by L. M. Fortin
Callie's training in risk management could not totally prepare her for finding a dead body, but it didn't desert her either. She had taken classes in basic first aid and CPR, but she was certain Alex Herrman, also known as Molluska, was beyond any skills she had, so she grabbed her phone out of her bag and dialed 911, but she was in a reception dead zone. There was a landline phone on the wall, so she called from there.
CHAPTER TEN
While waiting for the police, Callie had looked at the sound room, not touching anything and realized she was very glad she hadn't done more than barely touch the body. Callie noted the cup of coffee on the table next to the body and the blinking cursor on the computer screen. It looked as if Molluska had been trying to send an email.
Callie stood outside the room waiting for the police and heard the door at the end of the hall open. Callie jumped and was glad to see it was Wade. "Callie, why are you still here?" he asked. "I thought everyone cleared out a bit ago."
"Me, too. However when I came to look for you I found something else."
She swung the door open. "Molluska is dead. I've just called 911."
When making the phone call, Callie had trouble convincing the phone operator she had an actual dead body on her hands and there was no chance of resuscitation. She thought maybe they didn't get too many bodies like this in Skinner.
Wade shook his head. "I wonder what she was doing in here? I usually try to get everyone out and on their way after things are done on stage."
Callie wondered why she hadn't seen him after they were done with practice and how she hadn't noticed the exact time he had left the sound booth in the back of the theater. "It looks like she was trying to use the computer or something. I assume you have internet service here?"
"Yes, we have a data phone line connection here, because the reception is so poor backstage. We've got Wi-Fi out in the main theater. She could have used it anytime, although I would have liked her to ask first."
Callie said, "It also looks like she poured herself a cup of coffee."
Wade looked a little shamefaced. "While the fancy dancer was clacking along on stage I took the back way to the room and put on a pot. I wanted to have some while I was finishing up for the day."
"How did you bring up the house lights?"
"Remember? I told you all the a/v goes through the sound room. I watched from the camera we have on the stage and turned them on from there."
"Camera?" asked Callie, hoping something got saved on tape. "Were you recording?"
He shook his head. "No, it was just set to broadcast. As you didn't ask for it, I wasn't recording a practice."
First to arrive were two uniformed policemen who, after one look at the body, took Wade and Callie and placed them out on the stage at a distance from each other. She could see the EMT's arrive, but they soon came out of the room, apparently deciding they couldn't save what was left in the room and departed.
Crime scene tape was put up and other people began to arrive who Callie assumed were part of the team called in to investigate a suspicious death. She waited on the stage with Wade.
There was a stir as someone entered the door at the end of the hall, but the lighting was so poor, Callie couldn't see who it was. She had the impression of a man in a suit, but he immediately went into the sound room and she couldn't identify him. Whoever it was must have been in charge because all the other people began moving more rapidly after his arrival.
Callie moved to the front of the stage, pulled her cell phone out of her bag, saw she had a signal, and dialed her mom's house. Grandma Minnie answered the call. "It looks like I'm going to be held up here for a little longer. I just wanted mom to know I'd be missing dinner."
Grandma Minnie snorted. "Lucky you. Tonight's special is beetloaf."
"Wow. That sounds, um, fantastic. I hope you don't eat it all," said Callie laughing.
"Just for that I'll make sure there are some leftovers with your name on them. If you happen to drive by a McDonald's on the way home, can you smuggle me a Big Mac?"
"No problem. See you later." Callie ended the call as the man in the suit came up. It was Scooter McMillan. She could see recognition in his eyes as he crossed the stage towards her. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and white collared shirt, but no tie. Callie thought that was a nice cross between dressing for the formality of the job, but working in the informality of Skinner. She surprised herself by thinking not only had he aged well, but that he was actually more attractive than he had been as a teenager. His black hair was cut short, and although an attempt had been made to style it, looked askew.
"Scooter," she said. "I didn't know you had become a detective."
He put out his hand to shake hers. She had also forgotten how his gray blue eyes contrasted with his dark hair. "Callie, nice to see you again," he said, although the tone of his voice didn't seem welcoming. "I got promoted last year. And I go by Scott now."
"I guess I kept my high school name. Only my mom can get away with calling me Carline," she said, feeling as if she were babbling nonsense.
"I don't ever think I knew that was your full name. Callie seemed to always suit you fine." He saw the phone in her hand. "The officers didn't take that away from you? You're not supposed to communicate with anyone until you've given a statement."
"The only person I called was my mom to tell her I'd be missing dinner and I didn't tell her the reason. Why? Am I a suspect?" She held out her phone as proof.
He took the phone and checked the time and number of her last call. "It's not that you are or aren't a suspect, but in this age of instantaneous communication, I like to try and preserve some privacy at the crime scene until I'm ready to put out information." He gave her the phone back.
She thought of how impossible a task that must be. She remembered thinking he was short in high school, but realized she had always seen him standing next to the willowy Audrey. He was actually Callie's own height and they could look eye to eye. He still had the stocky frame of the football player he once was, and she thought that might serve him well in his police work.
