Death at a Talent Show (Book 6 Molly Masters Mysteries)

by Leslie O'Kane

  I quieted our barking dog, then swung open the screen door. “Good morning,” I said, feeling disconcerted. At one-out-of-six odds that Olivia was last night’s gunman, I really didn’t care to welcome her with open arms. Besides, she’d never been to my house before. She must have found my address in the phone book, which raised the question of why she hadn’t called first.

  “‘Morning, Molly,” she said, her high-pitched voice hard to listen to in my current state. “I’m sorry to barge in on you, but I didn’t know where else to turn. I have to talk to someone. I can’t talk to my friends about this.” She stepped inside, ignoring BC sniffing at her ankles.

  “That’s quite all right,” I said, always a softie whenever the opportunity to feel needed arose. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “That’d be great. Thank you.”

  “Can someone call for the dog?” I hollered, annoyed on Olivia’s behalf at BC’s ankle sniffing.

  From the other room Nathan called, “Betty, come,” and she raced off, ever in hopeful expectation of a treat.

  With the opposite demeanor, Olivia followed me to the kitchen and dropped down in a chair as I poured coffee for both of us. I knew almost nothing about her background, but she had a dancer’s body and gracefulness.

  After she’d taken a couple of sips, she finally spoke again. “Molly, I know you’re good friends with Sergeant Newton. Things are…looking really bad for me right now.”

  Her hands were shaking so badly that she sloshed a bit of coffee out as she set down her mug. She dropped her hands to her lap to hide them from view beneath the table. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. But I don’t deserve this. My own daughter honestly seems to believe that I just want to be her mother so that I can get my hands on her trust fund.”

  I had read almost that exact quote from Olivia’s daughter, Jenny, in the newspapers. As a mother of one teenager and a second almost-teenager, I could imagine few things more painful than Olivia’s plight, and barely knew what to say to her. “How did all of this start, anyway?”

  She met my eyes briefly, then diverted her gaze. “I was trying to protect her. I didn’t want her to know that her father had committed suicide. So, eight years ago when it happened, I simply told her that he’d died in a car accident. I never told her that the ‘accident’ involved carbon monoxide, which he’d inhaled in our own garage. I kept the newspapers with articles about his death out of sight.

  I should’ve known that she’d learn the truth eventually. When she did, she got so upset, there was no reasoning with her. She got it into her head that I’d kept the cause of death secret because I had something to do with it.”

  “She thinks you killed her father?” I asked, horrified. Olivia absentmindedly fidgeted with one of her strawberry-blond tresses, trying to stuff it back into her ponytail. “Oh, I don’t think she really believes that. She just says it now to hurt me.” She let out a heavy sigh. “So, last year, when I finally told her that much of our money was coming from a sizable trust fund her dad left for her, everything blew up on me. She said I was an unfit mother because I don’t clean the house, which is a big exaggeration. The place is cluttered, yes, but it’s not a ‘roach trap’ the way Jenny describes it.” She gestured angrily in the air with fisted hands. Her vocal tones had lowered, and she no longer sounded like a child. “Then, that damned Stephanie Saunders has to come along, with her nose in the air, thinking she’s just oh so cultured and oh so superior to the likes of me. I’m the one who owns an art gallery, for heaven sakes! I can’t believe that she actually found a judge who agreed with her!”

  Disconcerted by her suddenly fierce mannerisms, I said mildly, “It’s not all over, though. You have sortie sort of appeal hearing coming up, right?”

  “Yes.” She searched my face, her eyes wide with worry. “Which is why I can’t have this hanging over my head now, Molly. You have to help me. You have to help me convince Sergeant Newton that I’m innocent.” Both hands were still fisted, and she practically pounded on my table as she spoke.

  “I don’t know how much influence my word will carry with him, Olivia. Probably next to none.”

  “But it will if you tell him you spoke to me right before the shooting. That I wasn’t in the back where the shooter came from so it couldn’t have been me. And I didn’t kill her. I had no reason to kill Corinne. I liked her. She even testified on my behalf at the first hearing.”

