‘Umm …’
‘I was actually going to offer you coffee and food,’ Tish explained.
‘Oh. That’s nice of you,’ Bailey said appreciatively. ‘You’re not even open yet, are you?’
‘A formality. Everything’s been prepared ahead of time. You’re just getting in before the rush. So, Jules will get you a beverage: tea, coffee, cocoa, flavored coffee, soft drink …’
‘A medium gingerbread coffee, please,’ Bailey ordered. ‘With soy milk. Do you have soy milk?’
‘I do. Now for food, would you like a turkey, apple butter, sage, and cheddar sandwich or a modified ploughman’s lunch of salad, Stilton, and bread?’
‘I’ll go with the turkey. What sides do you have with that?’
‘It comes with an orange and two Christmas pudding bon-bons.’
‘Can I swap out the dessert for a cup of soup?’
‘Sure. I have Peter Cratchit’s alphabet soup – which is a vegetable soup with alphabet-shaped pasta – and Jacob Marley’s bean and barley.’
‘Seeing how I’ve recently been called “childish” on occasion, I’ll go with the alphabet.’
Tish refrained from comment and ladled a portion of soup into a recyclable cardboard container. When finished, she packaged it with the rest of the boxed lunch and some bamboo cutlery.
‘How much do I owe?’ Bailey asked.
‘Nothing. Compliments of the interim mayor’s office for all group members.’
‘I, um, I’m no longer with the group.’
‘What? Really?’
Bailey nodded. ‘Fired. Effective immediately. Rolly’s orders.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘Does Rolly need grounds? He’s the head of the group. What he says goes.’
‘So he didn’t provide grounds for your firing?’
Bailey added soy milk and sugar to his coffee and took a sip. ‘Nope. I figure he was jealous because I was tight with Jenny.’
‘Oh? Rolly had an interest in Jenny?’
He unwrapped his sandwich. ‘Rolly thought he owned Jenny. That’s what she was trying to break free of.’
‘She was trying to leave?’
‘She wasn’t at first, but when Rolly re-upped her contract for next season and didn’t offer her a raise, she decided to do whatever was necessary.’ Bailey took a bite of sandwich and Tish gestured for him to sit at a nearby picnic table.
He gathered up his food while Tish grabbed his coffee cup and escorted him.
‘Jenny had been with the group less than a year,’ she pointed out as she took a seat. ‘I’m not familiar with the entertainment business, but in every other profession, it’s customary for an employee to wait at least one year to expect a raise. Perhaps Rolly was going to give Jenny a bonus on her anniversary date?’
Bailey sat down and bit, once again, into his sandwich. ‘Mmm, this slays, by the way.’ He chugged some coffee to wash it down. ‘Rolly was always on the cheap side, but he was extra when it came to Jenny and me. All the money from ticket sales was divided between him and the five older members of the group.’
‘Well, they’re all partners, aren’t they? At least, that’s my understanding. They’ve all been working together for years.’
‘Yeah, and it’s cool Rolly has their backs, but when you think of how much Jenny did for the group, it was pretty ungrateful of him not to compensate her at all.’
‘I know Jenny was the lead in a few productions as of late, but did she play another part within the group?’
Bailey opened the soup container and plunged a bamboo spoon into it. ‘Yeah, she was the face of Williamsburg Theater Group. Prior to Jenny being on the billboards and posters, the group’s performances only attracted families and blue-hairs. Once Jenny came on the scene, we started selling tickets to millennials, thirty-somethings, and even some teens. And what did she get for it? She got trolled on social media.’ He slurped down some soup. ‘This soup is lit.’
‘Um, thanks?’
‘It’s a good thing. It means … outstanding.’
‘Ah, I’ll be sure to include that in the café’s marketing materials and maybe I’ll attract a new audience as well.’ Tish smiled. ‘So, what did Jenny intend to do about it?’
