“The show must go on,” she said, a little too softly for the words to have their full effect. When everyone stared at her a moment, she finally clapped her hands. “You heard me. Chop chop!”
Good for her. I was glad she’d pulled it together enough to get through practice. Otherwise, I feared too many people in this room might smell blood and see Paulette as someone they could eat alive.
I’d seen it happen with Paulette one too many times in the past.
Maybe, finally, things had changed.
CHAPTER 4
I walked out of the Cultural Arts Center with Paulette at 11 and watched her lock the door behind us. Before we’d left, I’d confirmed there was no one in the building. Tomorrow morning there shouldn’t be any surprises waiting for anyone.
Unless someone with a key, for some reason, went inside during the night. Paulette insisted that all her key keepers were trustworthy, though. She’d even given me one, which made me wonder just how many other people had keys.
I pulled my coat closer as a winter wind swept through the parking lot. It was mid-January and a cold snap had claimed the area. The air was brittle and, with the brisk wind, the bite was painful.
“So, tell me about the ghost haunting this place,” I prodded as we headed toward our vehicles—mine an old white work van and hers a Land Rover. In the heat of the moment, I’d let Arie’s words slip right on by me, but they’d come back to … well, come back to haunt me now.
Paulette shook her head. “At our second rehearsal, Arie stormed in one night—she has a habit of doing that—and she had all these old news articles with her. They were about this teacher who’d died at the school back in the 70s.”
“What?” I would have heard about that, right? I mean, there’d always been this rumor that a ghost haunted the place, but I thought it was all just a story someone made up to scare us measly middle schoolers. I had no idea there was actually any truth to it. I was still skeptical.
“She found the newspaper articles to prove it,” Paulette continued, pulling her white wool coat tighter around her neck. “I guess the school administration tried to bury it. They didn’t want students freaking out.”
“Tell me about the articles.”
We walked toward the parking lot at the other side of the building.
“The woman’s name was Rose Hines. She’d just started teaching here. Drama, for that matter. One day, a custodian found Rose in the orchestra pit. Apparently, she’d stayed late trying to prep some of the props, and she fell, hit her head, and died.”
Curiosity—and suspicion—clawed at me. “Was there ever an investigation into it?”
Paulette shrugged. “I think so, but there were no signs of a crime. It just appeared to be a tragic accident. So now Arie thinks that the ghost of Rose is coming back to haunt us.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I stated, just to get my opinion out there.
“I don’t know if I do or not. I went to a psychic once and some of the things she told me came true. Maybe there is a supernatural element alive and well in this world.”
“I believe in the supernatural, but I don’t put my faith in ghosts or psychics.”
“Then who?”
“I put my faith in God,” I told her. “I’d love to tell you about Him sometime.”
I swallowed hard. I was a new Christian and whenever it came to talking to people about my faith, I started to feel like a little child, for some reason. I guess I was a baby Christian. Still, I had great news to share about how Christ had changed my life and given me hope. Why would I want to keep that to myself?
“Sometime,” Paulette said with a nod as we reached the end of the sidewalk
I paused at the edge of the parking lot. A man was leaning against my van.
“You good?” Paulette asked nervously. She was probably still thinking of Scarlet’s demise and wondering if the man was trustworthy. Everyone in the cast seemed to be on edge, and rightfully so. Whispers had run rampant during practice. Cast members had insisted on walking each other to cars. I’d noticed several looking over their shoulders while on stage.
All of them except Jerome. He seemed content to glare at me. What was his problem? And what about that glance I’d seen him and Arie exchange?
I remembered Paulette’s question and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal.”
I watched her walk away before turning back to my van. I smiled at the man there. He leaned against my door, his ankles crossed, and wearing clothing that cost more than my monthly rent. An overhead streetlight illuminated his grin.
“Garrett Mercer,” I murmured. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I quite enjoy hanging out in dark parking lots, waiting for beautiful women until the wee hours of the night.”
I playfully jabbed him in the chest. “If you weren’t so cute, that would sound creepy.”
He stood and straightened his sleeves. “It does, doesn’t it?” His British accent had a way of sounding self-deprecating and adorable. “I didn’t think you were ever going to get out of there.”
“It’s been quite the day, to say the least.”
“You still up for dinner?” he asked.
“I totally forgot to call! I’m sorry.” I’d even texted him right before practice to tell him I was at the school and running late. I was supposed to call when I knew when we’d be done.
“No apologies necessary, Love. I know you’re a busy lady.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Only three hours.”
“Three hours!”
“I jest. I jest.” He chuckled, the moon reflecting in his gaze and making his eyes glimmer. “I actually tried to call about an hour ago. When you didn’t answer, I decided to swing by. I saw your van was still here. You hungry?”
I glanced at my watch. “At this hour? Isn’t it late to eat?”
He shrugged. “You can think of it as late or you can consider it romantic. I know what I choose.”
I smiled. “Why not then?”
