by Edie Claire
Leigh wondered if she was actually being offered the chocolate. She decided that she was and took a piece. It was shaped like a rose. “I think it’s very creative and caring,” she praised, trying not to let the stuffed animals creep her out. Camille seemed to mean well; it wasn’t her fault that Leigh was a little touchy lately on the subject of bizarre rituals.
“Thanks for the chocolate,” Leigh said, meaning it. She turned to leave.
“Would you invite one of the actors in, please?” Camille called after her. “Just give me a second to grab the tea and then I’ll be ready. Tell them I’d like to see them all, one at a time!”
“Will do,” Leigh agreed.
“Oh, wait! I need to see Elizabeth, too. Especially her. She’s seemed so terribly stressed lately, and she’s worked so hard for the society to make all this happen. Would you let her know?”
Elizabeth again, Leigh thought curiously. No one called Bess that, at least not since Leigh’s grandmother had died. And Grandma Morton only used the name when she was angry. Leigh wondered if Camille’s refusal to use nicknames was universal, or if she was trying to needle Bess, subconsciously or otherwise.
Leigh nodded and opened the door.
“Thank you, Leanna!” Camille called merrily. “Or is it Coralee? Or Alicia?”
“Just Leigh,” she replied, her curiosity satisfied. She stepped out, shut the door behind her, and crossed into the kitchen. Then she grabbed half a sub, put it on a paper plate, and returned to the makeup room. “Camille wants to see all of you in the ‘Blessing Room’ down the hall,” she reported. “One at a time, she says.”
To her surprise, the cast members showed no surprise at all. “Is the giraffe there?” the bearded actor quipped as he smoothed foundation into his hairline. “I swear I won’t go if there’s no giraffe.”
The others laughed good-naturedly. “Be nice,” one of the actresses chastised. She looked at Leigh. “Did she bring the homemade chocolates? The little rose ones?”
Leigh nodded.
The group cheered its approval, and the actress who had asked the question scooted back her chair and rose with a flourish. “All right, I’m in. Make a note that I went first this year. Write that down, Sam.”
She smacked the shoulder of a younger man who was wiping off some ill-placed rouge, and he responded without looking up. “See You in Bells, first victim: Carolyn. Got it.”
Leigh backed out of the room. Clearly, everyone in the Thespian Society was well aware of, and not unduly bothered by, Camille’s quirks. Perhaps Leigh shouldn’t be, either.
Still carrying the plate with her sub, she went off to look for Bess. She didn’t want to eat alone. In this building, she didn’t want to be alone.
She found her aunt in the sanctuary, busily instructing a small army of ushers, crewmen, and anyone else handy in the art of constructing the programs. Evidently Bess had produced the handouts on the cheap, because the pages were all in separate boxes and not yet stapled together. Ned and Chaz had both been recruited upon their return, and Leigh couldn’t help but smile at the men’s attempts at formal wear. Chaz wore jeans and a striped shirt and tie in contrasting shades of purple, while Ned wore tired-looking workpants, a white button-down shirt with no tie, and a crumpled sports jacket. As soon as Bess seemed content that she had a functional assembly line going, she stepped away toward Leigh. As always, the guard stepped with her.
“We’re in the home stretch now, kiddo!” she beamed. “How’s the cast? Everyone all right over there?”
“Peachy,” Leigh responded, swallowing her last bite of sandwich. “I’m supposed to tell you that Camille wants to see you in the Blessing Room.”
Bess’s eyes rolled. “Please tell me she didn’t set up those giant tiki torches again!”
The bite of sandwich went down the wrong way. Leigh coughed. “Um… I only saw one candle,” she reported.
