Murder Takes Center Stage

by Tracy D. Comstock

  She nodded. The lump in her throat was preventing her from speaking. In spite of her paralyzing worry over Jeweliah and her possible guilt, she was overcome with thankfulness that Tad was the kind of man who didn't question her intuition or intention. He simply trusted her enough to promise to be there for her, to help her work through things, before she even gave him the details. How could she have ever doubted whether they could have a future together? Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "I'm seriously afraid that the person responsible for the attacks on Bodley and possibly even his murder was a student."

  Tad leaned back on the edge of her desk and studied her closely. "You're serious." When she nodded again, he asked, "And you think it's Jeweliah?"

  "I don't know what to think." She shoved her hands through her hair and paced the confines of her classroom. "Last night, Gabby, Greg, and I watched Clue. And sidebar here, can you believe the guy had never seen the movie?"

  "Not if he's married to Gabby. You guys are obsessed."

  "You have to admit it's a great movie."

  "Sure, but back to Jeweliah?"

  "Okay, so we're watching Clue, and I start thinking about how all of these characters committed one of the murders, rather than one person being responsible for all of them. And then I wonder, what if that's the case with our play?"

  "You don't mean you think there are some more dead bodies stashed around that we haven't found yet?"

  "No, not more murders. But each of these attacks on Bodley—the prop knife that was suddenly real—"

  "But how could someone know that Bodley would be the one to cut himself?" Tad interjected.

  She ignored him and continued, "And then Bodley and Violet getting sick—"

  "Which still could've been a flu bug."

  "Doubtful," she told him. "And then, of course, we have Bodley's murder."

  "Yeah, that one's kind of hard to explain away. So what made you change your mind from multiple people involved to thinking Jeweliah is the one responsible?" he asked her.

  "You should've seen her this morning, Tad. There was something almost—and I really hate to say it—but gleeful in her expression when she talked about Bodley being out of the picture now."

  "'Out of the picture'? She used those words?"

  "Exactly. I thought it was an odd choice of words at the time too. She was telling me all about how it's always been her and her mom and how her mom deserves someone better than an actor. She said Annabeth had told her all about what kind of person Bodley really was and that she knows how he had screwed Violet over."

  "I knew Jeweliah was close with Annabeth, but doesn't that seem like an odd conversation for those two to be having?"

  "I guess so. I really believed that Annabeth might still be carrying a torch for Bodley from years ago—"

  "Like you carried a torch for me?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  "Ha-ha. I'm serious."

  "So why would she badmouth someone she was in love with? Or are you thinking she's out for revenge? If that's the case, why don't you think Annabeth is behind everything?" When Emily just stared at him, he shrugged. "Just trying to read that scary mind of yours, Pit."

  "Well, I was concerned by the way Jeweliah acted like she was almost triumphant at the idea of Bodley being gone. But now that you mention it—" She scavenged a pencil from the top of her desk and began to tap it on her other palm while she thought it through. "—what if they're working together?"

  "Okay, let me see if I can follow your logic here." Tad sat down at her desk and watched her continue to pace. "You think maybe Annabeth and Jeweliah were working together to get rid of Bodley? For what purpose?"

  "It could be just like you said. Annabeth wanted revenge for him never returning her affections. Plus, she was angry about what he had done to Violet with the whole scholarship thing, and Jeweliah wanted him out of the picture because he was interfering with her relationship with her mom. Plus, she doesn't want her mom with someone like Bodley."

  "But how does she even know what kind of person Bodley is? He and her mom hadn't been dating all that long."

  "That's what I'm saying. Her viewpoint would've been skewed by whatever Annabeth told her."

  "I can see where you're coming from here, Pit, and this makes sense if they were working together, but all we have is speculation. And horrible speculation at that. We're essentially saying that a junior in high school conspired to commit murder. With someone we both consider a friend, no less."

  She tossed down the pencil she had been tapping and dropped down into one of the student desks facing Tad. "I know it's awful. But someone's got to be behind all this, and it has be someone involved with the play. And if Jeweliah is involved—"

  "Then we've got to go and tell the police and let them figure it out," Tad said firmly.

