“Actually, I have put myself in your shoes,” Hugh said. “If it were me, I wouldn’t go anywhere near it, especially if I was sure it would be a disaster. Let them fail on their own and good riddance.”
“Everyone’s different. That’s what makes horse racing, as my grandma used to say. I gotta run. It’s been nice chatting with you. Good luck with, um…everything.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
Hugh watched him swing through the door. On the sidewalk, Geoff flipped up the collar of his peacoat, ducked his head against the wind, and walked away.
It wasn’t a stretch for Hugh to understand Geoff’s seemingly contradictory response to the way he’d been treated on Sousacal. But he still didn’t have a sense of how far he was willing to go to get revenge for that lost time and opportunity. Sabotage? Murder?
And just like that, Hugh realized that Geoff had never answered his first question.
THIRTY-SIX
ISOBEL AND SUNIL WALKED the few blocks to the other condo to look for Ezra and Chris, but nobody answered the buzzer. They doubled back to the theater, where they found the doors to the auditorium flung open. Giant fans were set up in the aisles, and theater staff moved through the rows, bending down and straightening up as if they were planting seeds.
“Looks like the jig is up,” Isobel said.
“I blame Pemberthy.”
Heather straightened up and called out, “Got one.”
“I’m coming,” Dan, the tech director, responded.
He came around to Heather and held out a giant trash bag. Plugging her nose, Heather dropped a shrimp into the bag. Onstage, one of the stagehands was spraying the curtain hem with Febreze.
“Do you see Chris?” Sunil asked.
Isobel scanned the house. “No. I don’t see Ezra either.”
“I’m going to head back home. I don’t want to get roped into active duty.”
She considered going with him, but while there wasn’t any particular reason why Chris would be hanging around the theater, Ezra might well be there somewhere. She decided to stay and take a look around, but first she sent a group text to the others: Shrimp discovered, show tonight.
“Hey!”
Isobel realized she’d taken a step backward into Marissa. “Oh, sorry!” She gestured to the shrimp-pickers. “Looks like they figured out the smell.”
“Yeah, I came to help clean up.”
“Oh, um, me too,” Isobel said. “Let’s go in.”
Ezra could wait. Ever since Arden’s death, Marissa had been avoiding Isobel, and an opportunity for chitchat while de-shrimping the theater was too good to pass up. Even now, Isobel caught a flicker of annoyance cross Marissa’s face, and she knew instinctively she’d made the right decision.
Kelly waved at them as they entered the theater.
“Oh, hey, Isobel! I didn’t know you were—”
“Many hands, light work, and all that,” Isobel said quickly, ignoring Marissa’s suspicious glance.
“Come grab a pair of scissors, and you guys can take the last few rows.”
Isobel strode down the aisle and accepted two pairs of scissors. “What exactly are we doing?”
Kelly sighed heavily. “Some bozo sewed shrimp into the seats and the stage drop. We’ve got the curtain emptied out, but we need to go over every seat. They’ve probably been there a few days, so it’s easy to nose them out. Fortunately, whoever did it was pretty sloppy, so you’ll see a small, badly basted seam in the front under the cushion. Between the seam and the smell test, you should be able to identify which seats need surgery. If you find a live one—meaning a dead one—open the seam and remove it, and call for Dan. He’s circling with a trash bag.”
Weapons in hand, Isobel and Marissa made their way toward the back of the house. Isobel set to work at an industrious pace, waiting to see what direction Marissa’s conversation would take. She didn’t have to wait long.
“How did you know about the shrimp?” Marissa asked.
Unless you put it there yourself, Isobel silently added Marissa’s unspoken thought. She decided it was best to stick to the truth as much as possible. “I came down looking for Ezra, but when I saw what was going on I figured I’d pitch in. What about you?”
“I was with Heather earlier when she got the call.”
“I guess we’re back on tonight,” Isobel said.
“I’m sure you’re pleased.”
Isobel let Marissa’s snarky comment hang in the air. A moment later, Marissa spoke again.
