Reluctantly, Mom took it.
“You must be Angie’s parents. I can’t tell you what a ray of sunshine your daughter is to this township. She’s smart too. Without Angie, a few mur—ouch!”
I stepped on Willow’s foot because I knew she was about to talk about the recent deaths in Holmes County and my part in their investigations. My parents didn’t need to know more than what I had told them about that.
Willow stepped away from me and twirled her crystal.
“Really, I don’t mind. The house is almost full,” I said. “It won’t take long to hand out these last few programs.”
Willow’s smile widened. “You must be Ryan. I’ve heard all about you.”
The corners of Ryan’s full lips turned up. “All good things, I hope.”
“None at all,” Willow said.
My father covered his laugh with a cough. I winced.
“You had better get to your seats.” I handed them each a program.
Ryan’s fingers brushed my wrist as he took the paper. I blushed and felt my face heat up even more as I was angry at my body for betraying me. Ryan shouldn’t make me blush. I prayed Sheriff Mitchell had been called away and wasn’t within the viewing area.
Ryan smiled at me, and I scowled back. Any sympathy I had for him evaporated.
I pointed down the aisle. “Your seats are in the middle section, down in front. They are the best seats in the house.”
My parents and Ryan had been standing there too long. Those waiting to get from out of the cold and into the barn slid past them impatiently. I shoved programs at them as they went. “Go on. I got this,” I said. “The show starts in five minutes.”
“Where will you be sitting?” my mother asked.
“I’ll grab a seat as soon as everyone else is seated.”
“Can’t you sit with us?”
I shook my head. “That place is reserved for the progressive diners. I wasn’t going to be sitting there anyway.”
Mom pursed her lips. “I feel like we have hardly seen you since we arrived. I hope the entire visit won’t be like this.”
A pang of guilt hit me. “It won’t, I promise. Today was exceptionally busy. Tomorrow will be calmer, you’ll see.”
“Yes, of course it will be,” my father said as he led Ryan and my mother to their seats.
Willow knelt down and scratched Oliver under the chin. “I’m glad you brought Oliver too. We need him for the play.”
“Wh-what?” I asked.
Oliver gave me a pleading look.
“There is a dog in act two. He sits with Eve’s character as she sings to him about leaving the Amish. Any dog will do. Plus imagine how dashing he will look onstage!”
Oliver bumped his head against her leg as if to say, “Well, that is true, but please don’t embarrass me.”
“What happened to the other dog?”
“He belonged to an animal trainer in Canton. The snow is really bad in Stark County, and she couldn’t get him here.”
“I don’t know. Oliver has never been on a stage before. The bright lights might bother him, or he might become afraid and run off. What if a bird gets into the barn? Then we’ll really have some trouble.”
“Don’t be silly. We don’t have to worry about Oliver’s fear of birds. There aren’t any in the barn. We would have seen them by now in all this commotion. He will do great. He has that star quality.”
Oliver shuffled behind my legs.
Before I could argue, Willow took Oliver’s leash from my hand and led my Frenchie away. I watched them go with a knot of dread growing in my stomach. As Oliver went, he looked back at me forlornly. I trusted Willow with my dog, but Oliver, although a ham, simply wasn’t an actor.
I continued to hand out programs and point out open seats to guests. The sheriff came up to me.
“Program?”
He patted the back pocket of his uniform. “I got one. What’s wrong with you? You look like you lost your best friend. Did Ryan say or do something?”
“Ryan is a problem, yes, but I’m frowning because I did lose my best friend. Willow took Oliver backstage.”
“Why?”
I interrupted our conversation to pass out three more programs.
“It seems the dog actor in the play is snowbound, and she needed Oliver as the stand-in. He knows Willow, but you know how scatterbrained she can be. Oliver could get scared back there by himself with no one he knows.”
“I’ll send Anderson backstage to keep an eye on him. I need to put someone near the back anyway to keep an eye on the south entrance to the barn.”
“Would you?” I sighed with relief. “Thanks.” I considered his last statement. “Do you suspect trouble tonight?”
“I always suspect trouble. I’m a cop.”
I frowned.
“But nothing out of the ordinary. My deputies have canvased the property. Nahum isn’t around.”
“Good.”
The houselights flashed, warning the audience the play was about to begin.
“You’d better get to your seat,” I said.
He winked. “You too.”
I snapped up an empty hay bale near the barn door. It was a chilly post, but I would be able to see any latecomers and hand them a program.
As I settled onto my hay bale seat, I wondered how Oliver was getting on. I was just about to get up and check on him when the curtain went up. The opening scene was an Amish farm. I thought the life-sized wooden cow was a nice touch. Eve Shetler glided across the stage with her arms held wide as she breathed in the farm air. Since the theater was an old barn, that was very close to the true scent in the air. Her twirling movement was very Julie Andrews, and I wondered if she had seen The Sound of Music recently.
Eve was beautiful, thin, and lithe; she seemed to float across the stage. When she sang, her voice came out as a perfect soprano.
