Staged 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  At least my proverbial “walk in the park” clarified one thing. None of the other former board members had come face-to-face with Miranda like Gordon did. They were either dead, gone, or too incompetent to know what was going on. So, if anyone was going to harbor a grudge, it would be Gordon. He would have had a motive. But what about means and opportunity? Unlike Cliff, who would have a reason to get Miranda on that catwalk, Gordon’s movements were strictly limited to the stage. Still, he was certainly a suspect as far as I was concerned.

  Driving home from the park, I noticed holiday lights. Some houses were already decorated for Christmas and their twinkling lights, bright against the desert sky, caught my eye. It was a week before Thanksgiving, and it was as if that holiday was being relegated to the minor events list, along with Groundhog Day, Earth Day, and Take Your Child to Work Day. Only in Arizona.

  I checked the bottoms of my sneakers before walking into the house and kicking them off. No sense in taking chances. Then I headed to the kitchen to make myself a diet milkshake.

  Two percent milk classifies it as diet, doesn’t it?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the red light flashing on my phone. Pressing down on the small button below the screen showed who called. Big surprise. I tapped the playback button and listened to my mother’s message.

  “What did you find out? Was it a board conspiracy? Call me.”

  Not before I make my shake and take my time drinking it.

  Wiping the faint chocolate moustache from the sides of my mouth, I picked up the phone and called. “Hey, Mom, got your message, and there’s not a whole lot to report. Gordon’s the only one who could possibly have a motive. The other board members are either dead or—”

  “That’s not why I called, but that’s good to know. I told Streetman you’d take him next time. I’m going over to Shirley’s tomorrow to try on wigs. If that director thinks I’m about to cut my hair and dye it hideous brown to play Mrs. Boyle, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll wear a wig. Shirley has lots of them. Besides, I’m planning on changing my hair color completely for the holidays. I was thinking of platinum with black highlights.”

  “Dear God. You’ll look like Cruella Deville. Only in reverse.”

  “Phee, hair color is meant to be enjoyed. That’s why the thought of bland brown will never do. Anyway, I wanted you to know I’ve been given the position of prompter for act two. You know why? Because Chuck Mitchenson still hasn’t learned his lines and needs someone to refresh his memory. Can you believe it? Two weeks till curtain time, and he’s in la-la land. It’s not that I mind doing it, since I’m not in act two but, for heaven’s sake, when does he plan on learning them?”

  “Yeah, um, I seem to remember hearing that the other night from some of Herb’s buddies. Mom, what does anyone know about Chuck? Other than the fact he goes to the same church as Cecilia. He’s been off the radar, so to speak, and I’m not sure if Nate or Marshall have found out anything that would make Chuck a suspect. I’ll have to check on it.”

  “Good. Good. Anyway, Myrna called a few minutes ago. She’s in the middle of cleaning out her old file cabinets to donate them to the Sun Cities Charities. She’s redoing her office area so it will double as a den.”

  I shook my head and wondered how long I could hang on to the phone and listen to all of this. There were only so many “uh-huhs” and “that’s good” I could say.

  My mother kept going. “Now I wouldn’t exactly call Myrna a pack rat. But you know how it is with files. We stick things in there and never bother to look again. So, tonight when Myrna was dumping out some old theater programs from the Peoria Players, guess what she found?”

  I don’t know. William Shakespeare’s autograph on an original playbill? “What? What did she find?”

  “About a year and a half ago, Myrna went to see a production of The Odd Couple, directed by none other than Cliff Edwards. She saved the program. Along with a zillion other programs she’s saved. And you’ll never guess who was in the play. Go on. Guess!”

  “Mother, I’m not playing ‘Guess who was in some play in Peoria.’ I want to take a shower and relax for a while.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you. It was Sue Ellen Blair. That’s right. Sue Ellen. She played the role of Gwendolyn, one of the Pigeon sisters who dates Felix and Oscar in the play.”

  It was as if a bomb dropped right in the middle of my kitchen.