  “Olivia, I am not going to lie to the police and provide you with an alibi.”

  “You wouldn’t be lying. We did speak, right when we were on the one wing of the stage, right before the shooting. Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, but that was at least a minute or two before the shooting.”

  “No, I was standing next to someone when the shots were fired. I was sure it was you.”

  I shook my head. “I was with Danielle, and she rushed backstage to help capture the birds. I was alone at the time of the shooting.”

  She sank her face into her hands. “My God. This is every parent’s worst nightmare. My only child has turned against me and is joining forces with that bitch, Stephanie Saunders. Now Stephanie’s trying to convince everyone that I did it, mistakenly thinking that she was in that box.”

  I remained quiet, but it did seem that Stephanie had been making that point quite clear to all concerned last night. Because she had been the quintessential the-world-revolves-around-me Stephanie, her words hadn’t really registered with me, until now when Olivia repeated them.

  “Like I told everyone last night,” Olivia continued, “I closed up the fake panel so Stephanie couldn’t get out. That only proves that I didn’t do it. I knew full well she was in the other box. And I would never, ever murder anyone. Especially not if I knew that it would cost me my daughter.” She started to cry, but quickly regained her self-control.

  “Maybe you can talk to the other clowns,” I suggested. “Figure out who was with you at the time of the shooting.”

  “I can’t.” She rose and took a couple of steps as if too nervous to remain seated, then returned to the chair.

  “Everyone knows you’re innocent. But if I tell the other clowns about this, and one of them claims to have been with me, well, that person might be lying. I’d risk giving the murderer a phony alibi. It’s not worth it. I want this lunatic behind bars. Just not at the expense of getting mistakenly convicted myself.” She placed her hand on top of mine. “Molly, are you absolutely certain you didn’t know I wasn’t backstage just before the shooter appeared?”

  “I don’t know where anyone was but me. I’m sorry.” She nodded and frowned, then picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, avoiding my eyes.

  “Tommy Newton may be a bit unorthodox in his methods and his people skills, but he’s an excellent cop. He’ll find the person who did this.” And, though I wasn’t about to say this aloud, he would have my help, whether he wanted it or not. The “or not” was actually a given. But if anything warranted risking my own life, it was the protection of children and schools from violence. I’d failed to meet that standard when I’d frozen last night, unable to prevent the shooting. I was not going to let anyone down a second time.

  My assurances appeared to have a negative impact on Olivia, who once again was crying softly. “Jenny never got along well with that Jasper, Tommy’s son. I don’t think Tommy likes me at all.”

  “That’s not going to affect him either way. Tommy’s not like that. Like I say, he’s—”

  The doorbell rang. A second later I heard the sound of the latch opening, followed by an unmistakable, “Yoohoo. Molly? Are you home?”

  I gritted my teeth, instantly incensed. How dare she open my door, uninvited! “Stephanie, I’m busy. Go away.”

  BC, meanwhile, launched again into her vociferous barking and resumed her duties as watchdog. For once I actually hoped she might frighten the houseguest off, but unfortunately, Stephanie was more than eighteen inches tall, which is how short on
e would have to be actually to find my dog intimidating.

  Olivia rose. “Stephanie Saunders?” she said to me accusingly. “You’re friends with Stephanie Saunders? Why didn’t you just tell me that right off? I never would have…”

  She stepped back from the table as if just discovering that she’d consorted with the enemy.

  Stephanie waltzed into the room, saying, “Molly, I didn’t mean to intrude, and I’ll only stay a minute. I simply—” She froze at the sight of Olivia, and both women stared aghast at each other. “Olivia. What are you doing here?”

  “How is that any of your business?” Olivia asked, tossing her head.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Olivia. I assure you, it isn’t. In fact, your reason for coming here isn’t of the slightest interest to me. It’s just one of those things people say when they’re surprised.”