“Great. I found this cozy little place. It’s only about a mile from here. Want to give it a try?”
“Why not?”
We bypassed my van—which smelled like cleaning fluids anyway—and climbed into his hybrid. I let myself melt into the soft leather seat. It had been a long day, and I was tired. I wished I could hop in the shower, change into something more respectable—something that would make me feel pretty. But Garrett seemed to like me just as I was. He never complained, at least.
Usually, his companionship had a way of cheering me up. The two of us had a bit of a complicated relationship that wavered somewhere between friendship and romance.
I first met him when I was trying to figure out who’d shot my then fiancé, Riley Thomas. Garrett had later hired me to work a cold case involving the murder of his family. During that time, my fiancé and I had decided to take some steps back—way back. Riley was recovering from a brain injury, and he’d moved back up to D.C., a good three hours from here, in order to let his family help with his grueling therapy.
Riley and I still talked every so often. It had started weekly, then moved to every other week, and eventually less than that. Every time I heard his voice, my heart panged with sadness.
Initially, I’d hoped he might come down for a visit or that he might fight to keep me in his life. He hadn’t. He’d all but disappeared.
I’d gone up to visit him twice. After the second time, his mother had kindly told me that he seemed upset every time he talked to me. She’d hinted that I was hampering his recovery.
At that moment I’d realized that, more than anything else, Riley needed time and if I truly loved him that’s exactly what I should give him. I knew that things might never return to the way they’d been. All the dreaming and wishing in the world wouldn’t do a thing to change those possibilities.
So now I left the ball in his court. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it.
All o
f that said, I wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship. Garrett knew that. We were just hanging out, talking almost every day, and enjoying each other’s company.
In all honesty, I was surprised that he’d stuck around this long. He was a hot commodity in the area and could date anyone he wanted. He owned a successful coffee business, he was interested in giving back to the community, he was rich, handsome, and he had a killer accent. He’d even warned me a couple of months ago that he wouldn’t wait forever.
That had been in November. It was now mid-January, and he was still hanging around. For all I knew, he could be dating other people. But I had a feeling he wasn’t.
My friends all liked Garrett. There was really nothing not to like about him.
Except that he wasn’t Riley.
We pulled up to a restaurant off Shore Drive in Virginia Beach. The eatery was a little shack that sat on the Chesapeake Bay and, despite its rustic appearance, it had five star prices.
Garrett didn’t even have to say anything to the waiter. As soon as he spotted Garrett, he nodded toward the back, motioning for us to follow him. He led us to a covered deck overlooking the water. Party lights hung overhead, and the Mamas and the Papas played from somewhere overhead. Most of the people around us had had too much to drink, evidenced by both the bottles and glasses on their tables and the volume of their laughter.
But I tuned all of that out. Garrett and I had a corner table. Glass covered the sides of the deck, but I guessed it was removed in warm weather so patrons could enjoy the balmy breezes off the water. The place was nice, and it had great views.
“You like?” Garrett asked, that charming smile on his face.
I’d always said he reminded me of Gerard Butler, only more handsome—if that was possible.
I nodded. “I like.”
His smile widened. “Great. Now, I have to recommend the tuna—grilled with the mango salsa—or the scallop cakes. Both are wickedly wonderful.”
“Sounds like you’ve eaten here quite a bit before.” Maybe he was seeing other women. My heart ached a little at the thought, though I knew I had no right to feel that way. Everything was way too complicated right now.
“Business meetings,” he corrected, almost as if he could read my thoughts. “I love bringing board members here for lunch. Wild caught local fish. Vegetables grown through sustainable, clean farming. Fresh air off the bay. It gives them just a taste for the area without being too overwhelming. Don’t you think?”
I nodded and stared out at the black water outside for a moment. “I do.”
I loved his enthusiasm for his job. He was passionate and innovative and he’d pulled his life together in the face of tragedy. What was there not to admire about that?
“So, how was the meeting with your friend?” Garrett closed his menu and took a sip of his water. He knew I wasn’t a fan of alcohol—my dad had been a drunk for most of my childhood—so he respectfully refrained when he was around me.
“We found a dead body behind the stage,” I blurted.
Garrett stared at me. “What?”
“It’s true.” I explained what happened.
“You don’t have to look for mysteries, do you? They just find you. You’re like a magnet, and crimes are like the anvil that’s always being drawn closer.”
“An anvil that’s bound to start coming at me so fast that it knocks me smack in the forehead?”
He chuckled. Even the way he held his water goblet, raised suspended in the air, made him seem affluent. So different from me.
“Now, I didn’t say that,” he started. “I’m sure you’d still look charming, even if you had a big red welt on your face.”
“You’re kind.” I straightened the napkin in my lap. “Anyway, Paulette asked me to investigate.”
“And you said?”
I shrugged. “I said yes.”
“Good girl. You’re in your element when you’re investigating.”
I felt myself beaming. “Thank you.”
