“I’m sorry,” I said, looking around the small booth out of both curiosity and a desire to avoid Lawrence’s gaze. A board with what appeared to be hundreds of dials and knobs took up a good portion of the booth. Against the back wall were more dials and knobs, along with a CD tray, a tape deck, and a few other slots I couldn’t identify. The place looked both old and high tech at the same time. “My head wasn’t in it today.”
Lawrence began messing around with some of the knobs on the board. The lights on the stage dimmed, while a light over the seats came on. “Do you realize how you jeopardize our entire endeavor with your behavior? If you can’t handle yourself properly, we may need to replace you. If we were in the earlier stages of our work, I very well might have already, but with us being so close to opening night . . .” he heaved a sigh.
“I’ll do better,” I promised, not wanting to get fired. While my body might prefer to sit at home, on my couch, watching TV all evening, the play was important. If I was cut, it would significantly impact my ability to look into Chuck’s murder. “It was just a rough night.”
Lawrence flipped a few more switches, which seemed to do nothing as far as I could tell, before he turned to face me, eyes hard. “It would be much easier to focus if you came here with your mind on your role, not on things which do not concern you.”
Well, crap. It looked like Randy had blabbed. “I wasn’t trying to start anything.”
“Really?” Lawrence crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the sound board. The entire apparatus groaned and tilted slightly toward the large window that looked out over the theatre. I had a frightening mental image of the entire thing, Lawrence included, crashing through and falling to the floor and seats below.
“I wasn’t,” I said, taking a step toward the back wall, just in case.
Lawrence huffed. “You throw unfounded accusations at the one man I could find to play Santa on short notice. And then you have the gall to come up here and tell me you weren’t trying to start anything?”
“They weren’t unfounded,” I said, defensive. “And if you want my opinion, it’s your actions that are risking the play. No one likes to be lied to.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What were you two talking about so secretively?”
“That, Ms. Hancock, is none of your business.” Lawrence squared his shoulders and leaned forward. I had to admit, he could strike an imposing figure when he wanted to. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop asking questions you have no right in asking. Keep it up, and you might find yourself incapable of continuing your flailing up onstage.”
I suddenly realized how precarious my situation was. We were high up—really high up. The door was hanging open behind me, the stairs a steep drop to the hard floor below. Lawrence could easily shove me out without much effort. All he’d have to do was tell everyone I fell on my own and it was likely they’d believe him. I mean, Violet and Zander had watched my slow, painful ascent. It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine me slipping on the way down.
I did a quick scan of the room, but there was nothing I could use to defend myself with if Lawrence made a move toward me. The sound board was too heavy to lift, and the wires plugged in all over the place wouldn’t make much of a weapon.
But Lawrence made no move toward me. If he was thinking of throwing me out of the booth, he thought better of it, and instead took a step back. “I need to finish shutting everything down for the night,” he said. “Think on what I said. I’m sure you’ll see reason and make the right choice.” He turned to the board and started powering things down.
I left him to it, thankful to be out of there. I wasn’t sure if Lawrence’s threat was a physical one, or if he’d chosen his words poorly and had only wanted to imply he’d send me packing if I kept poking my nose in his business. I wondered if Chuck had been given a similar speech before his death. Maybe he’d seen something that had cost him his life, something like a secret meeting between the director and a former cast member and had made the mistake of confronting them about it.
Even though I was anxious to be gone, I took the stairs slowly, both hands on the railing in a death grip. Lawrence might not have thrown me out of the booth, but that didn’t mean I was out of danger yet. I slid one foot carefully from one step to the next, working my way down like it was coated in ice.
Once I was back on solid ground, I took a moment to settle my jangled nerves, before walking on wobbly legs to the back. The place was eerily silent without the cast and crew running around. Lawrence must have control of the lights back here as well, because there was only a faint glow from a single light by the door, leaving the rest of the backstage area in gloom.
Nervous, I hurried to the back, and was thankful to see light seeping from beneath the closed dressing room door. At least I wouldn’t have to change out of my costume in the dark.
Just before I reached the door, a woman shouted, “No!” and there was a crash of something hitting the floor. A few muffled sounds followed, including grunts, as if someone was fighting off an attacker.
Visions of a second murder flashed through my mind. Chuck was killed in the men’s dressing room, and now, it looked like someone else was about to meet their end in the women’s room.
There was no way I was going to let that happen.
Ignoring the complaints of my overtaxed legs, as well as my own sense of self-preservation, I threw open the dressing room door, hands balled into fists.
Brad leapt back and spun to face me, face flush. Behind him, Trisha was on her knees in the corner, picking up a tray of stage makeup. Both were fully dressed and looked as if they’d been on their way out.
“I thought we were alone,” Brad said, as if that explained everything.
I looked from him, to Trisha, who was refusing to meet my eye. “Trisha, are you okay?” I asked, keeping my fists at the ready. I doubted I could take Brad in a fistfight, but darn it, I wasn’t going to sit back and let him hurt her.