  “Sue Ellen knew Cliff? She never let on, did she? Did he? Oh my gosh . . . I’m wondering. When did Miranda and Cliff get divorced? Never mind, I’ll have Nate or Marshall check that out. Mom, this may change everything.”

  “Why do you think I called you?”

  Chapter 19

  I all but accosted Marshall when I burst into the office the next morning. He was waiting for his cup of coffee to brew and had probably had the same idea I did—arrive really early to get some work done. So early that Nate and Augusta hadn’t yet walked in.

  “Marshall, you’re not going to believe this, so I’ll get right to the point. Sue Ellen knew Cliff at least a year and a half ago. It’s not a rumor. It’s true. She was cast in one of his plays in Peoria. The Odd Couple. Myrna saw that play and kept the playbill. She forgot all about it until she started cleaning out her file cabinet. That was last night. She called my mother and well, um, there you go.”

  “Whoa. I’ll try to absorb all of that without my morning coffee.”

  “I think it’s ready. The light stopped flashing on the machine.”

  Marshall removed his cup and asked if I wanted one. After he placed the flavor I selected into the Keurig, he lifted his cup and took a sip. “Hmm. How about that. I suppose neither of them said anything because the subject never came up. Heck, there’s nothing suspicious about it. It wasn’t as if Cliff cast her in the part of Mollie Ralston. He didn’t come on the scene until after Ellowina got food poisoning and couldn’t direct the play. At least that’s what my notes say.”

  “That’s right. But think about the timing. And think about Sue Ellen. She’s awfully cute and comes across as very sweet.” What the hell am I saying? I’ll sabotage my own chances with him.

  “Okay, so?”

  “So, if what Paula Darren told me was true, Cliff and Miranda got divorced around the same time as that play. Maybe Sue Ellen was the temptation that split them up.”

  “If that was the case, wouldn’t she be dating him or something? I think you’re going out on a limb, because, up until now, no one knew they had any kind of relationship, professional or otherwise.”

  “Will you look into it? Speak with Cliff. I have a hunch Sue Ellen might be behind Miranda’s murder.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Two coincidences too many. I think she’s trying to make it look as if she’s a victim when the opposite may be true. First the tungsten lamp that conveniently fell near her, then the trapdoor that Gordon fell through. Sue Ellen was insistent it was meant for her. So will you do it? Talk to Cliff, I mean?”

  “Why not? It’ll put your mind at ease if nothing else. The sheriff’s department, by the way, isn’t getting any further with the investigation either. I’m on the phone at least every other day with Bowman or Ranston. The only thing they’ve managed to pull up, which we’ve overlooked, is a rather interesting connection between Miranda and Sue Ellen.”

  “Connection? What connection? That day in the theater when Sue Ellen was crying her eyes out, I asked my mother if Sue Ellen knew Miranda, and the answer was no. Sue Ellen was worried people would accuse her of killing Miranda to get the lead role. So, what’s the connection?”

  “They both worked at the same hospital in Rhode Island.”

  “At the same time? How can that be? Sue Ellen’s so much younger.”

  “The sheriff’s department was able to procure an incident report from the hospital where Miranda was employed as an RN. She was Miranda Shumway then. And get this—she was accused of negligence that resulted in the death of a sixty-two-year-old
woman.”

  “That’s terrible, but what does that have to do with Sue Ellen?”

  “The report listed everyone connected with the incident, from orderlies to volunteers. Sue Ellen Blair was a candy striper at the time. At first, the sheriff’s department wasn’t sure it was the same Sue Ellen, so they looked into it further. Turns out our Miss Blair volunteered at the hospital as part of her high school’s graduation requirement—community service. Following graduation, she had nothing to do with the medical profession. Maybe Miranda’s incident scared her away.”

  “Holy cow! Do you think, after all those years, Sue Ellen even recognized Miranda and vice versa? Maybe Miranda’s negligence somehow put a bad mark on Sue Ellen’s service. That might have carried over into college applications. It could have ruined any dream career that Sue Ellen might have had.”

  “I’d say doubtful. Still, it’s an interesting, if not puzzling, connection.”

