Finn’s eyes widened. “They… they wanted to blow up part of the mountain?”
He was very good at acting naive.
“The movie apparently ends in an explosion that creates an avalanche.”
He nodded. “Well, sure, but that… I thought that was the kind of thing that would be done with CGI.”
“The show runner told me this director prefers shooting things as real as possible. Just be glad there’s such a thing as a stunt double.”
Finn’s forehead creased in a frown. “I’m not using a stunt double. It’s one of the reasons Nolan cast me in this role. You’re right about him being a stickler for authenticity. There are several rock climbing scenes, and I’m… I’m good at climbing. I just didn’t think it meant he’d want to blast into a real mountain.”
He looked down at his hands which were clasped in his lap. Gone was the flashy celebrity who’d handed me his keys with a dismissive wave the other night in front of Mikey and Tiller’s place. In his place was someone I couldn’t figure out.
Finn Heller wasn’t just good at climbing. He was famous for it. The show he’d been on was about a family known for their unusual luck. Everything went right for them, regardless of how dangerous or ill-advised. As a result, the youngest Clover kid had been a danger-seeker until finally finding his passion: rock climbing. Finn had spent the next several seasons playing a serious rock climber.
Finally, I understood why this particular actor had been cast in a big-budget action film. He was known for climbing, and the hero in the movie they were here filming was a rock climber. I only knew about it since they’d had to schedule extra security and crowd control perimeters the days they were shooting climbing scenes on the other side of the mountain.
No matter how skilled I knew him to be, when I pictured Finn hanging from Slye Peak, my palms started to sweat. Just one more piece of the Finn Heller puzzle that was driving me crazy.
I blinked away the image and got back to the point. “I certainly can’t help you with the rock climbing portion of the film, not that you’d need my help for that anyway, so what other scenes are there I might be able to help you prep for?”
He looked back up at me. His eyes sparkled a little. “You know about my climbing?”
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I knew who he was. “You mentioned you were good at climbing. I’ve never been climbing. Ergo, I can’t help you with climbing.”
Ergo? Jesus.
I cleared my throat. “But car chases I could help with.” Finn’s eyes widened with excitement, so I threw up a palm to deflect it. “Not by participating in one, mind you, but by discussing techniques and tactics.”
Finn’s expression still held excitement as he nodded. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
His professionalism and gratitude made me uncomfortable.
Thankfully, we were interrupted by my new deputy.
Shawn ducked his head into my office with a quick knock on the doorframe. “Sheriff, sorry to interrupt, but there’s a 10-59 at the Barking Lot, and Penny said…” He glanced at Finn and chose his words more carefully. “You’d want to handle it.”
I stood up and gathered my things, halfway hoping this wasn’t what I thought it was. “Deputy Graham, this is Finn Heller. He’s shadowing me this week. Finn, Shawn Graham.”
They shared a quick greeting before I led Finn out the back to my vehicle.
“What’s a 10-59? Please tell me it’s a robbery in progress. That would be amazing.”
I turned to Finn. “It wouldn’t be amazing for poor Louisa, who runs the shop.”
He looked appropriately cowed. “No. Obviously. Sorry, I…”
“Get in the car.”
When we got underway, Finn scrolled through his phone until he found a site with radio codes. “What’s malicious mischief?”
I sighed. He was going to find out anyway as soon as we got there. “It means Mrs. Brainthwaite has decided Prancer needs a new sparkly collar, but she doesn’t want to pay for it because she’s still mad at Louisa for cutting Prancer’s toe fluff too short.”
I was quickly discovering Finn was the master of the slow-pan. “Say what now?”
“You heard me,” I muttered, turning on my indicator before pulling into the open spot in front of the shop. “This is what I meant when I told you I might not be the best person to shadow for your role. This is hardly Los Angeles, and you’re not going to see any exciting action here.”
Finn followed me into the pet store where I spotted an angry septuagenarian being blocked from exiting the store by a harried dog groomer.
I nodded a greeting at both of them. “Louisa. Mrs. Brainthwaite. What seems to be the problem?”
Louisa remained calm despite being obviously peeved. “She has three Nylabones and a squeaky squirrel in her purse.”
Mrs. Brainthwaite wouldn’t meet my eyes. She crossed her arms in front of her full chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d deign to purchase any items from the likes of you.”
Louisa finally snapped. “Who said anything about purchasing?”
“Marla,” I said, softening my voice in the way I’d learned worked on the older lady. “We’ve been over this before. Either pay her for them or get them on Amazon. Which will it be?”
Now she met my eyes with fury. “I will not give my money to that corporate monstrosity! I support local or nothing at all, do you hear me?”
Louisa threw her hands up and huffed, but Finn was the one who spoke next. His voice was kind and gentle.
“But you’re not supporting local. You’re contributing to a locally owned business suffering. Is that what you want? For Aster Valley to go back to the way it was ten years ago when half the shops were shuttered and some of the store owners were forced to move away?”
I glanced at him in surprise. How did he know about Aster Valley’s history?
“Of course not,” Mrs. Brainthwaite said indignantly. “My own sister… my own…” She stopped and clamped her lips together, chin trembling a little. Her eyes darted to Louisa before she finally exhaled. “My sister used to own a T-shirt stand inside the main ski lodge. She… she was forced out of business when the resort closed.”
Louisa looked taken aback. “I never knew Alicia owned her own business. I’ll bet she was great at it. She’s such a people person. She comes in here with Pickles all the time and makes everyone laugh.”
Mrs. Brainthwaite’s entire face softened. “She does?”
Louisa nodded and gestured toward a little rotating stand with doggie bow ties on it. “She was looking at that green-and-white-striped tie for Pickles but decided to wait for Christmas.”
Mrs. Brainthwaite reached out to run a finger over the fabric of the bow tie. “But Pickles’ birthday is next month…”
Once everyone’s hackles had been lowered and Louisa had made a particularly large sale to Mrs. Brainthwaite, including the bones, toys, bow tie for Pickles, and a bag of organic, homemade treats—also made by a local Aster Vallian—Finn and I bid the ladies a nice day and made our way back to the SUV.
“You didn’t arrest her for shoplifting,” he said once we got strapped in.