Death by Eggnog

by Alex Erickson

  I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my car, shivering against the cold. My hair was still slightly damp from the shower, which made it that much worse. I hurried through the side door, hoping I didn’t have ice crystals forming, and went straight to the back to get changed into my costume.

  “You seem to be in a good mood,” Prudence said. She was already changed and was on her way out the door.

  “I am,” I said. “I’m hoping tonight’s practice will go smoothly.” And that I’d be done with the investigation for good—having found the real murderer, of course.

  Prudence didn’t appear convinced. “I saw Randy on the way in. He looked half-drunk already.” She sighed. “Something must have happened because I thought he was doing pretty good. Lawrence is going to bust a gasket tonight, you wait and see.”

  I hoped his drinking wasn’t due to my interferences in his plans to start a new theatre with Lawrence. “I’m sure he just had a little too much spiked eggnog,” I said, unconvincingly.

  Prudence snorted a laugh.

  Asia slipped in then, paying Prudence a disgusted look before giving me a little halfhearted wave. She moved to her corner, turned on her speaker, and started playing a pop song that sounded as if it was only half English. Prudence rolled her eyes, gave me a “what can you do?” gesture, and then walked out of the dressing room.

  “Krissy,” Brad said from the men’s side. He was seated on a metal chair, beside a glowering Greg, looking glum. Was I the only one who’d come to practice in a good mood tonight? It would put a serious damper on me leaving here in high spirits.

  “Brad,” I replied.

  He nodded as if that was all that needed to be said, so I headed to the women’s section to get changed. The music was a smidge too loud this close to the speaker, but I ignored it. Asia wasn’t smiling, nor was she flanked by the female of her two friends, Prairie. A falling out? Or was the other woman simply late?

  Honestly, I didn’t care.

  A few more members of the cast came in as I pulled on my elf outfit. No one looked happy and it was casting a pall over my own good mood. Everyone was acting gloomier than they had when Chuck died. Maybe the worsening weather had something to do with it. Or maybe they gleaned that things weren’t all roses within the theatre. They might not know exactly what was going on, but I bet they could feel it.

  In costume, I left the dressing room and went in search of Dean.

  I didn’t have far to look. He was heading straight for me, having come from the stage. He looked annoyed, which probably meant Lawrence had already gotten on him about something. He made as if to walk around me, but I stepped in front of him, a wide, friendly smile on my face.

  “Hi, Dean.”

  He sighed. “Hey.” He glanced past me, to the storage room. “I need to grab a hammer real quick.” He stepped around me before I could stop him and pushed his way inside. With a shrug, and maybe a little trepidation, I followed after.

  “I was curious about something.”

  Dean jumped a good foot in the air, knocking over a crate full of tools as he spun, hammer in hand. The rest of the tools crashed to the floor, screwdrivers and wrenches going everywhere.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said, lowering the hammer from its half-cocked state. He sucked in a deep breath, free hand pressed over his heart.

  “Sorry.” My own heart had leapt into my throat at his reaction and I had to swallow it back. “You seem jumpy.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to follow me in,” he said. He knelt and started picking up the tools. I bent over and helped him.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, picking up something that looked like a cross between a socket wrench and a hammer. I gave it a once over, unsure what it was for, and then dropped it into the crate.

  “A nail worked its way loose on the stage. Lawrence is freaking out because he’s afraid someone’s going to hurt themselves on it despite the fact it’s in the front left corner. No one even goes over there during the entire play, so how someone’s supposed to hurt themselves . . .” He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

  I immediately thought of Kenneth Purdy’s refusal to fix up the theatre. The whole place seemed as if it was falling down on our heads. No wonder Lawrence was so keen on moving on and starting up his own. He might be abrasive, but I bet he’d make a good building manager.

  “No, I mean, is there something else wrong?” I straightened and wiped my hands on my pants, leaving dirty streaks. Great. Something else for Lawrence to complain about. “You seem tense. Everyone does.”