  “I was just leaving.” She marched out the front door without another word, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  BC, meanwhile, was sniffing at Stephanie as if she’d been near another small animal lately, though to the best of my knowledge, the only small animals Stephanie ever came in contact with had been skinned and made into mink stoles.

  “Betty, come,” I called. To my surprise, the dog obeyed. Must have been the result of that repelling force field surrounding my intruder.

  Stephanie put her hands on her hips and regarded me. “Molly, are you and Olivia in cahoots? Are you honestly taking her side against me? After all the time we’ve known each other?”

  Too angry to quell my natural sarcasm, I paused and pretended to consider her statement. “Granted, we’ve known each other for eons. But how exactly is that an argument in your favor? For one thing, Olivia allowed me to open my own door!”

  “Is that Rachel?” Karen called from the family room. Her television show must have ended.

  “No, but you can come get BC again.”

  “Another friend of yours?” Karen said, clicking her tongue as she entered the room. She then recognized Stephanie and grinned, but didn’t say anything. Karen, too, knew Stephanie’s status as one of my least favorite human beings.

  Stephanie smiled at my daughter. “Hi, sweetie pie.”

  “Hi.” She gave me a sympathetic smile and said, “Sorry, Mom,” as she grabbed Betty’s collar and brought the dog upstairs with her.

  “I apologize for letting myself in, but which of us is worse? Me, for opening your door, or Olivia, for murdering Corinne?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “True. But I do know that she hated Corinne almost as much as she hated me. I’m just fortunate she didn’t fire into both of Marvin’s boxes.”

  “Not according to what Olivia told me. She said that Corinne even testified on her behalf at the trial.” Stephanie stared at me wide-eyed: “Olivia lied to you, Molly. Corinne testified on my behalf, not hers.”

  “Why would she lie like that?”

  “She wants everyone to take her side. She wants to cover her tracks.”

  I didn’t know Olivia, but this portion of what Stephanie was saying made sense. “She seemed so nice,” I murmured.

  “She’s every bit as calculating as I am. She just hides it better.” Stephanie scanned me at length, then chuckled. “I must say, Molly, you look terrible. All of this is getting to you. You need to stay home today and get some rest.”

  The obvious audacity of her saying that to me when she’d let herself into my house uninvited angered me so much that I could only growl.

  Stephanie held up her palms. “I’ll let you go. I’ve still got Mikey in the car. His Montessori kindergarten class is still holding classes today.”

  “Why did you come here in the first place?”

  She whirled on her heel in a Ginger Rogers move. “Oh, I’m glad you reminded me. I know what a personal interest you take in these—” she flicked her wrist “—murders and things, so I thought you might want to know the latest.”

  “What?”

  “Jack Vance was indeed about to fire Corinne.”

  “Why?”

  She studied my face. “You really haven’t heard?” I shook my head.

  She chuckled and waltzed to the front door, murmuring, “Well, that’s a first. Lauren must have actually kept her mouth shut.”

  “About what?” I asked, so angry now with the implied insult of my best friend that I shouted the question at her.

  “Corinne was having sexual relations with one of her students.” She gave me one of her patented cover-girl smiles. “Take care, Molly.”

  She let herself out.

  Chapter 4

  Goldilocks and the Troll

  The moment Stephanie closed the door behind her, Nathan and Karen trotted into the kitchen to join me, led by the ever-enthusiastic BC. The two-footed participants of that particular trio tended to avoid Stephanie themselves, but enjoyed observing my agitated emotional state that invariably resulted from her visits.

  “Hi, Mom,” Nathan said. Already apparently fresh out of small talk, he glanced back at his sister.

  “What did Stephanie want?” Karen asked with a big smile, unable to mask her glee at my obvious agitation.

  Her usual pound of flesh, I thought. Stephanie should be an employee of Weight Watchers. “Just to chat,” I replied.

  “If you’re going over to Lauren’s now, can I come with you and see Rachel? Nathan’s going to go to Robert’s house.”

  Nathan chimed in, “His mom says it’s okay. I already called.”