The waitress interrupted to take our orders. I got tuna, cooked medium, with a cucumber salad and rice pilaf. Garrett ordered oysters and some she crab soup.
As soon as the waitress wandered away, I leaned toward Garrett, my thoughts still on my eventful evening. “I guess Paulette has a lot riding on this whole musical. Yet, despite that, she gave me the lead role. I’m taking the place of the woman who died.”
The pit in my stomach grew as I said the words aloud.
Garrett seemed a little too amused as he bent toward me. “Now, that is something I wouldn’t miss for the world. Gabby St. Claire, on stage, star of the show.”
“Singing and dancing,” I finished.
“Even better.”
“It’s going to be humiliating.”
He waved his hand in the air, as if swatting away the negative thoughts. “Don’t be silly. You’ll be great.”
“That’s kind of you, but you’ve never seen me sing or dance.”
“We’ve danced together. Remember—at the gala you attended with me.”
Believe me, I hadn’t forgotten. Hadn’t forgotten his closeness, his warmth, the way my skin tingled at his touch. But I didn’t want him to know that. “You’ve never seen my jazz hands.”
He pulled his head back as his eyebrows shot up. “They sound a little scary. You couldn’t pay me miss it. Maybe I’ll give everyone at the company free tickets. I’ll bet your friend would like that. It would be my way of supporting the arts.”
I held a hand up. “Let’s slow down. You need to check your definition of ‘the arts.’”
He grinned. “You know, a friend of mine wanted to buy that property the school was located on. He thought it could be great for one of the neighborhoods he develops. Small world, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s fascinating that they’ve turned it into the Cultural Arts Center. I’m glad it’s still standing. I have a lot of memories of that place.”
“My friend’s wife—the friend who wanted to buy the property—used to go to school there, but she didn’t seem all that inclined to hold on to the building.”
“She probably had money staked in it, so of course not.”
“Donabell definitely likes her money.”
My lips parted. “Did you say Donabell?”
He nodded. “I did. She’s my friend’s wife.”
“Donabell Bullock?”
“Donabell Castlerock. Not sure what her maiden name was.” He shrugged and took another sip of water.
“How many people named Donabell could there be around here?”
He raised his eyebrows again in wry amusement. “I’m getting the sense that you know her?”
I stopped myself from snorting—thank goodness. “If it’s the same Donabell, then she was my middle school nemesis. She thrived on making my life miserable.”
He shrugged. “Are you going to hold it against me that I’m friends with her husband?”
“Of course not. That would be silly.”
“Good. Because people do grow up. You might be surprised.” The corner of his lips curled up.
I raised an eyebrow. I had a hard time thinking about Donabell ever changing. How strange was it that two of my old middle school classmates were suddenly making appearances in my present day life? It almost seemed surreal.
“I’ll have to arrange a reunion.”
“No thank you.” My words sounded harsher than I intended.
His grin faded and he leaned closer. “I have a question for you, Gabby.”
Before he could start, the waitress appeared with our food. Apparently, Garrett must have been their VIP customer because I’d never known a kitchen staff to put meals together this quickly.
Anxiety churned in my stomach as I anticipated his question. Was this the moment when he would make me decide if I wanted to date him or not? If I said no, would we still be friends?
I had to admit, Garrett had been there for me these past couple of months. With Riley gone and Sierra being
married now, I’d felt a little alone at times. Garrett had filled up those lonely minutes. He hadn’t even complained—okay, maybe he had once or twice—but overall, he’d seemed content to simply hang out.
Garrett shoved his plate forward, ignoring it for a moment.
“So,” he started. He leaned toward me, tugging at his crisp sleeves. His gaze looked serious. “I have a proposition for you.”
That didn’t sound good. I remained silent and waited for him to continue.
“I’m heading to Africa next month. I’m going to tour the area and see some of the wells that GCI has built for residents there.”
I nodded, having no idea what that had to do with me. “Sounds fascinating.”
Garrett’s company, Global Coffee Initiative, donated money per bag of coffee sold to people living in third world countries. It was a great business model that had really set Garrett apart from other companies out there. It had even landed him on some magazine covers, for both his business sense and his drop dead good looks.
“I want you to go with me, Gabby.”
I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”
He nodded. “You could come a little later if the play runs over, of course. But I’d like for you to join me on my tour. You’ve got to know that I adore you, Gabby.” He lowered his voice in a way that made me blush.
And I almost never blushed.
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
The thought of traveling internationally made my heart race. At my core, I longed for some adventure, a change of scenery, maybe even a way to avoid the muck in my life.
But there was also reality. I had a business to run, bills to pay, and obligations to keep. Leaving would be irresponsible on so many different levels.
“I’m flattered, but I can’t see how I could do that.” I flaked off a piece of my tuna. “I have too many other things to think about, starting with money.”
“The trip would be on me, of course.”
I shook my head, the answer suddenly very clear. “I don’t like handouts.”
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Page 3