She wiped at her eyes and nodded. She gave me a weak smile that looked even more pitiful because her makeup was smeared as if she’d been crying.
I turned my gaze to Brad, who was looking guiltier by the moment. “And what do you think you were doing?” I demanded.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he said.
“Really? Because if I’m left to my own imagination, I might come to the conclusion you were trying to hurt her.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said. “She was upset and I tried to comfort her. She knocked over the makeup kit, and that’s it. Nothing else happened.”
I looked to Trisha. “Is that true?”
She shrugged, tossed the last of the makeup into the kit, and then stood. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Brad got the wrong impression and it’s over.”
Brad grunted and mumbled, “Led me on, is more like.” Then he raised his voice. “She was crying in the corner and all I wanted to do was make her feel better. Next thing I know, she’s clutching at me like she wants me to hold her. What was I supposed to do?”
“I never invited you to kiss me.”
“Sounds like you overstepped your bounds,” I said.
“It’s her fault.” Brad took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have if . . .” His jaw worked and I could see he was both embarrassed and angry. “Look at what she’s done,” he said. “Her boyfriend is in jail, and another man is dead. Look what she’s done to me!” He threw his hands up into the air.
“Brad, you know I’m not responsible for any of that!” Trisha looked genuinely hurt.
“Right.” Anger was starting to win out. “You turn men against one another. You toy with our emotions. I mean, what was I supposed to do?” He turned to me, ran his fingers through his hair. He took a few deep breaths, seemed to calm. “She needs stability in her life. You know that, right?”
“And you think she should get that from you?” I asked, growing a
ngry myself. “Robert might have his issues, but it looks like he was doing a good enough job of keeping her happy.”
“Before he killed Chuck, you mean,” Brad said.
“I’m not sure he did,” I said, and instantly regretted it.
Brad laughed. “Oh, you’re on his side now? And what? Do you think I killed Chuck? Is that why you’re acting like this? I wouldn’t kill anyone for some girl.” He shot Trisha a look like she wasn’t worth his time, which was funny, considering what had just happened. “Give me a break. I’m sorry I tried to make you feel better. And I’m sorry you can’t seem to control your emotions. But I’m done with this.” With that, he pushed past me and out the door.
I let him go with a sigh of relief. I would have defended myself, and defended Trisha if push came to shove, but I was glad it was over.
“Thank you,” Trisha said, picking up the makeup kit and setting it on the counter. “I’m sure he means well, but doesn’t know how to show it.”
“I’m not sure why you’re defending him,” I said. “I heard you scream.”
“I know.” She blushed. “He tried to kiss me and I panicked. He’s always been a little awkward with women, especially back when we were in school. Admittedly, he’s blossomed since.” Her flush deepened. “But I’m not interested in him that way. He doesn’t seem to understand that just because he looks better now than how he did in school, it doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly fall in love with him.”
Still, I didn’t think prior awkwardness was any excuse to try to kiss someone who isn’t interested. And then to grow angry and defensive about it only made him look worse.
“You should avoid being alone with him for the time being,” I said. “Robert thinks Brad might have killed Chuck.” And after all I’ve seen, I was starting to wonder if he might be right.
“Brad?” Trisha chewed on her lower lip, and for a moment, I was sure she was going to defend him again, but instead, she nodded. “I’ll be careful.” Hope suddenly sprang to her eyes. “You believe me, then? Robert didn’t kill Chuck.”
I nodded without hesitation. “I do. I don’t think he’s capable of murder.” And with how Randy, Lawrence, and now Brad were acting, I wasn’t hurting for viable suspects either.
Trisha stepped forward and gave me a hug before saying, “Thank you,” again. She sniffed, wiped at her eyes, and then started for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.”
Trisha left me alone in the dressing room. I waited by the door, ears peeled, just in case Brad decided to wait for her out in the gloomy backstage area. A few seconds passed, and then I heard a faint thump, telling me she’d left through the side door.
The silence that remained was heavy. Feeling creeped out, I hurriedly removed my elf costume, grabbed my coat, bundled up, and left the dressing room, shutting off the light as I went.
Lawrence was still banging around in the sound booth as I made for the door. I wondered if he’d heard Trisha’s shout, or if the distance had been too far. Then again, no one had heard Chuck’s murder taking place, and we’d been a lot closer. Did that mean he’d died without crying out? Or had it been too loud at the time for anyone to notice?
I pushed my way outside, into the bitter cold, and shivered. Tonight had been a surprisingly enlightening evening. I was more certain than ever that Robert was innocent of Chuck’s murder.
But how to prove it?
I was running out of time. If Robert was charged, then it would be completely out of my hands. I was already an iffy witness, thanks to my history with the accused, but for now, I thought Buchannan would listen to me if I found evidence. But if he charged Robert with murder, I doubted he’d be willing to admit he’d made a mistake, no matter what evidence I managed to uncover.
As much as I loathed the idea, I was going to have to have a talk with Officers Buchannan and Garrison, and quite possibly, with Chief Dalton, and I was going to have to do it soon.
