Murder Takes Center Stage

by Tracy D. Comstock

  Emily had Tad ring the doorbell, while she held the pile of costumes up in an obvious fashion in case Ms. Lowe was watching them through the window. It was several minutes before they heard the sound of shuffling, and the door opened a crack to reveal a very tired, much older- looking Ms. Lowe. Emily and Tad exchanged worried glances, and though they tried not to show it in their reactions, they were both taken aback by how frail and almost ill the woman before them looked.

  Although in her mid-seventies, Pearl Lowe had always seemed in good health, moving with a quickness and spryness that belied her age. But today she looked more like she was well into her eighties, her skin sallow and seeming to droop on her face like melted wax.

  Always a snappy dresser, often in clothes she had made with her own two hands, she now sported a patchwork dressing gown, frayed at the cuffs, and worn-looking slippers. Her normally chic white hair hung limply around her face. She frowned at them. "What are you two doing here?" she asked without preamble.

  Emily held up her armload of costumes. "We had a few repairs we were hoping you could work on before our production on Saturday. We've missed seeing you at rehearsals," she added brightly, hoping the woman would invite them in for a brief visit.

  Begrudgingly, Ms. Lowe opened the door further. "Well, I haven't been in the best of health, but I did say I would help out, so I guess you might as well come in and show me what you need done."

  "We won't take up much of your time," Tad assured her, guiding her by a gentle hand on the elbow into her small but tidy living room. "I'm sure for a master seamstress like yourself, this will seem like child's play. No pun intended." He beamed down his most charming smile, and even in her seventies, Ms. Lowe was not immune to his compliments. She laughed up at him and patted the floral cushions of the couch beside her.

  Tad settled beside her and engaged her in small talk. Emily eventually showed her the alterations they needed done, and Ms. Lowe shuffled over to a small table that held her sewing machine in front of a large picture window to leave the costumes they had brought her. "Can I get you two some iced tea?"

  "That would be great," Tad said, motioning for Emily to follow him into the bright kitchen. They settled at a small table that overlooked a backyard filled to bursting with blooms and bird feeders. "What a beautiful space you have here! I would love to have a home just like this," Tad said, and Emily looked up from her tea in surprise, hearing the longing in his voice. She'd never figured Tad for the white-picket-fence type, but she had to admit, she wouldn't mind living in a place like this.

  "It might be a bit small for kids," Ms. Lowe told them, smiling fondly at them. "How many are you two planning on?"

  Without pausing or even looking at each other, Emily and Tad both answered promptly, "Three." Then they laughed at how in sync they sounded.

  "It's good you agree," Ms. Lowe told them. "If there's one regret I have in my life, it's not having children."

  Emily decided to take the opening. "But I'm sure all the younger kids you worked with were kind of like your own kids, weren't they?" Ms. Lowe had worked with the community theater for years, creating amazing costumes for both children and adults. She was hoping to lead Ms. Lowe into talking about her background with Bodley.

  "Some of them," Ms. Lowe answered cautiously, easing into a seat at the table with them.

  "Any in particular that you especially remember?" Tad asked casually.

  "Well, I think you both know I worked with James Bodley for a long time as he was growing up. He was one of the most involved younger people in our community theater for many years." Ms. Lowe watched a brightly plumed bird perched on a bird feeder as she talked to them.

  "I'm so sorry for your pain at his loss," Emily said sincerely. "What was he like as a youngster?"

  Ms. Lowe gave a small laugh. "That boy was born to be an actor. It was like it was in his blood. He had more talent in his little finger than some of the adult actors had in their whole bodies. He played some of the most notable leading roles that our theater has ever seen—Hamlet, Romeo, Macbeth, Willy Loman, Faustus, and others. It was a delight to watch him perform and a true joy to help create his costumes."

  "When did you know he'd make it big?" Tad asked her.

