Sucker Punch

by Sammi Carter

  “Okay.” The toothpick shifted again. “What about before that?”

  Colleen wobbled a little and leaned against the 4Runner to steady herself. “We worked together in Breckenridge a couple of years before that. He was in a lead role. I was casting director.”

  “Same questions,” Nate prompted. “Anybody else from this group work on that one? Anything unusual happen?”

  Colleen had to think about it for a minute. “Nobody that I can think of, but we did borrow some props from Vonetta. It was a production of The Civil War, and she ended up consulting on some of the scenes. She was there for a couple of weeks, I think.”

  My heart beat a little faster. For the first time since Laurence’s murder, a couple of pieces actually fit together.

  “Anybody else?”

  Colleen shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember. And nothing unusual happened while we were in production, but one of the girls in the chorus found out she was pregnant right before our run ended, and I heard a few months later that another one committed suicide.”

  “How long afterward?” I asked. “Could it have been connected to the play in some way?”

  “Oh no.” Colleen looked shocked that I’d even suggest it. “It was months afterward, and I only heard about it through a friend I ran into somewhere. It had nothing to do with us.”

  “And the next one?” Nate prodded.

  “Eight years ago. Cinderella in Estes Park. I don’t remember anyone else being involved. This is a wild-goose chase.” Nate didn’t respond except to ask, “That the last one?”

  Colleen started to nod, but stopped herself and flashed a look at me filled with misery. “Ten years ago in Aspen. How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying. Nobody else from this group involved, and nothing unusual.” Nate checked with the officer to make sure he had everything written down, then released him to go back to whatever he’d been doing. “Doesn’t seem like much to go on,” he said, “but keep thinking.” He actually patted her shoulder like a real person. “If you come up with anything, let me know.”

  “I will,” Colleen promised, but I knew she’d never tell Nate about the real connection she had with Laurence. Nate would have felt honor-bound to tell Doyle. I knew Colleen would do almost anything to prevent that, but I also wondered whether Doyle had already put the pieces together. Because two attacks on the same person in one night . . . Well, that felt kind of personal to me.

  Chapter 29

  I called in sick the next day. The police had kept us in the parking lot until almost one A.M. taking our statements, and Nate had insisted that we go to an all-night clinic—the closest thing Paradise has to an emergency room—to make sure we were all right. He’d also dropped Max off at Karen’s so he wouldn’t be left in the cold while we were getting treatment, which was a thoughtfulness that surprised me. I wasn’t surprised, however, to learn that he’d called Doyle to drive Colleen home, though I knew it worried her.

  By the time Doyle drove off with Colleen and Officer Jackson retrieved Max from Karen’s and helped me up the stairs to my apartment, the sun was already coming up. Too cold and tired to care about much, I crawled into bed still wearing my jeans and sweater and vowed to sleep all day.

  I didn’t manage to sleep all day, but thanks to the magic of the painkillers I’d been given at the clinic, I slept until the medicine wore off later that morning. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was in for a rough day. Pain throbbed from the back of my head to the spot behind my eyes, and the soreness in every other part of my body almost made me cry when I accidentally moved one leg.

  Max inched up on the bed and looked me over. He was so concerned, I managed to get one arm working well enough to scratch between his ears. Poor guy. He’d tried to warn me. It wasn’t his fault I hadn’t paid attention.

  I swallowed another pain pill and dragged my aching body into the bathroom. Against my better judgment, I checked my reflection in the mirror and winced. Bruises had formed beneath my eyes and on my left cheek. I was pretty sure I saw some on my neck, too, but I couldn’t move my head to check. My head felt as if it had been split like a ripe melon, and my vision wasn’t clear by a long shot.

  Moving slowly, I managed to strip off my clothes and turn on the shower. Climbing into the tub and pulling the curtain shut behind me took a little longer. The hot water felt good at first, but when I turned to let the spray hit my back, I could have sworn the water evaporated and a thousand burning needles took its place.

