Wicked Wiccans (A Witchy Librarian Mystery Book 4)
Page 8
She shook her head. “No. I found out about the affair between Mr. Lyle and Taylor and I wrote those up and sent them to him. It’s not his fault.”
“Wait. You pretended to be her? Why would you do that?” I asked.
She blinked, drops of tears hanging onto her lashes. “I saw them in here once and figured out he’d given her the part of Abigail because they were sleeping together. It really hurt, you know? I thought if I screwed this up for her, then Taylor wouldn’t have an advantage over me anymore. Maybe the next time we did a production it would be fair. Plus, I thought that if Mr. Lyle knew just how awful Taylor could be, he might make her step down from being Abigail. Since I was the understudy, the part would go to me.”
Out of nowhere, Edward Lyle lunged at Molly. He rushed her, pushing her over the stage. He fell to his knees on the edge and Molly’s scream tore through the room, echoing with all the acoustics.
My heart flew up through my throat, pulsing in my head and ears. I made a move toward Molly who’d fallen over the side with a thump when Jackson pulled me back with one arm. With the other, he pulled his gun out and aimed it right at Mr. Lyle. “Don’t move,” he said.
Edward Lyle’s back heaved. He ran his hands through his hair like a crazy person. All the while, he stared over the lip of the stage. “How could you do that? Why would you do that?” he screamed.
Molly groaned. I took a step that way, but Jackson shook his head. He mouthed at me to call Dezi and I did as he asked, whispering to our old friend when he answered that we needed backup at SSU’s theater.
“I killed her!” Edward roared. “I killed her, and for nothing! It was you.” He finally turned over, splotches all over his cheeks. “I loved her. I confronted her about the letters and she denied it, but I just thought she was lying to me. To me! When I loved her! I kept telling her she was lying, and she kept denying it, but I was so afraid she was going to tell my wife. Not that I wouldn’t tell my wife for Taylor—poor Taylor—but I knew my wife would tell the school and then I would get fired. Theater is my life.”
“So, you killed Taylor?” Jackson asked. “Not because you didn’t want your wife to find out, but because your wife is vindictive. Probably rightfully so. You had an affair with your student.”
“Taylor was much more than that,” he said, his eyes widening. “She was such a good actress. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just so upset that she was lying to me.”
Molly hissed in a breath down below, and I didn’t know if it was because even though Edward Lyle had killed Taylor, he was still singing her praises, or because she had been seriously injured being pushed off the stage like that.
“She was…” Edward continued as if we weren’t even there. “She was the love of my life.”
“Mr. Lyle,” Jackson said, getting closer, his gun still drawn and aimed right at the theater director’s midsection. “Did you used to meet with Taylor late at night?”
Mr. Lyle nodded.
“Did you give her a secret phone?”
He nodded again. “It was fun to sneak around. We felt like we were writing our own story. That’s what we called it. And no, Molly,” he said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t cast Taylor as Abigail because I was sleeping with her, I cast her as Abigail because she deserved it. It’s better you know now that sometimes other people are just better than you. If you want to make it in this business, you’re going to have to work harder.”
This seemed like a most inopportune time to give theatrical advice, but what did I know? Maybe I’d be shouting out librarian stuff when faced with this, too.
Jackson ignored him. He angled himself in front of me. In the background, the sirens of the approaching police cars sounded. “Where’s the phone, Mr. Lyle?”
“I threw it in the dumpster outside the theater. She had it on her when I…when I—”
“You killed her,” I answered for him.
He only nodded. “But I didn’t mean to. We used to come here to dress up and live out our fantasies. I’d been getting the letters for the past few days and I was so confused at first. Taylor never mentioned anything in person, so when I finally confronted her about then, she was the one who was confused, and I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. I thought she’d played me. I’d opened up to her about everything and she’d played me.”
Jackson was closer to Mr. Lyle now. “I’m going to need to place you under arrest for the murder of Taylor Hawkins.”
Mr. Lyle’s eyes grew wide. “But theater?”
“Maybe you can start a production in prison?” Jackson offered.
“No!” Mr. Lyle screamed. He lunged for Jackson and a gunshot went off. I screamed, stepping back, watching the chaos play out in front of me. Jackson and Mr. Lyle grappled for the gun. Finally, though, Jackson threw him to the ground and ended up on top just as the other officers poured in through the back. Dezi was the first one, bringing out his cuffs as soon as he saw the situation Jackson was in.
Jackson slammed his knee down into Edward Lyle’s back, bracing him there as Dezi pulled on his hands, putting the cuffs around him.
After that, I got the attention of the first cop I saw and pointed over the stage. “Molly’s down there. She might be hurt.”
A sob escaped Molly’s throat. Curious, I followed the police officer to the side of the stage and saw Molly crying, mascara running down her cheeks. She looked around, and when she met my eyes, she said, “It’s my fault. I didn’t think he would kill her, I just thought he would stop sleeping with her. That’s all I wanted. I just wanted it to be fair.”
Edward Lyle balked at that. Dezi pulled him up by the shoulders. His hair was a mess, and his face was screwed up in rage. He spat over the side of the stage. “Nothing’s fair in theater, honey.”
Jackson yanked on his hands and Edward made a little yelp. “I don’t think these young kids need your advice anymore, Lyle.” He handed him off to two other police officers, and they surrounded him as they walked him out of the theater. The police officer I told about Molly spoke into the receiver on his uniform, calling for an ambulance. I heard him say possible broken arm, but that was it. Thank the goddess.
That didn’t help her pain though. Her cries were gut-wrenching. She had no way of knowing Edward Lyle would react that way. No way of knowing that theater was more important to him than life, than his marriage, than of anything else in his whole world because he’d just wasted all of it. Whatever talent he did have would waste away with him in prison for the senseless killing of Taylor Hawkins.
Jackson moved toward me and threw his arms around my shoulders. “Are you okay? I told you not to come.”
I squeezed him to me, still hearing the gunshot reverberate through my head. “You’re not shot, are you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, and neither was he. He grabbed the gun in time to deflect it.”
He sounded disappointed, but I didn’t care. I was relieved. I pulled him closer. “Thank the goddess that’s over.”
He blew a breath into my hair. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Just shook up,” I told him. “That’s all.”
He finally pulled away but kept his hands on my back as we maneuvered through the darkened space backstage and out the back door. “Do you want to wait for the ambulance to take a look at you?”
“No,” I said. That was ridiculous. Molly needed it more than me. I was just tense that was all.
Jackson pulled on my arm, making me face him. He did a once-over on my face, my body. Then, without hesitation, he bent over and kissed me. His soft lips meshed with mine. Surprised at first, I didn’t respond, but the touch sparked something inside. A closeness, a togetherness I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I kissed him back.
And that, my librarian friends, should be filed under best first kiss ever.
Jackson pulled away too soon. “I’m taking you home. I’ll call Mom and tell her you’re not going back to the library today.”
“Wil
l you stay with me?” I asked.
He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
On the way to the car, I said, “You know, your mom is going to want an explanation.”
“I doubt it. She likes you more than me.”
I covered the smile growing on my lips. “Not about us. I mean about the little thing we just did in there…”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Well, I’ll tell her she might have to find a new librarian because you’re just too good at playing detective.”
I chuckled and shook my head. Now he was just messing with me. There was no way I was better at anything other than being a librarian. Whatever we shared through that kiss must’ve knocked some sense out of him.
I could research it, but I didn’t need to. I knew exactly what was in that kiss.
THE END
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