Theater Nights Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  “Babe, there’s no way yoose gonna die from not having cawfee for like an ow-wa. There’s a Starbucks in Rio Grande, for Pete’s sake.”

  I put my hand out to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Poppy. I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday to personally welcome you to the Butterfly Wings.”

  They were a young couple, late twenties maybe. The woman was short and dark-skinned, with long, curly brown hair. She popped her gum and grabbed to shake my hand. The rhinestones on her bright pink nails scratched against my thumb. “I’m Val. This is Joey.”

  “Hey, nice place you got heyea.” Joey was a big guy. He had dark hair cut close to his scalp the way men do in the hopes that you won’t notice their hair is thinning. He was starting to get lines around his eyes that you get from working outside your whole life, squinting in the sun. My hand disappeared in his rough and calloused paw.

  “You’re the couple who won the spa package at the Chamber’s Mansion.”

  Val giggled and grabbed Joey’s arm. “Yeah. We never been to a spa before. I can’t wait to see what they can do with this one.”

  Joey smiled down at Val. “Oh, I’m gettin’ the works. They gonna paint my toenails and pluck my eyebrows.”

  Val giggled again. “We got married a few months ago but didn’t have the money for a honeymoon. This is the first time we been away togetha. Joey, I bet the spa has those one-size-fits-all robes for you to wear.”

  “Whaddya talking about? They gonna hafta sew four towels togetha to wrap me up for the massage table.”

  I found myself giggling along with Val. “Well, help yourself to the coffee and juice. I’ve made a chocolate-cherry tea bread with white chocolate chips and I’ll bring it right out. And this morning we’re serving French butter crepes with strawberries and cream.”

  Val’s eyes sparkled with delight, but Joey crinkled up his nose. “Don’cha got no eggs or bacon or nothin’? How’my supposed to get full on cake and ooh-la fancy crepes?”

  “The crepes do come with sausage links.”

  “Do you got like thirty or forty of ’em?”

  Val popped her gum. “Joey’s not usedta eatin’ this fancy stuff.” Only she didn’t say stuff.

  The front door opened, and three biddies tiptoed as loudly as possible down the hall while “whispering” to each other.

  “Shh, her guests are here.”

  “We’re not too late for breakfast, are we?”

  “If we are, she can make us something else.”

  I adopted the rule that if I don’t look at the ruckus, it isn’t really happening. Then one of the biddies knocked something over in the hall. “Shh!”

  I smiled at Joey and Val. I had small plates of gourmet luxury planned for every day. I would have to rethink my menu for the week. “If you like, I can throw together some scrambled eggs and toast to go along with the planned meals.”

  Joey’s face broke into a smile and he pounded me on the shoulder and sent me back a few inches. “Now you tawkin.”

  I entered the gossip den and Aunt Ginny had already cracked a dozen eggs. “How’d you know I was going to need those?”

  Sawyer handed me the china plate with the tea bread. “We were listening through the door.”

  I returned again and started warming the crepes and frying the sausages while Aunt Ginny made the scrambled eggs. “So, are you all just here for the buffet or are you going to catch a show?”

  Mrs. Dodson took a paper from her purse. “No, Miss Hot Pants. We came to show you this.”

  I took the paper and examined it. “It’s a receipt for six tickets to the Senior Center musical.”

  “Yeeesss.” Aunt Ginny prodded me.

  I read it again. “Mamma Mia! starring Broadway’s Royce Hansen.”

  Mother Gibson pursed her lips together. “Mm-hmm.”

  I was obviously missing something. The way they were watching me was unnerving. I flipped my crepe. Mamma Mia! starring Broadway’s Royce Hansen. Receipt for six tickets dated November 2. “November?!”

  Mrs. Davis smacked the counter. “Now she’s got it.”

  I warmed another crepe. “How in the world did Neil sell tickets to a musical he hadn’t announced yet?”

  Aunt Ginny dumped the eggs on a hot platter. “It’s worse than that. Royce didn’t even come home until after New Year’s Day.”