“Well, thank God for small favors,” Bess retorted, her face anxious again. “When she directed One Foot in Heaven at Harvest Presbyterian she nearly burned the place down! I know she means well, but with everything else going on tonight I do wish the woman would just disappear — at least until intermission! Her nonsense is so distracting for the actors and I can’t run interference for them and run the house at the same—”
She broke off in mid thought as she noticed the frazzled usher who had appeared at her elbow, followed closely by a nearly unrecognizable Merle and Earl. Merle was wearing a tight dress of plum-colored silk, a wig in an unnatural shade of red, worn black flats, and uneven patches of brown on her legs that Leigh was pretty sure marked a spray tan. Earl was spiffed up in a suit with baby-blue suspenders and a bolo tie, and his walker was decked out with a blue bandana. The couple looked from Bess to Leigh and grinned from ear to ear.
“We made it!” Merle enthused.
“Where are we sitting?” Earl asked.
The usher frowned at Bess. “They insist they’re supposed to get in for free. I told them okay if you said so, but the box office isn’t open yet, much less the house. And they—”
“Well, that’s perfectly all right! They’re my special guests, of course,” Bess said with a smile. She turned to Merle and Earl. “You just take a seat anywhere that’s comfortable. The magic won’t begin for a while now, but if you’d like to see how the preparations go, feel free!”
“We’d like that very much,” Merle said eagerly.
“We’ll just be flies on the wall,” Earl agreed.
Leigh felt a vibration in her pocket, accompanied by the muted sound of a siren.
“But Bess,” the usher dared argue. “Didn’t you tell us that absolutely nobody—”
“Well, I changed my mind,” Bess commanded, flashing a parting smile at the older couple as she hustled the usher away.
Leigh stepped to the side and pulled out her phone. The siren ringtone meant a call from Maura.
Her summons had come.
***
“Thanks for this,” Maura said gratefully, taking a gigantic bite out of the chipped ham sandwich Leigh had just delivered. “Gerry left me something, but I had a hankering for Isaly’s.”
“No problem,” Leigh said, dropping into the chair at the detective’s bedside. “But I can’t stay long. Aunt Bess would never forgive me if I was late for the big opening. Where is Gerry, anyway? I’m surprised he left you alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Maura mumbled with her mouth full. She swallowed and pointed to the cell phone on her nightstand. “The neighbors are home and on full alert. Plus, thanks to your thoughtful daughter, I have these guys.”
Maura pointed to a small cardboard box sitting on the table on the other side of her bed. Leigh walked around and peered into it. Two tiny black pups, with closed eyes and fur like velvet, slept peacefully in a huddle amidst a nest of towels heated by a circulating water blanket.
“Allison brought the puppies here?” Leigh asked incredulously. “Why?”
“She said, ‘nothing makes you feel more calm and peaceful than watching a newborn sleep,’” Maura quoted, smiling. “She’s right, you know. Every time I think about you and Bess rattling around that old church playing Hercule Poirot, I just take one look at these guys, and the old ticker slows right down.”
“We are not playing—” Leigh shut herself up with a frown. “I mean, I’m sorry the situation is stressing you out.”
Maura’s expression turned serious. “Yeah, so am I. Listen, Koslow. I don’t like what I’ve been hearing today. I don’t like it at all.”
Leigh returned to her chair and slouched down. “You and me both.”
“About tonight,” Maura began. “Stroth was hoping to hang around the theater and see what else he could pick up, but he got stuck with another homicide this afternoon. It’s making me crazy — I know these background checks would give us what we need, but I can’t access the information from here, and my being laid up so long has got the department so shorthanded I can’t get anybody else to do it, e
ither.”
Leigh winced to see the familiar worry lines returning to her friend’s brow. “Maybe you should take another look at those puppies.”
Maura leaned over and peered into the box. She put in one finger to stroke a pup, then smiled. “Yeah, that does help.”
“Is there anything else I can do?” Leigh asked. “At the building, or… you’re not supposed to feed them, are you?”
Maura shook her head. “Nope. Your dad is sending one of the techs over to do that. All I have to do is babysit them until after the show.” She turned to Leigh. “And I don’t want you to do anything about this case, either. But there is something I need to tell you. Actually, two things.”
Leigh braced herself.
“First off, a little good news. Sonia Crane is much better. She’s alert and clear headed, and she’s not accusing Bess of anything.”
Leigh released a breath. “That’s good. Does she know who hit her?”
