by Sammi Carter
Though the death of Laurence Nichols was always rolling around inside my head, I forced myself to stay at Divinity. There would be time later to ask Richie about Jason’s claim that he’d threatened to kill Laurence.
Elizabeth and the girls showed up promptly at ten Saturday morning, and I put them to work making sure that Karen and Liberty had everything they needed. The shop was crowded with six of us working, but we managed to stay out of each others’ way for the most part.
Karen organized the others into an assembly line of sorts, while I gathered a hodgepodge of the most popular candy bars we stocked and arranged them in baskets, wagons, bowls, hat boxes, and teacups. When the clock finally crept around to seven, I’d scrunched so much ribbon into decorative bows, my hands were cramped and aching. It took almost an hour to serve the customers who were still browsing, but at last Liberty flipped over the sign on the door to Closed, and I gave myself permission to knock off for the evening.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Max and I headed out for his evening walk. Now that the workday was behind me, I found myself at loose ends. I hadn’t heard from Jawarski since the conversation that had ended badly, and every day my mood grew a little worse. He and I had spent so much time together, I’d almost forgotten how to get through a Saturday night on my own.
He was due back in a few days, and I still didn’t know how to react when he got here. Did I love him? I felt almost obligated to tell him that I did, but what if I didn’t mean it?
Did I trust him? Was I ready to make a commitment, or was it still too great a risk? My head hurt just thinking about it.
I’d been planning to grab some takeout and eat in my apartment, but the realization that I’d become so accustomed to having Jawarski around changed my mind. The weather had stayed relatively warm all day, and as I pondered my options a few lazy flakes of snow drifted toward the ground. They melted as soon as they touched the ground, but it wouldn’t be long before the temperature dropped and they began to stick.
I’d dressed warmly, and my boots could handle the snow, but I didn’t want to leave Max out in the weather for long. He’s too spoiled for that. I decided on the Lotus Blossum, a restaurant that serves Thai and Vietnamese cuisine. Critics give it high marks, but it’s still casual enough for jeans and my favorite Denver Nuggets sweatshirt. The jewelry store next door was closed, so I settled Max in its recessed doorway for shelter from the storm and stepped inside the restaurant where the rich scents of garlic, curry, and chili wrapped themselves around me. I inhaled greedily and congratulated myself on making a brilliant choice.
I’ve eaten there enough to know a few of the waitstaff by name. Dak-Ho led me to a small table near the front window, where I could see if Max needed me. Dak’s Korean, not Thai or Vietnamese, but nobody’s keeping track. We spent a few seconds on small talk while I ordered an egg roll, sautéed lemon grass and chili chicken, and my favorite, Thai tea.
Dak hurried off with my order, and I took stock of my surroundings for the first time. Most of the other diners were couples, either dining alone or with friends. A few months ago, I’d have shrugged off the flicker of discomfort at being alone in a crowd. Tonight, it bothered me.
In the months after my divorce, I’d worked hard to stop feeling uncomfortable dining alone, and I wasn’t happy to find that I felt uneasy and exposed—two emotions that had gained a foothold while I was hanging out with Jawarski.
Determined to shake off the negative emotion, I unwrapped a set of disposable chopsticks. Opened the napkin packet and set out the silverware rolled inside. Sipped ice water and tried to ignore the amorous adventures of the couple closest to me. The waitstaff hustled in and out of the kitchen, carrying trays of food, delivering drinks, checking on diners to make sure they had everything they needed.
Dak-Ho hustled past me carrying a loaded tray, assured me that my tea would be out in a moment, and hurried to the other side of the dining room. As he bustled away again, I recognized Jason Dahl sitting across the way, and I was seized by a sudden profound need to ask him about the threat he claimed he’d heard Richie make against Laurence.
I hesitated just long enough to make sure that Jason was alone, then crossed the room and slid into the chair across from him just as he lifted a spring roll dripping peanut sauce to his mouth.
“Hey Jason.”
“Abby?” A glob of peanut sauce dropped to the table. “What’s up?”
“Just grabbing a quick bite. I saw you over here and decided to say hello.”
He smiled uncertainly and lowered the spring roll to the small white plate in front of him. “Are you alone? Do you want to join me?”
I waved off the invitation almost before he finished issuing it. “No, thanks. I don’t want to intrude.” I smiled warmly. “I just wanted to ask you about something. I ran into a reporter this afternoon who claimed that he’d been talking to you. His name’s John Haversham and he’s with KZPY.”
Jason had finally managed a bite, so he nodded as he chewed. “Yeah, I talked to him. Why?”
“He says that you heard Richie threaten Laurence. Is that true?”
Jason froze for an instant, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I did. Why?”
Disappointment made my heart heavy. I hadn’t realized how much I hoped Jason would tell me that Haversham was a big, fat liar . . . until he didn’t. “Would you mind telling me about it?”
“About what? Richie?”
“Yeah. What was going on when you heard him threaten Laurence, and what did he say?”
Jason put down his spring roll again and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Okay, sure. He was coming out of the auditorium. I was working on a backdrop. I don’t know what happened or anything. I just know that he was furious about something. He said something like he ought to rip out his fucking heart.”
