Murder Takes Center Stage

by Tracy D. Comstock

  "The swelling has largely gone down, but it's still pretty stiff and sore."

  "I like being around and able to help her out," Albert told them proudly.

  "Who're you subbing for today?" Tad asked him around a mouthful of chicken supreme pizza, Emily's favorite and one Tad tolerated for her sake.

  "Sharon Grimes."

  "Fun times," Tad said with a grin.

  "Yep, I'm learning all about World War I again. Feels like I'm back in high school myself."

  "He's a great sub," Destiny said. "The school district is lucky to have him." This time it was Emily who raised her eyebrows. Looked like change wasn't in the air for only her and Tad. She was delighted to see that Destiny had finally softened up toward Albert. He was beaming at Destiny's compliment, and happiness radiated off him in waves.

  Oblivious to Albert's reaction to her comments, Destiny added, "Looks like we better keep a close eye on things at rehearsal tonight."

  "I don't think anyone's out to harm the students in any way," Emily said, and Tad nodded his agreement. "Still, we definitely need to watch those helping out. And Jeweliah, too, though I saw her and Sapphira leaving together last night, so hopefully things are looking up there." Until she had further proof, Emily wasn't comfortable bringing up her suspicions about Jeweliah and Annabeth to anyone but Tad.

  "I've got my eyes peeled," Destiny assured her. "Surely with all of us on the alert, nothing else will go wrong at rehearsals. And no staying behind alone."

  "Excellent plan," Tad agreed, giving Emily a stern look.

  "Speaking of staying behind, though," Emily said, ignoring his warning look, "I wanted to ask you if Violet is good friends with Mr. Greenbalm."

  "Violet and Mr. Greenbalm?" Destiny looked confused. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

  "It could be nothing."

  "It must mean something in order for you to bring it up," Albert said.

  Emily felt uncomfortable continuing, but she had to know. "It's just that when I went to lock the back door of the theater that leads to the alley the other night, I'd have sworn I saw Violet and Mr. Greenbalm together outside."

  "Together how?" Destiny asked skeptically.

  "Well, it looked like Violet was crying, and Mr. Greenbalm was trying to console her. You know, like a close friend would."

  "I guess it's possible, but Violet's never said anything to me about them being particularly close," Destiny said.

  "Yeah, that's the thing," Emily continued. "I mentioned to Violet that I was sorry she was upset at rehearsals, and she acted like she had no idea what I was talking about. And she said that she and Mr. Greenbalm weren't particularly close friends. It just seems strange to me," she finished lamely.

  "Do you think Violet could have asked Mr. Greenbalm to poison pastries that were meant for Bodley?" Destiny asked. Emily was surprised to hear Destiny voice such an idea, especially since she had been leery about casting any aspersions on Violet, knowing what close friends those two had become.

  "I don't know what to think. Obviously, if some of the pastries did contain poison, it wasn't meant for all of us. Only Bodley and Violet got sick," Emily reminded her.

  "But maybe Violet accidentally ate one of the tainted pastries. She was helping Mr. Greenbalm set up that night, remember?" When the others nodded, Destiny added, "Or she got sick in order to throw suspicion off of herself. I'll definitely talk to her about this."

  Emily wasn't sure what to say, so she just smiled and nodded.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me," Destiny said as she struggled to her feet, "I think I should rewrap my ankle before our lunch period ends."

  "I'll go with you," Albert said, immediately hopping up to follow her out.

  But Destiny held up a hand to stop him. "That's okay. You finish your lunch. I'm done anyway. See you guys later."

  Albert watched her closely as she hobbled out the door. Once the door had closed behind her, he turned to Emily and Tad, a worried expression marring his normally happy-go-lucky features. "I was hoping Destiny would bring this up herself, but since she didn't, I think I should tell you guys."

  "What's up?" Tad asked, frowning and leaning closer to Albert as he checked over his shoulder to be sure no one was listening to the conversation taking place at their end of the table before he continued.