  Dean picked up the crate and set it back on its shelf. “I’m fine. We’re getting closer to opening night and it always gets hectic. If something were to go wrong now, it could jeopardize the entire play.”

  He started for the door, but I slid to move in front of it, earning me a huff of annoyance. “So, I heard an interesting rumor recently.” All innocence.

  Dean looked at me expectantly, clearly impatient to get back to the stage.

  “I heard you had a problem with Chuck. He used to knock things over, hide things, and then blame them on other people. You, namely.”

  “Good old Chuck was a real prankster,” Dean said, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes.

  “That had to annoy you, especially since Lawrence was already so hard on you.”

  He shrugged, hand tightening on the hammer. I suddenly questioned the wisdom of asking him these questions while he was carrying a weapon, especially where no one else could step in and stop him if he decided to put an end to my prying.

  “So?” he said. “I wasn’t the only one he got into trouble with his pranks. You should have seen what he did to Greg. He put thumbtacks in his shoes. It very nearly made Greg quit right then and there. If Asia hadn’t talked him out of it, I’m sure he would have.”

  I winced in sympathy. “Did he pick on everyone like that?” I asked. “Or did he have a couple of favorite targets?”

  “Ask around,” Dean said. “I’m sure nearly everyone here had a reason to knock Chuck off. The guy was a jerk to all of us. He tormented the guys with pranks, trying to get us into trouble. With the girls, he took a different tact.”

  I didn’t have to ask him what he meant by that, having seen it myself.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get this nail hammered in before Lawrence comes looking for me.”

  I stepped aside and let Dean pass. He paused at the door, glanced back at me, eyes narrowing, before he pushed his way out.

  “As if that wasn’t suspicious,” I muttered with a shudder. Sooner or later, I’d learn not to question suspects without backup. He could have clunked me on the head with that hammer and been out the door before anyone realized what happened. No one had seen me follow him in, so it wasn’t like anyone would know to look for me in here.

  I hurried out of the storage room, my mood now completely shot. Dean was hammering away at the stage, hitting the nail much harder than he needed. Prudence caught my eye, frowned as if she knew I was responsible for his sour mood, and then turned her back on me.

  “Making friends, I see,” Randy said, startling me. He’d come from the back somewhere, likely the cast restrooms.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He smiled, knowingly. “You’re starting to upset the locals by asking so many questions. If we didn’t know better, we’d start to wonder if you’re poking around, looking for trouble.”

  “I’m not asking questions,” I said, sounding about as believable as a kid who’d been caught sneaking a peek at his Christmas presents.

  He laughed and patted my shoulder. “Sure you’re not. Dean comes out of the storage room, looking ready to crack skulls, and you sneak out a few seconds later? I’m pretty sure you two don’t have anything going on between you, so I’m guessing you followed him in to ask questions, right?”

  “We were just talking,” I said, face reddening.

  “Uh huh.” Randy
leaned in close, lowered his voice. “I’d be careful with Dean there. Rumor has it, he has a temper that’s gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.”

  “Does rumor also think he killed Chuck?” I asked, both because I was curious, and a little annoyed. Why did it matter to him if I was asking questions about Chuck’s death, not unless he had something to do with it.

  Randy stepped back and shrugged. I noticed he had melting snow in his beard, telling me he’d just recently come back inside. His breath also smelled heavily of mints, warning me he indeed might have been at the bottle before coming in tonight. “I’m not saying anything, but you’d be wise to be more careful with yourself.” He walked away.

  I headed for the stage, thoughtful. Maybe I’d been too hasty in dismissing Randy as a suspect after our little impromptu meeting at the church. Just because he was working with Lawrence, didn’t mean he didn’t have a reason to want to be rid of Chuck.

  But dismissing Dean just because I kind of liked the guy would be a mistake as well. He’d finished hammering his nail and had vanished back toward the storage room again. He hadn’t looked at me when he went, but I could feel the anger radiating off him as he passed. I’d gotten to him big time. Did that make him guilty? Or was he just mad that I was asking questions that insinuated he might be guilty of murder?

