“That’s outrageous,” Ina Mae pronounced, thumping down her stamp hard enough to make the others jump.
“He actually brought up your poor husband’s accident, as if there were some connection?” Loralee asked. Jo nodded.
“I’m going to have Alden talk to that man,” Deirdre declared. “This sounds awfully close to harassment to me. Something should be done about it.”
Jo smiled gratefully at Deirdre for the sentiment, though she wasn’t sure what effect, if any, Deirdre’s state senator husband would have on a police investigation. Perhaps Lieutenant Morgan deserved a bit of harassment himself, though. The thought cheered her.
“What do we know about Russ Morgan?” Ina Mae asked. “He’s been with the Abbotsville Police Department for only a short time, as far as I’m aware. Where did he come from? Anyone know?”
“He came,” said Javonne, “from some big-city police department, I forget exactly where, but some place in the Midwest. Chicago? Or maybe Cleveland? My Harry heard this from Merle Snipes, who’s in his tennis group. Anyway, Merle thinks he’s being groomed to take over as captain when Joe Meloni finally retires.”
“So he probably wants to look good on his first big murder case in our little town,” Ina Mae said. “He’s single. Ever married?” She looked around, waiting.
“One of the ladies I lunch with,” Deirdre offered, “did say she was sure he was divorced. She hinted it was a bitter one. I don’t know if there were children or not, but if so, he obviously lost custody since we’ve never seen him with any.”
“Maybe he’s full of anger toward women,” Loralee speculated, “and he’s taking it out on our poor Jo.”
“Well,” Ina Mae said, “it might help Jo to know where he’s coming from. As far as what he’s been throwing at her, the man is on a fishing expedition. He might be able to prove Jo knew Kyle before he showed up at her grand opening and that could be hurtful, but he’d need more. A lot more.”
“Which is why Jo should present him as soon as possible with all she can find out about this jealous boyfriend.” Deirdre looked at Jo as if she were ready to push her out the door and in the direction of the playhouse. No matter that it sat empty tonight. She should take her sticky tape and tweezers and immediately start crawling about the dark stage searching for clues.
“I will do my best, Deirdre,” Jo promised, before quickly adding, “tomorrow.”
“Maybe I can track down Pete’s last name, in case you run into a roadblock,” Javonne offered. “He might be one of Harry’s patients, or a friend of one. People tend to get chatty in a dentist’s chair, trying to postpone the inevitable.”
“I’ll talk to my hairdresser,” Loralee said. “She’s about that age; she might know something about him.”
“I’ll check with my power walkers,” Ina Mae put in, “see what I can come up with on both this Pete and Lieutenant Morgan.”
Jo looked from one to another, touched by their readiness to help. What it would ultimately produce remained to be seen. But at worst, Jo felt reassured she would not lack visitors should she eventually find herself behind bars.
Nor would mail be sparse, she predicted as she watched them gradually return to their projects. Each day would likely bring one or more beautifully stamped “missing you” cards.
How comforting.
Chapter 13
Jo walked into the Abbotsville Playhouse, Carrie at her side. They had agreed that the shop could be closed early on an evening when no workshops were scheduled. The lost business would be minimal, Jo reasoned, and she wouldn’t have insisted for the world that Carrie stay behind. Charlie had started working there, and Carrie wanted to get a feel for the place with which he was involved.
“It can be so frustrating getting any details out of him,” she groaned to Jo. “The larger his vocabulary grows, the fewer words he actually uses.”
Though Carrie never admitted it, Jo was sure the idea of her son being involved in an acting group was as alien to her as it was to Dan. But seeing the energy and enthusiasm reappear in Charlie, easily won her over. As his mother, though, she wanted reassurance that the playhouse was no den of iniquity, and it helped that the first person they encountered was Mrs. Pettibone, Charlie’s English teacher.