“Sorry. I’m still upset about Arden.”
“I didn’t realize how close you were.”
“I wouldn’t say close, exactly. It’s complicated.”
Isobel made a noncommittal sound, hoping Marissa would elaborate, which she did after taking a hair longer than necessary to inspect a seat. It seemed she was as reluctant to exist in silence as Isobel normally was. Today, however, Isobel was finding it surprisingly easy to keep quiet.
“We knew each other a little growing up. Our parents met on a cruise when we were both in high school, and our families got together a few times afterward. They thought Arden and I would hit if off, because we both wanted to be actors.” Marissa pulled self-consciously on her loose-fitting top. “She had no interest in me, of course, but I used to have dreams about being her friend. That she’d transfer to my high school, and one of the girls who mocked me all the time would start up and Arden would spring to my defense. Just a dumb loser high school fantasy, you know?”
Isobel nodded. She was beginning to understand.
“Anyway,” Marissa continued, “I hadn’t seen her or thought about her for years, but when rehearsals started for Sousacal, she acted like we were long-lost besties. It was almost like she was clinging to me. It was kind of like my dream come true, when a person you admire suddenly wants you, maybe even more than you want them.”
Isobel sat back on her heels, mindful of the need to encourage Marissa’s confidence without saying the wrong thing. “People change and grow.”
“Yeah, I know, but it seemed more like she didn’t feel she could trust anyone else. It seemed situational, not personal. You know what I mean?”
Isobel suddenly remembered Marissa inexplicably bursting into tears when Kelly’s book went missing.
“You wrote the note,” Isobel said.
Marissa’s round face went dark red. “It was stupid of me. A step too far. I did it to impress Arden, but when I told her about it she was horrified. I only meant to get you to back off, send you a message, but after she died, I realized it would look like I was threatening her and not you. I saw you give the note to Kelly, so I hid her book and got rid of it.”
“Why didn’t you grab the note out of the book while nobody was looking?”
“I thought if I took the whole book, everyone would think it was another prank. Then nobody would guess it was me.”
“Unless they thought you were responsible for everything.”
Marissa looked aghast. “But I’m not!”
“I believe you,” Isobel said sincerely.
Marissa bit her lip. “You’re cutting me a lot more slack than I cut you. I know you were just doing your job. I don’t know what came over me. And I haven’t known what to do.” She sniffed back tears. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was scared, and now I feel like a complete fool. I’m sorry.”
“I did something like that once,” Isobel admitted. “In high school. There was a girl I desperately wanted to be friends with who had the piano lesson after mine. She had mentioned casually that she hadn’t practiced that week, so during my lesson I put a pencil on the edge of the piano lid, knowing it would fall in as soon as someone put the top down. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but my teacher’s husband had to unscrew the lid, and he wound up scratching the wood badly, just to open it up and get the pencil out. I was absolutely mortified. All I’d done was succeed in damaging a beautiful instrument. Because of course the other girl still had to have
her lesson, and I couldn’t ever tell her, and we never became friends.” Isobel blinked at Marissa. “Anyway, I recognize the impulse. I mean, we never truly escape our high school selves, right?”
“Except when we change and grow,” Marissa said through her tears.
Isobel laughed. “Touché.”
Marissa made a face. “Ugh, I think I found a shrimp.” She cut open the seam. “Yuck! Dan!”
Dan came over with his trash bag, accepted the decomposed offering, and left to answer a call on the other side of the house.
“Who do you think is responsible for the other stuff?” Isobel asked. “Any ideas?”
“I don’t know. What about you?”
“There’s a lot banging around in my head, but I can’t quite connect it.” Isobel’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Hugh. She stood up. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Thanks for not freaking out at me,” Marissa said.
“Thanks for telling me the truth. Kelly and I never told the police about the note, and there’s no reason to tell them now, is there?”
Marissa smiled gratefully. “You’re actually pretty cool, you know that?”
“You are, too.”