‘Wasn’t much she could do.’ He bit off another hunk of sandwich. ‘I followed her on Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and Facebook, and all I ever saw were jealous hags calling her names or old people saying how much better the group was before Jenny was in it. There were even a few who implied she’d slept her way into the group. Jenny reported some of the trolls for online harassment, but it wasn’t really abuse per se. More like things to be filed under “Hashtag: Bitter.”’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear. I meant, what did Jenny intend to do about the situation with Rolly?’ Tish clarified.
‘Oh, that.’ Bailey slurped down some more soup. ‘Mmm. You know, if my parents had served me this kind of alphabet soup instead of the canned stuff, I probably would have thrown far fewer tantrums as a kid.’
Tish was not at all surprised to learn that Bailey was the sort of child to throw tantrums. ‘Thanks. Um … getting back to Jenny?’
‘Yeah, she, uh, she was auditioning with a company in Maryland over Christmas break. If they made her an offer, she was going to confront Rolly and see if he was willing to match it.’
‘And if he wasn’t?’
‘Then she’d take the better offer and leave.’
‘Did Rolly know this?’
‘No, we kept it completely confidential.’
Bailey’s words were the opening Tish needed. ‘How did you know about her audition?’
Bailey went pale and, for the first time during their conversation, he stopped eating. ‘How? Because we were seeing each other. I cared for her and she …’
‘Cared for you?’ Tish filled in the blanks.
Bailey dropped his spoon into the container of soup and covered his face with his hands. ‘No, I don’t think she did. I mean she said so at first, and made a great effort to appear to, and then it all got weird.’
Tish pushed the cup of coffee toward him. ‘Here. Drink up. It will help.’
Bailey took the cup between his hands and drew a large sip.
‘Better?’ she asked.
Bailey nodded. ‘Like the audition, Jenny wanted to keep our relationship secret. She knew we’d get backlash from the group, so she went out of her way to put me down in front of them. I’d go out of my way to act like the spurned lover, and then we’d meet after everyone went to bed. That’s what happened the night she was killed. When things got weird.’
‘And she scratched you on the face,’ Tish surmised.
‘Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly like I told you and Justin,’ he blurted. ‘Jenny freaked out when I told her that if she was leaving the group, I was going with her. I tried to settle her down, but she was absolutely furious. That’s when she scratched my face.’
‘That’s a far cry from the rough-sex claim you made earlier,’ she noted.
‘I know. I know I was wrong for saying all that, but Justin – well, I guess I was competing or something. As for the police, I stuck with my story because I didn’t want to seem like a loser, and I was afraid if I changed it, they’d detain me. God, what an idiot I am.’ Once again, he buried his face in his hands.
This time, she directed Bailey back to his cup of soup.
He devoured the remnants of the container before speaking again. ‘Jenny and I were never intimate. She and I kissed a few times and she made promises, but looking back at how she behaved that last night, it’s clear she thought I was inadequate.’
‘Then why lead you on?’
‘My parents own a theatrical agency. They were the ones who got her the audition. They were also the ones who made certain that if the new company signed Jenny, taking me on as a player would be part of the contract.’
Tish pursed her lips. ‘So, when you told Jenny you were going with her if she left,
it wasn’t—’
‘Stalkerish?’ He grinned. ‘No, it was the truth.’
‘But why didn’t your parents just allow you to audition?’
‘You mean, instead of making me an addendum? Because the last time they left auditions in my hands, this was the best offer I got.’ He polished off the rest of his sandwich.
‘Once again, do the police know about all of this?’
‘No, because, once again, the whole situation made me look like a complete loser.’
‘Bailey, this is a murder case, not a men’s locker room. If what you’ve told me is the truth, then you need to share it with Sheriff Reade.’
‘Of course it’s the truth, but I don’t see what difference it makes now. Besides, if I go to the sheriff and change my story, he’ll probably detain me again.’
‘He won’t detain you without the physical evidence to do so,’ Tish argued. ‘You need to tell him what you told me. This is a murder case. Every detail matters.’
‘OK, I’ll talk to him after I finish my orange. Murder,’ he repeated. ‘I can hardly believe it. It seems like a nightmare, and yet—’
‘Yes?’ Tish prompted.
‘Yet it’s not surprising. It always felt as though part of Jenny was already dead.’