“Hello, Mrs. Brenner,” she called out, as Carrie and Jo made their way down the semidark aisle. Mrs. Pettibone, a plus-sized woman of fifty or so, stood below the stage, holding what Jo assumed was an open playbook. “Here to see Charlie?” she asked.
“Oh, not really. I’m just tagging along with Jo,” Carrie said, with less than convincing nonchalance. She introduced the two.
“Oh, yes,” Jane Pettibone said to Jo. “Rafe told me you’ll be sparkling up the costumes and sets for us. Terrific! We can use a lot of help in that department.”
“She’s been putting together some great stuff,” Carrie said.
Jo noticed Carrie’s eyes scouring the area as she spoke. Apparently Jane Pettibone did too, for she pointed to a large piece of still-unpainted scenery. “Charlie’s been working on the back of that castle wall there. They’re reinforcing the braces.”
Carrie smiled. “That’s fine. I won’t interrupt him.”
“Is Rafe around?” Jo asked, holding up the box she carried. “I’d like to show him a couple of samples I’ve put together and see what he thinks of them.”
Jane Pettibone turned about, searching through the shifting groups. “I don’t see him right now. But I’m sure he’ll pop up soon. Why don’t you have a seat and watch the rehearsal? But don’t expect too much.” She smiled. “We’re still in the early stages.”
She called up to the stage. “Okay, guys. I want Annalisa and the King stage front.”
Jo saw Genna, the person she most wanted to speak to tonight, step forward. A slim man in his thirties, apparently Kyle’s replacement, took his place by her side.
“Let’s start from, ‘Annalisa, tell me you care for me.’”
The actors turned toward each other and recited their lines, somewhat woodenly, it seemed to Jo. Whenever they faltered, Jane Pettibone prompted, her role apparently being only to see that they got the lines right. How they were finally projected, Jo assumed, would be decided by Rafe.
Jo found herself enjoying the scene, even with its rough quality. Rafe had written with wit, telling the story of Rumpelstiltskin with tongue-in-cheek humor. She also noticed a flair in Genna begin to appear as she warmed up. The king remained stiff, though that might be attributed to his needing much more prompting. Jo reminded herself he had stepped into the part only recently.
When the two started again from the top, Carrie whispered to Jo and slipped off in the general direction of Charlie’s work area. Jo saw Rafe walk out from the wings, then trot down toward Jane Pettibone to observe the rehearsal of his two leads. At the conclusion of their second run-through, he had a few words with them on their delivery and then told them to move on to their next scene, before turning it back to Jane. He came over to Jo.
“You’ve brought things to show me already?” he asked. “You work fast.”
Jo pulled out her samples, and he seemed pleased, even interrupting the pair on stage to run up and drape one of the necklaces on Genna, then step back to gauge the effect.
“Lovely!” Jane cried. “Oh, that will be lovely.”
“Hmm, yes, I think it will do,” agreed Rafe. He slipped it over Genna’s head, causing an “ouch” as it caught a strand of her hair, and handed it back to Jo.
“Yes, I think we’re heading in the right direction with these,” he said.
“Good.” Jo accepted the faint praise, suspecting that from Rafe Rulenski it was close to a rave. She described what she would do next, Rafe nodding until his attention suddenly flew back to the rehearsal.
“Genna, dear, put some life into it when you tell this man you’ll marry him. For God’s sake, you’re the miller’s daughter, and he’s the king! You should be ecstatic.”
“Yes, Mr. Rulenski.”
And it was fascinating teamwork, Jo had to admit. She was beginning to understand just how many pieces went toward putting together an entire production, and how much talent was involved. She heard the sound of hammering and wondered if Carrie had found Charlie, and what all was going on behind that flimsy castle wall.
Other actors were summoned stage front to run through their lines, and Genna and her romantic lead left the stage. Seeing Genna trot down the steps and up the aisle toward the back of the theater, Jo left her sample box and followed, catching, as she entered the lobby, a glimpse of the door to the ladies’ room swinging closed. She waited a couple of minutes, then walked in to find Genna at the sink, washing her hands.