Isobel hurried out of the theater. Hugh had certainly gotten more information out of Geoff than she’d expected him to. And as she scanned his words again, one of the fractured thoughts in her head suddenly took shape.
THIRTY-SEVEN
DELPHI EMERGED FROM the bathroom in time to see Isobel flying through the lobby. “Hey! Where are you going in such a rush?” she asked.
“Have to see a man about a shrimp,” Isobel said hurriedly. “What are you doing?”
Delphi crossed the floor and spoke in a low voice. “I was going to talk to Kelly, remember? But I haven’t been able to get her alone.”
Isobel gestured impatiently. “Forget Kelly. She’s not important. Talk to Heather.”
Delphi felt herself deflate, disappointed to have her choice of suspect dismissed. “About what?”
“Ask her what instrument she plays, but be discreet.”
“How do you know she plays an instrument?”
“I just do.” Isobel brushed past her and left the building.
Delphi yanked a stray curl in annoyance. She was tempted to run after Isobel and ask her to fill in the blanks, but Heather appeared, wiping her forehead with her sleeve.
“Run, save yourself,” she joked to Delphi. “I’ve got to get some fresh air.”
“Oh, I was…” Delphi paused, struck by sudden inspiration. “I was looking for Hugh or Oliver or someone to plunk out some notes on the piano for me. There’s a bit in the opening number I’m sure I’m singing wrong. Maybe you can help me?”
Heather looked puzzled. “Me?”
In a flash, Delphi realized what Isobel was getting at. “You don’t read music?”
“Nope. I took Suzuki violin in fourth grade for six months until my parents decided the arts weren’t important.”
“Really?” Delphi asked, shocked.
Heather laughed. “No. They couldn’t stand the skritch-a-skritch of me practicing. So no, I don’t read music.”
“And you never picked up another instrument?”
“After the violin debacle, I took visual art instead of music every chance I got.” She jerked a thumb back toward the theater. “Marissa’s in there. She could give you a hand. Or ask Kelly. She plays clarinet, I think. Or sax. I forget which, but I’m sure she could bang something out for you.”
Delphi nodded her thanks. Heather was almost to the front door when Delphi remembered the other part of Isobel’s assignment. On impulse, she decided to come at it from a different angle.
“I was wondering,” she began. Heather turned, her hand on the door. “Did Kelly ever date Geoff Brown?”
Heather’s face went pale. “Did she?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“What makes you think that?” Heather’s hand dropped and she took a step toward Delphi, who instinctively moved backward.
“Nothing. I—I don’t know. You dated him, right?”
“Why are you asking all these questions? What do you know?”
Delphi blinked. “I don’t know anything, honest. I was just curious, that’s all.”
“Oh my God, is that why he’s ghosting me?” Heather shook her head. “No, not Kelly. She wouldn’t. She knows—”
“Knows what?”
“How I feel about him,” Heather said breathlessly. “She knows better than anyone.”
And with that, she turned and ran outside. Delphi dialed Isobel.
“Hey. I’m not sure if I succeeded or failed, but I’ve got something for you. Where are you?”
“At the condo,” Isobel said. “Come back.”
Delphi hung up and followed Heather’s path out of the building, practically knocking over Jethro, who was rushing up the steps. He steadied himself by grabbing her arm. Startled, she met his eyes, which were shining with excitement.
“There’s a show tonight!”
“Um, yeah,” Delphi said. “Can I have my arm back?”
He let go and hurried past her into the theater. Bemused, she continued back to the condo, where she found Hugh and Isobel sitting next to each other on the couch in the living room. It was the closest she’d seen them in several days. Sunil was seated in one of the armchairs.
“Close the door,” Isobel instructed.
“Did you guys all talk to your people?” Delphi asked.
“I talked to Geoff, and Isobel talked to Marissa,” Hugh said.
Delphi glanced at Isobel. “I thought you were supposed to talk to Ezra.”
“No longer relevant.”
“What about you?” Delphi asked Sunil.
“I couldn’t find Chris.”
“What did you get?” Isobel asked Delphi. “Let’s see if it jibes with what we’ve got.”