“How did you know he was talking about Laurence?”
“Because I saw Laurence go in there a few minutes earlier.”
“Maybe Laurence wasn’t the only person in there,” I suggested.
Jason considered that, then shook his head. “Naw, I’m pretty sure he was. He told me he was meeting somebody in there and asked me to keep an eye out. I got the impression he didn’t want Vonetta to know.”
“Did Laurence say who he was meeting?”
Jason shook his head again. “No, but I assumed it was a woman. It usually was.”
“Did you notice when Richie arrived?”
“Nope. I assumed that he went in through one of the other doors. Either that, or he was already in there. Hey! Maybe that’s when he cut through the safety cable on the light. I never thought of that before.”
“Richie didn’t cut that cable,” I said automatically.
“If you say so.”
“I do. How difficult would it be for someone to climb up into the rigging and cut the cable?”
“Not that hard. The Playhouse is pretty small, so it’s not as if they’d have to go up two or three stories. All it would take is a few minutes alone and a ladder.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Where did you learn all this stuff?”
Jason grinned. “Would you believe high school? My sister was in the drama department, and I had to catch a ride home with her after school so I started hanging out around the kids on the stage crew.”
“There’s one other thing that’s been bothering me,” I said. “How hard do you think it would be for someone to use a spotlight as a murder weapon?”
“As a murder weapon?” Jason picked up his second spring roll and dipped it into the sauce. “I don’t see how it could be done. For the light to fall just right and hit someone in the exact spot that would cause death? It’s like a one in a million chance.”
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I thought.
Dak surged out of the kitchen with my Thai tea. He caught my eye and jerked his head, first toward my table, then toward Jason’s. Jason noticed him and asked again, “You sure you don’t want to join me? It’s
no intrusion. Really.”
“Thanks, but no,” I said, and got to my feet. “I had a long day at work, and I’d be lousy company.” Besides, I had plenty to chew on. No matter how many questions I asked, the answers just kept taking me around in circles. Doyle, Colleen, Geoffrey, Vonetta, Serena. I cycled around and around, over and over, but I still wasn’t any closer to the solution.
Chapter 23
The storm was just beginning in earnest as I finished dinner. Every muscle in my body ached with weariness, but my mind was too wound up for sleep. Still hoping I could clear my head, I walked through town slowly, enjoying the brisk air and the feel of snowflakes on my face. I’d always felt safe walking in town, even at night. Our low crime rate is one of the best things about Paradise, but even that is changing.
On impulse, I walked past the Playhouse. Many of the businesses in town were closed up tight, but since most of the cast and crew are working their real jobs during the day, night’s when a lot of the work is done in semiprofessional theater. When I saw lights still burning in the lobby and Vonetta’s Buick in its usual parking space, I decided sleep could wait.
I kicked the snow off my boots and brushed all the flakes I could from Max’s coat before stepping into the lobby. The scent of freshly cut wood filled the air, and country music blaring from a stereo in the distance mingled with the muffled sound of hammering and the high whine of an electric saw. The crew must be working on scenery.
When the saw fell silent, I heard the low hum of conversation coming from the rehearsal hall. The level of activity tonight was a far cry from the deserted theater I’d stepped into on Monday night.
I checked Vonetta’s office first, but the door was wide open, and I could tell at a glance that she wasn’t inside. To my surprise, I felt a niggling worry spring to life. After all, last time I’d gone looking for her, I found her onstage with a dead man. Logic told me that history wouldn’t repeat itself, but that didn’t stop the feeling of dread from rising up in my throat.
“Here we go again, boy,” I muttered to Max as I led him toward the drone of voices in the rehearsal hall.
He seemed to understand—at least I told myself he did. Sometimes you have to create your own support system.
Vonetta wasn’t there, either, but at least this time the rehearsal hall wasn’t empty. The two women who’d been so enraptured by Laurence the night of the mandatory meeting were sitting at a prop table, running lines. Alexander sat a few feet away, pretending to work on a stack of papers in a file folder and watching the women from the corner of his eye.
One was young and thin, no more than twenty-five I guessed, with long, dark hair and wide, expressive eyes. The other looked a bit older, in her early thirties maybe. Her shoulder-length blond hair had been seriously overprocessed, and boredom was written all over her face.
I couldn’t tell if Alexander was paying attention to their acting techniques, or if he was interested in them for some other reason. Everyone said that Laurence had played the field extensively, but no one had mentioned Alexander as his rival when it came to women. Now I wondered if the two men had ever been interested in the same women, even fought over one or two . . .
The dark-haired actress flubbed a line and dissolved into laughter. The blond waited with exaggerated patience for her to regain control. A smile, more fatherly than lecherous, curved Alexander’s lips. But when he glanced away from the women and noticed me, the smile disappeared. A bland expression replaced it faster than I could blink, which made me rethink the whole fatherly thing.
“Abby,” he said, his voice as bland as his face. “What can I do for you?”