  "Destiny told me last night that Annabeth was the last person she saw around the props the night before Bodley got cut. And Annabeth is the one who made the first dummy, the one that disappeared, only to turn up in the new prop room last night. And—" Albert's brow was furrowed, and Emily knew he hated telling them this. "—I know for a fact that Annabeth was the last person left at the theater besides you last night, Emily. She had headed to her car, but we stopped to talk to her as Destiny and I were pulling out of the lot. She said she had left her binder of notes inside and was going back to get it before you locked up for the night."

  "Thanks for telling me this," Emily told him. He nodded glumly.

  "We won't say anything about what you've told us, Albert. I know that Annabeth and Destiny are close friends. But we have to check into this," Tad said.

  "I understand," Albert said softly. "I hope Destiny doesn't hate me if she finds out I said anything. I really don't want to believe that Annabeth is behind all this."

  "I know," Emily said quietly as the lunch dismissal bell rang. "None of us do. But the sad truth is, someone's behind all this, and the sooner we figure out who, the better."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur as Emily tried to focus on her classes. Her mind was continually spinning new theories of who could be behind Bodley's murder. By the time the final bell rang, she'd decided that she needed to have an honest talk with Mr. Greenbalm. He was serving food to both her students and the audience who would be in attendance at the play, and she could not, in all good conscience, go through with that plan if she had the least bit of suspicion that he was the one who murdered Bodley. Knowing Tad would never forgive her if she confronted him alone, she enlisted him to go with her to The Patisserie.

  Always up for a chocolate scone, Tad was more than happy to tag along. It was a gorgeous fall day, the weather warm enough not to need a jacket but cool enough that they were comfortable in their light sweaters. Drawing in deep breaths of the crisp air, Emily tipped her face up to soak in the sun's mellow rays, feeling absolutely content with her life. If they didn't have the dueling black clouds of concern and doubt over Bodley's murder hanging over their heads, life would be just about perfect. With a small laugh, she leaned up and kissed Tad's cheek. He smiled down at her. "What was that for?"

  "I'm happy. I wish we could figure out who is behind this so that we can see justice served and move on with the rest of our lives."

  "Hopefully, this talk with Mr. Greenbalm will bring us one step closer to doing that very thing."

  The bell over the door jingled merrily as they entered the small shop. A veritable cloud of powdered sugar seemed to hover in the air, and Emily almost clapped with glee when she saw that one of Mr. Greenbalm's assistants was loading freshly sliced pumpkin rolls into the display case. She immediately ordered two slices and snagged a table. When Tad joined her without ordering anything, she gave him a questioning look. "Aren't you going to have anything?"

  "I thought you ordered for both of us."

  "No way. Those are both for me. Have you had their pumpkin rolls? They're to die for." She winced at her word choice as Mr. Greenbalm backed through the swinging doors, a tray of piping hot muffins in his hands. Mr. Greenbalm gave Tad a hearty greeting as he moved to the counter to order his own slice of pumpkin roll. "Great choice," he told Tad.

  "That's what Emily tells me." Tad looked over to where Emily sat, devouring the first of the two slices that had been delivered to their table. She gave a little wave with a fork laden with cream cheese, and Mr. Greenbalm headed over. "Any changes to the menu we decided on?" he asked, sighing heavily as he settled into a chair next to her.
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br />   "Nope, I think we're all good on that front. But I did have something I wanted to talk to you about." She shoveled in another forkful of pumpkin goodness as Tad returned with his own slice, not sure how to continue her questioning.

  "Actually, we hate to nose into your private business, but Emily noticed something after rehearsal the other evening that has raised some questions, especially in light of the fact that both Violet and Bodley came down sick after eating some of your pastries," Tad told him.

  Mr. Greenbalm pulled out a handkerchief and swiped at his brow. Emily knew he had been slaving away next to hot ovens, but she felt sure that this perspiration had more to do with their line of questioning than with the bakery's kitchen. "Guys, I can't tell you how upset I am over how both of them got so sick. The more I've thought about it, the more convinced I am that those two poor people had to have come down with a severe case of food poisoning. They certainly didn't act like anyone I've ever seen with a stomach bug. But for the life of me, I just don't know how that could have happened. I mean, I know they both ate some of my pastries, and that's when they got sick, but I tried some of the very same ones they were eating, and quite a few others did, too, and they're not sick. I'm sure the police suspect the same thing."

