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So when she entered the man’s bedroom, she fully expected him to be up already, and slaving away in the home gym he’d built. It wasn’t unusual for Sergio to get up at five o’clock or even four, to start on the first of several workouts spread throughout the day.

Jasmine had always thought that the life of an actor consisted of studying their lines and declamating them in front of a mirror. But apparently the life of the modern actor was dominated by protein drinks and energy drinks and grueling workouts and lots and lots of selfies taken of bulging muscles and sweaty brows and shared with millions of fans.

When she didn’t see a sign of Sergio in the bedroom, she smiled with satisfaction. But when she saw that his bed hadn’t been slept in, that smile disappeared. Her employer needed his sleep. Many was the time he’d demanded no one disturb him so he could get his eight hours in. Those huge muscles only bulked up when granted sufficient rest.

She walked out of the bedroom and almost bumped into that horrible little man who called himself a PA. Luke Grimsby was wearing those red-framed glasses again, which gave him the look of a pompous art gallery owner. He had his nose glued to his tablet, as usual. It was where he kept track of Sergio’s training schedule, and also his nutrition schedule, both equally important, apparently.

“Where’s Sergio?” she asked.

“No idea,” Luke muttered as he adjusted his glasses and peered at her as if seeing her for the first time. He did this every time, the supercilious fool. “In the gym, probably.”

“He didn’t go to bed last night.”

The PA wrinkled his nose, causing his glasses to shift up.“What do you mean?”

“I mean he didn’t go to bed.”

“Impossible. Sergio knows how important it is to—”

“Look for yourself, Luke. His bed hasn’t been slept in.”

Luke hurried into the room.“But… I saw him go up last night.”

“Up where?”

“The roof. He wanted to experience the storm firsthand. Said it inspired him. And also, he wanted to take a selfie for his Insta.” He locked eyes with Jasmine. “You don’t think…”

The words hung between them. Then, as one person, they both turned on their heel and quickly made their way to the staircase that ran to the roof.

“How could you let him go out there!” Jasmine cried.

“You know Sergio. The man loves a good storm!”

They arrived on the roof, and Jasmine glanced around. The chimney stack was there, the parapet lining the roof, the antenna as it pointed straight up into the sky, and as her eyes drifted past the antenna and back to the chimney stack, scanning the tar roof floor, suddenly something clicked in her brain. She’d registered some anomaly. Something that wasn’t as it should be.

Slowly her eyes swiveled back to the antenna.

And that’s when she saw it: strapped to the antenna was a large object. Dark and bulky, with strips of material flapping in the light breeze that had followed last night’s fierce storm. And as she took in more details, suddenly she heard a cry. She didn’t realize at first that it was she who’d uttered it, just as it took her mind a few seconds to come to terms with the information her eyes were sending it.

It was Sergio Sorbet.

Strapped to the antenna.

And fully burned to a crisp.

Chapter 28

It seemed like it was only yesterday that we were out at Sergio Sorbet’s house, talking to the man, and that’s because it was indeed only yesterday that we were out there.

Now we were back, and this time we were on the roof of Sergio’s property, staring at the actor, who looked a little bit less like a superhero today than he had yesterday.

“What happened to him?” asked Dooley.

“Looks like he was hit by lightning,” I said. “More than once.”

“Why would he do a thing like that?” asked my friend.

“I don’t think he did it on purpose, Dooley. I think he was strapped to that antenna and left there to die.”

“But didn’t he know it’s very dangerous to be struck by lightning? Not to mention unhealthy?”

“I think he was murdered.”

“Murdered!”

“Yep. Murdered by lightning.” I had to think back to Shanille’s words last night: how God was punishing all those bachelors for their sin of refusing to get married. But this was taking that punishment up to a whole new level.

“So what do you think, Abe?” asked Chase.

The paunchy coroner looked down from his lofty position next to the fallen action star.“I’m thinking this has got to stop, Kingsley. This is, what, the fourth murder in four days?”

“Tell that to the killer. He was killed, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Received a series of nasty blows to the head which would almost certainly have rendered him unconscious, then tied to the antenna in the hope he’d be struck by lightning. And since we experienced one of the worst storms in a decade last night, I think the murderer would have been pleased. Poor guy was hit repeatedly, I’d say.”

“So he was killed by lightning.”