Towhee Get Your Gun

by J. R. Ripley

  “What the—” I ran my finger over the glass and gasped. There was a funnel-shaped hole in the glass. Was that a bullet hole?!

  I inspected the curtain itself. A small hole had also punctured the fabric.

  I drew away from the window quickly, bracing my back against the wall. I listened to my heart beating against my chest and debated what I should do. That hole had not been there earlier.

  27

  “I checked it out, like you said, Chief.” Officer Reynolds came bouncing down the stairs. He tossed me my apartment keys. “Looks like the hole was made by a twenty-two of some sort. Maybe only an air rifle or pellet gun or something.”

  Jerry snorted and shot me a withering look. “Like I told you, Simms. It was nothing. Probably just some kids out having fun.” He popped open the bin of shelled peanuts and thrust his hand inside.

  I opened my mouth to complain, but I’d done it so frequently, and to no avail, that I decided it wasn’t worth the breath. It was a good thing I had waited until morning to call the police. If I had dragged Jerry and his men down here at night to look at my window he’d have been even less interested in pursuing the matter.

  “Maybe a bird hit your window,” Reynolds suggested.

  “Birds don’t make bullet holes. Unless they’re carrying rifles.” Did these guys have any law enforcement training at all?

  Reynolds reached in next and popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth. “No sign of the projectile.”

  Riley burst in. “Good morning, Amy!” He said hello to the chief and Officer Reynolds. “Need a ride to the theater?”

  I told him no. “I’ll take my van. I’ve got some errands to run.” A meeting had been called for the cast and crew of Annie Get Your Gun over at TOTS. We’d be deciding whether or not to continue the show. A lot was at stake. I looked out to the street. Cousin Riley’s pickup truck was empty. “Where’s Rhonda?”

  Riley frowned. “She says she’s quitting. Not going back. This whole murder thing’s got her mighty upset.” He gave Chief Kennedy an accusatory look that bounced harmlessly off him.

  “I can’t say that I blame her.” I thought about Ava Turner. Had that been her reason for stopping by last night? Had she wanted to tell me that she was quitting the show? If I were the actress, I’d probably be in a first-class seat on a plane to St. Tropez by now, soaking up the sun someplace safe until whatever was going around here was firmly resolved.

  I guessed we’d all find out soon enough.

  Riley left.

  “I figure we’re done here, too,” said Jerry, hitching up his trousers.

  “Done?” I exclaimed. “Aren’t you going to investigate any further?”

  “What’s to investigate?”

  “Jerry,” I said, taking a deep breath, “Ava Turner was in my apartment last night. Somebody shot at her yesterday morning. They shot at her again last night.” I pointed angrily upstairs. “In my apartment!”

  “Did they, Simms?” Chief Kennedy said with irritation. “Or did they try to shoot you?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. What the—?

  Jerry chuckled and winked at Officer Reynolds, which riled me all the more.

  Was Jerry right? Had someone been shooting at me? It was horrible enough to think of somebody trying to shoot Ava Turner. But to think that same person was trying to shoot me . . .

  “By the way, Simms,” said the chief, with a voice of triumph. “I checked on T-Bone Crawford yesterday. He was at the diner to get his supper.”

  I snorted. “Sure, what else was he going to say? That he was staking out Birds and Bees?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Before trying to shoot me? Or Miss Turner.”

  “The man got off work and went to the diner for dinner. Hundreds of folks around here do exactly that same thing each day. Are they all trying to kill you too?”

  “Come on, Reynolds.” Chief Kennedy waved for the officer to follow him to the door. “Leave this investigation to me, Simms. We’ll all be better off. I’ll figure out who killed Kleinerman all in good time.

  “And when I do,” he said, turning in the open door as a customer came through, “I’ll know who’s behind all this mischief being perpetrated on Miss Turner!”

  He stomped down the brick path to his squad car, Officer Reynolds following in his wake.

  Mischief? Shootings, stabbings, and attempted murder were mischief?

  Then I froze.

  “What is it?” asked Mom, an expression of worry on her face. “Are you okay?”

