Ten minutes later, her phone rang. “Hey, Choi, how can I help?”
Ashley moved her phone, so I was in camera range. “Steve, this is my friend, Georgia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Steve slid his dark-framed glasses up on his large nose and waved.
“Hey.” I hoped my shock didn’t show in my expression. He was one of the people from the secret video recording.
Ashley turned back to her phone. “Yesterday, when you told me that you almost got sucked into a cult. What was the name?”
“True Mooring Life Center.” His eyes widened. “Your friend having the same experience? If so, run—fast.”
“No, no. I just have a few questions,” I said. “Anything you can tell me about the place would be great.”
“Sure.” Steve shook his head. “Basically, the guy at True Mooring preys on vulnerable people.”
“How’d you meet him?” I asked.
“I was volunteering at Solid Rock Mission, so I could connect with people in the community, and Tristan was there. At first, I thought he was a quirky dude who’d be fun to hang out with, so when he asked if I wanted to shoot pool and have a few beers, I said yes. Halfway through the evening, he started in with a spiel—which sounded good. I mean, I was lonely. I moved from Florida to Richardville for my job. No wife or kids. So I decided to check out his Discovery Session one Wednesday night.”
“What was it like?” I asked.
“Solid self-help principles—at least in the Arise level. I was hoping to break my nail-biting habit.” He held up his hand with his gnawed off nails facing me. “Worked for a while. Then Tristan started asking for money before I could be promoted to the Negate level. When I wasn’t willing to pony up a thousand bucks to move on, Tristan lost interest in me. But I’d already decided he was a con artist.”
“Did you report him?”
“No.” Steve glanced away. “I probably should’ve, but if people want to waste their money on mumbo-jumbo to make themselves feel better, it’s none of my business. Besides, I had this feeling it’d be best to keep my mouth shut and move on.”
“Why?” There had to be something specific that Steve wasn’t telling me.
He looked down for a few seconds. “One night, I went to the bathroom and overheard a guy threatening some woman that if she didn’t meet her recruitment quota, there’d be serious consequences. She was crying.”
Ashley drew in a sharp breath, and Brandi pursed her lips and shook her head.
Though I agreed with my friends’ reactions, I didn’t dare act judgmental if I wanted to keep Steve talking. “Any idea who the guy was?”
“No—it wasn’t Tristan. I’d have recognized his voice, since he sounds like a radio announcer.”
“Did you ever meet Tristan’s brother Jim when you volunteered at Solid Rock?” I asked.
“Yeah. But it wasn’t him. This guy’s voice was higher pitched than Jim’s or Tristan’s—not squeaky or anything—just an average dude voice.”
“Did you see the woman?
“No, but he called her Carsyn.”
I bit my lip. “A couple more questions. Give me a second.” Using my phone, I went to the church website and opened up Zach’s picture. I held up my phone. “Did you ever see this man at your meetings?”
“No.”
I switched to my news app and found Olivia Scott’s picture. “How about her?”
“Yep. She was definitely in my Arise group.”
Chapter Twenty-One
On the way to the church, I was a good girl and left a message with Cal about everything I’d learned from Steve. Clearly, Tristan had a partner, and I now had doubts about it being Carsyn—unless she’d been coerced.
As soon as I entered the church’s greenroom on Saturday night, the tension in the air smacked me in the face. Ruby sprawled on the couch with the back of her hand to her forehead while Mona tended to her. Cast and choir members stood in small clusters, whispering. Our leads, Sharon and Leah, who were already in costume, swarmed me as soon as I entered.
“Rob’s sick.” Sharon buttoned her lab coat. Goggles resting on her head completed her transformation into Millie.
I let my purse slide off my shoulder. “How sick?”
Leah held out a phone, and I took it. “He sent this to Ruby a few minutes ago.”
In hospital with food poisoning. I’m out.
Poor Rob. I mentally reviewed the people in the show who could replace him at a moment’s notice, and there weren’t many. At least our leads were well. “Don’t worry, everybody. The show will go on.”