  "Still, like you said, we only have speculation. And Tad," she looked at him with pleading eyes, "we've got to protect her somehow. She's so young and has been through so much."

  "Look, I care about our students every bit as much as you do, Em. But we're talking murder here."

  She dropped her head into her hands. "Just help me keep a close watch on her. Maybe get a chance to talk to her. We need to find some proof before we make any decisions."

  "Okay, that I can live with. But promise me we turn over any proof we find to the police. I don't want you getting hurt again. I can't see you put yourself in danger like you did when you were trying to find Helen."

  "I promise," she told him. But they both knew she was lying.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jeweliah was still the main thing on Emily's mind when she arrived at rehearsal that evening, but when she saw Violet talking with Annabeth in the front row, she had a sudden flash of memory of her and Mr. Greenbalm together behind the theater. Moving toward them, she decided she would try to talk to Violet about what she'd seen. Annabeth was exiting the row as she reached them. "I've got to go check on something. Be right back."

  Emily moved into the seat Annabeth had vacated. "Thanks for coming to rehearsal, Violet."

  "I can't stay, but I wanted to show you the flyers I came up with."

  Emily studied them with a critical eye. They really did look fantastic, and while Bodley had not been her favorite person in the world, she was sure that the memorial aspect of the production would draw an even larger crowd. "Thanks so much for all you've done, Violet. We couldn't have handled all of this promotion without you."

  "It's my pleasure. Really."

  Emily turned in her seat so that she was facing Violet more directly. "Oh, and I meant to catch you after rehearsal yesterday," she said casually. "I thought you looked kind of upset."

  Violet cocked her head quizzically and said, "No, not really."

  "My mistake," Emily answered with a shrug. "But still, I'm glad you've been a part of this whole production. I hope you've found it worth your while. It looks like you and Mr. Greenbalm have become friends at least."

  Again, Violet gave her a confused, blank stare. "Mr. Greenbalm? Well, yes, I know him, but I don't know that we're what you would call friends."

  Emily wasn't sure how to respond to this. She knew what she'd seen. Was there something Violet didn't want her to know? She started to ask again, but Violet turned in her seat and motioned to a man a couple of rows back. Emily hadn't noticed him earlier, but he looked vaguely familiar.

  "I don't believe you've met my husband, Emily. This is Andrew. Andrew, this is Emily Taylor, the high school English teacher."

  He was busy tapping away on a tablet, but Andrew looked up and gave Emily a distracted wave. "Nice to meet you." Emily nodded in return.

  "We're heading out for dinner. Date night. We have a sitter and all, but I'll see you tomorrow," and with that, Violet was gone.

  Emily was left with more questions than answers. She was certain that she had seen Violet sobbing and that Mr. Greenbalm had been the one comforting her. Did she have things figured out wrong? Could it be that Violet and Mr
. Greenbalm were the ones conspiring to get rid of Bodley? She knew Violet had a reason to detest the man, but as far as she knew, Mr. Greenbalm hadn't even known Bodley before he returned to town to visit his aunt. Undecided, she headed off to find Tad and run her new theory past him. Maybe he would have some new insight. But before she'd gained the stage, Annabeth came hurrying up to her, dragging what looked to be a body behind her.

  "Wow." Emily looked over the lifelike dummy. "This is even more realistic-looking than the other one."

  "Yeah, I'm pretty proud of it. How about helping me get it rigged up?"

  Tad, Ray, and Susan were all busy ferrying stage sets from the school auditorium over to the theater as they were released by the police, so Emily and Annabeth had to try to wrangle the dummy into place by themselves. Thankfully, Destiny and Albert came by in time to help.

  "That's amazing, Annabeth! I would have sworn from a distance that that was a real body you guys were hanging up there," Albert said.

  Destiny gave a little shudder. "Little creepy, actually. What do you think happened to the other one?"

  "I doubt we'll ever know—" Annabeth sighed. "—and I put a lot of work into that thing. Anyway, let's get things underway."