  I ran outside and banged on the car window. The chief was behind the wheel. He frowned and ordered Reynolds to roll down the window. “What is it, Amy?”

  “You said Kleinerman? Who’s Kleinerman?”

  The chief shook his head and looked down the street a moment before answering. “We now know that Patsy’s real name was Kleinerman, not Klein.”

  “Really? I wonder—”

  Jerry interrupted. “And, get this, she was related to some guy that Ava Turner killed in self-defense twenty years ago.” The chief twisted the key in the ignition and gunned the engine. Reynolds raised the window. I was being dismissed.

  I stepped quickly away from the vehicle before Jerry ran over my toes.

  I stood at the side of the road thinking. Could it be? Could Ava have murdered Patsy? Maybe because she thought Patsy was going to blackmail her or kill her in an act of revenge?

  I went back inside as a large moving van pulled up next door and began dumping crates on the sidewalk. Work on the brew pub appeared to be going quickly. I hoped work on Anderson’s house was doing the same.

  “Mind watching the store, Mom?” I knew it was hard for her to be on her feet all day, but I had the meeting at TOTS and some errands to take care of as well. Kim was due in around three to take over.

  Mom said it would be fine. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Betty. She can help, too.”

  “Thanks.” Aunt Betty was always happy to oblige, though it was hard to get her to focus on any one thing for long. Still, she’d be good for at least a couple of hours. “I left a message for Aaron. He might be coming by with some new birdhouses. Can you give him a check, please? The book is under the till.”

  Mom agreed. She also promised to call the contractor to see about getting the upstairs window replaced.

  I grabbed my keys and left, knowing that Birds & Bees and my mother would be well taken care of. Still, I felt a bit guilty over how much time I was spending away from my store. When this show was all over, one way or the other, I vowed to buckle down and take care of business.

  My first stop was the bookstore on the square. “Do you have books on Ava Turner?” I inquired of the young woman behind the register.

  She swept a lock of long, blond hair behind her ear. “The actress? Sure. Follow me.”

  I followed the young lady to a section of books of local interest. As she walked, my eyes fell on the silver and turquoise dreamcatcher earrings that adorned her ears.

  She waved to an entire row dedicated to the actress. “We may have a few more in the biography section, but because she’s local, we keep her stuff up front.”

  “Thanks, this is a big help.” I studied the titles. Some were bios; others were big coffee-table-style books full of photographs.

  “Of course, the Ava Turner Museum also contains a selection of books. If you don’t find what you like here, you might try there.”

  There was a modest Ava Turner Museum dedicated to the silver-screen legend next to Ginger Curry, the Chinese restaurant, around the corner from town square. It had opened in my absence and I’d never been inside.

  The clerk slid a book off the shelf. “You won’t find this one, though.” She handed me the thick hardcover book.

  “Ava Turner: The Unauthorized Biography?”

  The woman smiled. “It’s a popular title. But not,” she said, “with Ava Turner. There are some stories told in it that Miss Turner is not very happy about.” Her eyes twinkled. “And
would just as soon forget, I’ll bet.”

  “You’ve read it?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “The woman led an exciting life once she left Ruby Lake. Far more exciting than mine, I’ll tell you that! Did you know she once dated Frank Sinatra?”

  I flipped through the book. There were a number of photos as well. “Do you remember if there was anything in here about a murder she was involved in some years ago?”

  “Oh, yeah,” the young lady drawled. “That was quite a scandal.”

  I handed her the book. “I’ll take it.” She rang up my purchase. “I don’t need a bag,” I said as she pulled one from under the counter. I glanced at my watch. I had an hour before the meeting at the theater. I took my new purchase and walked over to The Coffee and Tea House.

  “Everything all right, Amy?” My friend Sherry refilled my coffee mug and pulled up a chair next to mine. “You look like your head is about to explode.”

  I squeezed my temples. “I feel like it, too.” I slammed the book shut.

  Sherry studied the cover. “Reading up on our most famous resident?”