The scene changed to the inside of an Amish kitchen. Eve was cleaning and suddenly broke into song and dance. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle. I think it was more the thought of an Amish woman tap-dancing in her kitchen that tickled my funny bone than anything else.
“What am I to do? Do I stay with my family, or do I follow my heart?” she sang.
Okay, the cheese-o-meter was officially off the charts. I watched the members of the audience. They were wrapped up in Eve’s performance. I didn’t know much about acting, but even I could tell that Eve was a special talent and one that was wasted here in Holmes County. I hoped that this play would catapult her career. Wade had been right. She was a star.
At the beginning of the second act, Eve’s young English beau, played by the handsome actor with a British accent, was alone onstage, singing about his love for the pretty Amish girl. One of his lines was “Could I give up my cell phone for her?” His native accent was gone onstage, replaced by a flat and spot-on midwestern twang.
I nearly choked. Although Eve had owned the stage, this young actor struggled and would pause as he tried to remember his lines. For the first time, I wished I had sat beside my mother during the play just so I could see her reaction to his performance. I was sure I would hear about it later.
Eve was lowered on a swing made to look like a tree limb while her beloved looked on. The ropes and pulleys groaned as they lowered her. All the while, Eve sang about the choice she must make. She sang with such passion that I couldn’t help but think she poured some of her own anguish about leaving her community into the song.
As the number ended, Eve climbed back onto the swing and was lifted up into the air. We could just see her feet below the top curtain. She was nearly at the very top when a scream reverberated through the barn, and Eve’s tiny body smacked onto the stage with such force that a table overturned on the set. The unlit lantern sitting on top of it also fell and shattered into a thousand pieces
across the stage.
That was when I realized I’d lied to my mother. There was no way tomorrow would be calmer.
Chapter Five
Screams filled the barn. Some of them might have been my own. The members of the audience were out of their seats as they all seemed to want a better look at the stage.
“Everyone stay where you are!” Mitchell’s commanding voice broke into the sound of screams and gasps.
Without thinking, I dropped the stack of programs I had been holding onto the ground in front of the hay bale and rushed toward the fallen actress. I ran up the side aisle and stopped just short of the stage.
I prayed Eve was all right. She fell at least twenty feet to the hard stage floor, but there was a chance she could be fine. Through the crowd, I couldn’t see if she was moving.
My Frenchie bolted from backstage and ran straight to me. He catapulted his black-and-white body into my arms. I caught him with an “Oof!”
“It’s okay, Ollie,” I murmured to the little dog and rested my cheek on top of his solid head. I tucked Oliver under my left arm and approached the side of the stage where Eve lay. My steps were tentative. A part of me didn’t want to confirm whether she was okay, because I felt like I already knew the answer from the murmurs and whimpers coming from the audience. But I had to see for myself. I propelled myself forward.
Deputy Anderson, Mitchell’s young, gawky officer, stood over Eve. I gripped the edge of the stage with my free hand and watched as the sheriff knelt beside the motionless body in Amish dress.
I looked down at Eve, and then up at the sheriff. Mitchell’s gaze met mine, and he shook his head ever so slightly just once. There was no doubt about it. This rising star, this former Amish girl, was dead. I sucked in air as my body began to shake. I had just spoken to her at the dinner an hour ago. How could a bright, vibrant light be so quickly extinguished?
The sheriff waved over another deputy I hadn’t even known was there. The two men spoke into their radios in hushed voices, which were impossible to hear over the noise from the crowd.
The actors and stagehands poured onto the stage. The heavy stage makeup on the actors’ faces amplified their horror. The British man, who played the male lead and had been onstage when Eve fell, clenched his fists. “The structure wasn’t reliable. How dare you let us perform under these conditions? Poor Eve.” He choked on her name and bit his fist.
Something about his reaction seemed off. The fist biting was a little much, as if he were still playing a part.
Director Wade Brooklyn ran onto the stage. He dropped to his knees next to the lifeless girl. “My star! My star!”
Mitchell grabbed Wade’s hand before he could touch Eve. “Sir, do not touch her.”
“She was so talented, so beautiful. She was destined for a long career on the stage. She could have made it on Broadway, in Hollywood, anywhere. She just had that it factor. I will never again work with such raw talent.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the stage at the director’s comments. A second girl, whom I recognized as the one in English dress during the progressive dinner, was now dressed as an Amish girl. She twisted her onstage prayer cap in her hands. A tear slid down her cheek. “That could have been me.”
The British actor galloped across the stage and put his arm around the girl.
I frowned. “That could have been me” seemed like an odd statement to make on seeing a fellow actress die onstage. Yes, there were tears streaming down her face, but were those tears for Eve or for this girl’s supposed close call? Had I even heard her correctly? It was difficult to hear anything over the shouts and cries of the audience. I spun around and searched the crowd for my parents. They stood in the middle of their row. Ryan appeared stricken, and my mother had her face buried in my father’s broad shoulder. The same combination of disbelief and horror was registered on the faces of everyone sitting and standing around them.
Deputy Anderson stepped onto the stage and peered at the swing Eve fell from. He picked up the heavy rope that had been used to raise and lower the swing. “Sheriff, look.”
