was a video of me cursing like a sailor going viral, which means he had to have been extremely close when that happened.”

“Have you brought this to anyone’s attention?” Bel asked. “Or taken it to the police.”

“I showed the letters to the studio executives, but they dismissed it. The slightly darker words aren’t exactly hard evidence.”

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