“Who’ll play the angel?” one of the men asked, almost as if he hoped I’d cast him. But his oversized belly disqualified him from fitting into the costume—and harness.
“We’ll figure something out.” I took a deep breath and tiptoed over to Ruby, which halfway to the couch struck me as funny, and I had to choke back a giggle. Mona got up and walked away as I knelt beside Ruby. “It’s Georgia.”
She shot up as if waking from a nightmare, and I performed an evasive maneuver to miss her flailing arm. “This is simply a disaster. I’ve called other problems disasters, but this time I mean it. What’ll we do? What if more people have food poisoning from our meal? I thought we’d be safe using a caterer.” She buried her face in her hands. “Last night’s show was too perfect. I tried to be thankful, but I had this horrible feeling that something was about to go wrong.”
I started to reassure her but realized that might be a mistake. She had a valid point. One bad dish could take out most of the cast. “Let’s not assume it was something Rob ate while he was here. I’m feeling okay. Are there any other messages from cast members?” I handed over her phone.
She lifted her head and checked. “No.”
“Good. Then we just need to recast the angel.”
“You.” Ruby gripped my hand. “You’re the only one I trust. Besides, the harness will fit you because you and Rob are close in size.”
Nothing like having my build compared to a guy’s. “But—”
“We should probably have a man play the part, but we’re desperate, and you’re pretty enough to pull it off. Besides, I’ve already had to compromise by having a doll play Baby Jesus.” She flopped back against the couch.
“But…the choir?”
She sat up. “You’ll direct as normal until just before it’s time to announce Jesus’s birth. Then, you’ll go backstage and get hooked up. After you proclaim the arrival of our messiah, you’ll lead the choir as they sing ‘Behold.’”
“While suspended from the ceiling.” I couldn’t let Cal see me in such a ridiculous position.
Ruby clasped her hands. “It’s brilliant, don’t you think?”
“I don’t—”
“We’ll make sure you’re low enough for the choir to see.” She patted my shoulder and stood. “Crisis averted. Let’s go practice, so you can get used to flying!”
An hour later in the chapel after warm-ups, I knew what my face must’ve looked like when Ruby had proposed her solution to the angel problem because the choir had gaped at me when I’d explained my angel/choir director role.
Seven out of thirty-three choir members had texted to say they were experiencing various levels of food poisoning. In addition, we’d recast a shepherd and the innkeeper. The general consensus was the macaroni salad had been the culprit.
Brandi raised her hand, and I nodded at her. “And we’ll be able to see you?” We’d been friends long enough for me to know she was dying to say more. Not to mention the motherly side of her probably had concerns about me hanging ten feet above the stage.
I cleared my throat. “Ruby stood on the risers in several different places and told me she could see. Just look up when it’s time for cut offs. Otherwise, don’t strain your necks.” I tried to smile confidently, but my wobbly effort landed somewhere between uncertain and terrified. “Take a break, and be ready to go onstage in twenty.”
A few people whispered to eac
h other, and I could only imagine the things they were saying about Ruby—and me.
Brandi walked up to me. “If I weren’t afraid of heights, I’d be willing to step in.” She patted her curls. “I could be angelic.”
“You’d be more convincing than me.” I’d considered using fear of heights as an excuse, but more than one person in this program had probably driven by my farm and seen me working at the top of one of my grain bins, so that excuse was dead on arrival. “But I wouldn’t wish this contraption on you.” I patted my waist, though my angel robe hid the harness. “The leg straps are pretty snug on my thunder thighs.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ruby shrieked from offstage.
“Now what?” I muttered.
Brandi and I hurried into the greenroom while I prayed silently that we hadn’t lost any more cast members to food poisoning.
Ruby held up a box of chocolate Teddy Grahams for everyone who’d gathered in a semicircle around her. “People. I just. Replaced these.” She shook the box, demonstrating that it was empty. “Does no one care that I get low blood sugar?”