She realized he was eying her in the same manner as she was eying him. "Well, do I pass muster?" she asked.
He laughed and shook his head. "It's sometimes hard to translate the memories of our youth into the present. I'm sure we can just work through them. Why don't you tell me what was going on here? My patrolman said you found the body?"
"Yes, I'm in town on vacation and sort of volunteered to help out at Skinner Days. I'm coordinating the slug queen pageant and we had a practice tonight."
"Who else was in the building?" he asked pulling out a notebook from his pocket.
"All the pageant contestants were here. There are four others, plus Molluska."
"Molluska? Who's that?" he looked confused.
"Well, that was the stage name of the person who died. Really, she's a he and his name is Alex Herrman." Callie explained how it was easier for her to address them by their chosen stage gender. "Three of the five contestants are men in drag." She opened her leather bag and pulled out the stack of applications. "Here's all their personal information. Molluska, I mean Alex, is on the top."
Scott looked at the picture of Alex Herrman. "Hmmm...that's interesting. Collins, can you take these and get them copied?" A uniformed policeman came walking over and took the packets away.
She continued with her list of people in the area. "I was here, along with Wade, the stage manager."
"Were you together during the practice?" he asked.
"No, I was sitting in the front and he was in the sound booth. Oh, and Mayor Felson was here."
"Dot Felson? Why was she here?"
"She didn't actually give a reason," said Callie. "I just assumed she was here because she's overseeing Skinner Days or that she came to see her husband. He's one of the contestants."
"Steve Felson is playing a slug queen?" Scott seemed incredulous.
"Yes. He doesn't look too bad dressed as a woman."
She described how she had stayed after the contestants had left and her conversation with Sheldon Normal. "When I went to look for Wade, I saw the door at the end of the hallway close, but I couldn't see who it was." She thought nervously that it could have been the killer.
He could see the thought cross her mind. "In my opinion she'd been dead a few minutes by that time, so unless the killer was coming back to ensure the deed was done, it was probably the stage manager. I'll check with him."
"What did she die of?" She asked. As Scott was using the feminine pronoun, Callie stuck with it as well.
"I’m not sure,” he said. “There’s a head wound, but that doesn’t look serious enough to me to cause death. I won't know more until the medical examiner has a look. By the look of the bruises on her arms, I’m going to guess her death is somehow drug related."
"What was she doing at the computer? Did she try to send an email?"
"If she did, it was too late. There was nothing on the screen."
"I guess that explains why she was so thin. And she was shaking a bit during her performance, but I was putting that off to nerves," Callie said.
"No, it was probably the drugs. We'll be looking into finding her supplier as well," he said, furrowing his brow. "We've had some trouble with some sort of drug ring in town, but I'm hoping we'll close in on the organizers soon. I'm guessing this death is wrapped up in that somehow."
His shoulders relaxed and he put his notebook away. Maybe the business part of the conversation is over, thought Callie. "So what brings you to town?" he asked. "Have you left the bright lights of the big city?"
"To tell you the truth," and Callie did feel like finally telling someone the truth, "I've come home with my tail between my legs. I got fired, lost my boyfriend and decided Skinner looked attractive for a while."
"Home is where when you have to go, they have to take you in, isn't that the saying?"
She nodded. "I would never have guessed you a devotee of Robert Frost."
"I know. In high school I was interested in girls and football and not necessarily in that order," he said. "It's good life moves on and gives us chances to recover from our mistakes."
She knew he understood her reasons for coming back to Skinner, although she hadn't entirely understood them until now. "Somehow you managed to learn that without even leaving Skinner."
"You don't have to be a world traveler to learn that home is the best place to be."
She knew she couldn't avoid it any longer. "I heard about you and Audrey splitting up."
He blew out a sharp breath and looked down. "Which story was it? The one where I slept around on her or the one where I beat her?"
"The first one. I take it neither story is true?"
"I don't know. Maybe in a sense I did leave her for someone else. I got promoted to detective and became a workaholic. There's just always so much to do. If I had a mistress, it's my job and I know she wasn't happy about that." He looked tired as he ran his hand through his short black thatch of hair. That explained why it was so messy. "I know you don't owe me anything, but can I ask a favor?"
"Sure, what?"
"Can you not mention to Audrey you've seen me? When we...near the end, she kept accusing me of seeing other women, even when we both knew it was really the job. We're in a sort of truce right now and I don't want to upset it. She's finally letting me see the girls a bit more."
"I actually don't talk to her much these days. We sort of parted ways after high school. I haven't seen her in person since I came to your wedding. "
"Then you won't say anything?" he asked, looking directly into her eyes as if he could see whether or not he could trust her.
"Sure. I can't imagine that would hurt anyone."
He gave her a small smile. She thought he should do that more often. "Thanks."
The policeman came back and gave Callie the slug queen applications and she put them in her bag. "It is nice seeing you again, although I wish it were under different circumstances. Here's my card," he said. "Let me know if you have any questions. Where are you staying? In case I need to find you again."
She pulled her card out of her purse. "I'm at my mom's outside of town. This card has my cell and I'll write the number of her landline."
