Page 7 of Wild Sentinel

"Can you think of any reason why Benjamin would want to kill Jonathan? I mean, it seems like a pretty weak alibi. To shoot someone in cold blood, then play it off like somebody swapped the bullets. It's possible. But it's a pretty dumb plan. Opens him up to negligence."

"I like Benjamin, but I don't think he is quite playing with a full deck.”

"How so?"

"Well, we’re all actors. So we’re all a little off.”

I changed tactics. “You spent a lot of time with Jonathan, running lines, rehearsing."

"Yes.”

"You mentioned he became your confidant.”

"Yes. I was able to talk to him about anything and everything.”

"Did he talk to you about anything troubling? Was anything bothering him? Was he concerned about anything?”

Her face scrunched as she thought about it. Then she frowned. "I guess he was acting a little strange lately. Tense. He wasn’t paranoid, but something was bothering him. Sure."

"Did he ever tell you what that something was?”

5

“No," Melissa said. "There were just some things he wouldn't talk about. He was very closed off in some regards. Don’t get me wrong, he would bare his soul on stage, but he could be quiet and introverted offstage.”

"Could Jonathan’s stress have been work-related?" I asked.

Melissa shook her head. "I don't think so. As far as I knew, he was retired.”

"Pretty young to be retired,” I said. “You know what he did for a living?”

"No. Honestly, I don't. He said he had done really well in some kind of tech industry, and that afforded him the ability to pursue his passion, which was acting. I think he still thought he could be a movie star. My God, he had the looks for it." You could tell she was smitten.

I gave her a card and told her I needed to speak with her husband.

Her brow knitted again with annoyance. "Why?"

"I think it's obvious. He’s here tonight and had access to the weapon.”

Her face tensed, and she glared at me. She spun around, and we followed her back into the dining hall and rejoined Nate.

“You’re up,” I said to him.

Melissa gave him a concerned look.

“I don’t talk to cops,” Nate said. “Not without an attorney.”

“What have you got to hide?”

“Nothing.”

“When people don’t want to talk to me, it makes me feel like they don’t like me, or they’re hiding something.”

“Maybe I don’t like you.”

I smiled and handed him a card. “If you change your mind.”

JD and I stepped away.