  I let out a cry that brought Max to his feet, and turned away from the water as quickly as I could. It just wasn’t fast enough. I fumbled the water off and pushed the curtain open again, but by that time tears were streaming down my face. I just wasn’t sure whether they were brought on by pain, fear, or anger at the person who’d attacked us.

  As I stood there, trying to regain control over my emotions, a knock sounded on my front door. I was tired of wallowing in self-pity, so I shouted, “Just a minute,” and hustled as quickly as I could to my bedroom. I tugged on an old pair of sweats that I found on my closet floor and pulled a soft old sweatshirt over my head, then hurried into the living room and threw open the front door.

  Vonetta stood on my landing, looking as regal as ever in a long leather coat with matching hat, gloves, and scarf. “I heard what happened,” she said. “May I come in?”

  She’d barely said two words to me in days, so I didn’t know what to expect. I nodded and stepped aside to let her in. After closing the door on the cold, I motioned her toward my sagging old couch. She sat at one end. I perched on the other.

  Once there, I didn’t know what to say to her. Had she come to yell at me for asking questions, or was she here as a friend? Almost as soon as I sat down, I was on my feet again and aiming for the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I could put on a pot of Chocolate Mudslide or—”

  She waved me back toward my seat. “Nothing for me, thank you.” And when I didn’t disappear into the kitchen to make some for myself, “Sit down, please.”

  I returned to the couch and sat gingerly. I tried not to cringe, but judging from the frown that creased Vonetta’s face, I knew I’d failed. “The police told me what happened, Abby. I came by to tell you how sorry I am. And, of course, to see if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Why should you be sorry?” I asked. “You didn’t do this.”

  “No, but I still feel responsible. Maybe if I’d been more careful this could have been prevented.”

  I sat back cautiously, testing the pressure of the couch against my back before I relaxed. It hurt, but the pain medication must have been working because the discomfort was bearable. “Why?” I asked. “What do you know that you haven’t told me?”

  “Nothing. You know about Serena’s past.”

  I nodded. “She told me about the baby, and about the abortion. I’m sorry Vonetta, I know it must have hurt.”

  Vonetta nodded miserably. “I know I was rude to you, but I didn’t want anyone else to find out. It wasn’t personal. It’s just all too painful for her, and it’s too fresh for me. I can’t talk about it yet.” She crossed her legs carefully and smoothed her hands across her lap. “Laurence was a dreadful man, Abby. I didn’t kill him. I want you to know that. But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

  I fell silent for a minute and let that hang in the space between us. It seemed so odd to hear Vonetta talking like that in her cultured, controlled voice I needed to process, I guess. “Tell me about the play you worked on with Laurence and Colleen in Breckenridge,” I said at last.

  She pulled back in surprise. “What play?”

  “The Civil War. Colleen said that you loaned the theater some props and that you consulted for a couple of weeks.”

  “Gracious! I’d forgotten all about that. I really wasn’t involved in that production. What makes you bring that up now?”

  “There has to be a connection between the people who have been attacked. You. Laurence. Colleen. S
o far, that’s the only common thread I’ve been able to find.”

  “And you,” Vonetta said. “Don’t leave yourself off that list.”

  I lifted one shoulder carefully. “I think the attacker went after me because he knows I’m trying to catch him. The rest of you are a different story. Do you remember anything about that group of people? Anyone who was different, maybe? Did something happen that someone might be holding a grudge over?”

  Vonetta’s lips curved gently. “Against Laurence? I’m sure there was something. But Colleen and me? I don’t know what it could be. I consulted on a couple of scenes. She was casting director, if I remember correctly. We had nothing to do with one another.”

  “There must be something,” I argued. “Something that ties the three of you to the murderer. Otherwise, these are all just random acts of violence, and I don’t believe that.”

  “What else could they be? There is no connection. Besides, every attack is different. The police said that Laurence wasn’t just hit, he was poisoned. You’re obviously hurt, and so is Colleen. I’m walking around with barely a scratch, and thank goodness none of us has been fed potassium cyanide.”

