Just in Time

by Suzanne Trauth

  Lola, bewildered, sat next to me. “One minute Dale’s all charm, and the next he’s a monster.”

  “You should get this rehearsal going before anybody else picks a fight,” I said.

  “What was that thing with Pauli? I’ve never seen him like that.”

  We all have our limits.

  Lola urged Walter to get the show on the road. He signaled Penny who corralled the cast while Alex pounded out the overture. Dale made a stiff entrance, and kept to himself. Clearly, the drama had sucked the wind out of the Bye, Bye, Birdie sails. The cast was game, and slogged their way through Act One with Dale sleepwalking his part, Lola overacting to keep the energy flowing, and Romeo in a funk. The teen actors were having no fun and simply went through the motions. Only Edna was into the rehearsal, fainting and falling with delight.

  What would happen tomorrow night in the park with an audience? I decided to cut out during the intermission break. I gave Pauli—who was hunkered down in the back of the house—words of encouragement (“Janice will get over it and the athlete had it coming”) and was about to give Lola a thumbs up when Dale blew out of the green room. He headed straight for Walter. They exchanged words and red splotches formed on Walter’s cheeks. Now what? Arms gesticulated, Walter tore at his hair, and Dale huffed off the stage.

  “Dale?” Lola said. He kept moving. “Walter?”

  “He’s sick,” said Walter with scorn. “Caught something from an ill acquaintance yesterday. Said he’d be better by tomorrow.”

  The friend he was supposedly tending to when Lola tried to make contact?

  Lola tugged on a strand of blond hair and twisted it feverishly. “We’ll have to rehearse Act Two without him.”

  This change in events spelled trouble.

  “Yep, trouble all right,” Penny said.

  “I don’t suppose you have understudies?” I asked.

  Penny chortled. “O’Dell this is community theater. We’re lucky if we can cast one actor for every role much less have extras sitting around waiting for someone to break a leg.”

  “Metaphorically speaking,” I added.

  “Metaphor shmetaphor. Why do you think we say ‘break a leg’ for good luck?”

  I had no idea, but assumed I was about to be schooled.

  “The theater is a place of opposites. You say ‘break a leg’ instead of ‘good luck.’ Upstage is really downstage and versa vice. And you don’t whistle backstage. Singing’s okay but no whistling.”

  “Unless it’s you,” I said without a trace of a smile.

  Penny pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and clapped her clipboard against one leg. “O’Dell, one of these days you’re going to understand how the theater works. It’s all for one and one for none. And everything’s pretty much ado about nothing.”

  “Aha.” If I hadn’t been so distressed about Dale leaving, I might have gotten a kick out of Penny’s mishmash of theatrical philosophy and traditions.

  “Penny!” Walter searched the house until he spotted her in conversation with me. “Call the cast.”

  She dutifully blew her whistle; probably better than her singing. I pulled out my cell and tapped Bill’s number, texting: Dale has left rehearsal. Sick?? There wasn’t much I could do in the theater now so I hitched my bag over my shoulder. “Night Pauli,” I whispered.

  He thrust his face in his hands and studied the seat in front of him. I figured two parts embarrassment, one part anger, and one part heartache. I felt truly sorry for the kid, but I supposed his ego would mend in time. I’d been through a ton of teenage angst—

  “Dodie.”

  It was Pauli showing his face.

  “Yeah?”

  He rifled through his backpack and withdrew a sheet of paper, wrinkled with a brown smudge on it. He smoothed the sheet on his leg. “Sorry about, like, the smear. I was eating chocolate chip cookies.”

  “No problem.”

  “I meant to, like, give this to you before but then, you know, Janice…and that kid from Creston…” He dipped his head.

  I reached for the paper. It was a list of places and dates. I frowned. “What is it?”

  “Like, I put Veronica Passonata into a couple of Internet search engines.” A bit of the old confident Pauli began to surface, his eyes perked up, his head bobbed in excitement.