  “Something like that. Thanks for the coffee.” I took a big swallow. “I have to get to TOTS.” I could see the front of the theater from the window.

  “What’s happening with the show?” asked Sherry. “Will you open?”

  I stood and placed some money atop the check. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “I don’t know about anything anymore. You remember the night of the murder?”

  “Of course.”

  “You said Miss Turner was here that evening.”

  “That’s right. Why?”

  I shook my head. I had no idea why and said so.

  Could Ava Turner have stabbed Patsy Klein—Kleinerman—to death and then walked to The Coffee and Tea House for an alibi?

  How had she gotten out of the dressing room? The door had been locked and chained from the inside. Besides, at that point, an unknown assailant had already tried to kill the actress using that board with the nail in it. Could that have been Patsy?

  Had the two women become engaged in some sort of deadly cat-and-mouse game? Trying to see who could murder the other first?

  I walked slowly to the theater, deep in thought. The front door was unlocked. I found everyone sitting scattered about the seats. Even Chief Kennedy was there. “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  “Lou asked me to say a word.”

  I took a seat next to Ben Harlan and Dick Feller. They were eyeing Lou Ferris and August Mantooth, who were in the corner of the stage, locked in animated conversation.

  “If Mantooth’s arms fly any faster, he’s going to take flight and hit the rafters,” I muttered.

  Ben chuckled. “How are you holding up, Amy?”

  “Think the show will continue?” Dick sounded nervous.

  I craned my neck. I spotted Eli Wallace sitting close to Amy Harlan. On seeing me, she shot me a look so cold it sent an icy dagger clear through my heart. She was dressed to kill in skintight designer jeans and a hot red scoop-neck shirt that looked so tight I feared her breasts would burst free any second. Maybe that was what Eli was hoping for, too.

  Nathan Longfellow sat removed from the rest of us, two rows back. Robert LaChance, Mac MacDonald, and T-Bone Crawford, Robert’s wrench man and henchman, swaggered down the aisle and took up seats in the front, nearest to the stage.

  The black jeans, black leather vest over black T-shirt, and the skull-and-crossbones bandana covering his head gave the mechanic more the look of a rough-and-tumble biker dude than some guy I wanted to trust with my next brake job.

  “Glad you could make it,” I called to Robert and the mayor. “How was the hunting trip?”

  “Just fine,” said the mayor, looking from Robert to me.

  “Tell me, Robert, how do you manage to go shooting with a broken arm? Or did Mac do all the shooting?”

  Robert fumed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I couldn’t shoot. I only went because our hunting trip had been planned months ago.”

  Funny that they would have scheduled a camping trip in the middle of show rehearsals. “Where did you go?” I noticed everybody was looking at us now, but I didn’t care.

  “We rented a cabin in the Smokies.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “What do I need witnesses for?”

  I turned to Jerry. “Did you check their alibis?” Instead of traipsing around in the Smoky Mountains, they might have been skulking around the hills near Ava Turner’s estate.

  The chief’s face turned bright red. “I do not need to check the mayor’s alibi,” he hissed, sinking down in his seat.

  “Come on, Robert.” The mayor grabbed his buddy, and they moved to some seats across the aisle. T-Bone nodded to the chief as he passed us and joined his boss.

  “Where’s Miss Turner?” I asked Ben and Dick.

  “I have no idea,” answered Ben. The attorney had gone casual today, brown trousers and a white polo shirt. He was trim for his age and elegantly handsome in a quiet way. I could see how my mother might be attracted to him.

  A moment later, the great lady herself appeared from behind the stage curtains. Making her grand entrance. Riley led the way. Maybe she could hire him as her bodyguard-slash-chauffeur.

  Aaron Maddley was also in the house, seated next to another crew member. I waved, and he actually waved back. Maybe there would be a thaw in our relationship. Such as it was. Paul Anderson plopped down in the empty seat next to him. That wouldn’t be good. Who knew what Craig’s friend might say about me? None of it good, that was for certain.

  Lou paced a moment at the edge of the stage, then clapped his hands. “Thank you for coming, everyone. I know you are all wondering what will happen with Annie Get Your Gun.”