  Ms. Lowe took a sip of her tea, and her fond smile changed to a sneer. "If you asked him, he knew from the first moment he stepped foot on a stage. I guess we could all see he had that certain 'it' factor, but it was also apparent from early on that he would screw over anyone in his path to get what he wanted." At Emily's surprised look, she continued with a look of such pure vehemence that Emily felt chilled to the bone despite the warm sunlight shining in on them. "Oh, I know, all that 'don't speak ill of the dead' and such, but the truth's the truth."

  "Can you elaborate on that at all?" Tad asked quietly.

  "I can, and I will. You all know Violet Shaw." Since that was obviously a rhetorical question, they stayed quiet and let her continue. "He went privately to many members of that scholarship selection committee with some sob story about how much he needed that scholarship. He knew Violet couldn't afford Julliard without it, and he also knew she was a shoo-in to be the recipient. He didn't need the money, but he couldn't be bested at anything. I know he took great pleasure in taking that scholarship away from her. And he hurt others too. Take Annabeth Cardinal, for instance."

  Emily sat up straighter. Although she was not surprised at hearing about Bodley's manipulations at a young age, she was definitely interested in anything Ms. Lowe had to say about Annabeth. She was still her number one suspect, despite the fact that things seemed to be pointing toward Violet having the strongest motive to want to get rid of Bodley. But her motive was almost two decades old, and she had made a great life for herself since then. But unrequited love? There seemed to be no statute of limitations on the pain that caused.

  "What about Annabeth?" she prompted as Ms. Lowe seemed lost in her own reminiscences, unpleasant though they might be.

  "Everyone knew that girl was head over heels for him. He knew it too. And I think deep down, he might have had feelings for her too. But Annabeth was content to stay in Ellington. She wanted to help make arts an important part of the community that she grew up in, but there was no way James was going to spend his life in what he viewed as some rural backwater. He had stars in his eyes. He led Annabeth on plenty, but I could have told the poor girl—and I even tried to once or twice—that he would leave her in the dust if he got the chance. Of course, she didn't listen to me. The young never do." She scoffed and glanced at each of them in turn. "But heck, I guess the old don't listen too well either. I should have been listening to my own advice."

  "How do you mean?" Tad asked.

  "I'd made what seemed like a million costumes for that boy over his time on the stage. He'd always assured me that he would take me with him when he made it big. But once he got his first part on the stage in New York, he let me know that he no longer required my services. He had some young costume maker that would take care of him in New York. I had treated that boy like my own son and would have been proud to follow him on to New York. I have no family ties here. But he dismissed me as easily as he did everyone else in his life, without so much as a thank you, see you around, or kiss my foot."

  Emily raised her eyebrows at Tad. The look of pure hatred on Ms. Lowe's face was truly frightening. She hadn't thought this older lady would have it in her to kill someone, but looking at her now, Emily didn't doubt for a minute that Pearl Lowe had enough rage inside her to take Bodley out by whatever means necessary. As if sensing her thoughts, Ms. Lowe turned to her and said, "Oh, honey, I can tell what you're thinking in that mind of yours. No, I didn't kill the ungrateful brat. A part of me still seethes at being tossed aside like yesterday's garbage. But what bothers me the most is I never got my apology from him before he died. He owed me that much at least. And whoever had enough of his backstabbing ways and ended his time on the stage, well, I have to salute them for their creativity. Taking him out right the
re on the stage where he got his start was mighty clever. But I sure do resent that person for taking away my apology."

  Tad and Emily, unsure of what to say, finished their tea and thanked Ms. Lowe for her honesty and help. Emily wanted to believe that the older woman was incapable of murder, but she couldn't deny the hatred she had seen in her eyes. Tad was more inclined to believe that years of hurt had developed her apparent disregard for Bodley's fate and indicated her frail-looking appearance and poor health as evidence that she was actually mourning the loss of the boy she had once known and loved. But they both agreed that whatever the case, Ms. Lowe was a severely bitter woman. They would be keeping a close eye on her moving forward to Saturday's production. The last thing they needed was some other mishap to befall someone involved in the play because they were focused on the wrong people as possible suspects. Emily hoped that Gangly Arms would make an arrest before showtime, but until that happened, she would be on her guard.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rehearsals that evening were a madhouse. With only two left now before they were certain to perform before an audience, tensions were once again running high. Emily had hoped to have some uninterrupted time with Gabby, but her best friend still wasn't feeling well enough to be at rehearsals. Emily had told her she had a lot to talk about with her, so they had made a date to meet the next day for a serious girl talk.