Mitchell slapped his forehead. “Anderson, drop that right now.”
As if he had been shot, Deputy Anderson dropped the piece of rope onto the stage. It landed with a thud. The severed end pointed at me. It had a clean cut halfway through it. The remainder was torn.
“The rope was cut,” Willow said loudly in a rare moment of silence, so that her voice projected across the barn.
I turned. I hadn’t even realized that she’d been standing there next to me.
“Close the curtain!” Mitchell ordered.
No one moved.
He pointed at Anderson. “Close the curtain.”
The deputy sprinted to the ropes. Slowly the curtain came together, and with one final pull, Anderson, the actors, Mitchell, and Eve’s body disappeared behind a blue velvet sheet.
Pandemonium erupted as the playgoers pushed out of their rows in their haste to escape the barn. There was a mad rush for the one exit through the front of the barn. Someone was going to get trampled. Again, I looked for my parents and Ryan. They were seated. Ryan was talking to Mom and Dad, probably telling them in his logical-lawyer way that it was safer and smarter to remain where they were until the barn emptied. I had never been so grateful for Ryan as I was in that moment.
“The ropes have been cut,” Willow whispered, bringing my attention back to her.
“This can only mean one thing,” I whispered.
Willow gripped my arm. “What? What does it mean?”
“Murder,” I murmured, so that only Willow and Oliver could hear me.
Willow’s hand went to her crystal.
Mitchell appeared through the curtain and put two fingers in his mouth. He let out a whistle that would have made a shrill harpy fall from the sky.
Everyone in the room froze.
In the silence, the sheriff spoke. “Please, of those of you who are still here, I will have to ask everyone to remain in your seats for the time being. We will dismiss you from the barn after we ask a few questions about what you saw. More deputies and police officers assisting from Millersburg PD are on the way. We will do everything that we can to make this process go as quickly as possible.”
More people moved toward the door.
“If you leave, we will be calling or knocking on your door to interview you.”
A few reconsidered and took their seats; others kept heading to the exit. I couldn’t blame them. The sheriff didn’t chase them.
Mitchell held up a hand. “Please, please, I know this is very upsetting, but a young woman is dead. You may have seen something that can give us a clue as to what happened. I’m asking you for your patience. It won’t be long—”
The wail of a siren approaching the barn interrupted his speech.
“For pity’s sake,” Willow whispered. “I can’t believe we’re dealing with another murder.” She smoothed her gauzy sleeve. She sniffed. Her black eye makeup streaked across her cheeks. “And Eve Shetler of all people. It’s a terrible, terrible shame.”
I touched my own cheeks. They were dry. I was too shocked to cry. I knew the tears would come later. “I sat next to her at dinner. She was so . . .” I searched for the right word. “Alive.”
“Eve had an infectious quality about her. That’s why everyone thought she was going to be a big star. And now—” Willow covered her mouth.
I didn’t want to think about it. “Who was that actor on the stage with the British accent?”
“Ruben Hurst. He’s English—I mean real English, not just what the Amish call us. Isn’t his accent swoony?” she asked, but the usual twinkle was missing from her eyes.
My brow wrinkled. “What’s he doing in a production in the middle of Ohio?” I knew a better person would not ask such inane questions at such a time, but m
y curiosity kept my mind off the image of Eve’s body and that was top priority at the moment.
She shrugged and removed crumpled tissue from her pants pocket. “Times are tough. Maybe this is the only place he could find a part.”
I frowned. I supposed that she was right, but it was so far off the normal beaten path for an actor, let alone one from England, that it was hard to believe.
“Who’s that actress with Ruben?” I whispered to Willow.
She wiped at the mascara on her cheek with the tissue. All this accomplished was pushing the makeup into a set of wrinkles I had never noticed before. “Lena. She plays Eve’s sister in the play, but she is also Eve’s understudy for the lead.” She twisted her crystal in her hand. “I guess that part is all hers now if the play is to continue.”
It seemed I had suspect number one, who also had seemed to be concerned more with herself than over the loss of Eve. “Did she and Eve get along?”
Willow twisted the crystal hanging from her neck. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” I said, hoping Willow would buy it.
Willow dropped her crystal. “I don’t believe you. You want to find out what happened.”
The main door into the barn opened and in stormed a half dozen officers, some from the Millersburg police department and some from the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department. Mitchell and Anderson went over to meet them. As the audience waited to be interviewed, conversation resumed, and it was becoming more and more difficult to overhear what the police were saying to one another—not that I was trying or anything.
“I didn’t know Eve long,” I said. “I hardly knew her at all, but I liked her.”
Willow forced a smile. “Well, I wouldn’t let your sheriff know what you are thinking.”
“First, he’s not my sheriff, and second, I’m not thinking anything that he wouldn’t expect from me.”
“The last part of that statement I believe.”
Mitchell completed his powwow with the other officers, and the men and women in uniform fanned out across the audience. While they began their interviews, the main entrance opened again, and three EMTs and the county coroner entered the barn. Mitchell waved them to the small opening in the curtain.
Murder, Served Simply Page 4