  He paused with a smile. “I’m wondering the same thing myself. Of course, we would all love for the show to continue.”

  He stopped at the end of the stage, his toes jutting out. “If Chief Kennedy can assure us of our safety.” He turned to August. “And our esteemed director agrees to guide us.”

  Lou unfolded his arm toward Ava Turner. “And if our beloved and beautiful star, Miss Ava Turner, concurs”—he smiled warmly—“perhaps we can continue.” He waved to Chief Kennedy.

  Kennedy pushed himself up from his seat and began pacing back and forth in front of the stage. He assured us that the killer would be caught and that he was doing everything in his power to protect our star. “Each and every one of you,” he added, slapping his holster. “Annie can get her gun,” he quipped. “Me, I’m going to get me a murderer.”

  The room broke out in applause. I even clapped once or twice myself. It was a good act. Too bad I wasn’t buying it.

  “Does that mean you’re close to catching the killer?” Aaron asked.

  Several voices chimed in with the same question. Jerry raised his hand to quiet them. “You all know I can’t comment on that directly.” I saw his eyes land on a man in the audience. It was Lance Jennings from the Ruby Lake Weekender. Lance had his pad and pencil in hand and was writing furiously. Obviously, Jerry didn’t want to be quoted as saying anything that could make him look bad down the road.

  “Come on,” cajoled Lance. “Can’t you give our readers something?”

  “Now, now,” interrupted Lou, saving the chief from further inquiry and/or putting his foot in his mouth. “Thank you, Chief.” He shook the chief’s hand. “What do you all say?” Lou rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Are we putting on a show?”

  In the end, a vote was held and the majority agreed to continue with the production. Personally, as much as I would have been happy to give up show business, I knew it was in the theater’s and the town’s best interests and had cast my vote, reluctantly, in the affirmative.

  I only hoped there would be no more murders. I had no idea what I could do to prevent it, but knew I had to try. If I got hurt in the process, I could only hope somebody found me and succored me the way tho
se two children had that poor, injured towhee.

  28

  I separated from the group and wandered backstage. I wanted a fresh look at Ava Turner’s dressing room. The hall was well lit. As I approached, I heard noises coming from around the corner. A man was inside the electrical closet. His back was to me. I tiptoed past. I didn’t need witnesses.

  The door to the star’s dressing room was shut. But there was nothing to indicate that the room was off-limits. I wasn’t sure I would have let it stop me if there had been. Nonetheless, I rapped lightly on the door. There was no reply. I put my ear to the door and strained to hear.

  Deadly silence.

  I opened the door and flipped on the light switch. A mop and bucket sat in the middle of the floor. Cleaning supplies, various props, and unmarked cardboard boxes filled the room.

  The chair Patsy had been found in had been pushed back up against the makeup dresser. The large wardrobe that Ava had mentioned—the one she suggested may have been moved—sat open. Several of the actress’s costume changes hung on the hook. The small, lone window near the ceiling was firmly shut.

  Everything looked perfectly ordinary. Perfectly harmless.

  Yet a woman had been stabbed to death in this locked room.

  “Everything okay?”

  I screamed and turned, my hands balled into fists. I lowered them when I saw Cassius “Cash” Calderon, the local contractor, standing in the open doorway. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Calderon.”

  “Everything okay, Miss Simms?” the big man asked again. “I was working next door and noticed the light on in here.” He peered around the room. “Isn’t this where . . . you know?”

  I nodded.

  “I didn’t think anybody was allowed in here.” Cash was barrel chested, with dark blue eyes and a bristly crew cut. A small brown mole below his left earlobe, the size of a pencil eraser, gave him character. Though I knew he was somewhere between fifty and sixty years old, he was as fit as any forty-year-old. Definitely more fit than I.

  Kim had suggested Zumba, but I was thinking more along the lines of organized bird-watching hikes. Why not combine my love of bird-watching with a little heart-healthy exercise? In my book, it beat flailing around in a room full of strangers while trying to cardio-dance to complicated Latin rhythms.