  “What did you find?

  He pointed to the page. “Boom! There’s all this stuff about her piano playing as a kid…”

  “The contests and awards. Right.”

  “I checked the census records and, like, some other databases. Did ya know that she lived in, like, about a thousand places before she came to Creston?” Pauli asked.

  A thousand? Pauli was exaggerating, but when I scanned the list he’d jotted down, I realized that Ruby had indeed called many places home. Starting in Indiana, then moving to Ohio, Pennsylvania, and finally New Jersey. Pauli had noted dates and places, but I would need to study these to create her personal timeline. “Pauli, this is fantastic!” I must have gotten too enthusiastic because Penny shot a glance my way, plastered her finger on her lips and shook her head vigorously. My bad.

  Alex had finished playing the Entr’acte, and Lola and Janice were well into their duet: “What Did I Ever See in Him?” I could have sworn the two of them were actually consoling each other. Dale? Pauli? The athlete?

  16

  It was a relief to step into the summer night. The air was fresh and cool. I lifted the hair off my neck to let the breeze waft over me—as I walked two blocks down Main Street to my Metro while contemplating the evening’s affairs. I was glad I parked in the opposite direction from the Windjammer—no temptation to drop in and check on things. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Henry kvetch about whatever or share in Wilson’s general jubilation over life. I was tired but antsy, and decided that I could confirm tomorrow night’s snack box delivery and work schedule from home.

  I unlocked the driver’s side door. My dome light was on. I remembered needing light to apply lipstick but I thought I had turned it off. Was I that absent-minded? I sighed and inserted the ignition key. One of these days, I’d be able to afford a car that started with the push of a button. I twisted the key and nothing happened. I twisted the key to off, waited a few seconds and tried again. Nothing. The engine was dead. Damn! My little hairs cooled off earlier with the light wind blowing, but now were as active as Mexican jumping beans. What was going on with my trusty Metro? First my brakes, and now the battery? Bill was right. Maybe it was time to consider a newer mode of transportation. Immediately I felt guilty. I couldn’t let my Metro get wind of any such plans.

  It was almost ten o’clock. I considered my options. Since Bill hadn’t answered my text, I assumed he wasn’t available; Lola was tied up; Carol would be working late at Snippets and closing up. I could leave a message with Timothy that I needed a tow in the morning, but what was I going to do now?

  I went back to the theater and quietly slipped into the house. The show was heading toward the end of Act Two and Vernon and Edna, as Janice’s parents, led the company in a reprise of “Kids,” bemoaning the state of the younger generation. Of course it was the 1950s, but had anything changed? I sat down next to Pauli who was staring intently into his camera, no doubt anticipating Janice’s next entrance so he could snap away.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  Pauli swiveled in his seat. “Wassup? Thought you left?”

  “My car won’t start. Could you give me a ride home?”

  “Now?” he asked.

  “I can wait until the end of the rehearsal.”

  Pauli considered. “Nah. Like, I’m ready to cut out. I’ve seen enough tonight.”

  I’ll bet he had. “Thanks.”

  Pauli drove slowly through the dark streets of Etonville, up Main, over Fairfield and down Ames. He pulled to the curb in front of my hou
se. It felt as though he had something he wanted to say. “Thanks again. I really appreciate you leaving the run-through.”

  “No problemo.” He rubbed the steering wheel of the family SUV. Carol ensured that if Pauli had an accident he’d be protected by lots of car.

  “Something on your mind?” I asked gently.

  “Like…how do you tell somebody how you feel about ’em?”

  I wasn’t the best person to ask. Even though Bill and I had taken our relationship to the next level, we hadn’t really talked about our feelings. We hadn’t discussed my birthday—much less a summer vacation. “It’s tough Pauli. The whole feelings thing.”

  “But how’s Janice supposed to know, like, whatever if I don’t tell her?” he asked softly.