But not tonight.
With a yawn that made my entire body ache, I made my slow, cold way to my car, and then headed for home.
17
“Jingle Bell Rock” was playing on the radio. I turned it up and practiced my dance moves, much to Misfit’s amusement. He watched me from the couch, ears perked, head cocked to the side, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of my awkward gyrations and spins.
“I’m getting better,” I told him in what I hoped wasn’t just wishful thinking. I’d found I didn’t actually hate the play, despite how miserable I felt during practice and how much I ached afterward. It was fun in its own way. Take away the murder and Lawrence’s berating of me, and I might fall in love with it.
I’d slept surprisingly well last night and had a burst of energy for the morning, which I decided to use on dance practice. If I didn’t give Lawrence anything more to complain about when it came to my lack of dancing and singing abilities, then maybe he’d leave me alone to focus on my not-so-official investigation into Chuck’s murder.
I took a step to the right, spun, and very nearly tripped over the coffee table. Misfit gave me a look that said, “This is better?” before jumping down and heading to his food dish.
The song ended and I plopped down onto the couch in his place. I picked up a glass of eggnog I’d left on the coffee table and downed it, hating the fact I was so out of breath. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t going to be dancing on Broadway anytime soon, but I was doing better. I was determined not to make a fool out of myself on show night, and if it meant I had to suffer a couple of bruised shins, I’d suck it up, although I might look into buying some shin guards.
I glanced at the clock, and seeing it was past noon, I picked up the phone and dialed Dad’s cell. It had been a few days since we’d last talked. I was curious about how his trip was going, or even if it had started yet.
Besides, all the murder and mayhem made me long to hear his raspy voice.
The phone rang four times before he picked up and answered with a muffled, “Hmmm?”
I gasped as realization hit. “Oh, no. What time is it there?” I’d completely forgotten he was no longer on California time.
There was a rustle, followed by Dad’s laugh, “It’s actually a little after six.”
“I woke you up, didn’t I?” I cringed. By the sound of his voice, I was pretty sure when he’d said six, he meant in the morning.
“It’s all right, Buttercup. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He yawned. “We’re going to go out for dinner in an hour or so and I must have dozed off.”
Apparently, Switzerland was ahead of Pine Hills. “Long day?” I asked, worried. Dad wasn’t the type to fall asleep early. In fact, James Hancock tended to be more of a night owl.
“The time change has really messed me up. We went hiking earlier and by the time we got back, I felt dead on my feet.” He cleared his throat. “Was there something you needed?”
“I was wondering how your trip was going, but it can wait,” I said. “I really didn’t think about the time difference. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No, I’m glad you did. I want to get ready before we head out. I need a shower.” He laughed. “Hopefully Laura won’t hold it against me if I’m a few minutes late.”
“How is Laura, anyway?” I asked, uncertain. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about them going on a trip together. I think it had more to do with me not knowing anything about her, rather than any real dislike of Dad dating again. I mean, I didn’t even know they were dating until he called a few days ago.
“Good, good.” More rustling as Dad got up and started moving around. “She’s done this before, so she knows all the tricks in the books on how to get your body on the right schedule. Can’t say it’s working on me all that well, but she’s doing great. I might be able to use some of this when I get back home and sit down to write.” He paused. “So, how are things on your end? I really am sorry about canceling on you on such short notice. She kind of sprung it on me, too, but I should have
handled it better.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, and meant it. “Don’t be shocked, but I’ve landed a role in a local play. One of the elves got sick and I’m taking her place.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised, but not as shocked as I would have expected. “I didn’t know you were interested in the theatre.”
“I’m not really, I guess. But I thought I’d help Rita out when she asked. You remember Rita, right?”
“How can I forget?”
“Well, she asked if I’d step in and I said yes. I don’t have any lines, so it isn’t anything special. But I have fun.” When I’m not whining about my back hurting, that is.
“I wish I could be there.” He sighed wistfully. “Have someone take some pictures for me, would you?”
“I will.”
“Do you have any other plans this Christmas?”
“Vicki and I are getting together with Mason and Will for a gift swap. It’s going to be like the good old days, just without you.” The last came out sounding sadder than I’d intended.
“That sounds nice.”
“It should be. I miss getting everyone together.”
There was a brief moment of silence before he said, “Is that all, Buttercup? You sound . . . distracted.”
I bit my lower lip and considered what to say. Dad would love to hear about the murder investigation. If he’d been home, he probably would have read something online about Chuck’s death. Ever since I started getting involved in murder investigations in Pine Hills, he’d taken to checking the local news online, just to check in on me. He had to worry about me, but had never called to tell me to back off or anything. He knew me better than that.
But he was on a trip now, with a woman he might very well be interested in for more than a brief fling. This could be a long-term relationship, one just blooming. Did he need me worrying him about something he couldn’t do anything about? Not only might it ruin his trip, but it would make me feel bad, especially since there really wasn’t anything he could do to help.
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