She plopped down in a chair by the window. “Yeah, you’d think I’d do a little better job at picking them by now.”
I sat across from her, curiosity at an all time high. Just what had happened to my friend in the years since I’d seen her? Life could be a cruel companion at times. “What’s that mean?”
“This is my third marriage.”
I tried not to flinch or show any judgment. But three failed marriages? Wow. No one could argue that it wasn’t a great track record.
“I keep thinking I’ve found true love, only to realize that they’re just using me for my father’s money and connections. None of them have really loved me.”
“That’s got to be hard.”
She shrugged, her eyes looking slightly vacant. “I’m accustomed to it. People have used me for my entire life, Gabby. Well, everyone but you.”
Talking to her was a good reminder that even being rich, people had problems. Money certainly couldn’t buy happiness. I’d seen that enough in my life. But I’d also experienced how not having money could lead to a whole different set of problems.
She stood. “Please excuse me a moment. I feel a headache coming on.”
She disappeared down a hallway into one of the wings of her home. The fight I’d just witnessed replayed in my mind all the way up until Paulette returned. She looked a little more composed as she sat across from me on the couch.
“How’d you meet Roberto?” I asked.
“I bought him at—”
My thoughts spun wildly.
“—one of those bachelor auctions for charity. Well, I didn’t actually buy him. My assistant did for me. I’m uncomfortable bidding at events like that.”
I let out the breath I held. “I see.”
“He played soccer for the professional team out of D.C. I thought he was just adorable. But then he had a knee injury, so the soccer thing fell through. He started coaching this minor league soccer team, which barely pays enough for groceries. Plus, he had racked up a ton of credit card debt by trying to live a lifestyle he couldn’t afford.”
“So, what’s he doing now?”
She shrugged again. “I heard he’s back to coaching. He’s living with one of his old soccer buddies until he can save enough money to move out on his own. Kind of sad for a 32-year-old, wouldn’t you say?”
I wondered if she felt at all bad about her role in that. She didn’t appear to, and I had mixed feelings on it. Obviously, if the man was just a money grubbing louse, then he was getting what he had coming. On the other hand, it would be hard to go from living a lavish lifestyle to having nothing.
“He was a jerk. He constantly had his hand out, asking for money. He didn’t want to work after we got married. He wanted to be a kept man. Daddy didn’t approve.”
“I can imagine.” Mr. Zollin hadn’t become successful without a whole lot of smarts. I noticed the time and stood, remembering everything else on my to do list. As much as I’d like to stay longer, I couldn’t afford that luxury right now. “Paulette, I’ve got to run, but I’m going to talk to some people. I’ll be subtle.”
“That’s right. No one can know you’re investigating. It’s of vital importance, Gabby.”
Though that sounded exciting, it actually made things a lot more complicated. In the past, I’d just come right out and asked questions. Being subtle wasn’t exactly my gift. I guessed I’d have a chance to brush up on my acting skills in the process.
I walked out to my van, reflecting on exactly how I was going to handle this undercover gig, and paused. Something didn’t look right.
That’s when I realized that my tires had been slashed.
CHAPTER 6
“I can’t believe Roberto would sink this low!” Paulette threw her hands in the air. “He is so dead. He’s unbelievable! A jerk if I’ve ever met one.”
We were outside of her house, waiting for the police to arrive and on-and-off staring at the deflated tires of my van. I’d started to call my insurance company, but Paulette stopped me.
“I’ll take care of your tires.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I told her.
“Of course I do. This happened on my property because of one of the nitwits I allowed into my life. I know you need your van for your work. I’ll have this taken care of.”
“You’re … sure?”
She nodded. “Of course. You can borrow one of my cars in the meantime.”
I felt like I should protest, but I really did need some wheels. And I didn’t have a lot of cash or a lot of time, so if she wanted to fix my van, who was I to argue? Besides, it was her lousy soon-to-be ex who’d done the deed.
The police arrived and we gave our report. The officer said he would check out Roberto for us but, all in all, he didn’t sound very hopeful.
“What’s that liquid under your van?” the officer asked.
I squatted on the ground and, sure enough, there was a puddle of something. “I have no idea.”
“You might want to have the van checked out and make sure nothing else was done,” the officer said.
“It’s probably just cleaning fluid,” I said.
Changing my tires might take a day. Checking out the van’s innards would take much longer.
Roberto must have been a nitwit, as Paulette had called him, if he’d slashed my tires right after he left the house because he was the obvious culprit. Of course, I’d met dumber criminals in my day. I just hated that his rage had to be an inconvenience to me, as if I’d been the one who’d wronged him.
“I’ve got to get to another job, Paulette,” I said when the officer left.
“Of course. Let me get you a car.”
I followed her to the garage. Four vehicles—all luxury class—were parked there.
I couldn’t even imagine owning one of these cars. I was a used, American car with dents—or lots of personality, as I liked to say—kind of girl.
She stopped in front of a cherry red Bentley convertible.
“Will this work?” she asked.
A smile slowly spread over my face. “This will definitely work. I mean, if I must.”
“Your van will be fixed as soon as possible. Hopefully in a couple of days.”
