“It makes us seem callous to abandon the theatre now,” Lawrence said. “But much like the play itself, the show must go on.”
“That call at the bar,” I said, looking to Randy.
“It was from the bank. They’re willing to give me a loan, but it wasn’t going to be enough to pay for the building, as well as all the equipment we’d need.”
“To which I’m happy to be a contributor,” Rita said with a smile.
“I’ll be backing most of it myself,” Lawrence said. “But we were a few thousand short. I couldn’t get a loan for the rest.” He flashed a bitter look Rita’s way.
“But you kicked her out of the theatre!” I said, still unable to believe these three people had managed to come to an understanding after all the hard feelings.
“I did,” Lawrence said. “But desperate times.”
“I brought her on board today,” Randy said. “Much to Lawrence’s chagrin, I might add.”
“We do hope you’ll keep this to yourself,” Rita said. “It would be a shame if all our hard work comes to naught because you let details of our endeavor slip.”
I made a cross over my heart. “Not a word.” I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
Lawrence and Randy didn’t look convinced, but Rita beamed. “That’s great, dear. Now, if you’re interested in donating to the cause, I’m sure no one here would complain.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, though it was unlikely I’d be able to. While it would be great to have a shiny new theatre in town, I didn’t have the spare money to give them. If I did, it would have gone toward a new parking lot for Death by Coffee by now. “I’ll let you get back to your meeting,” I said.
“It was good to see you,” Rita said, unfazed by my interference.
Needless to say, Lawrence and Randy didn’t echo the sentiment.
I turned and hurried out of the church. The snow was really coming down now and I had to squint against it as I walked back to the theatre and my car. I’d made progress today on my investigation, but it wasn’t the kind of progress I’d been hoping for. First, I find out Brad had been working with Chuck on an investment. Chuck’s death had ruined a chance for him to get rich, which made me doubt Brad’s guilt.
And now, I’ve learned Lawrence and Randy knew nothing of the investment and were only guilty of abandoning their current theatre in order to build one of their own. Once again, that was hardly a reason to commit murder.
I reached the theatre parking lot, got into my car, and started it up. I held my hands over the vents in an effort to de-ice them before I made the long drive home. Now that my three main suspects were presumably cleared, I had to start from square one yet again.
It looked like I was going to have to pay Robert another visit tomorrow. I was running out of suspects, and unless he could give me something that would help clear him, it was starting to look more and more like Robert Dunhill was going down for murder.
22
Misfit sat atop the island counter, watching me pace back and forth. I’d spent all night wondering if Robert had somehow tricked me into believing he hadn’t killed Chuck when he actually did. All the evidence pointed toward him, and that wasn’t something I could ignore any longer. Trisha might have said they were together at the time of Chuck’s death, but I was starting to wonder if she was in on it, too.
Could my ex-boyfriend, Robert Dunhill, actually be a murderer?
To say the question put me in a dour mood was an understatement. I’d sludged my way through my morning shower and breakfast, stewing on it.
But while the Robert conundrum made for a rough night and frustrated morning, it wasn’t the reason I was pacing my living room, wrapped gift in hand.
“Do you think I should give it to him?” I asked Misfit. “I mean, on one hand, he is a friend. If I don’t give him a gift of some sort, he might think I don’t care anymore.” I paced from the couch, toward the counter. “Then again, what if he takes it the wrong way? What if Will does? Maybe I should just leave it here. What do you think?”
Misfit eyed me a moment, and then closed his eyes to settle in for a nap.
“A lot of help you are,” I grumbled, resuming my pacing.
I knew I was making a big deal out of nothing, yet I couldn’t help but be paranoid. If I was going to give Paul his silly little gift, I was going to do it today when I went in to see Robert again. There was a chance I wouldn’t see him until after Christmas if I waited, and I never liked giving gifts late, fearing it would seem as if I’d forgotten. I know it’s the thought that counts, but doing everything early, or on time, made me feel good about myself.
The snowfall last night made me question whether or not I even wanted to leave today at all. The weatherman was calling for another inch on top of what we already had, which was going to make driving—especially mine—dangerous. From what I’ve been hearing, Pine Hills never got this much snow before New Year’s. We usually only got an occasional dusting of wet snow here or there, and saved the big stuff for late January.
But if I wanted to help Robert, I was quickly running out of time. Worrying about whether or not Paul would like his gift wasn’t going to help anyone.
I stuffed the gift into my purse and headed out the door, already bundled for a blizzard. With the snow, the temperature had continued to drop. My breath plumed in front of me and I swear I saw ice crystals form in it before it was blown away by the bitterly cold wind.
Blinking away my freezing tears, I got into my car and turned the key. The Focus complained, coughing a few times before turning over. I jacked the heat to full blast, wondering if I was going to have to look for a new vehicle soon. The poor thing was struggling in the bad weather and I definitely didn’t want to end up broken down at the side of the road, turning into a Popsicle while I waited for a good Samaritan to stop and take me in.
