Bailey shook his head. ‘I didn’t look out of my window, so I didn’t see anything, but I did hear people shooting off fireworks. Some of them sounded really close.’
Tish frowned and stared down at her shoes as she thought about the significance of Bailey’s statement.
Her reaction was not lost upon the young actor. ‘Jenny … she was shot, wasn’t she?’
‘How do you know that unless you’re the one who did it?’ Justin Dange exploded. ‘That’s it. I’m getting the police over here.’
Justin, empty mug in hand, trotted off to the nearest uniformed officer, leaving Tish to answer Bailey’s question.
‘Yes, Bailey, Jenny was shot.’
‘Then those nearby rockets I heard last night might not have been rockets. They could have been …’
Tish nodded. ‘Yes, they very well might have been.’
FIVE
Tish returned to her booth to find Jules, wearing a heavy parka and a worried expression, waiting for her. Biscuit was in his arms, clad in a green-and-red tartan coat that coordinated with the heavy scarf wrapped around Jules’s neck. ‘There you are! You poor thing. How are you?’
Tish collected Biscuit from Jules’s arms for a cuddle. ‘I’m OK. Just hoping that getting ready for the day will erase the image of Jenny’s face from my memory.’
‘You want me to call Schuyler? I know he’d want to be here.’
Tish turned down the offer. ‘He’s attending a funeral and a will-reading up in Fairfax County. He’ll be gone until late.’
‘Should I take you back to the café? A good lie down might help.’
‘Thanks, but no. What I really need is to get to work.’ Her eyes narrowed as she cradled Biscuit in her arms and stroked his head. ‘By the way, what are you doing here? The murder couldn’t possibly have made the news yet.’
‘Honey, I am the news. I’m covering the case for Channel Ten.’
‘Really? Wow! That’s quite a step up the ladder for you. Congratulations!’ She threw her free arm around Jules’s neck excitedly.
‘Thanks.’ He gave her a quick squeeze around the waist. ‘It’s actually not that exciting. I got the job by default.’
‘Default?’
‘Our crime desk guy took an early vacation so he could spend time with his family over the holidays. His stand-in gets squeamish whenever he covers a case involving lots of blood. He practically fainted on camera once.’
Tish was about to ask how a reporter with hemophobia could have been assigned to the crime desk, but she was well aware of the Channel Ten newsroom’s staffing idiosyncrasies.
‘And the stand-in’s stand-in owns a Dodge Ram 1500, so my boss doesn’t want to reimburse him fuel and mileage at twelve miles per gallon.’ Jules sighed and gave Biscuit a scratch around the ears. ‘Especially as I’m already here …’
‘And can cover the story at minimal expense,’ Tish filled in the blanks.
‘Exactly. Default.’
‘It’s still a good opportunity.’
‘It is. So long as people tune in to watch me and not the major network news affiliates.’
‘Of course they’ll watch you! You have charm and sass and personality.’
‘And a detective friend with connections to the sheriff’s office,’ Jules added.
‘Jules,’ she warned.
‘I know, I know,’ he reassured her. ‘I was joking. Well, kinda …’
Tish flashed him another warning glance and placed Biscuit into his heated doggie bed.
‘You know, Tish, I find it amazing that at the same time you launched your café business, you’ve also proven yourself to be a brilliant sleuth. You’re like the Nancy Drew of the catering world.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t count on Nancy Drew to be digging up any clues on this case. Not with a fair booth to run and a renegade barman.’
‘Renegade barman? Oh no, no, no. I’m not shirking my beverage duties.’
‘But you’re covering both the murder and the fair for Channel Ten,’ Tish pointed out. ‘This could be huge for you.’
‘Yes, and there’s no better place to cover both of them than right here at this booth.’ Jules pointed at the ground beneath his feet. ‘Not only did the murder take place just a few yards away, but Reade and his team will be here ordering their hot beverages and snacks. As I ply them with caffeine and Celestine’s yummy cakes, I’ll be able to get the scoop on case developments before the competition does.’
‘You have it all worked out, don’t you?’