  Rehearsal went exceptionally well, and Emily was relieved to see that Lyndsey seemed to be going out of her way to be supportive and helpful to Jeweliah. The two girls had not always seen eye to eye, but it looked as if they had put their differences aside in order to concentrate on the play. She was proud of Lyndsey for stepping up to be a real friend to Jeweliah, and she made a mental note to thank the girl later. That would be a positive friendship for both girls. Well, as long as Jeweliah didn't turn out to be stone-cold killer, that is.

  She also noted that there was no sign of Sapphira and that Jeweliah seemed in better spirits, so she breathed a little easier as she moved to the back of the auditorium to make sure Ryken's Wadsworth voice was carrying to the back of the auditorium. "Little louder," she called up to Destiny.

  Annabeth directed him on how to better project his voice, and they started the scene again. Emily was so engrossed in the performance that she missed the woman slipping in the double doors and taking a seat in the back row. When she caught sight of her out of the corner of her eye, she took a second look since the woman didn't appear familiar to her. Had someone slipped in to watch the students rehearse? All rehearsals were supposed to be closed to all but parents. She moved over to inform the woman of their policy, but as she got closer, she was shocked when she realized it was Sapphira. The elegant makeup, perfectly coiffed hair, and mile-high heels were gone. Emily took a seat in front of her and turned to stare at the dry, frizzy hair scraped back in a tight ponytail and the deep grooves bracketing Sapphira's mouth, making her look decades older. Leaning over, Emily almost let out a gasp when she saw that the woman was attired in loose fitting yoga pants and, horror of horrors, tennis shoes! "Sapphira, are you okay?" Emily asked, her voice louder than she had intended in her astonishment.

  Sapphira turned eyes sparkling with unshed tears on her and said, "Not really."

  Emily could have kicked herself for her careless question. "Of course you aren't. I'm sure this all seems like one giant nightmare. I'm truly sorry for your loss." Sapphira swiped at her eyes, and Emily added, a bit hesitantly, "I'm sure Jeweliah has been a great comfort for you."

  "Naturally, my daughter has been an incredible comfort at this awful time," Sapphira said sharply. "She always has been the light of my life. But I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Annabeth Cardinal is trying to turn her against me."

  Emily was taken aback by Sapphira's sudden declaration, but she said quietly, "Like Mom told you, Sapphira, Jeweliah's your daughter. I don't think anyone has the ability to do that." Except maybe for Bodley, she amended silently.

  "You honestly believe that? Emily, look at me. I've spent my whole life concerned about me, myself, and I. Jeweliah has always been so self-possessed and independent, even at a young age, that I almost forget that she's just a child. In many ways, she seems to have things all together in a way I never will. I think—I think my daughter resents me." She stared straight into Emily's eyes, and there was such pain reflected in her gaze that Emily gulped and looked away. She had often found herself judging Sapphira for her lack of mothering to Jeweliah, but now she reminded herself once again that that was not her place. Sapphira's way with her daughter was her own, and while she might not have always been the most attentive mother in the world, it was clear that she loved her daughter dearly.

  "I've been worried about Jeweliah," Emily told her honestly. "With everything going on surrounding the play, school, and well, everything else—" She shrugged helplessly. "—she hasn't really seemed like herself."

  "I've noticed," Sapphira said with a bone-weary sigh. "But again, I think it has more to do with Annabeth poisoning her against me."

  "Either way," Emily said, patting her arm. "I'd talk to her about it. Reach out to her, okay? I know I'm not a mom, but—" she trailed off, but Sapphira reached over and patted her hand in turn.

  "I will," Sapphira promised with a small smile.

  Emily felt both physically and emotionally drained by the time rehearsal came to an end a few minutes later. Tad and her parents still had one more load to pick up from the school, but it was small enough that they didn't plan to deliver the pieces until then next day. Ray said he would keep them in his truck overnight. She thanked them for their help but begged off from joining up with them for a late dinner, admitting she was just too exhausted.

  She briefly told them all about her conversation with Sapphira, and Susan was encouraged. "As awful as the murder of Bodley has been, maybe something positive will come out of it. Maybe Sapphira will see that her daughter still needs a mom. Being a mom is hard, but I know she loves her daughter."