  “Why do you assume I’m going to Lauren’s house?” I asked Karen, deeply annoyed that I was this predictable. “I haven’t even had the chance to read the paper. And I have work to do. Cartoons to draw. Greeting cards to design. Ecards to…e-send.”

  Nathan grabbed a jar of Skippy peanut butter, then headed toward the garage. “I’m bringing this for lunch. His mom is into that yucky organic stuff. I’m riding my bike.”

  “Don’t forget to wear your helmet.”

  “I always wear my helmet. Why do you say that to me every time I ride my bike?”

  “Because bikes don’t have seatbelts, so it would be silly of me to remind you to fasten your seatbelt, now wouldn’t it? Have a good time and tell Robert’s mom that—”

  “I will. Bye, Mom.” He closed the door behind him before I could finish the sentence. I’d have to call her later.

  Karen grabbed an apple out of the refrigerator. “Did you get a new customer?” she asked, then took a noisy bite.

  “No, but I still have to troll.”

  “Troll?” she said with her mouth full. “You mean you’re going to make like Rumpelstiltskin?”

  “Exactly. I’m turning myself into a short, ugly, gnome-like creature so I can scare new clients into hiring me,” I said over my shoulder as I went upstairs to change my clothes.

  “So can I come with you to Lauren’s?” Karen called after me.

  “Sure.”

  Lauren and I sat in her kitchen as she nursed her cup of coffee and I sipped blackberry tea. We were in reflective moods, neither of us having slept well, both deeply disturbed by the murder we’d so unwillingly witnessed. In the background were the occasional vibrations of bass guitar that blared from the boom box in Rachel’s room, where Rachel and Karen had set up camp.

  “Our daughters are going to be attending high school next fall,” Lauren said quietly. “They’ll be using that very same auditorium.”

  “I know. The sooner the killer gets arrested, the sooner we can put this behind us. Does Tommy have any strong leads?”

  She shook her head, then fought off a shudder. “It could have been me in that trunk, or booth, or whatever you want to call it. I almost volunteered so that Corinne would be free to watch the performance. But she was being so unpleasant all evening, I decided not to do her the favor.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. About the timing, I mean. I think that the killer was gunning for Corinne, not for just whoever happened to be inside Martin’s box. At
one point Stephanie suggested the killer was really aiming for her. Did it seem that way to you from where you sat?”

  “No, it was obvious that Stephanie was stuck in the other box, so there’s no way.”

  “Which reminds me,” I said, proud of myself for holding off on this particular subject for several minutes now. “Stephanie told me that Corinne was having sex with one of her students. I take it she means Danielle’s son, right?”

  Lauren grimaced. “She means Danielle’s son, all right. But there’s room for doubt regarding what exactly had been going on. The two of them were spotted from the restaurant of an inn north of Saratoga a couple of days ago, coming out of a room. Corinne, of course, had said it was all perfectly innocent—that she was simply counseling him in school matters and had checked into the room because her house was being painted. In any case, he’s eighteen, so technically he was of age.”

  “Why would she ‘counsel’ him in her hotel room?”

  Lauren tilted her head slightly in her personal version of a shrug. “It did strain credibility, though of course she claimed he wasn’t sharing the room, that they’d merely met there to talk in private. Rumor around school has it that even though they had been ‘dating,’ they’d broken up a couple of months ago.”

  “Who was it who spotted them at this inn?”

  “Elsbeth and her daughter.”

  Karen’s piano teacher? I let this sink in for a moment. “No wonder Elsbeth had been so ready to share the news with me when we were in the dressing room last night, though she didn’t get the chance.”

  “Furthermore, lately Danielle’s son and Jenny, Olivia’s daughter, are arm-in-arm nearly every time the two of them pass by the office.”

  “And Jenny’s soon to be considered Stephanie’s adopted daughter.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, that’s quite the extended family, then. Yuck.

  Makes me so glad I’ve got such an ordinary, simple life. My kids are too young to date, and—”