‘Sure do. The crew will be here at one to get some preliminary shots for both stories. Then we go live at five o’clock. The murder will be the lead story, natch. So I’ll broadcast from the campground. The fair coverage, however, will emanate from here. I figure it would give you some great publicity.’
‘That sounds terrific, as long as the fair segment doesn’t run immediately after the murder coverage. I wouldn’t want the visual association, if you understand.’
‘No worries. The fair – featuring your lovely food booth – is the third story of the evening. The holiday sales season is the fourth. So there will be a nice festive theme to balance out the Inkpen story.’
‘What’s the second story?’
Jules referred to his phone. ‘The opening of a new fertility clinic in downtown Richmond.’
Tish’s and Jules’s eyes met.
‘Right. We’ll just move the holiday sales story up to number three and you to number four.’ He opened his email program and punched some digits into the phone. ‘So can we discuss Jenny Inkpen’s murder?’
‘Off the record?’
‘Completely. Utterly. Entirely.’
‘OK, but there’s not much to tell.’ Tish began restocking the shelves of the booth with cups and food packaging. ‘We only just found her this morning.’
‘Rumor has it that this is the work of some madman.’
‘Rumor? How can there be rumors circulating already?’
‘Well, maybe the rumors were limited to the newsroom, but still … You know this town. I’m sure someone, somewhere, is spreading word of there being a homicidal maniac on the loose.’
Once again, Tish and Jules exchanged glances. ‘Enid Kemper.’ They uttered the name of the town eccentric in unison as if it were some magical incantation.
‘No doubt that parrot of hers already has the story memorized,’ Jules predicted.
‘Langhorne is not a parrot.’ Tish mimicked Enid’s thin, reedy voice. ‘He’s a conure.’
Jules howled with laughter. ‘You do that far too well.’
‘I only hear that voice every Sunday afternoon when Enid and Langhorne come to the café after church for lunch. Enid always orders the Zelda Fitzgerald fried chicken and pimento cheese sandwich. And Langhorne gets a small portion of pasta with sesame seeds.’
‘Good lord, you cook the bird lunch? You’re too good to be true.’
‘Nah, it’s usually just leftover pasta, and I have the seeds for bread baking, but it makes Enid happy. I call it the Big Bird Special. It’s not a literary reference, but it was the best I could come up with at the last minute. Enid has yet to call me out on it.’
‘Lucky.’
‘Don’t I know it. So, getting back to those madman rumors …’
‘Yes, and we’re still off the record,’ Jules reminded Tish as he passed her a stack of bright-red cups.
‘Thanks,’ she replied. It was unclear whether her response was for the cups or the invitation to speak freely. ‘Sheriff Reade is looking into the possibility that Jenny had a stalker.’
‘That’s it?’
‘What do you mean, “That’s it?”? The girl’s body isn’t even cold yet.’
‘I mean you typically lend a bit more insight when you report matters.’
Tish shrugged. ‘You asked me whether or not a homicidal lunatic might be responsible, and I answered you.’
‘You don’t believe such a person exists, do you?’ Jules surmised from his
friend’s reaction.
‘I don’t know. It stands to reason that an attractive young actress may have had a stalker, and yet there was so much going on behind the scenes that shouldn’t be discounted.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, namely, Jenny wasn’t very well liked.’
‘Successful young newcomer becomes audience favorite. Jealousy ensues,’ Jules reasoned.
‘Yes, Frances Fenton and Lucinda LeComte both lost leading roles to Jenny. And then there were Bailey Cassels and Justin Dange.’
‘What did Jenny do to them?’
‘She had dated Justin prior to making the group. Then she broke up with him.’
‘And then Bailey hit on Jenny only to be rejected, as we witnessed.’ True to form, Jules was eager to sink his teeth into the Williamsburg Theater Group gossip.
‘Yes, that is, Bailey claims, until late last night.’
Tish described the scratches on Bailey’s face and his description of the night’s events.
Jules whistled. ‘The cops are going to have a field day with him.’
‘And well they should.’
‘You mean you don’t believe him?’
‘I mean that it’s all a little too Robert-Chambers-Preppy-Murder-Case for my liking.’