Jo paused in front of one of the mirrors and fluffed her hair, an action that did nothing to improve it but gave her a moment to catch the young woman’s eye. She smiled.
“Hi. You’re our star, aren’t you?”
Genna laughed, but looked pleased. “Not hardly.” She was quite pretty, Jo thought, with dark brown hair framing an oval face. She was also more petite than Jo had realized while looking up at her on the stage. Barely five-two, Jo guessed.
“I just have the lead this time around,” Genna said.
“Well, I’d call that being a star. I was watching the rehearsal. You were very good.”
“Thanks.” Genna peered more closely. “Are you the one who made the necklace?”
“Uh-huh, and don’t worry, I’ll fix the hair-catching links.”
Genna grinned. “Next time I won’t let Mr. Rulenski pull it off.”
“Probably a good idea.” Jo turned serious. “I understand Kyle Sandborn was your original costar.”
Genna’s smile vanished. “Yes, he was.” She reached for a paper towel and wiped at her hands. “That was so awful, what happened.”
“No one can understand why he would be attacked like that. I imagine you knew him pretty well. Would you say he was the last person you’d expect that to happen to?”
Genna tossed her towel in the wastebasket, frowning. “I don’t know about the last person,” she said. “But who expects that to happen to anybody that you know? I mean, we’re in Abbotsville, for gosh sakes, not in D.C. or Baltimore, where you might be used to things like that. I don’t mean used to it, ’cause I don’t suppose anyone gets used to such awful violence, do they? What I mean is maybe it’s not such a surprise.”
Genna was babbling, and Jo sensed her nervousness. Was it simply the subject of murder causing it, or this particular murder?
“Can you think of anyone in particular who might want to murder Kyle?”
“No! Absolutely not! And, you know, I’m sorry, but I really don’t like talking about this. I’ve gone over all of it with the police, and I couldn’t help them at all.”
“It’s not pleasant, I know. I’ve had to talk to the police quite a lot. It was my craft store where it happened.”
“Oh! I didn’t realize.”
Jo nodded. “I’m the one who found him that night. It was quite a shock.”
The actress’s face softened. “How terrible.”
“Yes, but the worst thing now, at least for me, is that the police think I must have had something to do with it, because of where it happened.”
“Oh, gosh.”
“So I’m really not just prying. I need to find out what did happen.”
“I wish I could help you,” Genna said, “but I don’t know anything about it.”
Jo drew a breath. “I’ve been told your boyfriend Pete didn’t much like the idea of Kyle playing your romantic lead. Is that right?”
Genna slumped back against the tiles. She didn’t seem surprised to hear her boyfriend’s name brought up, and Jo figured she knew where this was leading. “Pete gets upset easily,” Genna said, “but he’s not a bad guy. Not at all.” She looked at Jo, her eyes asking for understanding. “He’s had it rough, growing up, that’s all. Yes, he tends to get too possessive, but we’re working on that. He would never, never do what you’re thinking. Never.”
Jo asked gently, “He has gotten violent, before, though, hasn’t he?”
Genna nodded. “I’ve told him I won’t put up with that, and he’s promised me it won’t happen again. He can be very, very sweet sometimes. I’ve been tempted to break up once or twice, but I just think he’s worth hanging in there for. I really do.”
Jo looked at the girl, wondering if she was kidding herself and if Pete was simply a good manipulator. The door swung open, and Rulenski’s assistant poked her head in, her heavy glasses sliding down her nose.
“There you are, Genna! They want you on stage again.”
Genna straightened up. “I’ll be right there.” She looked at Jo, worry lines puckering her brow. “I know you probably want it to be Pete. But he’s not like that. Not underhanded, I mean. Pete gets mad, yes, but when he blows up it’s in front of everyone, then it’s over. He’s the kind of guy who might punch someone in the face, but he’d never lie in wait to catch them off guard.” She laughed ruefully. “That might not sound like the greatest endorsement, but it’s the truth.”
