Evil Turns

by Jane Tesh

  “Money. There’s a crime right there. Maybe someone in Copeley would know. Where is Copeley, anyway?”

  Back to the Internet. A few clicks and I had my answer. “It’s about an hour from here.”

  Jerry folded the newspaper and handed it back to me. “These road trips are piling up, Mac.”

  “We’ll get to Parkland, I promise. Let me see if Eric Levin had a Facebook page.”

  Eric’s page was filled with pictures of Eric. Eric on a motorcycle, Eric on a jet ski, Eric on a surfboard, looking tough and surly, many shirtless selfies, revealing a muscled physique, and pictures of Eric with his arm around a succession of young women. “He didn’t have a problem with self-esteem.” I read a few of his posts. “Oh, and he likes to brag about how many women he’s dated. He even has a rating system. Amber gets four stars, lucky girl.”

  “Sounds like a charming fellow.”

  “What would you say the chances are one of these lovely scantily clad ladies didn’t approve of her rating?” I read on until I was disgusted with Eric’s vanity. But being conceited wasn’t a crime. He didn’t deserve to die.

  Chapter Six

  With Hansel and Gretel still sounding forth, Jerry and I had dinner and then went back into town to check out the auditions for Flower of the South. Jerry wore a green tie decorated with goofy-looking grinning daisies. Over the next hour and a half, with Harold Stover fuming at the back of the theater, Amanda and two members of the Women’s Improvement Society listened to songs and dramatic recitations and conferred in excited whispers. Jerry and I sat in the middle of the auditorium with Evan, whose handkerchief was worn to threads as the tryouts continued.

  “Madeline, I had no idea this wasn’t the committee’s plan. Amanda asked if she could use the theater this evening, and I said yes. I never wanted to get in the middle of a controversy. Has she thought about costumes or props or sets? Where is she going to have this drama? We don’t have an outdoor venue unless you count the band shell, and it’s not very big.”

  A woman sitting in front of us turned around. “I heard we’re using the old drive-in.”

  This made Evan sit forward. “The Night Owl? She can’t use that. It’s been sold.”

  The woman’s friend turned to join the conversation. “I heard the city’s building an amphitheater.”

  The distress was piling on for poor Evan. “Where did you hear that? We don’t have the money for that sort of project!”

  I thought I’d better say something before Evan dissolved. “Amanda likes to talk big, remember? I’m sure things will work out.”

  Then the two women gasped, and one pointed to another woman walking down the aisle. “Is that who I think it is? What’s she doing here?”

  “What’s going on?” I asked them.

  “That’s Megan Underwood.”

  Jerry poked me. “Austin’s witch.”

  “Why is everyone whispering?” I asked the women.

  The first woman was reluctant to answer. “She’s…different.”

  “Evan, do you know her?”

  He gave the woman a glance and sighed as if the sight of her added to his troubles. “She’s somewhat of a recluse and rarely comes into town. She lives out in the woods somewhere and raises herbs. I can’t imagine why she’s here.”

  Megan Underwood was a dreamy-eyed woman with long pale corkscrew curls decorated with beads and feathers. She wore an ankle-length multicolored skirt and an old-fashioned blouse with puffy sleeves. She carried an elaborately carved walking stick with a dragon’s head, complete with jeweled eyes. Her appearance caused a hush in the auditorium. Amanda and her Society friends drew back.

  She struck a pose. “I’m here to audition.”

  I’d never seen Amanda speechless. After a long moment, she regained her composure. “All right. Is there any particular role you’re interested in?”

  “The lead, of course.”

  This set her back for another moment. “What makes you think you’re qualified?”

  Megan Underwood made a large graceful gesture with the walking stick. “I am the reincarnated soul of Emmaline Ross.”

  Jerry leaned forward in his seat. “Let’s see where she goes with this.”

  After Megan filled out the audition form, Amanda handed her the short speech she’d written. “Whenever you’re ready.” Her voice could not have been more discouraging.

  Despite her strange appearance, Megan Underwood was a fine actress with a clear voice that carried to the back wall of the auditorium. She managed to convey all the pride and courage one would expect in a pioneer woman. When she finished, there was a flurry of whispering from the committee members, and then Amanda said, “Thank you.”

  Megan bowed and drifted out.

  “Be right back,” Jerry said. He got up and followed her.

  “What is he doing?” Evan asked. “She won’t talk to him. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say anything.”

  I was pretty sure she’d talk to Jerry, especially if he introduced himself as a warlock, so I was surprised when he returned shaking his head. “Like any good witch, Megan disappeared.”

  “That fast? She must have kept her broomstick running.”

  Evan was still baffled. “Why on earth did she come to audition?”

  “You heard her,” Jerry said. “She’s Emmaline Ross, reborn. She must tell her story to the world.”

  “She doesn’t live in town. How did she hear about the play, though?”

  “I guess the spirits told her.”

  Several more young women did their best, but no one came close to Megan’s portrayal of Emmaline. I dared Jerry to try out. “You could be Emmaline’s crusty but devoted father, or the villain who tries to ruin her crop.”

  “I’d rather be the guy who gets to sample all the wine.”