  “Neil must have worked it out with Royce to star in the play last fall.” I warmed another crepe and Sawyer started rolling them with strawberries and mascarpone.

  Aunt Ginny shook her head. “I asked him. Royce said the first time he heard about the musical was two days before tryouts.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t just forget?” I gave the other ladies a look that they returned.

  Mrs. Dodson snuck a sausage off the plate and popped it in her mouth. “Neil was selling tickets before anyone knew there would be a play and the star had no idea he had signed up for it.”

  I nudged the plate to the other side of the island. “Wouldn’t that be ticket fraud? Why do you think he would do that?”

  Now Mrs. Davis could reach the sausages and she snatched one. “Money laundering.”

  I gave the ladies an incredulous look. “Money laundering?”

  Georgina entered the kitchen and snatched a sausage off the plate.

  Mrs. Dodson nodded sagely. “And word on the street is, it will not go well for Neil if the play flops.”

  “Word on what street?” I asked them. “Who is saying these words? Is the Gambino family going to whack Neil if he doesn’t have a Broadway star in the Cape May Senior Center musical? Where do you guys get this stuff?”

  The four biddies shrugged and gave one another cryptic looks. Georgina and Sawyer giggled to themselves.

  Sawyer picked up the plate of scrambled eggs. I plated three sausages next to three crepes on both plates and we went out to Val and Joey.

  Val fanned herself with her hands over her plate. “Oh my gawd, just look at that. They are so fancy.”

  Sawyer put the plate of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table and Joey dumped them all onto his plate on top of his crepes. He handed the platter back to an openmouthed Sawyer and gave her a smile. Sawyer followed me back to the kitchen with her empty platter and shocked expression.

  I looked at the receipt again. “How exactly did you all come by this?”

  Mother Gibson, the retired Baptist Sunday school teacher, shrugged and took a bite of her smuggled sausage. “We stole it.”

  I pointed to the other biddies, who all had managed to sneak sausage from the platter. “I think these guys are a bad influence on you.”

  She smiled at the other ladies.

  Georgina handed me the plate of cold crepes and looked to the frying pan, then back to me. It looked like I was making crepes for a few more this morning. I started warming the first one and Sawyer cut more strawberries.

  I was just flipping the first crepe when I heard Val scream. “Oh my gawd, what is that?”

  Followed by Joey. “Gawd, Val, ya killed it.”

  “No, I didn’t, it just fell ovah.”

  I looked at Aunt Ginny. “Did you remember to lock Figaro up this morning?”

  Aunt Ginny rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Uhhh . . .”

  So much for my pep talk.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I cleaned up from breakfast and made some tour suggestions for Joey and Val. Figaro scratched and meowed at the door until I let him in, so he could meow and scratch at the door for me to let him back out. He came back in to watch me get dressed and judge my choices.

  I tried the jeans again. Nope. I was forced to resort to clean Spunks and leggings of loathing yet another day. Then a pink T-shirt and a pink flannel button-down to cover the lumps in my leggings and I was done. This was as good as I was capable of right now. Figaro cataloged my every move with the same look I get on my face when I watch episodes of botched plastic surgery gone wrong. I kissed him on the forehead and told him I’d see him later. Right now,
I was off to Gia’s. Valentine’s Day was Saturday and I had a whole week of holiday-themed baking planned.

  I was surprised to open the back door to the coffee shop and find Gia standing in the kitchen drinking an espresso. “Ciao, Bella.”

  We went out to the bar to sit, and I caught him up on the most recent disaster that was the senior center musical. “Now Blanche is in the hospital. There’s a really good chance that Royce was the intended target for both of the attacks.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He’s the only one who enters from the catwalk and that light did fall right where he was supposed to be standing in that scene.”

  “But how did it fall? And how did the person who made it fall know Royce would be onstage at the time?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Are you sure Royce isn’t the one who killed Duke? You said he stayed during lunch to practice. Maybe Duke followed him up on the catwalk and they had an argument.”

  “What motive would Royce have for killing Duke? He’s been gone for sixty years. Plus, he seems to be really shaken up about the attacks.”