I nodded, like I was sacrificing, and then pulled some of my equipment from the back of my old vehicle and filled both the trunk and the back seat of my new loaner. I would look quite fancy pulling up to my crime scene in this.
***
I got to play practice twenty minutes late. It was all because I’d gotten to my crime scene late. And I’d gotten to the crime scene late because my tires had been slashed. The whole thing had a domino effect on my schedule.
Still, it didn’t bode well for the new girl to flounce into rehearsal after everyone else had already started, especially since I was the one who needed to be there the most. Not only that, but I was feeling irritable. Maybe it was because I was so rushed that I hadn’t had time to eat. Maybe it was because I’d had to work with the new guy, Braxton, who grated on my nerves. Maybe it was the fact that I was supposed to be investigating and instead I felt like I’d just been wasting a lot of time.
We still couldn’t use the stage, so we were in the old chorus room. I flew through the door, feeling a lot like a middle schooler being tardy for class. I had a bad habit of that as a preteen. Maybe some things never changed.
Everyone stared at me when I charged into the room. I tried to compose myself by straightening my back and smoothing out my hair. But I hadn’t had time to go home and shower after the job. My haz-mat suit had caught any of the gunk that could have gotten on me, but the scent of blood saturated my clothing and hair. No haz-mat suit could protect you from that.
This was not the way I wanted to start my off-Broadway career. Or my community theater career, for that matter. Or even just make an impression.
“You must be the new girl,” someone said.
I looked over and spotted my old drama teacher, Mrs. Baker. She looked nearly just
like I’d remembered her, only older. She had petite features and her light brown hair now had a touch of gray.
A grin started to stretch across my face until Mrs. Baker tapped her pen against a clipboard and pointed center stage. “Please, take your place.”
I nodded, my heart sinking. Then I realized that Paulette must have told her I was undercover. That was the only explanation for why she’d act so cold and hard. Mrs. Baker had always been one of my favorite teachers ever. I wasn’t sure if she knew the impact she’d had on my life.
I didn’t ponder it too long. Instead, I took my place center stage, which was really center of the front of the room.
“We’ll be singing, ‘Climb Every Steeple,’” Mrs. Baker continued. “I hope you’re prepared.”
I nodded. Paulette hit a button on the CD player and background music filled the room.
A trickle of anxiety tried to seep into my gut, but I pushed it back. I was undercover. I had nothing to prove to myself concerning my musical ability here. Still, part of me secretly wanted to succeed.
I cleared my throat, listening for my cue. Sweat broke out across my forehead as I tried to remember. I’d been so intent on memorizing the words that I’d forgotten to think about where to come in.
This wasn’t good.
“You missed it, Gabby,” Mrs. Baker scolded. “You’ve got to count in your head four measures and then start. We don’t have much time to pull this together. I thought Paulette had stressed that to you.”
My cheeks flamed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll get it.”
“Let’s try that again,” Mrs. Baker instructed.
Paulette started the CD again. I counted in my head, took a deep breath, and then plunged in.
Mrs. Baker stopped me. “You were one beat too slow. I also need you to draw out ‘Cli … mb ev … ery.’ You sped through the words.”
Wow. What if Mrs. Baker was being cold for real? Had she changed in the years since I knew her? She’d always been so kind in the past, but this woman was like a shark right now.
We went through the rest of the rehearsal. I had more reprimands, a few chuckles, and a whole lot of stress.
This wasn’t going to be nearly as fun as I’d hoped.
“Gabby, I need you to stay back so we can work on a few things,” Mrs. Baker said. “Okay?”
I nodded as Mrs. Baker wrapped up with the rest of the cast. I glanced at the various members, trying to remember each of them, mostly because every one was a potential suspect in my mind.
There was Arie. I already knew more about her than I cared to know.
Jerome was in his mid-twenties, on the taller side, had a long face, and had studied acting at a local community college. Apparently, he loved Shakespeare and video games, and he worked as an accountant until he could catch his big break. He had an artistic flare and liked to wear scarves tucked around his neck. It gave him a very metro vibe.
Then there were the twins, Karen and Sharen. They were the backstage managers. What could I say about them? They seemed so odd in their own way and reminded me a bit of the twins from The Shining. The sisters were identical and practically joined at the hip. With stringy brown hair, plain looking clothes, and almost no make up, the two were a little eerie. Whenever they laughed, it was in unison and sounded high pitched and awkward—almost fake. Except, the more I heard it, the more I realized they weren’t being fake. That’s just how they sounded.
There were several other extras and chorus members, but no one else stood out at the moment.
As the meeting wrapped up, I excused myself and hurried to the bathroom, more to collect myself than anything else. I was feeling like I was in over my head, and my nerves felt frayed after such a rough rehearsal.
I splashed my face with cold water. “Pull it together, Gabby,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the mirror and smacking my cheeks.
I felt like an adolescent again. The whole situation was messing with my head and playing on my self-confidence. Being the star of this show was taking me out of my comfort zone and then some.