  She was right, but I still couldn’t shake the idea that there was a connection. I just hadn’t found it yet. And I had more questions to ask before she left. “I understand that Geoffrey Manwaring is refusing to let you use the music Laurence wrote for this production.”

  Vonetta rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Geoffrey’s as miserable as Laurence was. I’m not a bit surprised that he’s hanging on to those pieces to see what he can get for them.”

  “And is it definite? He inherits Laurence’s estate?”

  “As far as I know. The two of them worked together for years. I think he’s the only person Laurence ever met he didn’t alienate. They’re two of a kind, that’s for sure.”

  “So you’re not upset about the music?”

  Vonetta laughed softly. “I didn’t say that. I’m just not surprised.”

  “Do you think Geoffrey could have killed Laurence to get his hands on the money?”

  She tilted her head to one side, as if she hadn’t considered that idea before. “Anything’s possible. He’s certainly capable of it. But unless the rumors are very well hidden, he’s done quite well over the years. To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t need the money. Without a desperate need, I just don’t think he would have killed his only friend to get it.”

  Vonetta got to her feet and smiled down at me. “I don’t want to keep you up. I just needed to see for myself that you’re all right. And you might as well know that we’re shutting down the production.”

  “Can you do that and survive? Financially, I mean.”

  She nodded. “I have insurance. It’s not the greatest, and we’re going to take a substantial hit, but we should be able to keep our heads above water if we’re careful. Now rest so you can heal. Is there anything I can get you?”

  I started to shake my head, but that only made the pain move forward further still. “No. I’m fine. I just need to sleep, I think.”

  Vonetta brushed a kiss to my cheek and walked to the door. “I want you to call if you need anything,” she said, sounding more like herself than she had since she arrived. She paused with one hand on the doorknob and locked eyes with me. “Promise?”

  “Sure.” I’d made that promise before, but I’d never meant it. Unfortunately, I doubted I could get down the stairs and out the door on my own today. If I wanted anything to eat or drink, I was going to have to ask for help. And that wasn’t all. I hadn’t been able to take Max outside all day. So far, he’d been good about holding it, but sooner or later he was going to need a walk. Difficult as it was for me to let someone do things for me, for once I might be forced to make an exception.

  Chapter 30

  My back and neck were a little less sore by the next morning, but the bruises on my face and neck hadn’t faded. If anything, they were darker and angrier than ever. There wasn’t enough makeup in all of Paradise to cover the bruises and minimize the swelling.

  Liberty came upstairs throughout the day to take Max for his walks, and Karen kept a watchful eye on the inventory in the store. Divinity was known for having fresh candy made daily, but I thought that staying out of sight for a few more days might be better for business than letting customers see a giant grape working in the kitchen.

  Wyatt and Elizabeth stopped by that evening bearing a huge plate of cheese enchiladas, rice, and beans. Oh, and food for themselves, too. Wyatt even produced a six-pack. I knew I shouldn’t have a beer on top of the pain medication but, let’s face it, Mexican food is just not meant to be eaten without alcohol.

  While I tried to find a comfortable way to sit at the table, Elizabeth bustled around the kitchen, gathering everything civilized people use when they eat. I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I scooped an enchilada, rice, and beans onto the plate she gave me and pretended that I wouldn’t rather eat straight out of the Styrofoam box.

  Wyatt heaped his plate with smothered burritos and dug in. “You look like a Mack truck hit you,” he said around a mouthful. “Any idea who did this to you?”

  I shook my head gently. It didn’t hurt quite so much tonight, but I wasn’t sure whether that was because of the pain meds or the beer. “I didn’t get a good look at him. In fact, I didn’t get a look at all—except for his shoes, and I could barely see those.”

  Elizabeth spooned salsa onto a crisp taco and pushed the bowl to the center of the table. “You don’t have any idea what kind of shoes he wore?”