  It was probably best Gabby wasn't at rehearsal that night because Emily was swamped the entire time, running around putting out small fires. There was nothing catastrophic that happened, which was a nice change, but minor things were falling apart. The new dummy Annabeth had created was not hanging correctly, which was clearly irritating Annabeth and causing her to snap at the students. Benton, who'd had his part as Mr. Green memorized for weeks, kept missing cues and flubbing his most significant lines. And Jeweliah didn't seem to have her mind on the play at all. Her line delivery was emotionless, and several times, she looked close to tears.

  By the time they called it quits and Emily and Tad had locked things up, she felt ready to collapse. "How about we chill at my place with a DVR'd episode of Castle and some ice cream?' she asked with a yawn, tipping her head onto Tad's shoulder.

  "Sounds like an excellent plan," Tad said, tucking an arm around her and steering her toward his car.

  They had just settled onto the couch with bowls of Bunny Tracks ice cream and were hitting play, when the doorbell rang. "Expecting anyone?" Tad asked curiously.

  "Not a soul," she responded, flipping on the porch light. She was absolutely shocked to see Jeweliah standing there, tears streaming down her face. She rushed to unlock the door and pull the sobbing girl into the living room.

  When Jeweliah saw Tad sitting on the couch, she hesitated, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Higginbotham. I just—" She let out a tiny sob. "—I didn't know where else to go."

  Tad hopped up and grabbed a cold soda out of the kitchen and a box of tissues for Jeweliah. "Don't you worry about anything," Emily assured her. "We're here to help. Tell us what's wrong."

  "I'm just so—so—overwhelmed," Jeweliah cried, clutching at the box of Kleenex Tad held out to her. "Ms. Taylor, I try to do everything and be everything all the time. I know I botched my part in the play tonight, and I'm so sorry."

  "It's okay," Emily told her. "Everyone had a rough night tonight. Nerves are getting the best of us because we know we have to perform before a live audience on Saturday, but you'll see, everyone will be fine when the time comes."

  "I don't think anything will ever be fine again," Jeweliah told them softly.

  "Why's that?" Tad asked.

  "Mom and I tried to talk last night. I know you talked to her, Ms. Taylor, and I appreciate it, but well, you know my mom. Sure, she loves me and all that, but let's be honest, she's so wrapped up in herself, and she misses Bodley and is always crying about her 'poor Jamie.' And I just feel like this is all my fault."

  Emily felt a terrifying clutch in her belly. Was Jeweliah about to confess? Had she truly been the one behind Bodley's murder?

  "How is this all your fault?" Tad asked quietly, and Emily reached over and grabbed Jeweliah's hand, promising herself that she would be strong and do the right thing for this poor, lost girl, no matter what Jeweliah said next.

  "Well, I kinda lost it on Mom. She's always crying about how lost she is without James, and I told her how she didn't always need a man in her life to make everything better. I mean, haven't I always been there for her? I don't know what got into me, but Annabeth had told me all about what an awful guy Bodley was to people, and I just threw it all in my mom's face. And now I've made everything a thousand times worse." She put her head in her hands and began to really cry in earnest.

  Emily moved over beside Jeweliah and put her arms around her, praying that this was truly the extent of the girl's guilt but worrying that there was still more to the story.

  "Does your mom know you're here?" Emily asked her.

  Jeweliah shook her head, still not looking up at them. "She thinks I'm over at Lyndsey's house going over my lines for the play. And I was, but I had Lyndsey drop me off here. I just needed to talk to someone who really knows me and my mom, but I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go. I couldn't get hold of Annabeth, and I'm sure I disappointed her tonight anyway with my performance at rehearsals."