On the way to the police station, I mentally went over everything I needed to ask Robert. I was positive he was hiding something from me; it’s in his nature to be deceptive. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with Chuck’s murder or not, but I was going to force him to tell me everything. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant detail could be important.
Thankfully, the roads had been plowed early that morning. While there was some ice on the roads, it wasn’t all that bad. Smoke curled from nearly every fireplace, and I imagined most everyone was sitting around their crackling fires, hot chocolate in hand, enjoying the wintery morning. It was where I wanted to be—minus the fire due to a lack of fireplace, of course—yet here I was, freezing my butt off for a guy who usually annoyed me to death. How ironic was that?
I reached the station, parked, and all but ran to the door. I stepped inside, moaning in relief as the hot blast of air hit me. It felt like every ounce of water in my body had turned to ice, and we weren’t even to the worst of the weather yet.
“What are you doing here?” Officer Buchannan said, coming around the front desk to scowl at me.
“I’m here to see Robert,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. Buchannan wasn’t going to scowl me into submission this time.
“That’s not a good idea,” he said, glancing back to the desk in which Officer Garrison was sitting, typing away at a keyboard.
“There’s no reason not to let me see him,” I said. “He might talk to me, you know.”
“From what I’ve heard, you’ve already tried.” Buchannan’s jaw worked a moment as if stewing over the fact he hadn’t been there for it. “Nothing he gave us before has panned out, so what makes you think this time will be any different?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I feel like I have to try.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t. This is my arrest. He’s going to be charged with Mr. Sanders’s murder.”
I almost asked him who he was talking about before I realized he meant Chuck. I felt bad for not knowing what his last name was until now.
“I need more time!” I pleaded. “I’ll get someth
ing out of Robert, I promise.”
Buchannan’s eyes narrowed. “More time for what?”
“For, uh . . .” I scrambled to come up with something to say that wouldn’t tell him I was investigating the murder. I mean, I was pretty sure he already knew, so it wasn’t like I was fooling anyone.
I was saved from having to come up with an answer when the door opened and Paul Dalton walked in. “Krissy? What are you doing here?”
“Ms. Hancock wishes to speak to her boyfriend,” Buchannan said.
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“You’ve talked to him already,” Paul said.
I shot Buchannan a dirty look before focusing on Paul. “There’ve been . . . developments.” I flushed, knowing how that had to sound. “I’m positive Robert is hiding something. I don’t know if it will clear him of Chuck’s murder or prove him guilty, but don’t you want to know what it is?”
“How do you know he’s hiding anything?” Buchannan asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I do know Robert. There’s something he isn’t telling us. Please,” I all but begged. “I only need a few minutes. And then I’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”
Paul sighed. “What can it hurt to let her talk to him for a few minutes?” he asked Buchannan. “Maybe she’ll get something out of him we couldn’t.”
Buchannan glared a moment longer before huffing. “Fine. But if she interferes in my investigation, she’s going to spend some time in a neighboring cell.”
“Of course,” Paul said as Buchannan turned and stalked away.
“Thank you,” I said. “I really wish I could figure out how to make him like me.”
“I’m not sure you can.” Paul smiled, causing his cheeks to dimple. The temperature seemed to rise a few degrees at the same time. Funny how that works. “Let me get him for you.”
“Wait,” I said, stopping him before he could walk away. “I have something for you.” Before I could reconsider, I reached into my purse and removed the wrapped mug. I handed it over, half afraid he’d end up laughing in my face.
He didn’t.
“You don’t need to give me anything,” he said, turning the gift over in his hand.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “You can open it now if you want.”
Paul hesitated, glancing around the room. A few police officers were watching us, though Buchannan and Garrison were talking amongst themselves. Garrison glanced at me, and I hoped she was telling him to give me a chance. It would be nice to have everyone on my side for once.
Paul carefully removed the wrapping paper and smiled when he saw the mug. “Thank you.”
“You can see the police station,” I said, embarrassed. What was I thinking getting him such a silly gift? “It seemed appropriate.”
“I’ll use it every day.” He paused, and then gave me an awkward hug before stepping back. “I don’t have anything for you here with me,” he said, looking distraught.
“That’s okay,” I said. “You didn’t know I was coming.”
He nodded, but I could tell he felt bad. “I do have something for you,” he said, like he was worried I might think he’d forgotten me. “It’s at home. I could go and get it.” He turned to the door like he was going to do just that.
“No, you don’t need to do that,” I said, stopping him. “If you get Robert, that’ll be enough for me today.”
Paul paused, then nodded, an embarrassed look on his face. “You’re right. I’m being stupid.” He cleared his throat, adjusted his hat, and smiled. “I’ll get him and bring him to interrogation room one. You know the way.”
“I’ll wait there.”
Paul left to pluck Robert from his jail cell. I hurried to the interrogation room and slipped inside, feeling eyes on me. Everyone had seen me give Paul the gift. I could almost hear the questions radiating off of them, the judgment. Even I was making more of it than what was there.