  “Yes, but he is an award-winning actor, isn’t he?”

  I nodded.

  Gia shrugged. “So maybe the nice-guy routine is an act.”

  I wondered if the absentminded professor routine was also an act.

  “Do you think someone really wants to kill Royce? Or Duke? Maybe they just want to shut down the play altogether and Duke was an accident.”

  “Who would want to shut it down? The seniors would be devastated if the play was canceled.”

  “What about the agent?”

  “He wants to take Royce back to New York for a comeback, but he just got here. I’m wondering about the sister. She has a hold on Royce about something. I could see her wanting to have the play canceled so Royce would be home with her. She keeps reminding him that he’s been gone for sixty years.”

  “I have six sisters and two brothers. I understand why he’d stay away that long.”

  “I grew up an only child. I would love to have had a big family. It sounds like fun.”

  Gia pulled me close and whispered in a seductive voice, “Maybe one day you will see just how very wrong you are.”

  I giggled and swatted him on the shoulder.

  “I will make you a latte.”

  I nodded and tried to focus on my baking. Today’s agenda was the Stud Muffins and Baby Cakes, along with heart-shaped linzer cookies. I needed to make enough for the coffee shop and the B&B. I started compiling all the ingredients on the silver-flecked granite countertop. I built the linzer cookie dough first, so it had time to chill, and placed the butter and sugar in the bowl of my Professional KitchenAid stand mixer that Gia had specially painted to look like a peacock as a gift to me. That seemed like ages ago and it was only, what? Three months or so? Things have moved very fast since I’ve come home to Cape May. Maybe it’s the salt air that makes everyone so driven. In Virginia I’d be in bed reading a book right now. Or at least on the couch watching cooking shows and thinking about reading a book.

  Gia placed a special coffee drink with a heart design in the foam on the counter next to me. “Do you have plans for Saturday night?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Can I take you out for Valentine’s Day?”

  My breath caught in my throat. Valentine’s Day is a big step in a relationship.

  “You mean a lot to me, so I have something special to give you.”

  I think I know what it is too and I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready to receive it.

  Gia grinned. “Don’t look so nervous, Bella. You will like this, I promise.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I tried to smile bravely. I’m not worried about not liking it. I’m worried I forgot how to do it.

  He took a step closer and twirled his finger around a curl of my hair that had sprung loose from its kitchen braid. It was such a simple yet intimate gesture. “So, what do you say?”

  “Gia!” Karla’s voice punched me in the face. “You’re wanted!”

  Gia frowned and let loose a string in Italian. “I’ll be right back.” Another string in Italian carried him out to the coffee bar.

  I started measuring my dry ingredients for the strawberry chocolate chip muffins. If I was honest, I wanted to go out for Valentine’s Day. I hadn’t been on a date in years. Even with John, we got to the point where we’d rather stay home and eat potpies than have a crowded, overpriced reservation. Now I think we were just taking romance for granted. Of course, with John, the romance was subtle. I was surprised that Tim hadn’t asked me to do anything on Saturday. After that whole let’s-give-it-a-go spiel. Maybe with Tim the romance is subtle too.

  Gia returned muttering to himself in Italian. Speaking of stud muffins.

  “Now are you going to let me take you out for a romantic dinner or not?” he teased.

  “Yes, but we’ll have to do it on Monday. I’m promised to do the lights for the musical on Valentine’s Day.”

  “We’ll think of something.” He started to kiss me. I knew I was supposed to stop him to be fair to Tim, but Karla called him out to the dining room again and saved me the trouble.

  Leave it to me to pick the most romantic holiday of the year to swear off making out. Three hours later, I had a dozen of each kind of muffin and two dozen raspberry linzer cookies to take home to my guests, leaving several dozen of each for Gia to sell. I had to get back to the B&B to make white chocolate raspberry cheesecakes for Maxine’s. Why did I agree to all this? My conscience reminded me that it was because I couldn’t say no to Tim. I wondered if I’d be able to say no to Gia when the time came to choose.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I pulled up at the Senior Center for rehearsal. Aunt Ginny had gone ahead of me because I had to leave Tim’s cheesecakes home to cool. I was going to leave them on the counter, but Figaro was looking shifty and I knew he was plotting something, so I left them in the oven with the door cracked open. Tim was sending Chuck to pick them up.