  “Places!” Lawrence called. His eyes met mine and I could see a warning there not to talk about what I’d learned about him. Randy was right; I wasn’t doing a very good job of making friends here. Even Prudence wouldn’t hold my gaze for more than an instant.

  We all scrambled to take our places and noted we were missing another elf. It took me a moment to realize Greg wasn’t in place next to Asia, who looked worried as she scanned the cast, presumably to find him. She didn’t need to be, however, because he came bounding up on stage a moment later smiling, having finally seemed to have gotten over what had been bothering him in the dressing room.

  “Sorry,” he said, absorbing a patented Lawrence stare without flinching.

  Finally, Lawrence took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “I want practice to go flawlessly tonight. We have only a couple of evenings left before opening night. Tech rehearsal starts in two days. We will be starting two hours earlier and I expect everyone to be there each night, until the end. No exceptions.”

  There was general moaning and groaning from the cast, me included.

  “Cue up the music!” Lawrence spun and raised a hand toward the booth. The lights dimmed, the music started, and we began.

  To say my mind was elsewhere would be an understatement. I kept shooting glances at Brad and Randy, wondering if they’d led me astray on purpose, or if they were truly innocent of Chuck’s murder. Dean was behind the curtain somewhere, presumably getting things ready for the next act, so I didn’t see him anywhere, but I was sure he’d be looking at me with as much disdain as everyone else.

  “Watch it,” Prudence muttered when I stepped right when I was supposed to hop left. She gave me a light shove to get me into the right spot, smile painted onto her face.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, promptly missing my next mark, which was a spin that would take me back two steps.

  “Ms. Hancock!” Lawrence shouted in warning and pointed.

  I hurried to my mark, dipped, and then rushed forward to pick up my prop present. I was a good five seconds behind everyone else.

  A sound came from above. My eyes flickered upward just before bending to pick up the gift. Someone screamed a warning, but I was already moving, falling backward to avoid the sandbag. It crashed into my gift, crushing the empty box flat, and missing my splayed legs by scant millimeters.

  Okay, maybe it was by a foot or so, but it felt closer.

  “Are you all right?” Brad said, rushing over to where I lay, too afraid to move. My eyes were wide, affixed to the half dozen other sandbags hanging overhead. “Krissy?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, pushing away from my near-death experience. “I’m okay.” Though my heart was telling a different story.

  “Dean!” Lawrence shrieked. “What happened?”

  Dean came running from the back, eyes wide. “The rope must have frayed,” he said. “I tried to stop it.” He opened his hand to show a red welt forming on his palm where he must have tried to grab the rope as it snapped.

  Or did he? If he’d been holding it and cut it, he very well might have sustained those injuries when he didn’t let go quick enough.

  “Why must something always go wrong?” Lawrence threw down his script and then stormed up onto the stage. The sandbag hadn’t busted, but had left a mess anyway. My poor box was nothing but flattened cardboard and torn paper now. “Clean this up,” he told Dean before looking at me. “Go to the back and take a few minutes to compose yourself. Get some fresh air if need be.” He raised his eyes. “Everyone take ten. Then meet back here.” He walked away, muttering to himself.

  Brad helped me to my feet. My legs wobbled a bit and I leaned on his shoulder for support. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it. That was close.” His eyes rose to the hanging sandbags and he guided me away from them.

  “Too close,” I admitted. I’d felt the wind rush past. A half-second more and my head would have been the one to have taken the brunt of the impact. I mean, I spent most of my night on that very spot, twirling and dancing around. It was my bad timing that kept me from being there when it happened.

  Prudence hurried to my side, Asia right behind her. “You okay?” they both asked in unison.

  “I’m fine. It missed me.” I rubbed at my butt, which was starting to throb. “The landing was a bit rough, though.”