I could have given him a long list of things, but I didn’t think he’d be willing to comply. I wasn’t even sure why I’d come to the theater, except I was pretty sure this was where the answers to my questions were. “I’m looking for Vonetta,” I said, grabbing the first thing that popped into my head. “Have you seen her?”
“She’s not here. I believe she went to dinner.”
The brunette nodded. “Yeah, she did. She left a while ago, so she should be back soon.”
Great. Now what excuse could I give for hanging around?
The brunette at the table took care of that for me. “Hey, aren’t you in the cast?”
I tried not to look overly grateful. “That’s right. I’ll be playing Isabel.”
She lunged out of her chair and pumped my hand. “That’s cool. I’m Jody.” She nodded toward her companion. “That’s Hannah. We’re voices.”
They were also the two people who’d been standing closest to Laurence when he’d discovered that his music was missing. I had no idea if they’d seen or heard anything important, or even if the missing music was connected to Laurence’s death, but talking to them suddenly seemed like a good idea. “So you’ll be in the sound booth on stage, speaking for the rest of us, right? Are either of you Isabel’s voice?”
Hannah slid a disinterested glance at me through a veil of strawlike bangs. “I’m Edith’s voice. She’s doing Kate.” The look she gave Max was a little less bored. “I’m not sure you can have your dog in here.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “He’s been here before. He goes everywhere with me.” I found an empty chair and dragged it toward the table.
Hannah looked away, a slight curl on her lip. Darn. There went my dreams of becoming Best Friends Forever.
I spotted a short stack of scripts on the windowsill, so I grabbed one and plunked myself into the chair. “What scene are you working on? Do you mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” Jody assured me.
Hannah lifted one shoulder in a slow-motion shrug. “Knock yourself out.”
She was going to be a barrel of laughs over the next few weeks. I could tell already. “Is this your first production at the Playhouse?”
Jody shook her head. “I’ve been in five before this one, usually in the chorus. This is the biggest part I’ve had. Hannah’s been in a few plays, too, haven’t you?”
“A few.” Those eyes climbed slowly to my face and stopped there. “You?” I wondered if she was always this friendly, or if she had something against me.
“This is my second, and my first was . . . a while ago. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised that we’re still going into rehearsal. I thought for sure Laurence’s death would derail the play.”
Alexander spoke for the first time in several minutes. “An obvious newcomer to the theater,” he said with a cool smile. “Everyone knows the show must go on.”
I refused to let him discourage me. I turned my script to the page with my entrance on it and smiled up at him. “That’s what Vonetta said, too.”
Jody agreed. “The accident was freaky, but . . . well, you know. Accidents happen. I’m sure Laurence would have wanted us to go on with the show.”
“Yeah. Probably. Didn’t I see the two of you talking to Laurence the night of the meeting?”
Jody blushed. “Yeah. We were so excited to work with him. It’s still hard to believe that he’s gone.”
“Did you know him well?”
“No.” That gem came from Hannah. She didn’t elaborate.
Jody looked embarrassed by her friend’s response. “Not really. We just met him, like, that day.”
“Creepy,” Hannah said without looking up. I wondered whether she meant Laurence or the falling spotlight.
“Let’s not get sidetracked, ladies,” Alexander said. “Talking about Laurence’s tragic accident isn’t helping anyone.”
Color flooded Jody’s cheeks. She ducked her head and mumbled, “Sorry.”
Hannah didn’t even blink. “Whatever.”
It might not be helping him, but he wasn’t my concern. “I wonder what happened to that music,” I said. “Laurence must have been beside himself.”
Hannah’s gaze dropped to the script in front of her. “He wasn’t happy, that’s for sure.”
“Did he have any idea who took it?”
“I
thought Serena did,” Jody said, her brow creased with confusion.
“She said she didn’t,” I reminded her. “I just wondered if he suspected anyone else.”
Hannah’s unblinking stare stayed glued to my face. “How would either of us know that?”
“Well, the two of you were right there by the piano, and you could hear everything that was going on.”
Jody’s frown deepened. “Are you accusing one of us of taking it?”
“Not at all,” I said, quickly. “I’m just wondering if either of you saw or heard anything unusual that night.”
Jody shook her head. “I didn’t really notice anything besides that Richie guy throwing himself at Laurence. It was embarrassing, if you ask me.”
I’m not sure how it was even possible, but Hannah’s expression grew even less animated. “You’re just saying that because of all the talk. He didn’t do anything different than anyone else that night.”
Maybe we could be Best Friends Forever after all.
Alexander spoke up again. “I really must insist, ladies. No more talk about the accident or about the missing music.”
I wondered why he was so anxious to keep us from talking. Was he only concerned about the production, or did he have something to hide?
Jody dropped her gaze back to her script, but she looked at Hannah from beneath furrowed brows and whispered, “You have to admit, everybody knows that gay guys are, like, major drama queens. He probably wigged out when Laurence turned him down.”
Jody, on the other hand, was off my BFF list permanently.
“That’s nothing but an old, tired stereotype,” I whispered back. “And for the record, Richie was not interested in Laurence in that way.”
Hannah looked more interested than she had since I walked through the door. “Are you a friend of his or something?”