The door squeaked open, and I jerked my head toward it. It was a girl from the cast. Her name was Bennie, a strange name if I’d ever heard one. Every time I heard it, I started humming the Elton John song, “Benny and the Jets.”
The short, athletic-looking woman hurried toward the mirror and smoothed her wavy brown hair into a ponytail. She frowned at her freckles before straightening her poofy purple skirt, one that seemed more appropriate for a three-year-old.
She played the detective in the musical and seemed nice enough. I’d guess her to be in her early twenties.
As she glanced over at me, I braced myself for whatever she might say. You really stink. You should think about a different career—or even hobby. I know who you are.
“I just wanted to say I think you’re doing a great job,” Bennie started.
Some of my guard came down. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Ignore the rest of the cast. They’re just on edge. Scarlet’s death has thrown us all for a loop.” She leaned closer. “And honestly, some of us are afraid that Paulette has no idea what she’s doing. She seems in over her head.”
“Your encouragement is kind, Bennie. I’ve been feeling some of the tension, so that means a lot.”
She shivered. “I hope the ghost will leave us alone until the play’s over. I’ve thought about quitting a few times myself.”
“The ghost?” Did the girl really believe that?
Bennie nodded. “Sure. Everyone knows this place is supposed to be haunted. I think the ghost is angry because we’re disturbing what’s become her home over the past several years. She’s had peace up until the renovations started.”
I wanted to say something sarcastic, but there was no need to alienate the person who just might be my one friend here. Instead, I nodded. “I hope the ghost will leave us alone as well.”
Bennie smiled. “I’ve gotta run. Talk to you tomorrow!”
I shook my head as she walked away. Ghost? Really?
I pushed inside the choir room, spotted Mrs. Baker talking to Jerome—the guy who played the Specter. As he sneered over at me, I took a seat in one of the old yellow backed chairs in the room. Despite Bennie’s encouragement, I felt like an utter failure and like taking on this assignment was a bad, bad idea.
But I liked to stick with things and see them through until the end. So I was going to do this. Even if it killed me.
***
As soon as Jerome left, Mrs. Baker’s eyes softened. She threw her arms around me in a hug. “Gabby St. Claire! Look at you! It’s so good to see you again.”
I blinked at the transformation but hugged her back. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Baker.”
“It’s actually Mrs. Harper now, but you can call me Mrs. Baker if you’d like. At first, I kept correcting Paulette, but I finally saw it was doing no good. I’ll always be Mrs. Baker to her. So, now everyone here calls me Mrs. Baker, so you might as well, also.”
“For old times sake, maybe I’ll do just that.”
She squeezed my arm. “I couldn’t let them know I knew you. Sorry about that during rehearsal. I hated to do it, but I didn’t want anyone to get suspicious.”
“Totally understand.” I’d underestimated her. She was a great actress.
She pulled back, but kept her hands on my arms, just like your favorite aunt might do when she hadn’t seen you in a few months. “You look good. Really good.”
“Thank you. I’m so excited to be working with you.”
She leaned close. “This whole experience has been somewhat of a nightmare, on more than one level. I mean, Scarlet, obviously. But having both the writer and producer here every evening?”
“I’m sure that makes it difficult.”
“Arie is a micromanager who critiques everything I do. She wanted to star in the play, as well, but I insisted there was too much of a conflict of interest and she had to pick someone else. And Paulette is
a nervous wreck. Her anxiety starts to wear off on me after a while!”
“I can totally picture all of that.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, enough of that. I’m sorry. You caught me on a bad night. I want to hear all about you sometime.”
“I’d love to catch up.”
“Come to dinner at my house. You can meet my daughter. Amos would be thrilled to see you again.”
I smiled. Amos was a former Navy SEAL. I’d kind of reintroduced the two of them back when I’d been a dog sitter in my younger years. I didn’t realize they were married, but now that I knew I totally gave myself credit for it. “I’d love to.”
“Great. Tomorrow night before rehearsal? Bring someone?”
Riley was the first person I thought of. I’d love to know what Mrs. Baker thought of him. She’d always been so wise. But Riley wasn’t a part of my life right now. However, there was always Garrett. There was nothing not to like about Garrett.
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
She smiled. “Perfect. I can’t wait, Gabby. I’ve never forgotten about you. I’d love to chat more now, but I’ve got to pick up my daughter from her friend’s house. She’s thirteen. The same age you were when I first met you.”
“I’m feeling old now.”
“Then imagine how I feel!”
I chuckled.
Until I stepped into the hallway. That’s when I smelled the unmistakable scent of … gasoline.
Was someone trying to burn this whole place down?
I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
CHAPTER 7
“Mrs. Baker, call 911. There’s gasoline in the hallway,” I told her. “But go outside before using your phone, just to be safe.”
Her brows furrowed together in worry. “How about you?”
I wanted to leave. Then I remembered Paulette. She was still here somewhere. “I’ll be out soon. I just want to make sure the building is clear.”
Mrs. Baker hesitated before nodding. “Please be careful.”
I didn’t have time to explain to her that this wasn’t my first rodeo. Despite my experience—or maybe because of it—I knew that one little spark could light up this whole building, me included.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Page 5