  “I can’t believe it broke like that,” Asia said, eyes going skyward before she looked back to where Greg was standing. He was staring at me as if the break was somehow my fault. So much for his good mood.

  “The whole place is falling apart,” Prudence put in. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall through the stage one of these nights.” She tsked. “The entire building is in serious need of an overhaul.”

  I held my tongue, not wanting to spill what I knew about Lawrence’s plan. “I want to see the rope,” I said.

  “You sure?” Brad asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  With a nervous look around, he nodded, and then led me off the stage, to the back where the sandbags were tied down.

  There was a pulley system next to the wall. I’d never paid it any mind before, but now, it was all I could look at. The ropes did look a bit worse for wear, but in no danger of breaking. I wasn’t sure why they were even hooked up since we weren’t using them for anything. I supposed the sandbags and pulley system were used in other productions, but why not take it down when they weren’t in use?

  “It looks frayed,” Brad said, examining the remains of the broken rope. It hadn’t come undone, but appeared to have done just as Dean had said and broken.

  It did bring up an interesting question, however. If the rope had simply broken, and we weren’t using the system in the play, why was Dean over here in the first place? He had to have been standing right there when it happened, not across the room or else he wouldn’t have gotten to it in time to grab hold.

  “I guess it could have been an accident,” I said, not believing it, but not wanting anyone else to think otherwise. If Dean was trying to kill me, letting on that I knew would only make him try that much harder.

  “You don’t think . . . ?” Brad frowned, eyes following the ropes, up past the catwalk.

  I shrugged and forced a shaky smile. “I think it simply broke.”

  Brad looked skeptical, but nodded. “You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took a deep breath and let it out. I’d stopped shaking and my heart had resumed its normal beat. “We should get back. I’m okay now.”

  With a nod, Brad led the way back to the stage. Everyone was huddled around the crushed gift. The sandbag was gone, as was Dean, who was likely disposing of it. I
received a few more well-wishes, and then Lawrence was back, shouting at everyone to take their places.

  As we got started with practice again—me carrying my crushed gift, if you can believe it—I couldn’t help but look up and wonder. Had it truly been an accident?

  Or had I been targeted for murder?

  25

  If practice was stilted and a mess before the accident, it was a complete disaster afterward. Every time I moved, I found myself glancing up to make sure nothing else was going to fall from the sky to crush me. I stumbled from step to step, forgot most of the words to every song, and in general, made a fool out of myself, and the play.

  But, thankfully, I wasn’t the only one.

  Brad, who’d I’d originally taken as a jerk, actually seemed concerned about my well-being. He kept an eye on me throughout the practice and whenever I tripped, he was there to make sure I didn’t fall. It didn’t totally make up for how he’d treated Trisha, but it was a step in the right direction.

  Prudence was likewise rattled, though I think her discomfort came from the fact she spent most of the play dancing and singing beside me, which put her in the direct line of fire if something did happen. She kept herself a few steps farther to my right than she was supposed to, but I didn’t hold it against her. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt; me included.

  Practice ended with a sad whimper. The nervous cast moved off the stage, eyes darting every which way as if they expected the entire building to come crashing down on their heads. Asia left without bothering to change. I was headed in the same direction, just wanting to be safe at home with that cup of hot chocolate I’d been craving, when Lawrence called me over.

  Great, I thought, thinking he was going to lay into me for my role in the mess that was practice. I figured he’d had enough and I wouldn’t be coming back. How he’d find another elf to fill my shoes, I didn’t know. Maybe he’d go one short. Or maybe he’d call Rita in—taking out the seams of my costume in the process. It wasn’t like I was an integral part of the show, so anything could happen.

  I took the stairs at the side of the stage and joined Lawrence in the aisle. Above us, in the booth, Violet and Zander were shutting down the lights and whatever else they managed from there. Someone else—Dean, I believe, but I couldn’t see him to be sure—was resetting the stage so we could begin fresh tomorrow.