  Good point. I should take Pauli’s advice. “Right. But find a good time.”

  Pauli looked at me. “Not right after I knock another guy to the ground.”

  “Yeah.” We both snickered. Pauli was regaining his sense of humor.

  “If Mom hears about this, I might get grounded for fighting.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. With all of the madness surrounding the rehearsal tonight…” I was thinking about Dale. “…your minor incident won’t be at the top of anybody’s chatter list.”

  “Cool. Gotta bounce.”

  I opened the door. “If you find any more info on Ruby or Veronica, let me know?”

  “Got it. Oh yeah…that other name you gave me? Otto?”

  “Heinlein. Otto Heinlein,” I said.

  “He died like Ruby did.” Pauli’s voice was hushed.

  “I know. Freaky, isn’t it?”

  “Like, yeah, but why d’ya think he had a restraining order against her?” he asked.

  “He what?” I got back into the car.

  “I found it in a police file. In 1985.”

  “Why?”

  Pauli shrugged. “The report just said harassment.”

  * * * *

  I said good-bye to Pauli, and watched as he glided down the street. Then I kicked off my shoes, put on a tee shirt and sweat pants, and settled down at my kitchen table with a strong cup of coffee. I needed a jolt of caffeine to keep me focused. I smoothed out Pauli’s list of Ruby’s whereabouts over the years next to a legal pad. I began to take notes.

  Ruby embarked on her concert tour soon after graduating from Maynard Institute. The newspaper clippings in the scrapbook indicated that she was traveling around the world until the late ’60s—when the record of her appearances stopped suddenly. Pauli’s information from the census bureau database showed that Ruby moved back to Indiana the year after her touring ended. Not to Greenburg but to Indianapolis. Then she showed up in Ohio, and later Pennsylvania. She lived in Pennsylvania until she moved to New Jersey. Gradually, Ruby had been making her way east. Either she was restless or she had no identification with any particular city or state—except for Greenburg, Indiana.

  Something was niggling at my memory. I took out a pad I’d scribbled on when I’d spoken with the staff of the Greenburg Chronicle. I flipped the pages. There it was: Otto had died in 1986. The same year Ruby left Indiana and moved to Ohio. She lived in Indiana until Otto died. Was it a coincidence? Had she simply wanted to be close to her former boyfriend until his death? He moved on with a wife and a son. Had Ruby? Had there been contact between them? I slapped my forehead, dumbfounded. Of course there was—the restraining order! I scanned Pauli’s sheet of notes. The Court handed down a restraining order in 1985, during the time Ruby was in Indiana, and a year before Otto died. What in the world happened between them? Knowing Ruby as an older woman in her seventies made it difficult to envision a younger version who had been guilty of harassment. Or did it?

  I shut my eyes and massaged my temples. It was getting late and I had an early day tomorrow…Suddenly my eyes flew open. Had Otto’s marriage been the reason Ruby ended her career as a concert pianist so unexpectedly? Had she moved back to Indiana not to be close to the man she loved but to make him pay for leaving her? Was it a threat Boris overheard that day outside his window? Had Ruby threatened vengeance if Otto left her? I leaned back in my chair. Suppositions filled my timeline, but what if I was correct? I felt a glimmer of triumph for, possibly, having unraveled a piece of Ruby’s past. A pang of regret immediately followed that triumph. If Ruby lived for revenge, what did that say about the rest of her life? A sad life. Yet, there were hints about her time in New Jersey that didn’t suggest an unhappy, depressed senior citizen. According to Bill, she had money, lots of it. She was independent, involved with the Creston Players. Even the deli kid across the street from her apartment building liked her.

  It was more than I could untangle tonight. I switched off the lights and went to sleep.

  * * * *

  “Talk to me about restraining orders,” I said, and flipped fried eggs expertly: one of the only cooking maneuvers I could handle in my sleep, which I was practically doing. I had tossed and turned for hours, mulling over Ruby’s life.