ELEVEN
‘Have a second?’ Reade asked of Tish as the twelve o’clock production of A Christmas Carol was just getting underway. The opening of the fair had been much quieter than anticipated as families trickled in after a Saturday morning spent sleeping, taxiing children to the final sporting events of the year, and finishing last-minute holiday shopping. It was, to be certain, merely the calm before the storm.
Tish confirmed that she had several seconds to spare and led Reade to the picnic table she had occupied with Bailey Cassels just an hour earlier.
‘Ten different email addresses. Ten different user accounts on each of the major social media platforms using said email addresses. All the accounts were accessed via two IP addresses: that of an iPhone 8 used as a wi-fi hot spot and the other a Cox Cable Broadband account. Both the iPhone and Broadband accounts are registered to Mrs Frances Fenton of Williamsburg, Virginia.’
‘Frances was Jenny’s troll,’ Tish deduced.
‘There were others, but Frances was the primary commenter and chief rabble-rouser. Most of her comments disparaged Jenny on her appearance and acting abilities, but the nastier ones called her a “tramp,” a “whore,” and asked, “Whose husband did you sleep with to get your ugly face on a billboard?”’
‘Ouch. Well, Lucinda did say Jenny played up to Ted to get her face on the marketing.’
‘She did a little bit more than that. We checked Jenny’s phone and Ted was texting her.’
‘Texting or sexting?’ Tish queried.
‘Texting.’
‘Whew!’ She pretended to wipe sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.
‘Yeah, I know.’ Reade seconded the sentiment. ‘His texts sound relatively innocent. Telling Jenny she looked great during rehearsal or that she gave a strong performance.’
‘Um, these texts do correspond with rehearsal and performance times, right? I mean, he wasn’t using the “performance” as a euphemism, was he?’
Reade laughed and shook his head. ‘You and our IT guy think alike. Yes, the times and dates of the texts align with the performance and rehearsal schedule posted on the Williamsburg Theater website. In addition, Ted’s messages never said or implied any impropriety between them. He didn’t even comment on the clothes she wore. The texts read more like Ted Fenton was secretly coaching and cheering Jenny Inkpen. As I said, relatively innocent.’
‘Unless you’re Frances Fenton and you believe your husband is more in love with guns, acting, and theater marketing than he is with you,’ she remarked.
‘What’s your take on the situation?’
‘I don’t know, but I wouldn’t necessarily describe a fifty-odd-year-old man secretly texting a twenty-two-year-old woman as innocent.’
‘Valid point,’ Reade conceded.
‘Did Jenny reply to these texts?’
‘No.’
Tish raised her eyebrows.
‘Do you think they were having an affair?’ he asked.
Tish recalled the descriptions of both Justin’s and Bailey’s relationships with Jenny. ‘A physical affair? No, I don’t. A “mental” affair – the thrill of someone and something different? The promise and tease of what’s to come? Yes.’
‘Do you think she strung him along like she did Bailey Cassels?’
‘Oh, Bailey went to see you,’ Tish assumed.
‘He did. Thank you.’
‘No worries. Just thought he needed to set the record straight. You didn’t detain him, did you?’
Reade shook his head. ‘No need. Not only is he innocent, but I’d already ordered him not to leave town.’
‘Camping alongside one’s former boss,’ Tish noted. ‘That should be interesting.’
‘Murder does make the strangest bedfellows. So, getting back to Jenny,’ he prodded.
‘Do I think she was stringing Ted Fenton along? I’m not sure she actually strung Bailey along, or if she was simply afraid of people getting too close, as Justin suggested. But to answer your question, I think she probably laughed at Ted’s jokes, listened to his stories, made him feel interesting and clever. All the things Frances hasn’t done in a long time.’
‘Sad.’ Reade frowned.
‘It is. For both of them. What do you plan to do about Frances Fenton?’
‘I’m going to bring her in for questioning.’
‘And Ted?’
‘Same thing.’
‘Today?’
‘As soon as they both get off that stage.’
