Death Takes the Stage (A Rose Harbor Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Ella White

  Lydia picked up the phone and dialed the station. The chief picked up, much to Lydia’s relief. There was nothing harder than trying to navigate the lines at the station to talk to the chief.

  “Chief Wyatt.”

  “Yes chief, this is Lydia. I think the killer in the theatre case left a note on my windshield today,” she said.

  “How could that be?” he asked. “I had the killer in my office today, that Delilah lady.”

  Lydia sighed.

  “You have the wrong person. Delilah didn't kill Tim. I think I have an idea who did, but I need more evidence to catch the killer. I just thought I needed to let you know the killer contacted me and left me a note. I showed it to my mother, and she said the handwriting looks identical to the note that was sent in the floral arrangement left for Delilah.”

  “That’s nonsense,” the chief snorted. “Delilah obviously cooked up the note to draw suspicion from herself. Don't tell me you believe her.”

  “I do believe her.”

  “Well, that's why I'm chief and you're just a flower shop owner,” he spat.

  Lydia felt that if he had been in front of her, she might have strangled him in that moment.

  “On that note,” he continued, “I need you to check your security feed to see who has bought cut flowers from your store in the days since Tim’s death. Surely Delilah’s face will show up there. And knowing your zeal for justice, I’m sure you'll do it speedily.”

  Before Lydia could answer, the chief hung up, leaving her in stunned silence. She took several calming breaths before she went back to tend to her customers. Something had to be done about that terrible man running the police force into the ground.

  Lydia waited until the store was closed before going into her office, where Gwen had fallen asleep. Melvin had taken this as his opportunity to gently paw at Gwen’s hair as she slept. Lydia picked up the troublesome cat and placed him on the floor.

  “No more patting, Melvin. Go get into trouble somewhere else,” she said before closing the door.

  She woke Gwen, who was looking quite disoriented.

  “We need to confront Jenny,” Lydia said, going over to her story board and taking down the pictures of Jason and Delilah.

  “They both looked good for it, but neither of them could have done it without serious implications. Did you know Jason has a daughter? She's about eight, and he's her only parent. Hard to see a guy like him risking his daughter’s well-being just to kill someone for a grudge. Delilah had everything in her career to lose. She could have easily fired him.”

  “Yeah, but why would Jenny even want to kill Tim?”

  “That's what keeps bothering me. They didn't have an affair, as far as anyone knows, and he was generally rude to everyone, not just her, so that couldn't have been it.”

  “Well, unless you have a motive, I hardly think the chief is going to pay your theory much mind.”

  They continued to pour over their notes for another hour before Barbara came in with tea and cake.

  “Maybe you'll do better on a full stomach,” she said.

  Chapter 8

  Lydia awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. She tried to ignore it, but as soon as it stopped, it began again. She grabbed it and looked at the caller id.

  “You know I'm not awake,” she grumbled.

  “Well, you better get up!” Gwen said excitedly. “I found the last nail for Jenny's coffin.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lydia asked, sitting up.

  “Listen, I'm on my way over.”

  Lydia checked the time to realize she had overslept into the afternoon. She grabbed her robe and went into the bathroom. When she reemerged, she felt a bit better. Although it was her day off, she had told her mother to wake her so she could help with the morning rush.

  She put on a pair of jeans and one of her usual shirts, and traipsed down to the shop. There were a few people hanging around, but her mother and Charles seemed to have everything under control. Even Melvin was content, playing with a ball near the entrance.

  “Good to see you up,” her mother said sarcastically.

  “You should have woken me up hours ago,” Lydia responded, walking past her into the office.

  “Hey, Charles, can you come in here for a minute?” Lydia called.

  Charles walked into her office with a wide smile painted across his face. Obviously, he had the wrong idea.

  “I need you to go through the video feed of the last two days and tell me if you see that girl.”

  His face fell noticeably, and Lydia felt a bit sorry for him. She had no idea what it was like to be in his position, but she was sure it had to feel horrible loving someone who would never love you back.

  A few minutes later, Gwen pushed her door open and stepped inside grinning from ear to ear.

  “I assume you have some good news,” Lydia said.

  “Good is an understatement. I figured out what we have on her.” Gwen sat down and then stood up and began pacing.

  “I assume you need to tell me this or you're going to burst,” Lydia chuckled.

  “Okay,” Gwen said. “Jenny didn't exist before seven years ago.”

  “What?” Lydia exclaimed standing up.

  “Yes. She doesn't exist in any database before ten years ago. Previously, she was a young blonde haired soap hopeful names Chelsea Martinez.”

  “That's impossible!” Lydia exclaimed.

  “She graduated from Massachusetts School of Drama. Look it up.”

  Lydia opened up her Internet browser and searched the school’s online year books. She got to Jenny's year and was surprised to see Jenny's photo there.

  “So she's been lying all this time?’ Lydia said.

  “No. She had her name legally changed, which explains why we missed all this.”

  “I'm confused. What does that have to do with her killing Tim? Did he find out about her?”

