by Joanne Fluke
“Are you sorry you killed Tori Bascomb?” Hannah asked, hoping to change the subject from a discussion of her fate.
“No. Why would I be sorry? She almost killed me! And she did kill my Broadway career.”
“By taking over as the lead on opening night?”
“Yes. I would have gotten those rave reviews. I would have been touted in all the papers, and been given starring roles for years after that.”
Hannah nodded and backed up another step. “But you got sick, didn’t you? And that’s why Tori got the lead on opening night, instead of you.”
“I got sick, all right!” Vivian’s eyes began to gleam with intense emotion. “I got sick because she made me sick!”
Hannah hoped she looked as shocked as she felt. “Tori did that?”
“Of course, she did! She was my understudy, so we went out together to get lunch on our break. I ordered soup and went to make a couple of telephone calls. When I came back, my soup was there and so was Tori’s.”
“But . . . what does that have to do with . . .” Hannah stopped waiting for Vivian to continue. When she didn’t, Hannah asked, “Did Tori put poison in your soup?”
“Of course not! If she had, I would have died. She put something else in my soup, something that gave me terrible stomach cramps that night. The cramps were so horribly intense that I couldn’t even leave my apartment. And even though I tried to make it to dress rehearsal the next day, I was still too sick to go.”
“Do you know what she put in your soup?”
Vivian shook her head. “No. If I’d suspected Tori right then, I would have gone in for a blood test and the doctors might have been able to tell. But I didn’t suspect her, partly because she was so nice to me while I was sick. She fed me, helped me bathe and dress, and stayed over that night to take care of me. And she seemed so grateful and embarrassed that she’d gotten such a lucky break, that I didn’t suspect her until I began to get better, and she stopped coming around to help me. It was only then that I realized that Tori had engineered the whole thing, just so she could play the lead on opening night!”
“Did you ever confront her about that?”
“Yes. She said I was crazy with jealousy because her performance was better than mine would have been. And she told me that she deserved the break she’d gotten.”
“But she never admitted that she’d caused your illness?”
“Of course not! People like Tori never admit to anything.”
There was a brief silence and Hannah knew her time was running out. She had to think of something else to ask Vivian, and quickly!
“There’s one more thing I’d like to know,” she said, hoping she could think of something in time. And that was when the idea hit Hannah and another line of questioning popped into her mind. “Did you call Tori and tell her you wanted to see her?”
“I called her, but I didn’t ask for an appointment to see her. That was her idea. And that’s the way I’d planned it.”
“What made her ask you to come to see her?”
“Panic. Pure panic. I told her I wasn’t sure I could be in the play, that my husband had taken a turn for the worse and I might have to drop out. And she asked me to come to see her at seven forty-five that night.”
“Was your husband really sick?”
Vivian laughed. It was a throaty chuckle that contained no humor whatsoever. “I’m not married. I only came here because I’d heard that Tori was retiring and moving here. It was simple curiosity. I wanted to see if she’d changed over the years.”
“What did you decide?” Hannah asked.
“She was the same person who’d put the drugs, or whatever it was, in my soup. She hadn’t changed at all! Tori had always been a selfish, scheming person and she still had all those traits.”
“Did you tell her who you were?”
“No. I wanted to see if she’d recognize me. But she never did. I acted in her plays right under her nose and she told everyone how good I was, but she never realized who she was complimenting.” Vivian was silent for a moment and then she sighed. “And then it happened. The catalyst. The denouement.”
“The pivot point of the play.”
“That’s right. The climax. You’re brighter than I thought you were.”
“What was it? What happened to convince you to kill Tori?”
Vivian smiled a cold smile and her hatred for Tori was clear on her face. “The STAG lifetime achievement award.”
Hannah could have kicked herself for not thinking of that, but this was no time for her to get distracted. “Tori won it and you didn’t?”
“Yes. And Tori didn’t earn it.”
“But you did,” Hannah said, hoping to soften the look of hatred that could be turned against her at any moment.
“Yes. I did. I was a successful actress on Broadway long before her, and even after Tori cheated me out of my starring role, I made a new, successful career for myself as a character actress. I deserved that award! And she was going to get it!”
“And you had to make sure she never got the satisfaction of attending the award ceremony and accepting it?”
“Exactly right. And now, that’s enough talking.”
As Vivian reached into her tote, Hannah knew that her time had run out. The last few grains of sand had dropped down to the bottom of the hour glass. She’d never make it out the back door of the auditorium, but . . . if she remembered correctly, there was a partially full sandbag attached to the scrim just over her head.
Hannah whirled, grabbed for the sandbag, and swung it forward as hard as she could. Since Vivian was looking down, into her tote bag, she didn’t see the heavy bag coming directly at her head.
She spun around from the bag’s impact, and Hannah was about to run forward to snatch the tote bag from Vivian’s hands when she heard a voice from behind call out, “Hannah! Drop!”
Mike! Hannah dropped down quickly out of the way, as Mike ran past her toward Vivian. Mike left his feet, driving his right shoulder straight into Vivian’s stomach and bringing her crashing down to the floor with a tackle worthy of one of the Minnesota Vikings linebackers. “Nice tactic with the sandbag,” he said to Hannah, after first cuffing Vivian and hauling her back to her feet.