"I'd also like to ask you not to talk about the details of what happened here. This will probably hit the news tonight, so you can mention the death, but I'd rather not have anything else being spread about. I still have the rest of the contestants to talk with as well."
"That's fine. It's not really something I'm inclined to talk about anyway."
She took her bag and walked through the aisle towards the door she had come in at. The door that went directly to the parking lot from the stage was blocked by police personnel and crime scene tape. She thought she could feel Scooter's eyes on her as she walked. When she reached the door, she looked back, and sure enough, he was standing on the stage, hands in his pockets staring her way. He looked thoughtful. He nodded at her and she waved and went out the door.
She wanted a drink first and dinner second, but didn't think she could face Jeremy in the Cloudburst Pub without spilling the whole story to him. It wouldn't do to break her promise to Scooter so quickly, although she wasn't certain why that should matter. She didn't owe him any loyalty from the old days.
She headed out of town on Coburg Road and stopped at a pizza joint that had been there Callie's whole life. She ordered a pepperoni with black olives on a thin crust. There were times in New York where she missed the crackery thin and crunchy crust of pizza in Skinner. Not that she could really complain about the chewy or thick crusts of the East Coast, she was just nostalgic for home sometimes. It occurred to her that while in New York, she'd had lots of things that reminded her of Skinner. She ordered a beer, not made by Cloudburst this time, but another microbrew made in state.
She took a booth in the back and pulled out the applications for the slug queens again. Something about Molluska's application nagged at her. She looked at the photos of Alex Herrman and his alter ego Molluska and thought of that wonderful voice he had.
Molluska's personal information gave an address of an apartment in West Skinner, near the university. There were lots of cheap student apartments there, so Callie wondered if he was having money problems. He didn't list any employment.
Callie realized she had never finished reading Molluska's full application because she had been interrupted by the argument backstage. Callie read the answer to Molluska's reasoning for being in the pageant and realized what had struck her as odd. Molluska's and Gastronia Creepalot's answers were almost exact copies of each other. There was a certain stilted use of language that seemed to point to someone who was not a native English speaker. She'd bet Gastronia had copied Molluska's entry for some reason. Which meant that Gastronia, a.k.a. Steven Felson, might know something about the death of Alex Herrman.
She realized she had forgotten to tell Scooter McMillan about the argument before practice and the broken glass. She'd have to give him a call. Tomorrow, after she saw Steven Felson.
Callie didn't stop at a McDonald's on the way home. She had leftover pizza and she knew her grandma would accept that as a fine substitute after subsisting on beetloaf, whatever that was.
Callie pulled into the long driveway and once again parked behind her mom's truck. Grandma Minnie met her at the door. "You got the goods?" she asked.
Callie passed her the small pizza box. "I stopped at Gordy's and brought you the leftovers."
"Ignore whatever curses I laid on you when you were a difficult teenager. You've somehow grown up right." Grandma Minnie to took the box and went upstairs to her room.
Callie went into the kitchen and found her mom finishing up the dishes. "Did you have a good practice? It sure seemed to take long enough."
Callie shook her head. "The practice went fine. However, what happened afterwards may cause the whole thing to b
e cancelled."
"You can't cancel Skinner Days," said Coral.
"One of the contestants died," Callie said as Grandma Minnie came into the kitchen. Callie didn't feel as if telling her family was breaking her promise to Scooter. She'd just keep the more gory details to herself.
"Died? Of what? An overdose of makeup?" asked Grandma Minnie.
"No, they aren't sure what happened. The police showed up and I ran into Scooter, I mean Scott, McMillan. He's in charge of the investigation," said Callie.
"Investigation? So it wasn't just someone keeling over from a heart attack?"
"No," answered Callie. "It looks as if it was a purposeful death. They really wouldn't give out any details."
In her purse, Callie's cell phone buzzed. It was Jeremy. She assumed she knew what he was calling about. "Hello, Jeremy."
"Callie, what happened? Someone died at the practice? I just saw it on the news," he sounded frantic.
"What did the news story say?" asked Callie. She figured she could agree with anything said in the story and that would keep her from giving away any details.
"Only that one of the contestants had died and the police were investigating it as a suspicious death. Who was it?"
Callie hoped Scooter wouldn't mind if she shared this detail as she probably should have called the whole committee right after she left the stage area. "Molluska--the one who wore the sparkly green dress. His given name was Alex Herrman. They found him backstage after practice."
"Did the police give any details?" he asked.
Callie knew she couldn't yet mention she was the one who found the body. "No, the main investigator said they were holding any details until they spoke with the other contestants and Dot Felson."
"Dot? Why would they want to speak with her?"
"She was present in the theater for part of the time. She watched the practice with me."
"Oh, that makes sense, with Steven participating and all."
"Yes," said Callie. “What does this mean for the pageant? We'll cancel it, right?"
Jeremy sighed. "I don't know. There's already been a lot of money spent on Skinner Days and the pageant is really a hallmark of the weekend. I'll speak to the rest of the committee and go with whatever they want to do. Obviously, I'm not an impartial observer here."