  "Jeweliah, we're all here for you. No one has disappointed anyone at all. We're all trying our best in the midst of these terrible circumstances. Including your mom. That's all we can do. Our best. I know you have an awful lot on your plate," Emily told her, wondering whether she should be defending Sapphira or not. But still, she was the girl's mom, and she had suffered a great loss.

  "I know, and I've always prided myself on being the strong one, but I just don't know how much more I can take." Emily patted her back while Jeweliah wept. She was at an absolute loss as to what to say to this girl who was dealing with so much more than she'd ever had to experience. She wasn't sure how to make things better for her and wished that Helen was home, but she and Barnes had gone to a late-night movie.

  After a few minutes of gut-wrenching sobs, Jeweliah pushed her hair back and wiped her eyes. Taking a long drink of the soda Tad had left beside her, she said, "Ms. Taylor, Mr. Higginbotham, I'm really sorry I bothered you tonight. I felt like the walls were closing in, and I just needed someone to…" she trailed off.

  "To listen? To care?" Emily prompted. "You have both of those in us, Jeweliah. Why don't you let Mr. Higginbotham drive you home?"

  "It would be my pleasure," Tad added, and Jeweliah nodded.

  "Thanks, both of you, really. I think I'm okay now. Don't give up on me. I promise I'll play my part better on Saturday."

  "I don't have a single doubt," Emily told her, even though her mind was crowded with doubts about what had really happened to Bodley and the part Jeweliah had played in it all.

  As she and Tad headed out the door, Tad mouthed to her that he would call her later. She nodded, grateful that he had been there to help with this distraught student. She hoped that maybe Jeweliah would confide in him some more on their drive home, but with Jeweliah's inherent distrust of men, Emily wasn't holding her breath.

  She rinsed out their bowls of now-melted ice cream and got ready for bed while she waited for Tad to call. The second her phone rang, she pounced on it. "Well, how'd it go?"

  Tad sighed wearily, his exhaustion apparent even over the phone. "I couldn't get much else out of her. All she did was sing Annabeth's praises all the way home."

  "That seems almost more disturbing in light of what we know," Emily told him. "Was her mom watching for her?"

  "She said I didn't need to come to the door, but I waited until she was inside, of course. There were lights on, so I assume her mom was waiting up for her."

  "I wonder what she told her. Should we talk to Gangly Arms about all this?"

  "I still don't feel like we have enough to go on, but we do need to come up with a more se
rious plan of action. Tomorrow. I'm afraid my brain is just too tired tonight."

  "I'm with you," Emily agreed. "Maybe things will look better in the morning."

  "I hope so. Night. Love you, Em."

  "I love you, too," she said with a smile.

  * * *

  Although Emily looked, she didn't see Jeweliah in the halls the next morning. She didn't have her in class until the afternoon, but Albert, who was once again subbing, said he had her in math class early that morning once they were all gathered in the teachers' lounge for lunch.

  "How's she doing?" Emily asked.

  "She seemed like her typical self. Maybe a little quiet. Why?"

  "Yeah, what's going on?" Destiny asked, wincing as her sore ankle bumped against the table leg.

  "So…yesterday was an interesting day," Emily hedged.

  "I noticed Jeweliah was off during rehearsals. Annabeth mentioned it last night when we all got together for drinks," Destiny replied.

  "Really?" Emily asked, momentarily distracted from worrying about Jeweliah. "Anything come to light?" She hoped Destiny had gotten Violet and Annabeth to open up to her about their true feelings for Bodley.

  "Well, I talked to Violet about her being seen crying with Mr. Greenbalm, and she admitted it. She said, yeah, she was crying at the time, but she'd honestly forgotten about it when you first brought it up. But then she didn't want to say anything when she remembered, for fear her husband would overhear. He was there that night. Did you meet him? He's a super nice guy."