  “I doubt it. It's important because of the reason she changed her name,” Gwen said as she picked up her bag and went through it, brining out a few newspaper clippings and handing them to Lydia.

  “What are these?” Lydia asked, taking the pieces of paper from Gwen.

  “These are newspaper clippings from the Massachusetts School of Drama of an actor mysteriously dying on set due to blunt force trauma to the head.”

  Lydia looked up at Gwen, who was smiling from ear to ear.

  “You mean to tell me she did this!”

  “It was never confirmed. The authorities claimed she had a good enough alibi, but the director was almost sure she had done it. She had even had a conversation with Jenny in the weeks leading up to the killing, where she had expressed displeasure with the actor, and a few days after she died, Jenny told her she was welcome.”

  Lydia gasped. “Just like she did with Delilah!”

  “Exactly. If she had been the one then, it's no surprise she would do it again.”

  “I get that. I just don't understand why. There's no motive. How do you think the chief will react when we bring him empty speculations? He already has it in for our little band of misfit sleuths. What do you know about that first actress she killed?”

  “Well, I know she was a world class diva. The cast had suffered a loss, but only on the stage. They never liked her personally, so there wasn't a long period of mourning.”

  “Did she get the part after the murder?”

  “No, it went to the understudy.”

  “Maybe she has a thing for understudies,” Lydia said, trying to make sense of it all.

  “From what I read, Jenny's ‘You’re welcome’ was only for the director, not the actors. She could have cared less what happened to them; she just wanted to please her director.”

  Lydia considered the information carefully.

  “I think I get it now,” she said. “I get why she did it and why she felt the need to send those notes.”

  “Oh, I also went to the Vietnamese store before I came here,” Gwen added.

&n
bsp; “Oh yeah?” Lydia asked skeptically. “What did they say?”

  “The guy took me around the back and showed me the video. He said he couldn’t burn another, so he just played the footage for me.”

  “Did you see Jenny at the time she said she was there?” Lydia asked.

  “Well, you remember she said she finished rehearsal, got food, then went home, right? The director says she can’t remember Jenny leaving before 11:30, which was approximately thirty minutes after she said she had left.”

  “And?”

  “Well, there is no hint of her on the cameras at that time.”

  “Then how did she get the food?”

  “That’s the interesting twist. She had bought the food a few hours beforehand, which means that she had pre-meditated the act and then came back waiting for the perfect time to strike.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Gwen said, shaking her head.

  “Still,” Gwen said breathlessly, “she’s becoming more and more attractive for our main suspect.”

  A few minutes later, Charles walked in.

  “I know you asked me to search the past few days, but I remember we had a strange customer about five days ago. Came in with sunglasses and wore a hooded jacket and a hat. The person sounded like a woman, and she knew exactly what to buy.”

  Gwen and Lydia quickly looked from Charles to each other.

  “While she didn’t take the hood off at the front desk, she did while she was looking through the flowers.” Charles held out a fuzzy picture to them. “Does this look like your girl?”

  Lydia peered at the picture only to discover a familiar face.

  “We have to get this to the chief,” she exclaimed.

  Just then, Barbara opened the door.

  “I think you two need to get out here. The chief has a situation down at the theatre.”

  Lydia and Gwen looked at each other.

  “What situation?” they said in unison.

  “And why would they need us?” Lydia asked after a moment.

  “They wouldn't say, but it turns out someone is asking for you two.”

  Lydia grabbed her keys with Gwen on her heels and rushed to her car.

  “What do you think this is about?” she asked Gwen.

  “If we’re lucky, a hostage situation,” Gwen said gleefully.

  Lydia shook her head. Leave it to Gwen to find humor in what could possibly be a dangerous situation. “I guess we won't know until we get there, will we?”

  They drove to the theatre and were surprised to find that the chief was the only officer there. She walked into the theatre where all the actors were standing around haphazardly. When the actors saw them, they pointed in the direction of Delilah’s office.

  They walked up to the door and knocked.

  “Come in,” they heard the chief say.

  They went inside to find Delilah crying at her desk and the chief standing beside her.

  “She wanted me to get you two down here so that she could ask you herself if you were the ones who kept sending her flowers with coded messages.”

  “What?” Lydia gasped.

  “Miss Delilah is under a lot of pressure. It seems she had an emotional breakdown in front of the cast. The killer keeps sending cryptic notes to her.”

  “I, I can't do this anymore,” stammered Delilah, raising her head. “You need to tell me who keeps ordering these flowers from you or why you keep sending them. You’re the only link. You two must know something!”

  Lydia and Gwen looked at each other, unsure of who should speak first or what they should say.

  “We have a theory,” Lydia piped in. “We think we know who did it.”

  “So why haven't you told the cops?”

  “We just wanted to get all the evidence in order before we accused anybody, but we think we have it now. The police force is not always accommodating to outside theories or contributions,” Lydia remarked, glaring at the chief.

  “So?” the chief said, looking at them skeptically, “Are you going to tell the poor woman or will you continue to throw wild accusations in the air?”