  Evan glanced up the aisle. “Oh, dear. As if this evening couldn’t get any more dramatic.”

  I turned to see a large woman with a determined air coming down the aisle.

  Evan lowered his voice. “That’s Joanie Raines. She tries out for everything, and if she doesn’t get in, she gets very upset. I think you can see why she isn’t right for every part.” He wiped his brow. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to deal with her. She’s a nice woman, but, to be as tactful as possible, she doesn’t always fit a director’s vision. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t chosen for Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, or Laurie in Oklahoma, or Tinker Bell in Peter Pan.”

  “But she might be just right for a part in this show.”

  “She’ll want the lead. She always does. The theater world is all about appearances. Unless Emmaline Ross was a large woman, I don’t think Joanie has a chance.” He wadded up his handkerchief. “I can’t take any more of this tonight. Jerry, if you and Madeline are staying for the rest of the auditions, would you make sure all the doors are locked?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  Evan thanked him and left. I turned my attention back to Joanie. She looked grim. “Pioneer women were big and strong, weren’t they?”

  Joanie read Emmaline’s part very loudly with many expansive gestures. It wasn’t what you’d want in the theater, but for an outdoor drama, it could work. She definitely wouldn’t need a microphone. In the bright lights, she was a very attractive woman with round blue eyes and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a bright pink shirt and dark jeans that enhanced her full figure.

  Halfway through her audition, Amanda cut her off with a dismissive “Thank you.” Joanie looked insulted, but gave a little bow and walked off the stage. As she steamed up the aisle past us, she stopped.

  “You’re Jerry Fairweather, right? The fellow who holds séances?”

  Jerry had promised no more séances. “I’m sort of out of the business.”

  “What about voodoo? Are y
ou any good at curses?”

  “Not exactly my style.”

  “Too bad. I’d have a job for you.”

  Joanie’s voice was causing people to turn around in their seats and stare.

  Jerry motioned toward the lobby doors. “Why don’t we talk outside?”

  We stood on the front steps of the theater while Joanie unloaded all her grievances. “I know what Amanda Price is doing. She’s setting up all this so she can be the star. Never mind she’s way too old to play Emmaline Ross. It’s her game and we have to play by her rules.”

  “She might not get this play off the ground,” I said. “There are a lot of things to consider.”

  Joanie made a sound like “Huh!” “You haven’t lived here long enough to know that if Amanda wants something, she finds a way to make it happen.”

  “If you didn’t think you stood a chance, why did you try out?”

  “To show people what a real actress can do. I’m the best choice for Emmaline, and everyone knows it.”

  “What about Megan Underwood? She read very well.”

  Joanie’s blue eyes went wide. “Megan Underwood was here? I don’t believe it. She’s totally undependable. Drifts in and out of town like an old plastic bag. If Celosia wants to have a successful outdoor drama, then I’m the only one who can deliver.” She turned to Jerry. “No curses, you say? How about reading my palm? Can you do that?”

  When she held out her hand, palm up, Jerry and I both saw the black rose tattoo on her wrist. It was faded, but it was very similar to Annie’s and Britney’s. We exchanged a quick glance that Joanie didn’t see.

  She pushed her hand forward. “Look at that lifeline. Don’t tell me I’m not destined for great things.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “Well?” She wasn’t going to leave until Jerry did something paranormal.

  He took her hand, and gazed at it for few moments. “Your heart line is long and curvy which means you freely express your feelings and emotions. Your head line is curved which denotes creativity, your long lifeline reflects your vitality, and this fourth line is called a fate line. Not everyone has this. Yours is joined to your lifeline, showing you’re a self-made individual.”

  Joanie nodded in satisfaction as he spoke. “That’s remarkable, and it’s all true. I’ll be Emmaline Ross. I know I will.”

  “You’ve had a life surrounded by the supernatural. Even as a young woman, you were fearless, joining other women to get in touch with the spiritual world.”

  Joanie cocked her head, curious. “You see that?”

  “The dark rose guides me.”

  She rubbed her wrist as if to erase the tattoo. “This old thing! It’s nothing.”

  I decided to be direct. “Were you a member of the Darkrose Coven?”

  For a moment, her considerable assertiveness was shaken. “Good lord, where did you hear about that? That’s ancient history.”

  “What can you tell us about it?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. Kids playing games, that’s all.”

  “You must have been more than kids to get tattoos.”

  “Okay, so maybe we were teenagers. Spur of the moment, we all decided to get a tattoo. My mother flipped out, I was grounded for a month, and that was the end of that.”

  “Could you tell us who else was in the group beside you and Lauren Garrett?”

  “Why would you want to know that?”

  “I’m just curious. The paper mentioned a Darkrose Coven.”

  “They meant the one in Parkland. Maybe you’re too curious, Madeline.”

  Yep, I am. “Is there anyone in town who could tell me more?”

  “No.” Joanie seemed unnecessarily upset. “I don’t see why you have to always be poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Did someone hire you to solve that man’s murder, the one they found in the vineyard?”

  “No, but I’d still like to find out who killed him.”