  “It could also be a motive for murder. Along with a possible affair Sue Ellen could have been having with Cliff.”

  The outside door swung open as Augusta walked in. “Affair? Why do I always walk in late and miss the juicy stuff?”

  “Good morning, Augusta,” Marshall said. “You’ll have to wake up with the roosters to catch all of Phee’s riveting gossip.”

  “It’s not gossip,” I whined. “It’s speculation.”

  Augusta plopped her bag on her desk and gave me a wink. “Fill me in during a break today. I love to speculate.”

  With that, I retreated to my office, and Marshall went to his. About a half hour later Nate popped into my office to say hi and ask how I was doing.

  I looked up from my computer screen and motioned for him to grab a seat. “I think Sue Ellen Blair is our murderess, but Marshall isn’t buying it. Not yet anyway.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  I proceeded to tell him about how Miranda and Sue Ellen’s paths had crossed years ago in Rhode Island as well as the recent discovery Myrna had made about Sue Ellen’s performance in one of Cliff’s plays.

  “Ah. Doesn’t mean she was having an affair with him. Did Marshall say he was going to speak with Cliff?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then don’t get carried away yet. Wait and see how that goes. As you surmised, I’ve given Marshall the lead role with this, since I’ve been so wrapped up with a case in Tucson. I should have that all tied up before Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s next week.”

  Just then Augusta knocked on the door frame to my office.

  “You’ve got a call, Mr. Williams. It’s an Arthur Graven-wood. Do you want me to transfer it to your office or take a message? I told him I’d check to see if you were available.”

  “Transfer the call, Augusta.”

  Nate stood and shrugged. “That’s Tucson calling, and I’d better answer.”

  As he walked back to his office, I realized something. Nate didn’t have family nearby and neither did Marshall. I imagined they’d be spending their Thanksgiving eating takeout food and drinking beer. That thought was downright depressing. I knew Augusta had plans to go out to dinner with her canasta group. As for me, I’d be joining my mother, Shirley, and Lucinda at my mother’s house.

  My mother had already ordered a large turkey from the HoneyBaked Ham Company, and Shirley was bringing cornbread stuffing and sweet potato pie. Lucinda planned to bake apple and pumpkin pies. I was in charge of bringing the rolls. That, in and of itself, summed up the confidence everyone had in my culinary talents.

  It was a no-brainer. As I stared at my computer screen, I knew my mother would be more than happy to have Nate and Marshall join us. It would be open season for her matchmaking as well as a chance to pry into the investigation.

  I picked up the phone to call my mother before I lost my nerve. “Hi! Glad you didn’t rush out anywhere yet. I need to ask you something.”

  “Is it about Miranda and Cliff? What else do you need to know? Are those men in your office looking into it? I’ll tell you one thing, I’m going to keep an eagle eye on Sue Ellen this afternoon at rehearsal. Cliff, too. If there’s something going on between them, I’ll spot it. Myrna’s going to do the same.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. That sounds good, but that’s not why I called. Listen, I was wondering . . . Nate and Marshall don’t have any plans for Thanksgiving. At least I don’t think they do, so—”

  “You don’t have to say a word, Phee. Of course they can come. Shirley always brings too much stuff, and I ordered a small ham in addition to the giant turkey, in case someone wanted something different. We’ve got plenty of food. Good thinking. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  Ugh. I hope whoever came up with that expression chokes on their dinner. “Okay. Great. I’ll invite them. What time?”

  “Have them come at two. We’ll eat at three. Plenty of time to digest our food before it gets late.”

  “Thanks, Mom. It’s really nice of you.”

  “Like I said—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say it again. I’ll talk to you later.”

  * * *

  Given the fact I had already convicted Sue Ellen of murder, or at least wanted to do so, it seemed a waste of my time to talk with Chuck. Still, the consensus from the other players was that something was off with him. Since I didn’t have any plans for the evening, I thought I’d stop by the rehearsal on my way home from work and see if I could arrange to have a few words with the guy.