Maura shook her head. “It’s pretty clear she never saw them. It’s also pretty clear that she still wants the building. And she wants it bad.”
“Are you kidding me?” Leigh asked. “Still? What’s she been saying?”
Maura didn’t answer the question. “You want the specifics on that, you’ll have to ask Gordon Applegate. But I can tell you this. No one in the department has told Sonia Crane — or anyone else — about your little adventure with the coal chute this morning. So unless Gordon or one of you told her, she still doesn’t know.”
Leigh slouched further down in her chair. “I see.”
“Who else knows about it?”
“Nobody,” Leigh answered. “At least, Bess and I haven’t told anyone. Ned was there, and he could have said something, but Bess told him it was a squirrel bone and I’m pretty sure he believed her. I don’t know about Gordon, but I can’t see why he would tell anyone, as much as he hates bad publicity. Not even Allison knows — although I can say that with certainty only because she wasn’t physically in the building at the time. Give her five minutes inside the doors tonight and she’ll pick it up by sheer osmosis.”
Leigh looked up at Maura with a miserable expression. “I was kind of hoping this would be the part where you tell me I’m overreacting and that what I found was nothing but a petrified candy cigarette.”
Maura shook her head slowly. “Sorry, Koslow. No can do.”
Crap. “You got the lab results back?”
“No,” Maura answered calmly. “But what you found wasn’t the only thing left behind in the rubble.”
Leigh sank even further into her chair. “Tell me,” she moaned.
“Three more very small bones, most likely fingers or toes,” Maura answered. “And part of a vertebra.”
“A vertebra?” Leigh asked weakly. “How big—”
“Let’s just say it’d make one damned scary squirrel.”
Double crap. Leigh sighed. “You think it’s Clyde Adams, don’t you?”
Maura nodded slowly. “Makes sense. That’s why I don’t like this, Koslow. You’ve got way too many people down there with access to that building, and way too many of them have longstanding ties to West View. These murders may have happened a long time ago, but it’s not impossible that some of the principals could still be alive and kicking. It’s even possible they could have relatives acting on their behalf. Somebody tried to keep us from finding those bones in the coal chute, and that same somebody could have tried to keep Gordon from selling the building to Sonia Crane, because she made no secret of the fact that she would tear it down. That same someone could be behind the threat to Bess.”
Leigh nodded grimly.
“There’s a link somewhere, Koslow,” Maura said determinedly. “And we’re going to find it. Or rather, my loving husband is.”
Leigh sat up a little. “Gerry? But he’s not—”
“On the county payroll? Um, no. And please don’t remind him. But he knows me, and when Stroth got pulled to the other homicide and no one else was available to finish these checks, Gerry knew I was going to lose it, so he grabbed my notebooks and took off. Believe me, if there’s a connection between anyone working with Bess’s theater now and the murders of Andrew Marconi, Bill Stokes, and possibly Clyde Adams, he’s going to find it.”
Leigh pictured the city police lieutenant pounding away at a keyboard or buried behind stacks of documents — however the police actually did such things. He would be poring through the files with such intensity his brow would moisten, all the while swearing any number of profanities against whatever perp dared to put little Gerry or Maura junior at risk.
Leigh managed a weak smile. “I believe he will.”
Chapter 19
Warren met Leigh at the door to the parking lot, as arranged, and handed her the bag she’d requested. “Thanks,” she said gratefully. “I’d better get changed pronto. What time do you have?”
“Eight minutes till curtain,” he answered, not bothering to look at his watch. The man’s brain was as good as any timepiece. “Now you want to tell me why you’ve stuck around here all day?” he asked. His voice was even, but Leigh, picking up on the ever-so-slightly wounded edge to his tone, looked up at him with chagrin. He made a handsome picture, as he always did in his perfectly tailored business suits, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Sorry,” she apologized. “But I’m afraid that whole story would take way longer than eight minutes. Intermission, maybe?”
He grumbled under his breath. “All right. But I consider that a firm commitment.”
“Agreed.” She started to walk away toward the dressing room, but he stopped her.