Delphi perched on the chair nearest the sofa. “You were wrong. Heather doesn’t play an instrument. But Kelly does.”
“Kelly?” Isobel repeated, nonplussed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, and when I asked if Kelly and Geoff ever dated, Heather got upset and said Kelly would never do that to her because Kelly knows her feelings for Geoff. I assume you thought Heather messed with the orchestra parts on Geoff’s behalf. She played Suzuki violin for two minutes, but you know with Suzuki you don’t learn to read music. But if Kelly was also a Geoff girlfriend, then maybe it was Kelly, not Heather. I mean the note did go missing from her book.”
Isobel gave a dismissive wave. “Marissa wrote the note.”
“Marissa? Why?”
“She and Arden go way back, but Arden was fabulous and Marissa was…Marissa. She wrote the note—to me, after all—in an attempt to impress Arden with her loyalty. Then when Arden died, she realized it could be misconstrued, so she stole Kelly’s book to make it look like another prank and dumped the note.”
“Did Marissa date Geoff too, then?”
“I don’t think so. She says she didn’t do any of the other things, and I believe her.”
“If I’m following you correctly,” Delphi said, “you think Geoff’s girlfriends were acting in concert to sabotage the show?”
“Not acting in concert, competing,” Isobel clarified. “Whoever is willing to go furthest wins his favor. Except I’m guessing Geoff doesn’t give a shit about any of them. He puts each girl up to it separately, and it isn’t until other stuff starts happening that she realizes she’s not the only one. Already knowing Geoff’s reputation with the ladies, plus the rumors and gossip, she figures it’s a battle for his affections.”
“It still doesn’t answer who did what,” Hugh said.
“Oh, easy. Heather rigs the masking. She also slips into the green room and puts the Ex-Lax in the first pot of coffee and drinks a cup herself to divert suspicion.”
“I don’t know how you thought Heather could have done the orchestra parts if t
he whole point of the laxative was to get everyone out of the theater, including her. And Kelly was sick, too.”
Isobel gave a decisive nod. “That was Geoff. Who else would derive that kind of personal satisfaction from defacing the parts? The rest of it he could delegate, but not that.”
Sunil started to laugh. “If Isobel and I had more devious minds, we might have prevented the shrimp.”
“What are you talking about?” Delphi asked. “Who did the shrimp?”
There was a knock on the living room door, and Talia poked her head in.
“Hey, Isobel. I got your text. What’s up?”
THIRTY-EIGHT
TALIA LOOKED DOLEFULLY around the room. “How did you figure out it was me?”
“Sunil and I saw you and Geoff in the frozen food aisle at Price Chopper,” Isobel said. “We overheard part of your conversation, but it didn’t make sense until we found out that you were the original Jennie and got bumped for Arden. And that you and Geoff had a thing.”
“I didn’t kill Arden,” Talia insisted. “You have to believe me.”
“People keep telling me I have to believe them,” Isobel said to Delphi.
“And do you?”
“In this case, I’m not sure.” Isobel turned to Talia. “Tell me why I shouldn’t believe you killed Arden in revenge for her taking your role. After all, you were perfectly willing to believe it of me.”
Talia flicked a strand of silky, dark hair behind her ear and sighed. “Geoff wrote the role for me. In his score, Jennie was a coloratura soprano. Lots of wonderful period-sounding parlor songs, an impassioned love song to Sousa, it was great stuff. His score really made the show. There was a gorgeous duet where Jennie accused Sousa of loving the band more than her, but Jethro made him take it out. Nothing could tarnish the image of his sainted Sousa.” Talia snorted in disgust. “Then we did the workshop for the Donnelly Group—”
“Wait, it was mounted just for the Donnellys?” Isobel asked.
“Not just for them, but they were the big fish. Otherwise it was a lot of random people. I remember one woman with witchy hair and wild eyes telling me she was going to invest twenty thousand so she could come to the opening night party on Broadway. Which was crazy, because at that point Broadway was a long shot.”
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