‘Oh, I remember that case! A young woman was found strangled in New York’s Central Park. The cops charged her boyfriend, but he claimed it was an accident. He said she liked being choked and the situation got out of hand.’
Tish nodded. ‘However, he had scratches all over his face.’
‘Just like Bailey Cassels. The police are definitely going to have a lot of questions for him.’
‘Yeah, especially if someone saw him leaving Jenny’s trailer in the wee hours.’
‘Sounds as if you know something.’
‘I don’t, but Rolly Rollinson might. I overhead him arranging for understudies for both Jenny Inkpen and Bailey Cassels.’
‘Why would Bailey need an understudy?’
‘Precisely.’
‘You think Rolly heard the gunshot and looked out to see Bailey leaving Jenny’s trailer?’
‘He may have seen Bailey, yes. But I doubt he heard anything. Some kids were shooting off rockets all night. It would have been difficult to discern a gunshot in the midst of all that racket.’
‘Is that what that was? I was pretty out of it last night, but I remember waking up to something that sounded like a car backfiring.’
‘Fireworks. Twelfth Night’s Lord of Misrule was alive and well.’
‘But without hearing an actual gunshot, why would Rolly assume Bailey shot Jenny? There could have been a myriad of reasons Bailey was there – but murder? That’s quite a leap.’
‘Not as strange as the leap Justin Dange made just a little while ago.’
‘What’s that?’
‘When I mentioned that someone in the group might have murdered Jenny, he was adamant that the crime had been committed by an outsider. But when Bailey told us about the incident in Jenny’s trailer, Justin flew into a rage and began accusing Bailey of shooting her.’
‘Justin was probably jealous and angry. Jealous that Bailey might have nearly gotten it on with his former flame and angry that he may have assaulted her.’
‘Was he, Jules? Or was Justin happy to find a scapegoat so he could divert suspicion from himself? Or possibly someone else he wanted to protect?’
SIX
Whatever might have inspired the decision, Rollinson’s call for an understudy to replace Bailey Cassels was a prudent move, for the young actor was taken into police custody shortly before the curtain was to go up at noon. Despite initial panic and a fair amount of last-minute adjustments, Jenny Inkpen’s and Bailey Cassels’s understudies filled in for the roles of Tiny Tim and the Ghost of Christmas Future, respectively, to thunderous applause.
For the evening performance, the group opted to place the primary roles in the hands of the major players. Lucinda moved into the part of Viola, Justin took over the part of Orsino, leaving Rolly to try his hand at Malvolio, and the group’s costumer, Edie Harmes, to slide into the role of Olivia. With a background in musical theater, Jenny’s understudy, Martina, was a natural for the role of Feste, the fool, while her brother, Lawrence, took over for Bailey in the part of Sebastian.
The show was a triumph.
Although the previous evening’s performance was delightful, the energy level of the reordered cast was near explosive, with each member hitting their marks and timing their lines for maximum comedic value. However, the star of the evening was, without doubt, Lucinda LeComte.
Whether dressed in the doublets and trousers of Cesario or the lace gowns of Viola, Lucinda was luminous, dominating the stage yet remaining gracious and generous to her fellow cast members, so that they too could shine. It was the performance of a highly skilled, finely polished, veteran actress.
Indeed, so successful was Lucinda’s performance that when she took to the stage for the curtain call, the audience rose to their feet, cheered, and applauded wildly.
Unlike the previous evening, wherein the group dispersed to their individual trailers, this time the actors waited just until the majority of the crowd had dispersed to emerge from behind the stage, stopping to sign autographs and pose for selfies with the more gregarious members of the audience.
With their publicity tasks complete, they gathered at Tish’s booth for well-earned refreshment. The mood was practically giddy.
‘Oh, how I’ve missed performances like that,’ Frances Fenton rejoiced. ‘It was just like the old days.’
‘It was very much like the old days,’ Lucinda agreed.
‘I’m loath to say this, given the circumstances, but it did feel pretty darn good up there,’ Justin Dange admitted.