  "She really does," Emily nodded and grabbed her own mom in a tight hug, thankful that she'd always been there for her. She wasn't sure she shared her mom's confidence that things could be turned around that easily, but she had noticed that Jeweliah, while she'd acted surprised to see her mom at rehearsal, had actually walked away from Annabeth and Lyndsey in order to ride home with her. That had to be a good sign. And if she noticed the glare that Annabeth shot their way, she decided to shrug it off. Enough worries for one night. All she had to do was check that everything was locked up tight, that the props were secure, and then she was headed home to take a long, hot shower and go straight to bed.

  The back alley door that she had found unlocked before was secure, and the cabinet designated for props was locked up tight. The large building creaked and thrummed around her as she tried to shake off the uneasiness that she felt at being the only one in the building. She was getting ready to flip off the last backstage lights when she noticed what looked like an eye staring at her from the corner of the room that housed their props. "Who's there?" she called loudly, disappointed by the quiver she heard in her voice. When no one answered and the eye didn't blink, she flicked on the light once again. Moving closer, she realized that what she was seeing was the dummy. But not the new dummy Annabeth had brought tonight. The old dummy of Mr. Boddy that they'd all assumed was permanently lost. But what was it doing here at the Playhouse? She couldn't put her finger on why, but its presence here felt ominous.

  She reached for her phone to call Annabeth and let her know the old dummy was found, but as she patted her empty back pocket, she remembered that she had left her phone in her purse in one of the front-row seats. She turned to head for it and tripped over one of the dummy's protruding legs. As she was righting herself, she heard a sound that set every nerve in her body on edge. A low, maniacal laugh was coming from what seemed to be the dummy's direction. She turned and stared intently at the dummy, as if waiting for it to open its mouth and repeat the eerie sounds. She was so focused on the dummy she didn't hear or see anyone behind her before the door slammed shut with a resounding bang.

  Frozen in shock for a moment, Emily st
ared at the now-closed door and then whipped around to look at the dummy as if he could've been the one to sneak past her and shut the door. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that all she could hear was that eerie, maniacal laugh playing in an endless loop. Once her initial shock subsided, she lunged for the door, twisting the knob. It was definitely locked. Praying that this was all a mistake, she pounded on the solid metal door, yelling, "Hello? Who's there? Is someone out there? Unlock the door!"

  She pressed her ear against the cool metal surface, listening intently for any sound on the other side of the door. For a second, all was silent, and then she heard—and it was definitely not her imagination this time—a low, soft laugh and then the sound of retreating footsteps. She couldn't identify if the laugh belonged to a male or female, but she knew it was directed at her. She was trapped.

  She spun around and began to pace the small room that held their props. Who would lock her in here? Probably whoever brought the original dummy and stashed it in here. But who? She was sure she had been alone in the building. She couldn't remember seeing any cars in the lot when she was staring out the front glass doors when saying good-bye to Tad and her parents. She had told them that she was going home to a hot shower and bed, so there would be no one looking for her. Of course, her car would still be in the lot, but no one would notice that until morning. Knowing she planned to go to bed early, it was doubtful that anyone would even try to call her. She was stuck in this building, in this tiny room, alone, for who knew how long. She wasn't overly claustrophobic, but the thought of staying in this cramped space overnight made her extremely uncomfortable, as well as reminded her of all the water she had drunk that day. Naturally, she had worked hard to up her water intake on a day where she couldn't get to a restroom. But at least she wasn't in the dark. Thank goodness for small favors.

  No sooner had she tried to look on the bright side than the lights flickered, and she was plunged into complete darkness. She stumbled back in the direction of the door and ran her hands along both sides. She knew the light switch was close by, but when she flicked it, nothing happened. She stood, panting, trying to keep the panic at bay. She heard the thrum of the heating system slowly come to a halt and other creaks and groans as the building settled around her. Whoever had locked her in had also cut the power. With no windows in the small room, the only glimmer of lights she could see was the faint glow from the dummy's glass eyes.