“Just answer this much, then. Is that a security guard I see following Bess around?”
“Yep.”
“Did she hire him, or did Gordon?”
“Gordon.”
Warren’s eyes studied hers. “Interesting.”
“Is Allison here yet?” Leigh asked, starting away again.
“Not yet,” Warren answered, following her down the hall and stationing himself outside the dressing room door. “But I expect her and your parents any minute. Ethan is with Matt and Lenna upstairs. They said something about keeping an eye on ‘the suspect.’ That would worry me, but Cara’s on it — she swore she wouldn’t let them out of her sight.”
“Good to know. Be back in a jiff.” Leigh slipped inside the now-unoccupied women’s dressing room and changed from her jeans, cotton top, and sneakers into the slightly better-looking khaki slacks, dress blouse, and loafers she had requested. She could stop worrying about three-fourths of the Pack, at least, if all they planned to do was stare at Ned as he watched the show. But as for her daughter, it was only a matter of time—
“Hi, Mom,” Allison’s small voice greeted as she slipped inside the dressing room. “Dad said you were in here. What did you find in the boiler room?”
Leigh sighed heavily. “How could—” her words broke off as she stared at the girl in front of her, who had become as unrecognizable as Merle and Earl. She was dressed in a frilly, baby pink concoction of lace and ruffles not seen on any fifth grader since the days of Shirley Temple — with the exception of some thirty-odd years ago when Leigh had been forced to wear a similar abomination herself, compliments of one Frances Koslow.
“Yeah, I know,” Allison said blandly, “It’s bad. But Grandma wouldn’t let me wear what I had on, and she’d already bought this as an Easter present. I told her Dad could bring me something to change into, but she seemed so excited about it, and you know how, when Grandma’s really, really happy about something, she’s more likely to—”
Run her mouth. “Talk,” Leigh finished. “Yeah, I know.” How many times, as a child, had she herself pretended an interest in sewing or cleaned already-clean household items in a quest for crucial information?
“I don’t mind, really,” Allison insisted. “It’s not like anyone import— I mean, anyone from school will be here.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Was it Clyde Adams?”
“Wait a minute,” Leigh protested, suppressing the shudder she always got when her only daughter spoke of corpses. “Are you saying that Grandma told you I found something in the boiler room?”
Allison shook her head, then winced. The folds of her dress were so starched that the slightest movement made a crinkling sound. “No, I overhead Aunt Bess talking to Mr. Applegate on the phone about that just now. I asked Grandma about the Stokes and the Adams.”
Leigh considered. Her eight minutes were slipping away fast, and getting more information out of Allison than one gave to her — intentionally or otherwise — was always a challenge. “There’s a possibility that… human remains were sealed up in the coal chute,” she admitted. “But we don’t know for sure yet.”
Allison’s dark eyes studied her intently. “What’s a coal chute? Could it have been there long enough to—”
“Hard to say,” Leigh evaded. “Now tell me what you learned from Grandma. And talk fast or we’ll miss the opening. If it’s important, I can—”
“Oh, I already called Aunt Mo,” Allison replied. “She said Uncle Gerry’s working on it.”
A knock sounded on the door. “Three minutes!” Warren called.
“Talk, Allie,” Leigh commanded. “What do you know about all this that I don’t?”
“Nothing much,” Allison insisted. “Grandma never knew any of the people personally. West View’s pretty small, but they were in different social groups, kind of.”
Leigh could imagine. Her Grandma and Grandpa Morton had worked hard to scratch out a place for themselves in the middle of the middle class, and they’d been proud of it.
“Most of what she said was the same as what Grandma Lydie already told me. That everyone thought that Bill Stokes was a really horrible person who beat up his wife and stepkids and probably did something to Clyde Adams. But there’s one thing the two of them remember differently. Grandma Lydie thought that Clyde was no good either — that he was probably having an affair with Bill’s wife. But Grandma remembers feeling sorry for Clyde, because she heard that he was actually trying to protect Bill’s wife and kids. That Clyde knew what was going on and tried to step in, and that’s why the men were fighting.”