  “No, unfortunately.” I filled my mouth with enchilada and closed my eyes in ecstasy over the spicy, cheesy goodness. When I could speak again, I admitted, “I’m not even absolutely certain the attacker was a man.”

  Glancing up sharply, Elizabeth said, “You think it could have been a woman?”

  “I can’t completely rule a woman out.”

  Wyatt pulled a longneck bottle from the six-pack and cranked it open. “Oh, come on, sis. You know who did it.”

  “No. No, I don’t. As far as I can tell, nobody has a motive for any of the things that have been happening.”

  “You might not know his motive, but I’d say skipping town is a pretty good indicator that the director—what’s his name? Allen Pastaroni?—did it.”

  My heart skipped a beat or two. “Alexander Pastorelli? He skipped town? When?”

  “Nate says they went to talk to him about the attack, see where he was last night, that sort of thing. Funny thing, he wasn’t anywhere to be found.”

  Elizabeth sent Wyatt the same kind of look she gave the boys when they were acting out. “Don’t make it sound so mysterious, Wyatt. He checked out of his hotel early this afternoon, that’s all. It’s not as if he slipped off in the dead of night.”

  “Oh.” A dull disappointment settled over me again. “We shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. Vonetta closed down the production today.”

  “We shouldn’t be surprised about that, either,” Wyatt said as he forked up some rice. “If you ask me, it was way past time for her to cut her losses and walk away. Three people attacked? One dead? Time to give up.”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “Alexander didn’t waste any time getting out of town, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t.” Elizabeth got up to grab the salt and pepper and carried them back to the table. “I guess we’re a little too small-town for him these days.”

  “We’ve been too small for him for years,” Wyatt muttered. “You ask me, he got too big for his britches a long time ago.”

  I didn’t say anything to that, and neither did Elizabeth. My leaving town for the university had long been a bone of contention between my brother and me. It wasn’t just me, either. Any time someone left Paradise to search for a bigger, broader life, Wyatt took offense. It was an argument we’d had too often, and one I didn’t want to have again.

  Keeping quiet isn’t easy for me, but I’m learning. I concentrated on shovelin
g food into my mouth until Wyatt spoke again. “You don’t think it was him?”

  I glanced up and reached for the square of paper towel masquerading as a napkin by my plate. “Who? Alexander?”

  “Yeah. The director. You’re attacked one night, and he takes off the next day. Don’t you think that sounds a bit fishy?”

  He had a point. More importantly, he was trying to help. “What did Nate say?”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows scrunched together over the bridge of his nose. “You care about what Nate thinks? You musta been hit harder than I thought.”

  I grinned. “I didn’t say that. I just wondered what his theory was. Does he think Alexander is the killer?”

  Wyatt mopped chili verde from his mustache and leaned back in his chair. “No, he doesn’t. He’s still putting his money on Richie.”

  Elizabeth barked a disbelieving laugh. “He thinks Richie attacked Abby last night? Did he say that?”

  “Didn’t have to. I know how Nate thinks. He checked out the director fella’s hotel room, but that’s all he did. If it was me, I’d-a gone after Pastorelli. Caught up with him and asked him about last night. Nate didn’t do that. Just chalked it up to the play closing and went back to the station.”

  I lowered my fork to the table and eyed my brother carefully. As long as I could remember, he’d stuck up for Nate whenever I objected to something he’d done. This was the second time in a week he’d said something negative about his buddy. I wondered what was going on with them, but I decided not to ask. Another time, maybe. “Does anyone know where Alexander went?”

  “Beats me,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “Coulda gone home, I guess. Or off to New York so he could become a big Broadway . . . whatever.”

  “Well, he’s gone now,” Elizabeth said. “If he’s the one responsible for what’s been going on around here, he might just get away with murder.”

  “He will as long as Nate’s in charge of the case,” I muttered. “I suppose we’ll never know what drove him to do it.”