“Did you hear her confess?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. And any second now, Rick should be . . .”
“I’m here, boss,” Rick called out, coming through the back door at a run.
“Don’t forget to Miranda her and then take her down to the station. Lock her up, and book her for the homicide of Victoria Bascomb. She can cool her heels in a cell until I get there.” Mike turned to Hannah and held out a hand to help her up from the floor. “Let’s lock up and I’ll walk you to your truck.”
Hannah’s whole body felt like jelly and she wondered if she could drive. She’d been terribly frightened and the physical reaction to that was setting in.
Mike realized that Hannah’s legs were trembling, and he slipped his arm around her to support her. “You’re in no shape to drive, Hannah. Leave your truck here and I’ll take you home.”
For once, Hannah didn’t argue. She just watched Mike lock the doors to the auditorium, then she leaned on him as he walked her outside. Their breath came out in frosty puffs, and the cold night sky was filled with stars.
Hannah took a big gulp of the cold, night air, letting it out slowly. She was beginning to feel less shaky, but she still wasn’t sure she could drive.
“Give me your keys,” Mike said. “I’ll have a couple of the deputies deliver your truck later.”
Hannah leaned against Mike’s squad car as he took her keys to Rick and gave him instructions. She wished that she could be magically and instantaneously transported home where Ross would be waiting for her. There was nothing she wanted more than to have Ross take her into his arms and hug her.
There was a flash which lit up the night, and Hannah realized that Rod must still be in the parking lot, and he was taking photos. Then there
was another flash, as Rick helped Vivian into the back seat of the cruiser.
“No, no, no!” Vivian shouted at Rod. “Full face, yes. That’s fine. But my profile can only be taken from the left. Do I look all right?”
Rod hesitated for a split second and Hannah knew he was wondering if Vivian’s mind had become unhinged.
Then he said, “You look just fine, Vivian.”
“Good! Then I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Metcalf.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“Ross is home,” Hannah said, smiling as Mike pulled into her parking spot and she saw that Ross’s car was parked right next to it.
“Good. You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll just walk you in, make sure everything’s all right, and then I’ll come back to take your statement in the morning.”
“That’s fine with me. And Michelle will probably have something for your breakfast. She’s fixed something special every morning since she’s been staying with us.”
“You feel better, don’t you, Hannah?”
“Yes, I do.” Hannah said. She did feel better now that she was home. “You don’t have to come up, Mike. I’ll be okay, now that Ross is here.”
“I’ll come up, but I won’t stay,” Mike said, as he walked around the cruiser to open Hannah’s door. “Ross is going to ask you a bunch of questions and I want to assure him that you’re not hurt and everything’s okay.”
“That’s nice of you,” Hannah said with a smile, getting out of the cruiser and walking toward the steps that led up to ground level.
“I can be nice on occasion,” Mike said.
Hannah gave a little laugh. “Yes, you can be. Thanks for everything, Mike. I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come in when you did.”
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Come on, Hannah. Can you make it up the outside stairway by yourself? Or do you want me to help you? Your legs are still shaking.”
“I know, but I can make it.” Hannah began to climb the staircase. It was true that her legs were still shaking slightly, but she managed with a good grip on the railing. Normally, she wouldn’t have held the railing at all, but she was still just a bit weak in the knees and she didn’t want to fall on her way to the landing.
“Here’s my door key,” Hannah told Mike when they reached the landing, pulling it out of her purse. “You unlock it and I’ll catch Moishe.”
“No problem. I’ll unlock it, and I’ll catch Moishe. He’s too much for you to handle right now.”
Mike inserted the key in the lock, but the door inched open before he could turn the key. “Whoa,” he said, turning back to Hannah. “Stay right here.”
“What’s wrong?” Hannah felt her heart begin to pound at a rapid pace again.
“I don’t know. Maybe Ross just didn’t close it all the way and it failed to latch, but I’m going in to check it out anyway. Don’t come in until I tell you it’s clear, Hannah. And if I’m not back here in five minutes, go down to the garage and call the station. You got that?”
“I got it, Mike.” Hannah leaned against the rail of the landing because her legs had begun to shake again.
“I need a promise, Hannah.”
“I promise. Just go in, Mike. I’m getting really nervous.” Hannah shivered and attempted to tell herself that it was because it was cold outside, but she didn’t really believe it. Had someone broken in? Was Ross all right? How about Moishe? He’d always hurtled out the door to greet her before. Had someone hurt Moishe?!
Hannah stood there in the cold night air, clutching her cell phone in her hand and watching the seconds tick off on the display. One minute went by, much slower than it ever had before. Two minutes seemed to take an eon, and three minutes made her wonder if the clock on her phone was broken. She began to pace back and forth on the landing to keep her legs from locking in place. The four-minute mark finally came, and that was when the door opened.
“Come in, Hannah,” Mike said, taking her arm.
“Ross is here, and everything’s okay?” Hannah asked quickly.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean Ross isn’t here. He was, but he’s not now. Does Norman have Moishe at his house?”