  Bill buttered a piece of toast. “Why? You locking me out?”

  “I see your sense of humor is intact.”

  He looked as tired as I felt. He had dark circles under his eyes. His brush cut was a jumble of spikes; his tie loosened around his neck, his uniform shirt looked slept in. This was not the fastidiously dressed cop I’d become used to. “It was a long night. Another meeting with the medical examiner, conferencing with the Creston force, unearthing more information on Dale Undershot’s financial planning company. It ain’t a pretty picture.”

  I plopped the eggs on a plate and handed it to Bill. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not. He’s had some problematic practices over the years, and complaints from clients. Nothing that led to prosecution, but enough red flags to complicate his relationship with Ruby.”

  “You think he was guilty of fraud?”

  “Could be.” Bill dove into the eggs like a starving man.

  This was an unusual arrangement. Normally, Bill would be serving me, but he showed up at my place at one a.m. and sacked out on the sofa to avoid disturbing me. It wouldn’t have mattered given my on and off insomnia last night.

  “But what about the payments to Ruby? If he was writing her checks on a regular basis, how could he have been cheating her?” I asked.

  Bill shook his head. “Haven’t figured that out yet. Dale is due back in the station this morning.”

  “Are you going to arrest him?”

  “Working on probable cause. We have an eyewitness to a meeting between Ruby and him, and he has no one who can back up his alibi. I’m pressing the county prosecutor for a warrant to check his cell phone record.”

  Wait until Lola found this out.

  Bill wiped his mouth. “So what’s this about restraining orders?”

  I shared the results of Pauli’s digging, without mentioning his name, since I continued to protect the innocent.

  “I’m not going to ask where you obtained your intelligence…but at least researching Ruby’s life has kept you away from the murder investigation,” he said wryly.

  “Good point.”

  “Anyway, it’s a court order that protects the victim of domestic abuse or violence in cases of criminal restraint, criminal trespass, stalking, assault—”

  “Or harassment. What exactly does the court order do?” I said.

  “Keeps the guilty party away from the victim’s place of work or home. It prevents contact with the victim in person or on the phone anywhere the victim requests. The order against contact may also protect other people in the family,” Bill said.

  I wondered if the court order protected Otto’s wife and son as well. “What happens if the guilty party violates the court order?”

  “It becomes a police issue. If a crime is committed as part of the violation, a criminal complaint is
filed.”

  What kind of harassment had Ruby committed?

  “You think Ruby’s being served with a restraining order means what?” Bill asked.

  “I’m not sure. It speaks to her personality, her need for payback. For example, if Dale was swindling her, she might want to get even.”

  “You’re forgetting she’s the one who ended up dead.” Bill finished off his coffee. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome.” I stacked the dirty dishes in the sink—time to wash up later—and grabbed my purse. “Ready.” Bill had offered to deliver me to Timothy’s to pick up my car. Timothy called at seven thirty this morning to say that Timothy Jr. towed the Metro to the service station. He said I could stop by in an hour or so to rescue my chariot. Timothy insisted on a thorough inspection of my Metro to prevent further “accidents.”

  “By the way, I ordered a rod and reel from a sporting goods outfit in Creston,” Bill said. “I’m going to teach you to fish if it kills me.”

  Or me. “I got a text from my mother yesterday.”

  Bill blinked. “Yeah?”

  “They’re thinking of renting a place down the shore for August. Wondering if we want to stop by,” I said casually.

  “Fine by me. That way I’d get to do some deep sea fishing too.”

  Too? This vacation thing might require a frontal attack. My cell pinged with a lengthy text from Lola. I could read between the words. She was desperate to reach Dale, who was nowhere to be found.

  “What does she mean disappeared?” Bill asked, no-nonsense.

  “Lola was frantic, so she drove to his house early this morning and a neighbor said she saw him leave at six a.m.” I stopped reading the text and gulped.

  “What?” Bill clapped his cap on his head.