I took a seat at the table and drummed my fingers atop it as I waited. Who cared what everyone thought? Paul and I knew where we stood. And when it came to Robert and me, so what if Buchannan thought there might be something still between us? I knew there wasn’t, and that was all that mattered.
Besides, it was silly to be thinking about my relationships with any of the men. Robert’s life was on the line. Another man’s life had ended. If Robert was innocent, then finding the real killer was the most important thing. That’s where my head needed to be, and I was determined not to let these other distractions get in the way of finding out the truth.
The door opened and Robert came in, hands cuffed. He looked a thousand times worse than when I’d last seen him. His hair was a mess, face long and drawn. Dark circles surrounded eyes that were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Even his fingernails were dirty. I wondered if he’d gotten the insane idea of digging his way out of his cell, or if that was just something that happened when you were locked up for more than a few hours.
“You look terrible,” I said as Paul led him to the chair opposite me. Robert plopped down heavily, as if his legs could barely support him.
“Thanks,” he grumbled, slouching.
“Are they feeding you?” I glanced at Paul, who’d taken up position by the door, much like the last time.
“I guess.” Robert shrugged one shoulder. “But the food is awful. They won’t let me go home. They still think I’m going to run if they let me.” He snorted as if he thought the idea preposterous, but I wasn’t so sure. He had run when he’d found the body. “I haven’t slept, don’t want to. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll wake up in prison.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “Not if you come clean with me now.”
“What do you mean? I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Have you?” I asked. “The last time we talked, you seemed pretty sure Brad was the one who killed Chuck, but I’ve learned that’s unlikely.”
Robert didn’t look surprised. He didn’t look anything other than dejected. “So you’re saying I’m screwed.”
“No. I’m saying you need to tell me everything. You’re hiding something, Robert Dunhill, and you are going to spill the beans, right now.”
He looked up and actually managed a smile. “You sound like my mom.”
“Good.” I knew for a fact he was scared of his mom. I don’t think he’d ever lied to her in his entire life. “Spill it.”
Robert picked at his crusty fingernails. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Well, it has nothing to do with Chuck and there’s no way it could have gotten him killed.”
I crossed my arms on the table in front of me and leaned forward. “Tell me.”
His eyes flickered to my hands, which were only a couple of feet from his own. He stared for a long couple of seconds, and I wondered if he was thinking of reaching out and grabbing my wrists. Why he would, I have no clue, but I was pretty sure the thought flittered through that brain of his.
“It’s complicated,” he said, sagging back. “Trisha and I were still in the early phases and all that. And well . . .” He shrugged. “I made a mistake.”
“You cheated on her,” I said, flatly. Why wasn’t I surprised?
“Only once. And it technically wasn’t cheating. We didn’t go on a date or anything. We sort of kissed a couple of times and that was that. I realized how much Trisha meant to me, so I told Asia it was over. Haven’t looked at her twice since.”
“Asia? As in, elf Asia?”
Robert winced. “I know, it was stupid. Even Chuck didn’t want to have anything to do with her. But I’ve changed since then!” He leaned forward, looked pleadingly into my eye. “I swear I have.”
I was seriously beginning to wonder if it was even possible for a man like Robert to change. Sure, he seemed to be doing okay with Trisha, but it had only been a few months and he’d already strayed. How much longer before he made another mistake? And then another?
Then again, why did I care? It wasn’t my life he was ruining.
&nb
sp; And if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure how this information would help in the investigation. If anything, it made him look like an even worse person, which couldn’t be good when it came to judging his character.
“Think, Robert,” I said, wanting to get back to something that mattered. “Who could have wanted to hurt Chuck? Brad was partnering with him. Lawrence and Randy had no real reason to kill him. So, who?”
“I don’t know.” He slumped back, frustrated. “It wasn’t like anyone liked the guy all that much. He was always breaking things, knocking stuff over and blaming it on other people. He thought it was hilarious.”
An idea started to churn. “Wait, he was breaking things?”
Robert nodded. “He’d wait until Lawrence wasn’t looking and would knock over a set piece or hide something so the crew couldn’t find it. That Ken guy who’s in charge of the place blamed Lawrence every time something came up missing, which was why the D-man was always so grumpy with us.”
Excited now, I leaned forward. “Did he have a problem with anyone specifically?” I asked. “Like, did Chuck go out of his way to get someone in particular in trouble? A favorite target?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. He got a kick out of making everyone miserable. There’s no shortage of people who wanted him gone.”
I remembered my first day of practice. Dean had been claiming he hadn’t done something to Lawrence and Chuck had been grinning up a storm. And then, later, Dean said he believed things would be better without Chuck around.
Chuck was like the high school bully who picked on the kid with the tape holding his glasses together. He found a target, someone he thought he could torment without repercussions, and hounded them until they snapped. Of course, it’s all fun and games until you learn the nerdy kid you were picking on took judo lessons on the weekend.
I tried to remember if I’d seen Dean before the body was discovered, and couldn’t. He might have killed Chuck to make the bigger man stop picking on him. Heck, it could have been any one of the cast and crew who’d been a target of Chuck’s mean pranks.
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