  Emily decided to bite the bullet and ask straight out. "Mr. Greenbalm, did you know Bodley prior to his return to Ellington? Do the police have any reason to think you might wish him harm?"

  The poor man looked so shocked that she actually felt bad for being so direct. Either he had not known Bodley or he was one heck of an actor. "No, not at all. I'd never seen the man before he showed up at rehearsals. I know his Aunt Virginia, of course, as she's one of my regulars, but I'd never seen him before. I swear."

  "We believe you," Tad said, and with one look, Emily could see that he was sure of Mr. Greenbalm's innocence. She, however, still had questions.

  "I hate to bring this up, Mr. Greenbalm, but you looked awfully nervous when the police were asking questions the night of Bodley's murder." She let her unasked question hang between them, watching closely for his reaction. Rather than looking angry or defensive, he looked more embarrassed.

  "I was, Emily. I had hoped that no one else suspected food poisoning, but once I knew someone had actually murdered Bodley, I knew that somehow, something he ate from my table that night had been tainted."

  "And you were afraid the police would suspect you of being the one to murder him?" Tad asked.

  Again, the man looked shocked. "Not at all. I was afraid they would think I had mishandled the food and then shut down my place here." He gestured around at the popular establishment he had built.

  "But you've been in business for years with no hint of any problems. That seems like a hasty conclusion to jump to," Emily pointed out, regretting upsetting him even further.

  He once again swiped at his forehead, and he now looked close to tears. Leaning in close, he finally said quietly, "I might as well tell you both because I'm sure this is all going to come out sooner or later after what's happened. And I sure don't want you all thinking I would do anything to hurt anyone, least of all any of those kids or your audience."

  Emily nodded encouragingly, and with a sigh that seemed to come from his toes, he began. "When I was first out of culinary school, I worked at a large commercial bakery back east. We also did custom cakes and cookies. There'd been a few rumors that the guy who ran the place back then might have mob connections, but I brushed it off. You know how it is," he said beseechingly. "People want to add a little drama, a little excitement to what can become a routine job." This time Tad nodded in understanding, and he continued. "Well, I was working late one night on a batch of custom cookies for a big business meeting being held the next day. The boss man himself stayed late to help me finish up, which was odd, as he was usually the first one out the door. That's what we newbies were for, to pull the late nights and the last-minute orders."

  Emily had finished both of her slices of pumpkin roll by now and was wondering where this was all going. But she didn't expect what Mr. Greenbalm said next, "The boss was still there, boxing the finished cookies when I left. He told me to go on, that he would finish things there. I thought nothing of it. This was a big account. But the next day, I heard that the head of the company that was holding the meeting had died. They suspected he had been poisoned. Again, I didn't think too much of it as, unfortunately, bad things happen in big cities." He motioned for the young lady working the front counter to bring him a glass of water, and he didn't continue until he'd emptied the glass.

  "People at work were talking the next day about how this guy that had died was also rumored to have mob ties and that he was known to be an enemy of my boss. I began to wonder why my boss would do business with him if they didn't get along, but hey, a buck's a buck, right? But later that week, the police came and arrested my boss. It turned out that he had put something in some of the cookies that he delivered, and it killed that guy. I guess he took a couple straight to the man in charge as a sample. I had helped make those cookies, so I was questioned. I wasn't ever a suspect in the murder, and naturally, I left the bakery, but after that, I had a hard time getting a job at another bakery due to the whiff of scandal that seemed to follow me. And now, now that I've finally put the past in the past and have a good life here, I'm afraid that former scandal will ruin everything I've built."

  He looked so miserable that Emily's heart ached for him. What an awful position to be in. But was he telling them the truth? She figured his story would be easy enough to check. "Have you told the police this yet?" she asked.

  "No. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. I don't know how I can be a suspect."