  “We have to do this the Melvin way,” Gwen said before Lydia could answer.

  “The Melvin way?” Chief Dawes and Delilah asked.

  Lydia smiled. Only her best friend would think to do anything as serious as this “the Melvin way”.

  “You'll just have to watch. First things first, put the cuffs on Delilah.”

  Delilah looked at Gwen skeptically.

  “We can assume that even though you're a director, you can put on a good show?” Lydia asked.

  “I can do all right,” Delilah replied.

  The chief gave the two women an exasperated look and shook his head before putting the handcuffs on Delilah.

  “What should I do now?” Delilah asked.

  “Just play along,” Gwen relied. “That goes for you too, chief.”

  “I’m not in agreement with this,” he grumbled, straightening his back and looking directly at Lydia. “There are methods a cop uses to catch killers, and these cheap theatrics are far from one of them. I just won’t let you make a fool out of me.”

  “Well then, you had better do it. It's the only way we’ll trap the killer.”

  The chief held out for another second before he let out a defeated sigh.

  “If you think it will work, there’s no sense putting it off.”

  The four of them walked out of the office together. The actors were all standing around pretending to do other things.

  “I told you she did it all along, chief,” Gwen shouted, with her expression completely serious and focused. “It was just a matter of time before we got all the evidence together. Sending those fake letters to yourself was not the brightest idea.”

  “Well, I did it, and I would do it again,” Delilah responded quite convincingly. “He deserved it.”

  By now the entire cast had gathered around to watch the commotion.

  “I'm so glad you two were here to help,” the chief interjected, looking a bit uncomfortable. “If you two hadn't helped on this case, she never would have been caught. Through the corner of her eye, Lydia could see the killer slowly retreating. She had an idea that she would be seeing her very soon. For the plan to work, she had to believe Delilah was being put in jail.

  “If you all will excuse me,” the chief continued, “I'll have to take your director down to the station.” All four of them left the set through the front entrance. The chief put Delilah in his back seat. A few of the actors stood surprised, watching the whole scene.

  “Do you think that will get her out?” Gwen asked, when they got back to the car.

  “If that doesn't, nothing will,” Lydia replied.

  * * *

  The killer fumed. She had spent all her stage career trying to make a name for herself. Having failed several times, meeting Delilah was a change for the better. She had felt as if the universe had sent her a sign that she was her golden calf. She had done her best to catapult Delilah’s career by doing everything in her power to make things easier on her. Still, she had often wondered why Delilah continued to hire Tim despite his rudeness, but the last day of rehearsal had been the final straw. His attitude had pushed her to the edge, and for a minute she had felt the compulsion to do the deed right there on the stage in front of everyone. But she had known better and waited until everyone was gone. The only thing she hadn’t counted on were the nosy detectives who were at that moment taking her hero and her only shot at a career in theatre away. They will have to pay for this!

  * * *

  “The chief looked across the table at the three women who sat in front of him. Lydia had just finished telling the story of her theory and how she came by it. He had to admit she had done a lot of work, and her reasoning skills shone through like a finely honed talent.

  “So what’s the plan?” he asked. “Are we just going to sit here in hopes that she shows up?”

  “Well, I can only assume that now t
hat we have foiled her plan, her only option will be to come after those who led to her failure,” Gwen said.

  “Does that mean you think you might be her next victim?” Delilah asked, looking at Gwen.

  “Most likely she will go for Lydia first. She identifies Lydia as the woman who has the most interest in the case, and since she left you that note in your windshield, Lydia, you are possibly the only person who has a set of her fingerprints.”

  “Yes, so in order to catch her, I’ll have to leave myself vulnerable,” said Lydia.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Delilah started.

  “Well, I would technically be alone, but I’m sure the chief might be able to spare a few officers to be on site in case she tries to spring an attack on me,” Lisa cut in, turning to stare at the chief.

  “I’m sure we could spare a few,” he replied reluctantly.

  * * *

  The killer watched the windows of the third floor of the flower shop. She had been camping out there ever since the nosy reporter and her friend had visited her hotel to question her. She hated them. They were ruining her plans of making Delilah, and in turn herself, famous. She would have to do something about it, even if it meant she had to sacrifice one of them in the process. There was no use denying it anymore. She had killed before, and she loved the thrill it gave her. Even if it meant she would have to kill her way to the top, she was all right with that.

  * * *

  Lydia did her best to stay calm. She was trying to pretend to sleep, but the thought that someone might be coming by to kill her any moment kept her blood ferociously pumping. It was almost midnight and now two hours since she had turned all the lights off and headed to her bed. The chief had agreed to station detectives at her house in the event that the plan worked. Other officers would be tailing the killer in case she left the house. All Lydia had to do was sit and wait.

  “Moon to sky. The bait is entering the trap.”

  Lydia reached over to her bedside table and turned down the radio she had been given. In the event things went south with the plan, she could radio in for help.

  Lydia closed her eyes and zoned out all the sounds, trying to identify the ones that signaled the arrival of the intruder.