Brandi and I exchanged glances.
“I’ve kept snacks in my desk for years, and it’s only been for this show that I’ve had problems with food and water vanishing!” she shouted.
No way.
Vanishing food. Missing water. And what about the scratching noises?
It couldn’t be. Could it?
“Be right back,” I whispered to Brandi. I had no intention of spouting off my theory and having my best friend thinking I belonged in the looney bin.
Hoisting up my angel tunic, I moved in a run-limp combo out of the greenroom and down the hall to the old church building. I hustled down the basement stairs, and a sour smell—much stronger than the usual mustiness—whacked my nostrils.
“Merciful heavens.” I clasped my hand over my nose and mouth.
A horrid retching noise came from the restroom, and I pushed through the door. A woman wearing work-out clothes sprawled in front of the toilet. Slowly, as if it took great effort, she turned to face me.
Olivia Scott.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Have you been here since Zach died?” I blinked at her, not quite believing my wacky theory had been spot on.
“Yes. Right after some crazy person ran me off the road.” Olivia choked back a sob and rubbed her red eyes.
“I’ll go get help.” Thanks to Ruby’s prohibition on phones, mine was stowed in my purse in the greenroom.
“No. Don’t!” She braced herself against the toilet and struggled to rise to her knees.
“Why not?”
“He’s after me.”
“Tristan Phillips?”
“Yes.” She lunged toward the toilet and vomited again.
I knelt beside her and held her ponytail out of the way. Clearly, she hadn’t found much to eat. Her black leggings, that had probably fit snugly two weeks ago, were baggy. “Did you happen to eat macaroni salad last night?”
“Yeah.” Olivia hung her head. “When I found the leftovers from the dinner, I couldn’t believe it. Everything tasted so good—especially after living on Christmas cookies and Teddy Grahams.”
I patted her arm. “You have food poisoning—like about ten other people on our cast.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I hoped that’s all it was, but with Zach—” She covered her face. “He was really special.”
“I’m so sorry.” I tore off a wad of toilet paper and handed it to her. “Why are you hiding instead of going to the police?”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Partly because I’d be their number one suspect. I gave Zach the tea, and he texted on Friday morning to tell me he loved it. I swear I didn’t know it was poisoned. Obviously, it was meant for me, and I’ve been wishing over and over I’d been the one to drink it.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Carsyn Daniels. For my birthday. But the tea had peppermint, which I hate, so I passed it on to Zach because he likes—I mean liked—it.” More tears spilled over. “I just can’t believe she tried to kill me.”
I closed my eyes. “Did Carsyn hand it to you?”
“No. That’s the thing. The tea was in my massage room at work, but her name was on the tag. It was sitting with all of my other presents from the girls at work. We always get each other gifts on our birthdays.”
“When was your birthday?”
“November 21—the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.”
I chewed my lower lip as I tried to figure out Olivia’s logic about hiding. “I understand why you’re scared, but why didn’t you go to the police and explain?”
“I already did.” Her chin trembled.
“What?”
“Not about the tea. About the scam at True Mooring.” She swiped her hand across her cheek.
“The one where Tristan Phillips is manipulating people out of their money and property.”
She refused to meet my eyes. “Yes.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “Olivia. I can help. I’ve been investigating.”
She wrenched away and vomited again. When she finished, she handed me an empty water bottle. “Please fill this first.”
I put water in the bottle, and when I gave it to her, she swished water in her mouth and spat in the toilet a few times.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “The Monday before Zach was killed, I went to the sheriff’s department and talked to Detective Kimball, but I could tell he didn’t take me seriously.” She sipped her water. “I told him I suspected Tristan was manipulating level six members at True Mooring Life Center into selling their property to his corporation for cheap as a condition of attaining full Rejuvenation status.”
“How’d you know if you only attended the first level meetings?”