“No! Not unless Ross took him there for some reason. But why would he do that? And why isn’t Ross here?”
“You’d better come in and sit down, Hannah.” Mike took her hand and pulled her inside. And then he hugged her tightly.
Something was wrong and it had to be bad. Mike looked almost as upset as she was.
“You think something’s gone wrong, don’t you, Mike?” she asked him, even though she really didn’t want him to answer her question.
“Yeah. But I don’t know what it is. I was thinking that maybe Moishe got sick and Ross took him to the vet. And he just didn’t pull the door all the way closed when he left. Or Moishe got out somehow, and Ross is out there somewhere on the grounds, looking for him.”
“Oh, no!” Hannah gasped. “Sometimes the coyotes come down here at night. And we had a bobcat once! We’re way out here in the country. And . . .” Hannah stopped and her eyes widened. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah. It sounded like a . . . a cat.”
“Moishe!” Hannah called out. “Where are you Moishe?”
“Come here, Big Guy,” Mike coaxed, using one of his favorite nicknames for Moishe.
A moment later, Moishe poked his head around the corner of the living room. His ears were back and his fur looked matted, as if he’d been hiding in a small space.
“Were you in the closet, Moishe?” Hannah asked, rushing forward to pick him up in her arms.
“Rrrrowww!”
“I looked in the closet and I didn’t see him.” Mike reached out to scratch Moishe’s ears. “Is he hurt?”
Hannah felt for broken nails, sore places, and the obvious signs of feline trauma. “I don’t think so.”
“Then what is it?”
“I think he’s just . . . just frightened.” Hannah walked over to put Moishe on the back of the couch. “I’ll be right back with the treats, Moishe.”
“Rrroww!”
“He sounds better,” Mike said. “But it’s hard to tell with a cat.”
“I know. Sometimes I wish he could talk . . . but if cats could talk, they probably wouldn’t.”
“He’s purring,” Mike said when Hannah came back with Moishe’s favorite fish-shaped, salmon-flavored treats.
“Good.” Hannah began to relax and then she remembered. “But where’s Ross? His car is here and it’s too late to go to the gym in the recreation room.”
“Yeah.” Mike sighed heavily. “Did you leave first this morning? Or did Ross?”
“We left together. Ross took Michelle and me out to breakfast at the Corner Tavern. Then Michelle and I drove back here to do a few things before we went to The Cookie Jar. As far as I know, Ross drove straight out to KCOW to do some editing.”
“But his car is here, right?”
“Right.”
“And he had it this morning?”
“Yes. We drove two cars. I took my cookie truck and Ross took his car.”
“Does Ross know anyone else in the complex? Someone he might have gone to visit?”
“Not really. We’ve only been back for a week and I haven’t had a chance to make any introductions.”
“Then you’d better come back to the bedroom with me, Hannah. I need you to tell me if anything looks different than it did when you left this morning.”
When Hannah stepped into the master bedroom, she gasped. Dresser drawers were open, the bed was piled with clothing, and a suitcase with several articles of clothing inside was open on the bed. “What happened? It looks like a tornado went through here!”
“You didn’t leave it this way this morning?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“That’s what I thought, but I had to ask. Look at the cell phone on the dresser. I need to know if i
t belongs to Ross.”
Hannah walked to the dresser and stared down at the iPhone sitting there. “Yes, that’s his cell phone. I have a Samsung.”
“It’s not Michelle’s is it?”
Hannah shook her head. “No. She has a Samsung, too.”
“Okay. There’s a billfold there, too. Pick it up and tell me if that’s Ross’s billfold.”
Hannah’s hands were shaking as she picked up the billfold. It was the eel skin billfold she’d bought him in Puerto Vallarta on their honeymoon. “Yes, that’s his.”
“Open it and tell me what’s inside.”
Hannah’s fingers were shaking as she opened the billfold. “His driver’s license, the photo of us taken on the ship, his blood donor card from the Red Cross, and . . .” She pulled the section for bills open and blinked in surprise. “No money?”
“There’s a key ring over on the other side. Do you recognize those keys?”
Hannah walked over to retrieve the key ring. “Yes. There’s his key for the front door at KCOW, the key to his office there, and . . . that’s all.”
“No key to the condo?”
“No. It’s not on the ring.” When Hannah turned back to face Mike, there were tears running down her face. “Tell me what this means, Mike.”
“I don’t know for sure, Hannah, but it’s not good.”
“What do you think it means?”
Mike looked as if he didn’t want to answer, and was now staring down at the floor between his feet.
Hannah walked a bit closer to him. “Tell me, Mike. I need to know.”
“Sit down.” Mike sighed, and looked up at Hannah’s face, then he pointed to the chair next to the dresser and waited until she sat down. “Every case is different, but usually, when someone leaves without their identification, their cell phone, or their car, it’s because they want to disappear for a while and they don’t want anyone to be able to find them.”
“But . . . how could someone disappear without a car or a driver’s license?”
“They use another name, an alias, usually set up in advance. And because they don’t want to be found, they don’t take any of their old identification or anything that ties them to their old life with them.”