  All the parking spots in the front were taken, so I had to drive around to the side. I almost ran over the curb when I saw the display in front of me. Mrs. Davis appeared to be hovering off the ground in some boxwoods and azaleas while peering into a window. I looked at the ground and realized Mrs. Dodson was on her hands and knees in the bushes and Mrs. Davis was standing on her back.

  Oh, this is not good. I crept over to them and whispered, “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Shhh!” They both shushed me, and Mrs. Davis absently swatted in my direction. “We’re spying on Neil. He’s up to something.”

  “What makes you think he’s up to something?”

  “He keeps going into his office and locking the door.”

  “So? People do that. Maybe he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

  Mrs. Davis blew me off. “I bet he’s got a pile of money in that desk drawer with a lock. That’s where all the laundry schemers keep it.”

  They’re going to be arrested or sued before this week is over. “I really don’t think Neil is laundering money through the Senior Center. He’s way too nice to be up to anything nefarious. Now get down from there before you get hurt!”

  Mrs. Davis ducked down and Mrs. Dodson grabbed my ankle. “Shhh. The thugs are coming out.”

  I pulled a boxwood leaf out of my hair. “You can see that in Neil’s office?”

  Mrs. Dodson took a receiver from her ear. The other end of the wire was plugged into her cell phone. “Shhh. Lila’s been on the inside shadowing them. She says they’re heading this way.”

  The emergency exit door opened on the far end of the building and the two big guys came out with Ernie.

  Mrs. Davis hissed in my ear, “They must have something on Smiley because they keep dragging him outside.”

  We couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but it looked intense because Ernie had finally lost the grin from his face. The men pushed Ernie against the wall and he p
leaded with them, “I’ve got it covered.”

  The men dropped him and went back inside. Ernie got up and smoothed his sport coat over his turtleneck while looking around. After about a minute, he pulled out a cell phone and walked around the corner to the back of the building.

  Mrs. Davis jumped down from Mrs. Dodson’s back. “That was mighty fishy, Edith.”

  Mrs. Dodson sat up and spoke into her phone. “Tango, this is Foxtrot, come in.”

  Good Lord, what now?

  Mother Gibson’s voice came through the speaker. “Tango here. Go.”

  “Smiley has gone around the back. Get your eyes on him.”

  “Ten four. Rooster guarding the front.”

  “Ladies,” I persisted, “are code names really necessary?”

  Mrs. Dodson looked at me like I was an imbecile. “We have to speak in code in case anyone overhears us.”

  Mrs. Davis shimmied up her tube top. “All the spies use code names. I’m Sexy Knickers.”

  Mrs. Dodson narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Davis. “We agreed on dances. You’re Hokey-Pokey.”

  “I never agreed. I’m being called Sexy Knickers and that’s that!”

  “If someone overhears voices coming out of these bushes, code names aren’t going to help you.”

  Mrs. Dodson narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s why we’re whispering and using earpieces. Good heavens, do you think we were born yesterday?”

  I was about to tell Mrs. Dodson, aka Foxtrot, that she didn’t whisper as quietly as she thought when I heard footsteps crunching through the dead leaves coming our way.

  “Who’s over there?”

  It was Neil.

  Mrs. Davis pushed me out of the bushes and hissed. “Distract him!”

  I flopped out on my knees and extracted myself from the branches. “Sorry, Neil. Just me.”

  “What in the world are you doing in there?”

  “Um. I thought I lost an earring.”

  Neil looked at the cluster of bushes. “Against the building?”

  “Yeah, it kind of... flew through the air . . . and . . . rolled.”

  He headed toward me. “I’ll help you look.”

  I lunged toward him. “Oh no! It’s fine. See.” I held my earlobe out. “I found it.”