  "We may be a small town, but our detectives are thorough. If they go searching into the backgrounds of those involved with our play production, they're going to find this out. I think it would be better if you told them first."

  "You're probably right. I think I'll head over there now. Thanks for listening. But didn't you say Emily had seen something?" he asked Tad.

  "He did," Emily answered instead. "When I was locking up at the theater the other evening, I saw you and Violet in the alleyway. It was clear that she was upset, but when I asked her about it, she said that everything was fine and that you two weren't what you would call close friends."

  "Well, she'd be right about that," Mr. Greenbalm told her. "I had gone up to her to tell her how sorry I was about her being sick. I was trying to feel out if she thought I might be responsible. She seems to think she just had a stomach bug, but when I mentioned Bodley, she just broke down. She told me all about how she had detested him because he had taken a scholarship away from her in high school and ruined her chance to attend Julliard. She seemed to be feeling a bit guilty that she had hated him all these years, and then he ended up dead. I only gave her a hug because she was crying. Anyone would've done the same in my place. Violet's a nice woman and has been easy to work with, but I wouldn't say I know her well enough to call her a friend."

  "Thank you for clearing that up, Mr. Greenbalm. I knew about Violet's history with Bodley and well…" she trailed off.

  "And you wondered if I had conspired with her to get rid of the man for revenge?" His smile softened his words.

  Emily blushed. "Well… I…"

  "I understand why you'd wonder that, but I sure hope I've cleared up any worries you might have had. I value the life I have here. I certainly wouldn't do anything to mess that up. Now if you two'll excuse me, I think I'll head on over to the station."

  Emily watched him leave with mixed feelings. "Do you believe him?" Tad asked her, sensing her thoughts.

  "I think so. I mean, Violet said they weren't close friends. His story about his past is easy enough to check out. And he claims to have not known Bodley before he showed up to visit his aunt. But…do you believe him?"

  "I do," Tad said without hesitation. "I don't think a guilty man would have told us all that. He certainly wasn't obligated to tell us anything."
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  "I'm sure you're right. But what if this is history repeating itself?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "What if Violet slipped something into the pastries without Mr. Greenbalm knowing?"

  "Then why did Violet end up sick too?"

  "Like Destiny pointed out, maybe that was an accident, or maybe she got sick on purpose to throw suspicion off herself."

  "I guess anything's possible, but what about your Annabeth and Jeweliah as co-conspirators theory?"

  "I'm still leaning in that direction, but I think we need to work on eliminating others first."

  "I know you don't want Jeweliah to be behind this. Or Annabeth. And neither do I. So what do you want to do next?"

  Emily checked her watch. "Feel like making one more stop before rehearsals? Or if you have something you need to do, I can go without you."

  "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than be with you," Tad assured her.

  * * *

  After a quick call to her mom, Emily had Ms. Lowe's address in hand, and she and Tad were headed across town in her Versa Note. It wasn't often that Tad deigned to let her drive as her record behind the wheel was less than stellar, so she was enjoying the trip to the outskirts of town, her windows open to the fall breeze, the radio turned up. She was blithely ignoring Tad double checking that his seatbelt was fastened correctly and his white-knuckling his door handle, as if prepared to jump for his life if necessary.

  Ms. Lowe lived in a small white frame house right on the edge of town. The house itself probably dated from the 1950s and could use a fresh coat of paint, but the dark green wicker rockers on the tiny front porch and the deep red planters full of bright yellow mums that flanked the front door gave the home a cheerful appearance. As Ms. Lowe had not been back to rehearsals since Bodley's death, Emily had stopped by the theater on the way to grab a couple of costumes that needed minor adjustments. Lyndsey's evening gown needed hemming as they had decided on lower heels after she had almost tripped several times in the high heels they had originally chosen for the part of Ms. Scarlet, and Ryken's butler's coat had a small tear in its sleeve from snagging on the rhinestone broach Holley wore for her part as Mrs. White. Emily knew her mom could have easily taken care of these small matters, but these small alterations gave her an excuse to drop by Ms. Lowe's house. She knew the polite thing would have been to call first, but she didn't want to give her a chance to turn her down.