‘Felt even better to see Rolly step down as Orsino,’ Ted interjected. ‘Every time I saw him in the part, I wondered if Viola was marrying him so she could steal his social security checks.’
The group broke into raucous laughter.
‘Funny, Ted. Very funny,’ Rolly answered. ‘Personally, I enjoyed the challenge of playing Malvolio. There’s nothing quite like embracing one’s inner villain.’
The group laughed again, this time uneasily. Bailey Cassels, it seemed, had embraced his inner villain and was now, perhaps, paying the penalty.
Tish was eager to change the subject. ‘What a terrific performance! Simply wonderful! But I must say, Edie as Olivia might be the biggest surprise. I thought you were the costumer for the group, which requires talent enough, but you’re also quite an accomplished actress.’
‘I originally joined the group as one of the players,’ Edie explained. ‘Rolly and I were friends in college.’
‘She was in all our productions,’ Lucinda added gleefully as she draped an arm around Edie’s right shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
‘The three of us used to call ourselves Rolly’s Angels,’ Frances rejoined as she flanked Edie on the left. ‘But, of course, we all knew Edie was, and still is, Rolly’s one and only angel.’
‘Oh, Frances.’ Edie blushed.
‘Well, you are.’
‘That’s because she’s fabulous,’ Lucinda asserted. ‘The best actress of all of us.’
Edie blushed even brighter at this compliment. ‘Anyway,’ she continued her story, ‘even when I was acting, I’d always done the costumes for the group, but as we got more bookings and tried to vary our offerings, the costuming became more of a full-time position. Mind you, I’d still take on a role here and there if it was juicy enough or provided a challenge. But when Rolly hired Jenny, I bowed out completely. Didn’t make much sense for four of us to be fighting over the good parts, did it?’
‘I still think you made the wrong choice,’ Frances opined. ‘As Lucinda said, you’re the best actor in the group. It was a shame to lose you. But that’s all over now, isn’t it? Everything is back to normal.’ And with that, Frances Fenton grinned a satisfied grin and sunk her teet
h into a slice of Twelfth Night cake.
‘That woman did it,’ Jules insisted when the group had retreated to their trailers, leaving Tish, Jules, and Celestine to clean up for the night.
‘Who?’ Tish asked, as she counted out the till.
‘That Frances woman. She murdered Jenny Inkpen. Did you see how she devoured her cake with not even a thought for the poor girl? Cold.’
Celestine packed up the few remaining cakes in wax paper. ‘Ice cold,’ she echoed. ‘Her aura is dark red, too. Lots of anger.’
‘Aura?’ a shocked Jules and Tish replied in unison.
‘Yeah. I told you how I have trouble sleeping, Tish. Well, for an early Christmas present, Mr Rufus gave me some meditation sessions with a yogi fella in Ashland. I still haven’t slept a full night, but I’ve learned that my aura is orange, which is creativity and vitality, and Mr Rufus’s is dark blue, which is fear of expression. Together, our aura is brown.’
Tish strained to remember what she knew about auras. ‘Is there such a thing as a brown aura?’
‘Nope. That’s part of the problem.’
Tish wondered how to respond to Celestine’s marital aura conundrum in a manner that was sensitive yet didn’t delve too deeply into the subject, as it was late, she was beyond tired, and Jules was still eager to discuss Frances Fenton’s guilt. Thankfully, the arrival of Sam Noble rescued her from the need to make any comment at all.
‘Hey, Tish. Can I talk to you for a second?’ Dark-haired and bearded, the fifty-something owner of the Hobson Glen Bar and Grill nervously wiped his hands on the grease-streaked apron he wore over an insulated plaid flannel shirt and corduroy work pants.
‘Sure, Sam. What is it?’
‘I, um, I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted to you getting the library’s endorsement to cater the theater events. My wife brought our daughter, Lily, to the show this afternoon and she ate one of your Tiny Tim lunches – the grilled cheese and alphabet soup. Not only did she eat every bite, but she wouldn’t stop talking about it. Do you know how many meals I make that Lily won’t eat?’
‘Smart kid,’ Jules whispered to Celestine.
The Christmas Fair Killer Page 5