‘There’s another performance an hour and a half after this one. If you bring them in, Rolly will have to call yet another two understudies. And I’m not sure they’d arrive in time.’
‘So?’
‘So, that’s not exactly following the interim mayor’s orders of allowing the fair to go on without interruption. And unless you plan on making an arrest, you’ll have taken three of the seven theater members into headquarters, yet still have failed to solve the case. Not exactly great optics.’
‘OK, what do you propose I do?’
‘You interview Ted back at the camp and I’ – Tish smiled broadly – ‘talk to Frances.’
‘You’re right about the optics thing, but I think I’ll interview both Frances and Ted, separately, at the camp.’
‘Is there a reason you don’t want to include me on this one?’
‘Tish, you know I don’t feel comfortable with you getting so involved in this case.’
‘Yes, you say you feel uncomfortable and yet when I give you a lead, you devour it.’
‘That’s not fair. I’ve included you in this investigation as I always do. I simply don’t want you being in harm’s way.’
‘And you think I will be with Frances?’
‘Frances lives in a house full of antique firearms. She was jealous of Jenny. She created ten different email accounts and numerous online identities just to slander the girl on social media.’
‘You think Frances killed Jenny?’
‘I think it’s entirely possible, especially if Jenny learned about Frances’s online activity and confronted her about it.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Tish allowed, ‘but you know I’ll be careful, Clemson. If I get a whiff of anything wrong while talking to her, I’ll call you.’
‘You actually believe someone like Frances would give you a warning before she murdered you?’ Reade challenged.
Several moments elapsed while the pair stared at each other in silence.
‘Well, well, there’s quite the atmosphere in this little corner of the fair.’ Tish and Reade looked up to see Opal Schaeffer, Hobson Glen’s resident romance author, approaching their table.
‘Sorry,’ Tish apologized, her face a pale shade of cri
mson.
‘We’re discussing the Inkpen murder,’ Reade explained.
‘Oh, don’t be sorry. It gave me the best idea for the cover of my next book. It’s about a cop who falls in love with a prisoner and then tries to rehabilitate them.’ Opal tugged the flaps of her knitted bobble hat over her ears excitedly. ‘It’s the first of my novels to blend romance and suspense.’
‘Opal, I’ve told you a thousand times, I can’t pose for your book covers. People don’t want to see their law enforcement officers acting like Fabio.’
‘You don’t have to pose, I took a photo.’ She held her phone aloft in a fleece-gloved hand.
‘I can’t let you use that photo. Not when you’re portraying me as a policeman engaging in unethical conduct.’
‘You’re not the police officer. She is.’ Opal pointed at Tish, prompting the caterer to burst into laughter.
‘Oh, I think I might need to read this book,’ Tish chuckled. ‘When does it come out?’
‘Alas, not until summer. But I’ll save you a copy. It’s called The Shawhunk Redemption.’
‘Sounds like an interesting departure for you.’
‘It is, and it will be even nicer when I can give my artist a great concept photo for the cover,’ Opal’s expression was hopeful.
‘I’m sorry, Opal, but I’m afraid I can’t oblige. I don’t want café patrons to think I’m also in the business of rehabilitating hunks. I hope you understand how embarrassing that could be.’
‘It could be fun, too. Sifting through applicants.’ She tucked a wayward strand of silver hair beneath her hat with a smile.
Tish felt her face go red. ‘Maybe for someone else.’
Thankfully, Opal dropped the conversation. ‘So many people expected at the fair today. It’s wonderful fodder for me, as you can imagine. I’ve captured the most interesting faces these past couple of days. They really inspire my stories – faces. Like the two of yours when I first arrived here. Intense, at odds, combative, and yet unified.’
‘Against a common enemy,’ Reade disclosed.
‘Yes, that poor murdered girl. There wasn’t a photo included in the article I read, and I didn’t see her perform – I’ve been too busy snapping photos! – but I trust she was quite beautiful. If so, you might want to look for an ex-lover, Sheriff. There are many men out there who try to possess and diminish a young woman who has both beauty and talent.’
The Christmas Fair Killer Page 11