  It was a little past six when I walked into the auditorium. The players were almost finished rehearsing act two. I knew this, not because I was familiar with the play, but because my mother had given me a dog-eared copy of the script. Maybe she thought there were clues in there that could lead me to the killer, but Agatha Christie wasn’t going to be much help.

  My mother stood off to the side of the stage whispering Chuck’s lines to him. It was pitiful. Too bad the play wasn’t a comedy. I waited it out until the play ended and Cliff shouted, “Players down in front for notes.”

  “Psst! Phee! You’ll get a better view up here!” How Herb was able to spot me in the dim auditorium was anyone’s guess.

  I tried to be discreet and motioned that I intended to remain where I was.

  “What are you pointing at, cutie?”

  I gave up and shouted back I had no intention of going up on the catwalk. Surprising how a voice carried in a semi-empty auditorium.

  “Phee!” It was my mother. She was one of the first cast members to make their way to the front seats for the play notes. “Come on over and take a seat next to me. No one will notice.”

  I wasn’t about to argue, because that would have been worse in terms of drawing attention to myself. I sank into the seat next to my mother. Thankfully, it was an end seat, near the outside aisle.

  Slowly, the cast and crew members filled in the front rows and waited for Cliff. Chuck was seated a few rows back on the center aisle and no one was sitting near him. I didn’t need to be hit over the head to make my move.

  I gave my mother a nudge and whispered, “I’m going over to talk with Chuck.”

  Before she could say anything, I got up and cut through the empty row behind me and walked back to the center row where I plunked myself down directly behind the worst thespian I think the theater had ever seen.

  Cliff was now sitting on a small stool directly in front of the orchestra pit. He had a handful of notes and didn’t look too happy. “People, people, people. The play isn’t a month away! It’s coming at us like a freight train, and some of you have yet to learn your lines.”

  Chuck bent down his head and placed his hands over it, as if shielding himself from Cliff’s words. I don’t know why, but a lump formed in my throat.

  Cliff continued to speak, and everyone held their collective breath. From timing to blocking, he scrutinized everything. “And let this be a clarion call to all of you. Enunciate. I repeat, enunciate. You must slow down and speak each word clearly, slow
ly, and carefully. Otherwise, it becomes gibberish for the audience.”

  Under his breath, Chuck mumbled, “I don’t think I can do this.”

  I leaned over, tapped him on the shoulder and, in a voice as low as I could possibly make, said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  He spun around in his seat and looked directly at me. Meanwhile, Cliff had moved to the individual scene notes, and I knew it would be a long session.

  Chuck spoke softly through the side of his mouth while staring directly at Cliff. “Every time that jerk opens his mouth, I feel like punching it.”

  My head was practically leaning against the back of his seat. “Tough director?”

  “He’s had Sue Ellen in tears more than once.”

  “From what I’ve heard, that isn’t too hard.”

  “It wasn’t about the play.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I think they were dating.”

  Suddenly Cliff’s voice got louder and I was afraid he might have heard Chuck and me talking. I held absolutely still and listened.

  “Fluid movements. Fluid movements. That last scene looked choppy. We’ll take a ten minute break and rehearse the final scene in act two.”

  Groans and mumbling filled the auditorium as Cliff stood and walked toward the stage manager, who was holding his own set of notes. Presumably for the crew. Quickly the stage manager yelled, “Crew only. I have a few things to go over with you.”

  As Chuck started to stand, I did the same. “What makes you say they were dating? Cliff and Sue Ellen.”

  “Um. Gosh. I don’t know why I spouted off like that. None of my business. It’s just that since Miranda’s murder, I haven’t been able to concentrate on a darned thing. I get on stage and my mind goes blank.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Hypnosis? Meditation? A session or two with a good psychologist? Instead, I simply stood there as if my mind had gone blank as well.

  Chapter 20

  The crew started to fill in the seats at the front of the auditorium while the cast members who were not in the final scene made a quick escape for fear Cliff might decide to run a scene they were in. As I turned to the left, I saw my mother waving me over to her. I pushed both of my arms out in front and held up my hands as if I was trying to stop a train. She got the message and nodded.