She left the restroom, and Jo listened to her footsteps click across the lobby and fade into the theater. She pulled open the door and followed.
Jo returned to where she had left her things, and not seeing Carrie, settled down to watch the rest of the rehearsal. Genna ran through a scene with another actor, and not surprisingly, seemed distracted. When it ended, Jo saw her disappear into the wings.
A small chorus gathered to practice a song, and Jo found herself wishing Carrie would return so she could leave, especially since the music was not much improved from her first visit. She was on the verge of going on a search when her friend reappeared.
“Ready to go?” Carrie asked. She looked satisfied with whatever she had encountered behind the castle wall.
“Absolutely,” Jo replied, and led the way up the aisle.
Back at the car, Jo had just straightened up after dropping her box on the backseat when she caught sight of two people walking away from the theater. One looked like Genna. Was the other her boyfriend?
“I’ll be right back,” Jo said hastily to Carrie, who had been buckling herself in and looked up in surprise.
The sidewalk was fairly dark, with large trees shading much of the light from the streetlamps. The couple walked rapidly, and Jo had to hustle to catch up with them. She was thankful that she had worn her sound-muffling soft-soled shoes. What would she do, though, if Genna suddenly looked back and saw her?
That didn’t appear likely as Jo soon saw the two were fully absorbed in their discussion.
“I just don’t like the way he keeps holding on to you,” the man said, his voice low and grumbly, almost sulky.
“Pete, he has to. He’s supposed to be in love with me. With my character. And you know he’s my cousin.”
So this was Pete, a tall, burly man who towered over his petite girlfriend. He was someone who could be described as a big teddy bear with the right personality, or intimidating with the wrong one.
“He’s your second cousin,” Pete countered.
“So what? I’ve known him since I was a kid. I went to his wedding, for gosh sakes, when I was twelve.”
Genna spoke in a light tone, clearly wanting to coax Pete away from his worries.
A man walking his beagle approached from the other direction, and Jo dropped back as the couple slowed and gave him room to pass. The dog then veered toward Jo, sniffing upward hopefully. Another time she might have reached down with a pat, but tonight she stepped nimbly out of
its reach. When she caught up again, Genna and Pete’s topic seemed to have switched.
“. . . not right, that kind of thing,” Jo heard Pete say.
“I know,” Genna agreed. She sounded sad, but resigned.
Jo didn’t catch all of what Pete said next with his low-pitched voice. What she did hear was, “. . . don’t like you being there.”
Genna responded with, “I guess that should be my decision.” She said it evenly, but she dropped hold of Pete’s arm and edged slightly away.
Pete jammed his hand into his jacket pocket, looking, from his posture, angry. The two picked up their pace, but said no more, and Jo saw Genna gesture toward a convenience store up ahead and mutter something about needing milk. Jo turned and trotted back to the car where her patient friend sat waiting, a quizzical look on her face.
“Sorry about that,” Jo said as she slid behind the wheel. “A bit of spontaneous sleuthing.” After describing it quickly to Carrie, Jo wondered what, if anything, she had managed to learn. Bits and pieces, once more. She could only hope they would soon fit together to fill a complete picture. There was still too large a hole in this flimsy tapestry she was trying to weave together.
Where would she find those essential threads she needed to fill it in?
Chapter 14
Phyllis Lenske of St. Adelbert’s called Jo at the shop to confirm that the ladies of the sodality would be able to do a table at the country club’s fall craft show.
“Mary Louise’s knee surgery won’t be done until November,” she explained meticulously to Jo, “and even though I know the poor thing’s in pain, she insists she can do it. And Susan and her husband are leaving for the Bahamas tomorrow, but she’ll be back in plenty of time.”
Phyllis promised she could round up several ladies from the group who did things like needlepoint eyeglass holders and hand-painted Christmas ornaments. “We’ll do a beautiful table, don’t you worry.”
Wreath of Deception Page 10