“I felt weird after the first meeting and thought Carsyn was getting in over her head, but I probably would’ve let it go if it hadn’t been for my massage client, Jody Chatfield.” She rinsed her mouth again. “For a couple of years, all Jody could talk about was building her dream home on a ten-acre property that her aunt had left her.” She turned away from the toilet. “Not long after I’d been to True Mooring with Carsyn, Jody came in and told me she’d sold her colonial in town and had given up on building the dream home. Instead, she was going to put a tiny house on the land she’d inherited, and several other people were moving their tiny houses there too. I asked her why and she said the ANCHOR system had made her view life differently, and blah, blah, blah.”
“Does Jody Chatfield have lips that’ve been overly injected?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Not a good look, right?” Olivia sniffed. “I got to talking about it with Zach since we were dating, and he’d heard his friend who sells real estate say how a woman with big lips had sold her house for way below market value. We figured out it was Jody.”
I twisted a strand of hair around my finger. “I went to the tiny house compound yesterday and talked to Jody, and she seemed nervous. Not at all like someone who was truly happy about downsizing.”
“Right. She’s totally materialistic. It doesn’t make sense that she’d give up on building her dream house.”
“That’s when you went back to True Mooring with a hidden camera and snooped in Tristan’s office to find evidence.”
She nodded. “Until he caught me. I tried to say I was looking for the bathroom, but he didn’t believe me, so I got out of there fast.”
“You gave Zach a copy of the video, the picture of the tiny-house compound, and the real estate listing for safekeeping?”
“Yes. And I gave copies to Detective Kimball.” She nodded. “Friday morning, I was driving home from Fitness Universe, when an SUV ran me off the road and into Sloan’s Pond. I lost my phone and my laptop with the evidence in the wreck.”
“Was the SUV white?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Someone tried a similar trick with me.” Except the driver hadn’t managed to run me off the
road.
“I barely got out of my car, and when I did, the SUV was gone. I was afraid to call the police.” She wrapped her arms around her torso. “It was after I told Detective Kimball my suspicions that I almost got killed? Pretty sketchy.”
Sketchy indeed. What if Detective Kimball had tailgated me with the hope that Cal would have a change of heart about me poking around in the case? Then, through Cal, he could keep track of what I knew.
I fought a shiver, but I had to keep Olivia talking because time was running out before curtain. “After the crash, you walked to the church.”
“I was trying to get to Zach, but the ambulance was here loading him.” She pressed her fist to her mouth for a moment and closed her eyes. Then she dropped her hand in her lap. “While I figured out what to do, I snuck inside the church, dried off, and changed into a white robe I found on the floor in the hall. It looked like the one you’ve got on. I hid, and later, I overheard someone say Zach had died from poisoning. I searched for the flash drive with the evidence because he told me he’d hidden it at church. After the first night, I figured out no one came down here, so I stayed. In the middle of the night, I used the shower in the restrooms over by the baptistery, and I did laundry in the washer and dryer.” She took another sip of water.
I considered everything she’d told me. “Tristan’s running a scam—which I already suspected. Marvin Kimball is probably in on it, which is new information. What about Tristan’s brother, Jim? Or Jim’s fiancée Mona Pletcher? Or Carsyn?”
Olivia rested her head against the metal partition. “I don’t know about Jim or Mona, but my gut feeling is Carsyn was set up. Why would she put her name on the tea if she knew it was poisoned? I think Tristan poisoned it after she bought it. Since they’re dating, he would’ve had access to it.”
“I thought the same thing,” I said. “I have a witness who attended a session at True Mooring and overheard Carsyn being threatened that she had to meet her recruitment quota or face consequences. The witness said the man doing the threatening had a higher pitched voice—not deep like Jim’s and Tristan’s. He surely would’ve said if it was gravelly like Detective Kimball’s.” I tightened my fingers into a fist. “Which means there’s a third person involved.”
Deadly Holiday (Georgia Rae Winston Mysteries Book 2) Page 17