  “That’s the police department’s job. And as for what happened years ago, you don’t have to know everything that goes on in Celosia. Did you ever stop to think it might not be any of your business? You’re not even from here. Thanks for the reading, Jerry. I’ve got to go.”

  She made a grand exit, every inch stiff with disapproval. “Hit a nerve there,” Jerry said.

  “Joanie’s the second person today to tell me to mind my own business. I’m beginning to think everybody in town has a black rose tattoo.”

  “And a secret to go with it.”

  “Another big secret is why Amanda continues to steamroll this outdoor drama idea and how she’s going to pay for it.”

  “But my songs are great. You want them to go to waste?”

  “Tell her you want payment up front and see what she says.”

  Back in the auditorium, tryouts had finished. Amanda stood and straightened the stack of audition forms. “That’s all for tonight. Thank you, everyone. The cast list will be posted on Monday.”

  As people filed out of the auditorium, I expected another attack from Harold, but when I looked for him, I didn’t see him. “Guess Harold had enough.”

  “He might be waiting outside in the bushes,” Jerry said.

  We came down the aisle to hear more intense whispers as Amanda and the Society members discussed Megan Underwood.

  Amanda spoke in tones of disbelief. “The nerve of that woman! We can’t have someone like that representing Emmaline. She’s nothing more than a vagrant and a flaky one, at that.”

  Constance divided the audition forms into three stacks. “But she gave a very good reading.”

  Amanda wasn’t having any of it. “You know we can’t depend on her. What if she decides she can’t perform on the night of the full moon, or some such nonsense? We have another whole night of tryouts, and there’s bound to be someone perfect for the part.” She turned to Jerry. “Jerry, I understand you’ve written a few songs for the play. We’ll hear them in just a minute. We’ve got a show to cast.” She took the first stack of audition forms and spread them on the table. “We have our work cut out for us. We really need an Emmaline.”

  I wanted to know more about Megan. “What about Megan Underwood? I thought she was great.”

  “She had a good audition, I agree, but she’s so flighty, you never know if she’ll show up.”

  “Joanie Raines was good, too,” Jerry said.

  “I’m thinking of Joanie as Emmaline’s mother.”

  That would go over well. “She’d be a strong Emmaline,” I said.

  “Yes, but physically she doesn’t fit the role. If we can’t find someone, then I’ll play Emmaline.”

  Exactly what Joanie had said.

  “Now, we’ve got two people who would be perfect for Emmaline’s father and grandfather, and the rest of these people can be farmers and settlers and members of the rival vineyard. What are your songs like, Jerry? I hope they’re simple enough for everyone to learn in a short time. I want the show up and ready in four weeks.”

  Four weeks? Even I knew that wasn’t possible.

  Jerry went to the piano in the orchestra pit and played through his songs. I wasn’t surprised that Amanda took them seriously.

  “Excellent! Could you write a few more, one for the vineyard workers to sing and one for Emmaline’s parents?”

  “I can probably come up with something here in a few minutes.”

  I got Amanda’s attention. “Nathan Fenton wanted me to remind you that you can’t have your production anywhere on his land.”

  “I tried to explain things to him. He’s missing a golden opportunity.”

  “He doesn’t see it that way. If you insist on coming onto his property, he can have you arrested for trespassing.”

  This made her pause for only a moment. “I would prefer to have his cooperation. It’s importan
t that we have the show on or near the site of Emmaline’s cabin.”

  “Do you know for certain where her cabin was?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Could someone from UNCP’s history department find out for you? Seems to me that would be the answer.”

  “I suppose.”

  Jerry played a fanfare on the piano to announce the next songs. “This one’s for the workers.

  “We tireless band of laborers, who toil amongst the vines,

  We work in sun and wind and rain, creating finest wines.”

  “That will do nicely,” Amanda said.

  “And Emmaline’s mom and dad sing this:

  “Our lovely daughter, Emmaline, we sing our pride for thee.

  Following your path through scorn and doubt,

  Tending the grapes through storm and drought,

  Finding your place in history!”

  “Splendid!” Amanda said, and the committee members clapped.

  “I’ll record everything and send you a copy,” Jerry said. “But I’ll need payment first.”

  This didn’t faze her. “Of course. Write him a check, Constance.”

  Constance took out her checkbook. “We haven’t completed the budget. Did you have a figure in mind?”

  Amanda waved a hand. “Oh, five hundred should do it, I think.”

  “Five thousand,” Jerry said. “That’s for the songs. The orchestra arrangements will be more, of course, and I’m cutting you a really good deal because it’s for Celosia.”

  I knew he’d named a ridiculously high amount to see how Amanda would react. Constance glanced at Amanda as if for permission. Amanda gave her a curt nod.

  “I’ll take half now, if that’s easier,” Jerry said.

  Constance wrote the check, tore it out of her checkbook, and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you,” Amanda said, overly sincere. “We’ll expect those orchestrations within the week.”

  Jerry folded the check and put it in his pocket. “No problem.”

  No problem because he didn’t intend to write orchestrations. Something very strange was going on here. “Amanda, I don’t see how you can have this play ready in four weeks.”